On the previous day an X-D Urgent cable had come in for Santiago Ramiro, the police commandant in Madrid, informing him of Tracy Whitney’s impending arrival. The commandant had read the final sentence of the cable twice and then telephoned Inspector André Trignant at Interpol headquarters in Paris.
“I do not comprehend your message,” Ramiro had said. “You ask me to extend my department’s full cooperation to an American who is not even a policeman? For what reason?”
“Commandant, I think you will find Mr. Cooper most useful. He understands Miss Whitney.”
“What is there to understand?” the commandant retorted. “She is a criminal. Ingenious, perhaps, but Spanish prisons are full of ingenious criminals. This one will not slip through our net.”
“Bon. And you will consult with Mr. Cooper?”
The commandant said grudgingly, “If you say he can be useful, I have no objection.”
“Merci, monsieur.”
“De nada, señor.”
Commandant Ramiro, like his counterpart in Paris, was not fond of Americans. He found them rude, materialistic, and naive. This one, he thought, may be different. I will probably like him.
He hated Daniel Cooper on sight.
“She’s outsmarted half the police forces in Europe,” Daniel Cooper asserted, as he entered the commandant’s office. “And she’ll probably do the same to you.”
It was all the commandant could do to control himself. “Señor, we do not need anyone to tell us our business. Se-ñorita Whitney has been under surveillance from the moment she arrived at Barajas Airport this morning. I assure you that if someone drops even a pin on the street and your Miss Whitney picks it up, she will be whisked to jail. She has not dealt with the Spanish police before.”
“She’s not here to pick up a pin on the street.”
“Why do you think she is here?”
“I’m not sure. I can only tell you that it will be something big.”
Commandant Ramiro said smugly, “The bigger the better. We will watch her every move.”
When Tracy awakened in the morning, groggy from a torturous night’s sleep in the bed designed by Tomás de Torque-mada, she ordered a light breakfast and hot, black coffee, and walked over to the window overlooking the Prado. It was an imposing fortress, built of stone and red bricks from the native soil, and was surrounded by grass and trees. Two Doric columns stood in front, and, on either side, twin staircases led up to the front entrance. At the street level were two side entrances. Schoolchildren and tourists from a dozen countries were lined up in front of the museum, and at exactly 10:00 A.M., the two large front doors were opened by guards, and the visitors began to move through the revolving door in the center and through the two side passages at ground level.
The telephone rang, startling Tracy. No one except Gunther Hartog knew she was in Madrid. She picked up the telephone. “Hello?”
“Buenos días, señorita.” It was a familiar voice. “I’m calling for the Madrid Chamber of Commerce, and they have instructed me to do everything I can to make sure you have an exciting time in our city.”
“How did you know I was in Madrid, Jeff?”
“Señorita, the Chamber of Commerce knows everything. Is this your first time here?”
“Yes.”
“¡Bueno! Then I can show you a few places. How long do you plan to be here, Tracy?”
It was a leading question. “I’m not sure,” she said lightly. “Just long enough to do a little shopping and sightseeing. What are you doing in Madrid?”
“The same.” His tone matched hers. “Shopping and sightseeing.”
Tracy did not believe in coincidence. Jeff Stevens was there for the same reason she was: to steal the Puerto.
He asked, “Are you free for dinner?”
It was a dare. “Yes.”
“Good. I’ll make a reservation at the Jockey.”
Tracy certainly had no illusions about Jeff, but when she stepped out of the elevator into the lobby and saw him standing there waiting for her, she was unreasonably pleased to see him.
Jeff took her hand in his. “¡Fantástico, querida! You look lovely.”
She had dressed carefully. She wore a Valentino navy-blue suit with a Russian sable flung around her neck, Maud Frizon pumps, and she carried a navy purse emblazoned with the Hermes H.