Sidney Sheldon - If Tomorrow Comes

“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 Tomбs de Torquemada, 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 dias, seсorita.” 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?”

“Seсorita, the Chamber of Commerce knows everything. Is this your first time here?”

“Yes.”

“ЎBueno! 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. “iFantбstico, 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.

Daniel Cooper, seated at a small round table in a corner of the lobby with a glass of Perrier before him, watched Tracy as she greeted her escort, and he felt a sense of enormous power: Justice is mine, sayeth the Lord, and I am His sword and his instrument of vengeance. My life is a penance, and you shall help me pay. I'm going to punish you.

Cooper knew that no police force in the world was clever enough to catch Tracy Whitney. But I am, Cooper thought She belongs to me.

Tracy had become more than an assignment to Daniel Cooper: She had become an obsession. He carried her photographs and file with him everywhere, and at night before he went to sleep, he lovingly pored over them. He had arrived in Biarritz too late to catch her, and she had eluded him in Majorca, but now that Interpol had picked up her trail again, Cooper was determined not to lose it.

He dreamed about Tracy at night. She was in a giant cage, naked, pleading with him to set her free. l love you, he said, but I'll never set you free.

The Jockey was a small, elegant restaurant on Amador de los Rнos.

“The food here is superb,” Jeff promised.

He was looking particularly handsome, Tracy thought. There was an inner excitement about him that matched Tracy's, and she knew why: They were competing with each other, matching wits in a game for high stakes. But I'm going to win, Tracy thought. I'm going to find a way to steal that painting from the Prado before he does.

“There's a strange rumor around,” Jeff was saying.

She focused her attention on him. “What kind of rumor?”

“Have you ever heard of Daniel Cooper? He's an insurance investigator, very bright.”

“No. What about him?”

“Be careful. He's dangerous. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you.”

“Don't worry.”

“But I have been, Tracy.”

She laughed. “About me? Why?”

He put a hand over hers and said lightly, “You're very special. Life is more interesting with you around, my love.”

He's so damned convincing; Tracy thought. If I didn't know better, I'd believe him.

“Let's order,” Tracy said. “I'm starved.”

In the days that followed, Jeff and Tracy explored Madrid. They were never alone. Two of Commandant Ramiro's men followed them everywhere, accompanied by the strange American. Ramiro had given permission for Cooper to be a part of the surveillance team simply to keep the man out of his hair. The American was loco, convinced that the Whitney woman was somehow going to steal some great treasure from under the noses of the police. iQue ridнculo!

Tracy and Jeff dined at Madrid's classic restaurants — Horcher, the Prнncipe de Viana, and Casa Botнn — but Jeff also knew the places undiscovered by tourists: Casa Paco and La Chuletta and El Lacуn, where he and Tracy dined on delicious native stews like cocido madrileсo and olla podrida, and then visited a small bar where they had delicious tapas.

Wherever they went, Daniel Cooper and the two detectives were never far behind.

Watching them from a careful distance, Daniel Cooper was puzzled by Jeff Stevens's role in the drama that was being played out. Who was he? Tracy's next victim? Or were they plotting something together?

Cooper talked to Commandant Ramiro. “What information do you have on Jeff Stevens?” Cooper asked.

“Nada. He has no criminal record and is registered as a tourist. I think he is just a companion the lady picked up.”

Cooper's instincts told him differently. But it was not Jeff Stevens he was after. Tracy, he thought. I want you, Tracy.

When Tracy and Jeff returned to the Ritz at the end of a late evening, Jeff escorted Tracy to her door. “Why don't I come in for a nightcap?” he suggested.

Tracy was almost tempted. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Think of me as your sister, Jeff.”

“What's your position on incest?”

But she had closed the door.

A few minutes later he telephoned her from his room. “How would you like to spend tomorrow with me in Segovia? It's a fascinating old city just a few hours outside of Madrid.”

“It sounds wonderful. Thanks for a lovely evening,” Tracy. said. “Good night, Jeff.”

She lay awake a long time, her mind filled with thoughts she had no right to be thinking. It had been so long since she had been emotionally involved with a man. Charles had hurt her badly, and she had no wish to be hurt again. Jeff Stevens was an amusing companion, but she knew she must never allow him to become any more than that. It would be easy to fall in love with him. And foolish.

Ruinous.

Fun.

Tracy had difficulty falling asleep.

The trip to Segovia was perfect. Jeff had rented a small car, and they drove out of the city into the beautiful wine country of Spain. An unmarked Seat trailed behind them during the entire day, but it was not an ordinary car.

The Seat is the only automobile manufactured in Spain, and it is the official car of the Spanish police. The regular model has only 100 horsepower, but the ones sold to the Policнa Nacional and the Guardia Civil are souped up to 150 horsepower, so there was no danger that Tracy Whitney and Jeff Stevens would elude Daniel Cooper and the two detectives.