The Ritz Hotel, on the Plaza de la Lealtad in Madrid, is considered the best hotel in Spain, and for more than a century it has housed and fed monarchs from a dozen European countries. Presidents, dictators, and billionaires have slept there. Tracy had heard so much about the Ritz that the reality was a disappointment. The lobby was faded and seedy-looking.
The assistant manager escorted her to the suite she had requested, 411-412, in the south wing of the hotel on Calle Felipe V.
"I trust this will be satisfactory, Miss Whitney."
Tracy walked over to the window and looked out. Directly below, across the street, was the Prado Museum. "This will do nicely, thank you."
The suite was filled with the blaring sounds of the heavy traffic from the streets below, but it had what she wanted: a bird's-eye view of the Prado.
Tracy ordered a light dinner in her room and retired early. When she got into the bed, she decided that trying to sleep in it had to be a modern form of medieval torture.
At midnight a detective stationed in the lobby was relieved by a colleague. "She hasn't left her room. I think she's settled in for the night."
In Madrid, Direcci
7
