Bilbao, Spain
“T
his is the dockhand. He’s the one who reported the boat stolen.”
Sanchez smiled at the young man, clearly terrified at the number of police swarming the marina for what he likely thought was a simple boat theft. “I’m Chief Inspector Sanchez. Why don’t you tell me what you know?”
He shrugged. “Well, I was refueling the boats, and I came back to get the key for the next one when I noticed one of the keys was missing.”
“How did you notice that? I imagine you have quite a few.”
“I had just refueled it.”
“Okay, then what?”
“Well, I checked, and sure enough, the boat was gone.”
“And how do you know it wasn’t just the owner taking it out?”
He shifted his weight to his other foot. “Well, the owner wouldn’t have taken my key. The keys I have are so that I can service the boats. They have their own keys for when they want to take their boat out.”
Sanchez’s head bobbed as she learned something she hadn’t known. “Okay, that makes sense. So, this boat, you noticed it missing, then what?”
“I called the police immediately, then I called the owner.”
“And the owner’s name?”
“Mateo Fernandez.”
“Is he coming?”
“No, I wasn’t able to reach him. I left a message on his voicemail. I seem to remember hearing that he was in the United States on business, so I’m not sure when he’ll be able to get back.”
“And this boat, what can you tell me about it?”
A smile spread. “It’s incredible. A fifty-footer, fully equipped, fully stocked. You could live on that thing for weeks if you wanted to. They keep it prepped for long trips. He likes to go up and down the coast and park off of different cities. He does it for weeks at a time.”
“So he’s rich?”
He grunted. “Very. I think he’s actually getting an even bigger boat. I know I heard him talking that when he retires, he just wants to sell everything and live on a boat with a crew.”
“Must be nice.”
“You’re telling me.” The young man sighed. “That’s the most difficult thing about working here. I get paid a pittance by people who could buy me a million times over.”
Sanchez sympathized. “That’s the world we live in.”
“Yeah, like it or not.”
“So, you’re sure this guy’s in the US and wasn’t at the Guggenheim?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure about anything. I just think I heard mention of it. You’d have to talk to him to be sure.” He eyed her. “Why? Did something happen? Did he do something?”
“You haven’t heard?”
He threw a hand at the boats behind him. “I’ve been working my ass off all evening. The rich are out on their boats all day long, then they come back here and go to their luxury condos or their five-star hotels or their fancy dinners, and that’s when I have time to service these things. I haven’t heard anything.”
“There was a terrorist attack at the museum. Over sixty people were killed.”
His jaw dropped and his eyes shot wide. “Oh my God! That’s horrible!” He looked about as he regained control. “And you think there’s some connection to this stolen boat?”
“The vehicle the two terrorists escaped in was found near here, and the timing with the theft matches up. We need to find that boat.”
“Well, it could be anywhere by now. It’s a straight shot from here out to the Atlantic Ocean. The Bay of Biscay, you can see it from here.”
“Do you have security cameras here?”
He nodded. “I’ve already called my boss. He should be here any minute now. I don’t have access to that kind of thing. I’m just a dockhand.”
“Fine.” She pointed at one of the officers. “Give him a description of the boat. Everything you can tell us about it. Registry, color, everything.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She walked away with the scene commander. “As soon as you get access to that footage, I want to see if our professors stole themselves a boat. I may not know where every single police station is in Spain, but I can guarantee you none of them are easier to access by boat. These people are on the run. They are not looking to turn themselves in. That means they’re as guilty as sin.”
