Private Investigations - Quintin Jardine Page 0,79

the phone line, in fast, blind the sensor, and out of there as soon as the boat was powered up.’

‘You agree with the thinking that whoever did it had advance knowledge?’

‘Up to a point. They might not, depending on their hacking skills. The detailed plans of the boathouse will be on the local authority website. The schematic of the alarm system, that’ll be somewhere too.’

‘How would they know how to open the doors?’ I asked.

‘From the planning application; that detail would be there. Also, there’s a manual override of the remote opening system.’

‘But the door was closed again after the boat was taken.’

‘Maybe that was a bonus,’ Hurrell suggested. ‘Once you’re on the bridge and at the controls, the remote control device is bloody obvious; it’s right there beside the wheel, in a holder. But if not, if the operation was planned down to that last detail, the name of the door supplier is right there on the outside and its IT system will be accessible too. As for the layout of the Princess, she’s a piece of work, but she’s not unique. She doesn’t have many sisters but there are some.’

‘Are you telling me, Walter,’ I quizzed him, ‘that the police assumption that the theft involved insider knowledge is all wrong?’

‘No, I’m saying it’s not a safe assumption to make.’

‘I get it. Let’s move on. Do you have any thoughts on what’s happened to her?’

‘Thoughts maybe, clues no. I might imagine her cruising around the Black Sea, crowded with dodgy Russians quaffing champagne and Beluga caviar, but I’ve got no reason to believe that.’

‘Could she have been loaded on to a ship?’

‘No,’ he declared, emphatically. ‘First, it would need to be a bloody big ship, and second, it would have to be done in a dock, given the size of crane you’d need to lift the Princess.’

‘But it’s not impossible?’

‘It’s not,’ he admitted, ‘but are you going to steal a yacht then show her off in a public place, before loads of witnesses?’

‘Understood,’ I said. ‘Could she be sunk?’

‘She could, but why?’ Hurrell leaned back, looking at me. ‘I know, you’re suggesting that that somebody hates the boss, and stole his boat to piss him off, then scuttled her. The problem with your theory is that nobody does hate the man, or has any reason to. He makes people rich, and they love him for it. On top of that, he’s a genuinely nice bloke. You of all people must know that. From what I hear you were practically family at one point.’

‘I wouldn’t put it that strongly,’ I snapped.

‘Sorry, sir,’ Hurrell murmured, quickly. ‘But he is, isn’t he?’

‘Apology accepted, and I won’t deny it.’

‘She’s been sold,’ he declared abruptly. ‘That’s what I really think. The theft was carried out by professionals. and it was about money, pure and simple. The weather was fine that night and the sea conditions were calm. There was enough fuel in the tank for them to get her to the west coast of Ireland. Once they were there, they’d have no problem finding a nice quiet spot to change her appearance as far as they could, and give her a new name. Once that was done, they could take her anywhere they bloody liked, across the Atlantic even, if you chose the right route and carried some extra fuel on board.

‘There are many possibilities, but what I said earlier, about her cruising around in the Black Sea: that’s as likely a scenario as any.’

I nodded. ‘Received and understood,’ I said. ‘Thanks for that, Walter. I won’t take up any more of your time.’

‘Not at all, sir,’ he replied as we both rose to our feet. ‘It’s been a pleasure.’

I said my farewell to Luisa McCracken, and left the first-floor office. I was on the stair down to street level when my phone sounded.

‘Sorry to bother you, Chief.’ Wherever Sauce Haddock was, there was background noise. Unnecessarily, he raised his voice so that it boomed in my ear. ‘There’s something we need to run past you. One quick question.’

‘Shoot,’ I said. ‘And no need to shout,’ I asked.

‘Yesterday, at Fort Kinnaird; after the collision between you and the BMW, when Dean Francey got out and ran away, did you follow him, at all?’

‘Yes, I did. It was a natural reaction, Sauce; I began to chase him, but only for about twenty yards or so, till I realised I’d never catch him.’

‘So you were focused on him?’

‘At that moment, yes.’

‘Is it possible that while you

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