A World Without Secrets (36 page)

"No. You have no legal rights of search and seizure in this country. My captain will not allow you to enter the premises under a search warrant issued by a Spanish magistrate."

"What are you hiding?"

"What?"

"I said, what are you hiding? And I should also ask why you're hiding it."

Grenzner bristled at my questions. "Special Agent James, you are a guest in this country and have just killed a man. I would advise you to remember that."

"I defended my life after being attacked without provocation in your country. And I won't be here for long, Detective Sergeant. If I'm free to go, I'll be returning to Amsterdam after I have a doctor see to my injury. Uh, by the way, how long did it take you to break into the vault?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about. And you will remain in Madrid for the time being until the investigation regarding this purported attack is complete."

"Purported? How many eye witnesses does it take for the report of an attack to be considered authentic?"

"The validity of all attack reports are questionable until our police captain decides otherwise."

"I see. Very well, then. Am I free to visit a hospital and have my injuries attended to properly? All I've received so far is emergency care, and my leg is throbbing with pain."

"I'll have someone take you to the nearest hospital," he said as he waved to a policeman and gave him instructions in Spanish. "Don't leave the city until you are told it's permissible."

Several hours later my leg had been stitched up. I left the hospital, hailed a cab, and was taken back to my hotel. I wanted to use the gizmo to view the interior of the warehouse as the police entered, but I abstained for two reasons. One was that I was feeling a little sleepy, probably from the painkillers and medications I had been given, and second because I didn't know if anyone had entered my room in my absence. I had naturally told the police where I was staying. Someone could have planted bugs or even a miniature camera, and I didn't have the energy to perform a sweep.

So I undressed, climbed carefully into bed, and went to sleep.

In the morning, I felt a little better in some ways and worse in others. I had gotten enough rest that I didn't feel tired, but my leg was throbbing and my shoulder was stiff. Immediately after using the bathroom, I dug out the pills I'd been given and popped the recommended dosage. Then I returned to bed and just laid there until they began to take effect. To occupy my mind, I thought about the situation at the warehouse. I had confirmed that the artwork was there when I arrived in Madrid, but it's possible it had been moved once I started the stakeout. I had only been watching during the day because I was there to be seen rather than to see. My stakeout had worked, but I hadn't quite anticipated the results I'd achieved. I hadn't really known what to expect, but a shootout in a restaurante during afternoon hours wasn't it.

And now I was out of the loop. I suspected the Spanish police had the artwork and that they would conveniently discover it somewhere else in the near future. It's tough to lose five million dollars under such circumstances. Thanks to the gizmo, I'd located the artwork and identified the thieves. Now I was out the money for the recovery and wondered if I should even turn over the information about the gang. I knew I wasn't going to give it to the police in Madrid. I would probably give it to Ambrose of Interpol before I left the continent.

For now, I just wanted some more sleep. "Must be the medication," I told myself.

I had just started to doze off again when there was a knock at the door. I got out of bed, grabbed my service weapon, and pulled on my robe as I hobbled to the door. I couldn't have been more surprised when I opened it and saw who it was. I stepped back to admit him.

The detective sergeant from yesterday pointed calmly to the weapon I was holding and said, "Expecting more company?"

"There have now been four attempts on my life since I came to Europe. I don't know what to expect anymore. People from Europe call Americans cowboys, but no one has yet tried to murder me in America."

Grenzner smiled. "You won't need that this morning. I'll be responsible for your safety."

"You don't mind if I bring it along, do you?"

"If I had as many people trying to kill me as you, I'd want it along. Just don't shoot anyone at Headquarters."

"Headquarters?"

"Cuerpo Nacional de Policía, Unidad de Delincuencia Especializada y Violenta here in Madrid. CNP UDEV for short. My captain wants to see you."

"What about?"

Grenzner shrugged. "I suppose he wants to ask you about your claims that the warehouse contained stolen artwork."

I wished now that I had performed the sweep last night and viewed the scene in the warehouse. I wasn't looking forward to being grilled when I didn't know what had happened in there.

I had gotten used to sitting and waiting for higher-ups at the FBI offices, so the hour I sat on the hard bench in the hallway wasn't unusual except that my leg was throbbing most of the time. I wanted to pop some more pills, but I also wanted to be fully alert if I was to be grilled by senior police personnel.

Grenzner and I were finally called into his Captain's office. I recognized him from the previous day, and he was the only one in the office when we entered. He didn't rise from his chair or extend his hand.

"Captain," Grenzner said by way of introduction, "this is Special Agent Colton James of the American FBI. James, this is Captain Alberto Ruiz-Camarena."

"Sit down, James," Ruiz-Camarena said brusquely.

There were two chairs facing his desk. I took the one on the left, but Grenzner remained standing.

Ruiz-Camarena didn't waste any time getting down to it. "You've made us look very bad, James."

"How did I do that, Captain?"

"You told us the artwork stolen from the Amstelveen Museum was in that warehouse, and we found nothing."

"The onus is on me, Captain. I'm the one who has been made to look foolish."

"Not once the new story comes out. And the press has already learned about it."

"What story is that?" I asked warily.

"This morning, one of our patrols stopped to check the warehouse. During the night, someone broke the lock we had put on the door and entered the building. They appear to have ripped down a false wall that was hiding the vault you claimed was in the warehouse. The vault is now empty but for a humidifier, dehumidifier, and heater that were obviously meant to control the atmosphere in the vault."

"So the thieves broke in during the night and took back their loot. I can see where that doesn't cast a good light on you. And what's worse is that you refused to let me enter the warehouse and point out where the vault was."

"You knew the artwork was there. How?"

"I can't reveal my sources."

"You will, or you'll be a very old man before you see anything but bars every morning when you awaken."

"I've broken no laws. In defending myself from one of your homicidal citizens, I acted within the law. I was also operating within the law when I tried to help the police recover fifty million dollars worth of stolen masterpieces. I would have been only too happy to have entered the warehouse and pointed out where I believed the vault to be. I offered, in fact, but you folks wouldn't have it. I assume that excluding me was an effort to have the full credit for the find placed solely at the feet of the UDEV. I imagine you had visions of a promotion for yourself. I'm not sorry you and your people screwed it up."

The police captain just sat there, glaring at me. He knew his threat about my waking up in a cell for the rest of my life was hollow. Right now he needed me on his side to help salvage his department's reputation. I was also counting on my being an FBI Special Agent working in my favor against any sort of incarceration.

"Do you still have your source? The one who told you about the vault?"

"I seriously doubt that source has any knowledge of what happened or where the artwork might be now. We missed our best chance to recover the masterpieces yesterday." Alright, I couldn't help grinding it in a bit more. They could have shared in the publicity of finding the stolen artwork, but they wanted it all. They no doubt had some story ready about how they had already been watching the warehouse and were ready to move in when I got in the way and almost ruined everything. Bureaucrats were the same everywhere, whether in a police department or some other government agency. "So how would you proceed?" Ruiz-Camarena asked.

"I don't know right now. I thought I had this theft all wrapped up yesterday. And I did. If not for the attack on me by that crazed assassin, I would have notified the Cuerpo Nacional de Policía and Interpol of my suspicions and let the lawful authorities take over. But now I'm back to square one. Well, perhaps not square one, but I have no idea right now where the artwork might be. It might be somewhere else in Madrid, or it might be in Rome, Berlin, or even Lisbon. I'll just have to start working the case again. That is, once I heal a bit. My leg is giving me considerable pain right now." Almost wistfully I added, "Perhaps some time in Marseilles is exactly what I need."

"So you think the thieves took the artwork to Marseilles?"

I had been counting on him jumping to that conclusion. "No, I was just thinking of renting a little house that looks out over the Mediterranean while I heal. Of course, there's always the Bahamas. The weather there is beautiful right now."

I guess Captain Ruiz-Camarena finally realized I wasn't going to simply hand him the solution to the case and let him cut me out completely again. "Get out of my office, Mr. FBI. And if you get so much as a traffic ticket in Madrid, I'll see that you spend time in our jail. Your FBI credentials won't help you a bit."

I stood up, nodded my head at Ruiz-Camarena, and turned to leave. Grenzner opened the office door for me and followed me out.

"That was foolish, American. You shouldn't have angered the Captain that way."

"Are you saying he's vindictive?"

Grenzner just shrugged.

"Your Captain shouldn't have tried to cut me out of the case. Once I'm better, I'll locate the artwork again. If it happens to be in Spain, I hope I'm treated with a little more respect by your superiors and included in the recovery."

"Come. I'll drive you back to your hotel so you can get some more rest. You'll feel better when your leg mends and you have time to decide how you want to proceed."

I already knew how I intended to proceed. I had to use the gizmo to find where the artwork had been taken. But I knew I would never use it in my current hotel room. I had sat in Ruiz-Camarena's outer office for an hour, yet he had been alone when we were finally allowed in. I was confident that while I had been sitting in his outer office, his people were hard at work planting bugs in my room and possibly my clothing.

I took a pain killer as soon as I was back in my room. If the police wanted to listen to me snore, that was okay. When I was feeling better I would perform an electronic sweep of my possessions, move to a new hotel where I believed the room to be clean, and then sweep
it
just to be sure.

I didn't want to call Kathy at the moment and let whoever might be watching or listening know her phone number, so I opened my computer and told her via email that I would be out of touch for about a week. I also told her I was fine and she shouldn't worry.

Then I went to bed.

I slept off and on for two days, taking pain killers whenever the throbbing in my leg was bothering me. The pain slowly ebbed and the injury seemed to be improving. I changed the dressing after two days and, while still red and swollen, it looked substantially better than it had the first day. There didn't seem to be any sign of infection, so I didn't return to the hospital. I limped a little when I walked, but that was only because it ached when I put weight on the muscles. I didn't believe there would be any permanent defect in my stride.

There was no need for me to be anywhere near the warehouse now, so I moved to a nice little B&B about six miles north of Madrid in a town named Alcobendas where I could relax and heal. I didn't bother sweeping the old room before I left.

I felt a little better each day, and I was anxious to get back into the case, so on the third day in the B&B I swept the room for bugs. The room was clean, but my clothes weren't. I found three electronic bugs similar to the one Watson had found in my belt when I was in London. I removed them from my clothing, sealed them in the small metal case that was holding my growing collection, then verified there were no others in my clothes or luggage. The device I'd bought from Watson was worth its weight in gold.

There were many things I wanted to see with the gizmo, but the warehouse topped the list. I first went to the present time and saw the fake wall that had hidden the vault entrance. I admit that I would have been fooled myself if I hadn't known exactly where the vault was located. When I'd rechecked to see if the artwork had been moved, I hadn't thought to check the outside appearance of the vault. Another valuable lesson learned.

I went back in time to when the artwork had been brought to the vault, then advanced day by day as the two thieves constructed the phony wall. They had secured a pile of old bricks that matched the ones used to construct the warehouse, then mixed up a special cement to match the decades-old cement in the other walls. They even matched the consistency so the new cement would crumble slightly like the old cement if it was dug out from between the bricks. When they were done, their work was such a masterpiece of disguise that it would have made a Hollywood film set construction team jealous. They'd cleaned up, sprinkled dust and dirt around the area, then used a fan to blow dust onto the new wall section before laying some dusty old planks against it. It seemed obvious they intended to let the artwork remain hidden for some time before trying to sell it. No one— not even myself— would have ever guessed there was a vault behind that wall section. But I wasn't going to say that to Ruiz-Camarena.