Free Watcher in the Pine by Rebecca Pawel

Márquez was clearly a raving incompetent, but there was no point in crying over spilt milk. However, Tejada saw no need to mince words. Be fair , the lieutenant reminded himself, although his stomach was still clenched with tension. After all, the man made a report over two weeks ago. It’s not his fault the Valencians escaped when they did . Aloud he said, “Give me the details of the dynamite theft. When did you first miss it?”
     
    “I told you. February sixteenth.” Rosas sat behind his desk and opened a drawer. He continued speaking as he rummaged through files. “We’re pushing the highway through to Espinama, and ultimately we plan to have the major routes to all the towns in the valley paved. Mostly we follow the valley, but sometimes we do need to clear rock, and we’re up to one of those points now.” He drew out an accordion folder and pulled a sheaf of papers from it as he talked. “I verified that we had the materials on . . .” He riffled through the papers and then found the date. “February fourteenth. That was a Saturday. We scheduled blasting for Monday. Only the foreman came and told Martin that he couldn’t proceed because the dynamite was missing.”
     
    “Where was it being stored?” Tejada asked.
     
    Rosas winced. “We have a storage shed for all our materials next to the garage. It’s convenient. And since it’s inside the perimeter of the worker’s barracks . . .”
     
    Tejada sighed, anticipating what Rosas was about to say. “It’s not guarded.”
     
    “Well, the perimeter is guarded by the Policía Armada,” Rosas said apologetically. “Of course I spoke to them right away. But they’re mostly concerned with men, not materials. So I talked to Sergeant Márquez.”
     
    It was on the tip of Tejada’s tongue to retort that they were obviously none too meticulous about guarding men either. “Well, it wasn’t elves who moved the dynamite,” he said instead. “I’d like to look over the site when we’re finished here.”
     
    “Of course, Lieutenant.” Rosas half-rose, and Tejada gestured him back to his seat.
     
    “First I want to know about the other thefts,” he explained. “The dates the shipments were supposed to arrive, exactly what they were, and when you first learned they were missing.”
     
    Rosas was already scrambling through files. “Here you are, Lieutenant.” He held one out. “This was the first, I think. Just before Christmas. A shipment of stonecutter’s tools.”
     
    Tejada was already scanning the requisition form and jotting down particulars. An hour later he had digested the better part of four similar forms, and was beginning to feel puzzled. He had been alarmed by the theft of dynamite, and had initially looked for other materials that could be used for terrorist activity. But two of the shipments were for lead pipes. Short of melting the lead down and casting it into bullets, Tejada could not imagine what violent purpose it could serve. One was a shipment of wire. Mass garroting seemed similarly unlikely. He had initially been alarmed to see that the final missing consignment had been over one hundred liters of gasoline. Then he had reflected that there was no way the bandits could be using vehicles in the forest, and had been simply puzzled. The only thing the missing goods seemed to have in common was their portability.
     
    Sergeant Márquez returned with the news that the phone call to Santander had gone through without incident, and that the colonel was preparing appropriate security measures. Tejada was momentarily relieved until Márquez added, “He was pretty upset about it, sir. He said that according to the best intelligence available, the guerrilla nucleus was right here in the Liébana comarca , so capturing the bandits was our responsibility. And that it should be our first priority.”
     
    “No argument,” Tejada said. “Did you ask him what he was basing his intelligence on? I’d like any reports we