Swimming to Catalina

file.
    “We’re insuring two other vessels here as well—onecalledPaloma and one calledContessa . Can you show me those two?”
    “Sure.Paloma is this way.”
    Stone followed him to the deserted motor yacht. “How many passes a night does the watchman make past this berth?”
    “He’s by here about once an hour.”
    “Okay, where’sContessa berthed?”
    >“Down near the breakwater, with the other big yachts,” the dockmaster said. “This way.”
    Stone followed the man down a series of pontoons until larger boats began to appear.
    “You’re lucky she’s in here today,” he said. “She spends a lot of time over at Catalina.”
    “At a marina there?”
    “No, on a mooring. They put down a special heavy one for her.”
    They approached the big yacht from the rear; she was lying alongside, rather than being moored stem to. The dockmaster waved at a man on deck. “Hey, Reno! How you doing?” He turned to Stone. “I’ll introduce you to the skipper.”
    “Thanks,” Stone replied.
    Reno came down the gangplank, smartly dressed in whites with shoulder boards and a peaked cap.
    “Reno,” the dockmaster said, “this is Reed Hawthorne, from your insurance company.”
    “Hello,” the skipper said, looking at the card Stone handed him. “You’re with Chubb? Marine Associates are our insurers, and we’ve only got liability, not hull insurance.”
    “I know,” Stone lied, “but after the sinking of Maria they’re apparently getting nervous. I was askedto take a look at your yacht to assess her general condition.”
    “Okay,” the skipper said, “come aboard.”
    Stone smiled inside. Now he had a free pass to check out from stem to stern.

46
    Stone followed the captain up to the yacht’s bridge, where a technician had pulled out some of the electronic gear to work on it.
    “We’ve got everything,” Reno said, waving a hand. “The latest color, chart-display GPS, satphone, the works. That’s why we’re at Marina Del Rey now instead of Catalina, where the owner likes to keep the boat. We came over here for some adjustments.”
    “Do you have a lot of electronic problems?”
    “Not really; this is new gear, and we’re still getting the bugs out.”
    Stone took a file folder and some blank paper and started scribbling fake notes. A cell phone mounted on the instrument panel rang, and the captain picked it up.
    “Hey,” he purred into the phone.
    A woman, Stone thought. He waved at the skipper, who covered the phone with his hand. “Look, I don’t really need a guided tour; I’ll look around on my own, if that’s all right.”

    “Sure, help yourself,” the skipper said.
    Stone thanked the dockmaster for his help and went below. Might as well make it stem to stem, he thought. He quickly toured the large saloon, the dining room, and the galley, then headed below to where he figured the crew’s quarters must be, up forward. He saw half a dozen small cabins and a larger one for the skipper, then he moved aft.
    The size and quality of the cabins increased as he walked toward the yacht’s stem. Each was individually decorated, with expensive hardwoods and fabrics, and the owner’s cabin was huge, rivaling Stone’s hotel suite in style and comfort.
    He went down another deck and looked into the cabins on either side of the hallway. These were smaller than the ones on the deck above, but still beautifully furnished. Something caught his eye in the aftermost of the small cabins. A U-bolt mounted in a plate had been welded to a bulkhead under a porthole. It seemed odd, out of place, but he had more yacht to cover, so he moved on. He checked every door and hatch on the yacht, no matter how small.
    Finally, he came to the engine room, three decks below the bridge, and it was very impressive. Two huge diesel engines occupied half the space, and a large generator was bolted to the deck on either side of the engines. Stone began looking for seacocks.
    “How you doing?” a voice said.
    Stone jumped, then turned to find the captain standing in the doorway. “Sorry, you startled me,” Stone said. “I’m doing fine; just about finished. Tell me, how are the engines cooled?”
    “There’s a heat exchanger mounted to each engine,” the skipper replied, pointing to the equipment, “with a mixture of fresh water and coolant; that cools the top end. Then there’s a raw-water flow to the bottom end of each engine.”
    “Where does the raw water come from?” Stone asked. It was what he