Loch, The Read online

  “They’re specimens, collected from around the Loch. A few dead birds and a squirrel.”

  “Birds an’ squirrels? Christ, lad, why dae they no’ jist hang me now an’ get it ower wi’.” He tore the IV drip from his arm. “Listen, Nature Boy, I need ye oot on the water, no’ strollin’ the woods like some pixie.”

  “That’s what scientists do, Angus. We look for real clues, not the ones published in the World Weekly News. The animal that bit me is obviously a predator, and it’s overcome its fear of man, assuming it ever had one.”

  “Well now, I see ye finally admit tae bein’ bitten. Thought ye looked mair focused. Danger’ll dae that tae the mind. So then, how dae ye plan on findin’ it?”

  “First, I have to know what it is I’m looking for. Then—”

  “Then ye’ll need a boat, equipment too. I can get ye a’ ye need.”

  “How?”

  “Go see Theresa. She’ll be in her summer hoose, in the hills above Foyers.”

  “And why would Johnny C.’s widow want to help me?”

  “She’d be helpin’ me.”

  “God, you’re pathetic.” I shook my head and left, wondering why I was wasting my time with him.

  * * *

  It was almost midnight by the time I tracked down Sheriff Holmstrom in his office. “Sheriff, I need your lab to perform some blood work on these animal specimens. Any word yet about the swatches I gave you earlier?”

  “We’re workin’ on it.” He looked through my backpack. “Dead birds ... a squirrel? Is this really necessary? Looks tae me like ye’re shootin’ in the dark.”

  “Maybe. But we have to ... “ I paused, as speakers squawked to life from outside his window. “What’s going on?”

  “Highland Council hired an American scientist tae organize things at Loch Ness. They’re bringin’ him straight from the airport, press conference’s scheduled tae take place on the castle lawn the moment he arrives. Leave the specimens wi’ me, I’ll see the crime lab gets them.”

  “Thanks.” I shook his hand, then headed outside, curious.

  A small sound stage had been set up for the cameras, with Inverness Castle lit majestically in the background. Everywhere I looked were reporters and film crews, the whole catered affair orga­nized by the Highland Council’s Division of Tourism.

  A buzz rose from the crowd, which squeezed in tighter to the stage as Owen Hollifield stepped to the podium.

  “Good evenin’, an’ welcome tae Inverness, gateway tae the Scottish Highlands. My name is Owen Hollifield an’ I am Provost o’ the Highland Council, the governin’ body that presides over Loch Ness. Over the last forty-eight hours, the Council’s been reviewin’ progress in our ongoin’ investigation tae resolve the mystery o’ Loch Ness an’ how it relates tae the tragic deaths o’ several tourists. Wi’ three research teams now combin’ the Loch an’ several dozen smaller parties staked out on land, the Council felt it imperative that we appoint an expert tae organize our search an’ resolve disputes among the, uh ... monster hunters, if ye will. We searched worldwide, and while there were at least a dozen candidates we considered, one name stuck out among the rest.”

  Hollifield paused to read from a three-by-five card. “The scientist of whom I speak has earned a reputation for organizin’ research teams an’ locatin’ their objective. In January o’ this year, his team succeeded in doin’ somethin’ no other research group had ever done, track down and film a giant squid.”

  “Huh?” I pushed through the crowd to take a closer look. “Ladies an’ gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure tae introduce tae ye, Dr. David Caldwell o’ Boca Raton, Florida.”

  Had I been hooked to Angus’s EKG monitor, my thundering heart would have exploded the graph. There was David, waving from behind the podium like some conquering hero, using my accomplish­ments as his proverbial pedestal.

  “Thank you, thank you ... my God, what a nice welcome. It’s truly an honor to be here in Scotland, working with the Highland Council, and ... well, what can I say, I’ll do everything in my power to resolve this mystery, once and for all.”

  “We’ll take a few questions, an’ then Dr. Caldwell’s off tae his hotel.”

  “Dr. Caldwell, wasn’t it, in fact, Dr. Zachary Wallace who caught the giant squid on film?”

  “Damn straight,” I mumbled, pumping my fists.

  David grinned his Cheshire cat smile. “Certainly my former col­league played a role on our team, but I was head of the mission, the one responsible for its success. Dr. Wallace, unfortunately, was more responsible for sinking our submersible.”

  You son of a—

  “Yes, the young lady in that attractive blue blazer.”

  “Dr. Caldwell, have ye ever even been tae Loch Ness?”

  “Not per se, but hey, water’s water. If we can find a giant squid in the Sargasso Sea, then we should have no problem finding your plesiosaur.”

  Idiot ...

  “How do you know it’s a plesiosaur?”

  “Well, I—”

  “What proof do you have?”

  The provost took over before David could shove his other foot in his mouth. “We’ll, ah, hold yer questions there. Dr. Caldwell’s had a long flight an’ needs his rest. Tomorrow mornin’, Council will be meetin’ tae discuss what we’ll do wi’ Nessie once we—”

  “Hey, David!” My body trembled as I pushed toward the front of the stage.

  The crowd encircled me, their cameras still rolling.

  David looked down from the podium. “Zack? Jesus, what, uh, what’re you doing here? Ladies and gentlemen, my, uh, my colleague and good friend, Dr. Zachary Wallace.”

  I leaped onto the stage in one adrenaline-enhanced bound. “You mean former colleague, don’t you, asshole?” Before he could respond, my right cross smashed him squarely in the face, dropping him like a sack of potatoes.

  Camera strobes lit the night as I stood over him, my teeth grind­ing my father’s grin. “Welcome tae the Highlands, ye bastard.”

  Chapter 21 Quotes

  « ^ »

  It was about 7:30 in the evening and my son, Jim, and I were working in a loch-side field about two kilometers south of Dores when we noticed something moving about halfway across Loch Ness. It was big and black, and I realized after fifteen years of farming I was finally seeing the monster. The Loch was calm and everything was quiet, not a noise anywhere, just this thing moving steadily forward. It was quite eerie.

  We decided to get the boat out and try to intercept it. Four of us got in and set off. As we got closer we could see more details. There was a long head and neck coming about two meters out of the water, and the body had humps. Its color was dark and it had to be at least fourteen meters [45.9 feet] long. As we moved closer it rose up a bit, put up a great disturbance so that our boat spun around, then was gone.

  The one thing I’ll always remember is that eye. It was oval-shaped and jaundice and it looked right at us.

  —HUGH AYTON, BALACHLADAICH, AUGUST 1963

  Chapter 21

  « ^ »

  Inverness

  I AWOKE TO AN INCESSANT POUNDING on my door. Fearing I had been screaming again in my sleep, I rolled out of bed with a groan, every muscle in my body raw and aching.

  “Who the hell is it?”

  “Maxie. Open up!”

  I unbolted the door and opened it, then staggered to the bath­room sink, and downed several aspirin.

  Max followed me in, carrying a rolled-up newspaper. “Still sleep­ing? It’s two-thirty in the affie.”

  “I was up late, poisoning my body.”

  “And behaving like our father, yeah?” He held open the newspaper.

  The black-and-white photo captured me standing over David, fists balled, face contorted in a wild leer. The caption read: “Wallace Welcomes Colleague to Loch Ness.”

  “At least they got my good side.”

  “Caldwell threatened to press charges. Don’t worry, he backed off when I threatened a countersuit o
f slander.”

  “Let him sue, I’ve got nothing to lose.” I turned over the paper, my eye catching another article.

  COUNCIL AMENDS LAWS

  In the wake of the gruesome attack on Alaskan resident Justin Wagner and the suspected deaths of at least two other tourists, the Highland Council voted unanimously to amend the “Protection of Animals Act of 1912” and the subsequent “Veterinary Surgeons Act of 1966.” The 1912 Law prevented the water creature, known as “Nessie,” from being netted by researchers and monster hunters, while the 1966 Act outlawed attempts to take tissue samples from any Loch Ness water beast. Fisheries Protection Board bailiff Theron Turman agreed with the changes, but was quick to point out that the amendments refer only to large water creatures and that it was still illegal to net trout or salmon in Loch Ness.

  “Yeah, I read that article, too. What’s it all mean?”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “It means they want to capture the creature.”

  Observation Lounge

  Clansman Hotel

  With an extensive boat dock located directly on Loch Ness, the Clansman Hotel has always been the favorite convening spot for Nessie hunters, and the Highland Council wasted no time in securing it for their own proceedings.

  Provost Owen Hollifield checked his watch, then knocked again on David Caldwell’s suite. “Afternoon, doctor. Ye ready?”

  David opened the door, his eyes red from jet lag. “Born ready. I take it Council did everything they were supposed to?”

  “Aye. The laws were amended, an’ we’ve a’ready begun talks wi’ two construction firms. As for the monster hunters, we’ve selected the three most qualified captains an’ vessels as ye requested, an’ if ye don’t like these, we’ve applications from forty tae fifty more. Everyone from local fishermen tae computer geeks tae ex-Royal Navy wants tae be here.”

  “Three’s plenty. Anymore and they start tripping over one another.”

  “That’s already happenin’, I’m afraid. Many have dropped sonar buoys, an’ the signals are crossin’, foulin’ one another up.”

  “I’ll handle them. I’ve dealt with their types before.”

  Hollifield led him down a carpeted hallway to the adjoining banquet room. “Be fair warned, there’re also a few curators here who insisted on bein’ at this meetin’. One’s from the Smithsonian, the other two work at the British Museum of Natural History. Treat them kindly, they can make waves.”

  “Understood.”

  They entered the Observation Lounge, a banquet room offer­ing panoramic views of Loch Ness and the pier where several large research vessels were now docked. A portable corkboard on wheels was positioned near the head of the conference table, a map of Loch Ness pinned to its surface.

  Five men and two women milled about the buffet tables, helping themselves to an early dinner.

  Hollifield took his place before the head of the table, David on his right. “Gentlemen and ladies, if ye please.”

  The expedition leaders and museum curators took their seats.

  “This is Dr. Caldwell, the gentleman whom Council has appoint­ed tae organize our search. Dr. Caldwell, our Nessie hunters; Michael Hoagland from the German research vessel, Nothosaur, Scott an’ Debbie Sloan, American cryptozoologists wi’ the Galon, an’ Bill Plager, a marine biologist serving aboard the fifty-seven-foot ship, Great White North.”

  “A pleasure. Now I know you have some grievances you want to discuss, but before we get into that, let’s talk about our objective. You, and dozens of Nessie hunters before you have spent several decades and untold thousands of dollars chasing after underwater photos and sonar recordings. Now all that’s changed. With the monster’s sudden thirst for blood, I think it’s safe to say something large inhabits Loch Ness. In other words, we’ve got the proof, it’s lying in the morgue, what we want now is to capture the beast.”

  Scott Sloan scoffed. “Capture it? Aren’t you being rather presump­tuous, and more than a bit melodramatic? For one, who said anything about a thirst for blood?” He looked at his wife, who nodded.

  “Scott’s right. And besides, how do you capture something that’s so elusive, we’ve yet to get a decent photo of it in over seventy years?”

  David winked at the provost. “My skeptics said the same thing about the Giant Squid. The game’s changed, folks, deal with it. For whatever reason, Nessie’s no longer satisfied with feeding in the deep. She’s become a real meat eater.”

  Bill Plager ran a callused palm over his bald spot. “Meat eater or no’, ye’ll no’ capture anythin’ until ye get these amateurs tae stop drop- pin’ their damn sonar buoys all over the Loch.”

  “Us?” Hoagland stood. “It’s your buoys jamming our grid!”

  “Easy, boys,” David warned, “there’s no unions here. Either you fellas play nice or we’ll boot your asses off the Loch.”

  Dr. Saumil Shah, Associate Curator at the Smithsonian, raised his hand. “A question, please. Assuming you can even locate this water creature, where do you think you’re going to keep it?”

  “Right here.” David stood, then circled Urquhart Bay on the map with his pencil.

  Meghan Talley rolled her eyes.

  “Okay, I can see a few doubting Thomases, but think about this. The bay provides us with a natural habitat, with three shorelines we can use to pen the creature in. Council’s already negotiating with engineers and construction companies who said they can drop steel fencing from a prefab bridge spanning the entire mouth of the bay, in effect, cordoning it off from the rest of the Loch. The fencing’ll be secured to the bottom using concrete anchors and supported along the surface by a series of buoys. Naturally, the shoreline surrounding the bay will have to be fenced in as well. It’ll be the largest animal pen in the world, and I guarantee, the most popular.”

  “Plus,” added the Provost, “it’d allow us tae study the creature while still protectin’ the legend ... an’ our tourists.”

  David offered a cocky smile. “Now I’ll answer your questions. Yes, ma’am, and you are?”

  “Meghan Talley. My husband, Mark, and I are curators at the British Museum of Natural History. We were at your press conference last night when you publicly identified the predator as a plesiosaur. Exactly what did you base your analysis on?”

  “Decades of sightings. Photos. The usual stuff.”

  “I see.” Meghan’s blue eyes blazed. “And is this the type of scien­tific protocol we can come to expect?”

  “Look, lady, what difference does it make what I say it is? Once we capture it, we’ll look under its skirt and know for sure, right?”

  “It’s ass-backwards, doctor. This is still supposed to be a scientific expedition.”

  “Says who?” David paced around the table, chest out. “I’ve been hired to organize a hunt, plain and simple. You want to call it a scien­tific expedition, knock your socks off. Me? I say we capture the thing, then sort the science out later.”

  “My wife’s right,” Mark Talley said. “If you don’t know what you’re hunting, you can’t even be certain it’s one creature. You’re also basing your assumptions on Nessie lore. Chances are, it’s not something any­where as romantic as a plesiosaur. What if it’s just a giant sturgeon?”

  “A sturgeon?”

  “Yes, Dr. Caldwell, a sturgeon. Look it up. It’s an anadromous species, over 200 million years old, that proliferates in Loch Ness. The Baltic sturgeon looks almost like a Thresher shark, and it can grow over twenty feet in length. You think the public’s going to pay good money to see a sturgeon?”

  David glanced back at the provost. “It’s not a sturgeon. Sturgeons don’t have teeth big enough, sharp enough to do the kind of damage that happened to that Alaskan kid.”

  “Our point, doctor, is that you’re jumping the gun with all these announcements and expenses. Why not slow down, figure out what it is first, then go after it.”

  David shook his head. “No. See, all you curators and monster hunters have been doing it th
e same way for decades. It’s high time for a more aggressive approach. Isn’t that right, Mr. Provost?”

  Hollifield nodded. “Council’s puttin’ up £50,000 sterlin’ for the capture o’ the beast, an’ National Geographic, who won the bid tae film everythin’, jist added another £100,000 tae sweeten the pot. This money ... an’ credit for the capture, will be split by Dr. Caldwell, the Council, an’ only those vessels participating in the search.”

  David returned to the map. “I’m dividing the Loch into three sec­tions. The Nothosaur will cover the northern end of Loch Ness, from the Abban Water Fishery south to Urquhart Bay. The Sloans and the Galon’s crew will patrol Urquhart Bay south to Foyers. Since Bill Plager has the largest and fastest of the three vessels, he’ll take Foyers south to Fort Augustus. As a necessary first step, I’m asking each of you to commit to the mission by immediately collecting your own sonar buoys. You’ll then redistribute them, following my technician’s instructions, in a specified pattern in your assigned areas. In addition to keeping an eye on your own grid, your signals will be uploaded to a master signature management system aboard my boat, which I’ll be selecting tomorrow morning from a list of local applicants.”

  David circled the group again like a young Patton. “In a few days, we’ll be supplying your vessels with extra-heavy fishing nets, which should arrive in Inverness later this week. By then, we expect to have most of the mouth of Urquhart Bay cordoned off Once the monster is targeted by our sonar grid, all boats will converge upon its location and we’ll net it.”

  Meghan Talley shook her head. “Simple as that, huh?”

  “Look, lady, we’re dealing with a big predator living in a big lake, but it’s still just a lake. I mean, where else is this thing gonna go? We locate it, we net it, we pen it. It’s cut-and-dried.”

  “What about the museum?” Dr. Shah asked.

  “Once we capture the monster, we’ll begin fielding applications from curators and other scientists to study Nessie.”