***
Thomas rowed with sure strokes. The island lay less than two kilometers from our boat launch, and soon the tiny vessel scraped the rocks of its eastern shore.
We walked to the lodge, but found it locked. A large sign affixed to its door said, “Closed until September 1. Trespassers may be shot.”
“See, Miss. We’d best clear out lest someone make good on yon threat.”
“Oh posh. That’s to keep the riff-raff away, which is why it says ‘may be shot’. We mean no harm. Come along.” I started down the path leading away from the main lodge.
Closer to the water’s edge, nearly fifty yards away, stood a barn. As we neared, a door flew open and man who appeared to be in his late twenties stepped out. He wore a lab coat and welder’s goggles, which he pushed down around his neck. He paused on the stoop and blinked into the sunlight, like Apollo on Mount Olympus.
He raised a hand to shield his eyes, and gazed our way. “Cyrus? Did you forget something? Oh. You’re not Cyrus. The island is off limits this time of year.”
On a hunch I asked, “Are you Robert, by any chance?”
The man took a few steps closer and peered at my face. A smile took charge of his handsome features. “And you must be Ewan’s daughter, Elizabeth.”
The flutters in my stomach did a rollicking jig as I scrutinized Robert. His sandy hair pointed in all directions, cornflower blue eyes crinkled at the edges as he held his smile. He stood about six feet, and possessed a feral edge to his muscular physique and rugged features. Dark stubble, much darker than the hair on his head, shaded the lower portion of his face. No doubt his razor hadn’t made an appearance in at least two days. Brains and brawn with an air of danger--a girl could easily lose her heart to a man like that.
“I-I am. Yes. Did you know my father, Sir?”
“Aye. I did. I had wondered how long before I might receive visitors from the Blake family, but hadn’t expected you quite this soon. Please accept my condolences for your loss.” He wiped his hands on his lab coat, then extended one for a shake. “Robert Rankine, at your service.”
“I go by Lizzie.” I took his hand, and a current of awareness buzzed through me. “Rankine? I see. I have many questions.” I eyed Thomas. “But I need to speak with you in private. Might we perhaps go inside your…facility?”
“I’ll wait right here, Miss. Give us a whistle or call if you need anything.” Thomas rolled his shoulders back and directed what appeared to be a warning glare at my father's partner.
Robert ran a hand through his unruly hair, betraying the cause of its unkempt status. “Of course. This way, please, Miss… er, Lizzie.”
Inside, the front part of the building functioned as an office. Two desks sat in front of freestanding bookcases that served as makeshift walls to enclose the area. Files lay stacked in sloppy piles throughout. The room smelled of ancient hay and dust, fine particulates winking in the sunlight that streamed through the high windows.
Robert scurried ahead to clear off two chairs for us to occupy. He spoke to me over his shoulder as he moved. “I’d offer you tea, but I’m afraid I’ve only water and whiskey.”
“Whiskey is fine.”
He whipped around, his arms full of books and papers, his mouth agape. “Oh. Right. I’ll just put these…” The contents of his arms found a temporary home on the surface of a desk. Robert slipped through a narrow passage into the space behind the office.
Too curious to remain stationary, I rose and tiptoed in his wake to discover what hid behind the bookcases.
While Robert made a hard left turn to where a small cabinet sat, I gazed beyond him into the massive space overcrowded with bits of machinery, tools and tables. In the back corner, next to the opened barn door, sat a massive coal bin.
I threw away all pretense of stealth and entered the area, my face upturned to peruse the loft. A long silver column that grew in circumference as it neared the floor, dangled from the rafters. Triangular plates traversed the cylinder’s length, exactly like the coal-eating creature’s. Green bits of seaweed clung to several of the protrusions. The column connected to the front of a capsule approximately four by six feet. A tail extended from the rear end, except the capsule’s appendage possessed a series of propellers down its length of nearly five feet, with a tapering diameter of eighteen to six inches.
A throat being cleared jerked my attention away from the... What was it, anyway? It couldn’t have been the same creature I encountered earlier. How could it have reached Loch Ness? The Caledonian Canal ran nowhere near Papa’s cave and no one knew of any subterranean passageways between the loch and the coast.
“I see you’ve discovered Nessie the Second.” He stood by my side, the pair of us facing the automaton, and handed me a glass of amber-colored liquid. Our fingers brushed and our eyes met and held.
Determined not to betray my addled state, I cocked my head and asked, “How many Nessies are there?”
“At least two now. This model took Ewan and me years to design and fabricate.”
“Why? What’s her purpose?”
“Ah, your father never told you?" I scowled and shrugged. "I guess not. I thought when you came to the cave today, you seemed to know your way around. When you climbed to the rock ledge, it was as if you’d been there before.” He downed the entirety of his drink in a single gulp.
I did the same and nearly choked. Robert thumped me on the back, chuckling.
“How did you know I was in the cave?” I asked.
He walked toward Nessie. I set my glass on the buffet and trotted to his side. We stopped at the capsule large enough to seat a single person in a semi-reclining position.
“I saw you because I was there too, inside Nessie.”
Robert pointed to the creature’s head curled around the rafters. “That's also a viewer.” He then lowered his finger to point to a console in a cockpit area of the pod. “The head reflects images through a series of mirrors and prisms to ... there.”
“But… how did you get her from the coast to Dog Island?”
“Nessie’s a submersible, my dear Lizzie. Some two hundred meters beneath the surface of Loch Ness is the opening to a series of tunnels that empty into the cave." He rapped his knuckles against the metal exterior of the pod. "At high tide, Nessie can put out to sea. She is seaworthy enough to pilot along the Scottish coast, provided she’s stockpiled sufficient coal to burn or has access to a supply during her voyage.”
"Which she mines herself, right? I saw her... you."
"Aye, that she does." Robert leaned against the capsule, legs crossed at his ankles.
"But why? Why a submersible? Why build it in the shape of a sea monster?"
He launched himself toward me and took my hand. We walked to the far left side of the space to a table with what looked like a spread-out map.
"This is a map of the inner caverns of the mountains around the loch that separate us from the ocean. Hundreds of years ago, the water level in the loch was much lower. Dog Island would have been at least ten times its current size. The entrance to the caves was at water level, allowing easy passage for a small vessel. The hidden chambers attracted seafaring types of a less than scrupulous nature."
My brows shot up. "You mean like pirates?"
"Aye, those too, but mostly Vikings. The men were a bad lot who amassed a great fortune in their raids. They hid it and themselves in the caves. But, as thieves often do, they eventually turned upon each other. The last of the notorious marauders of the Northeastern Scottish coast, a man named Rathburn, hid his treasure in these caves so well it was presumed lost forever." He tapped his finger on a point on the map. "This is where we are." He traced a line to the upper right side of the map. "This is the North Sea and to the east is Norway. Following the Scottish coast south before crossing the sea, we arrive at Germany, Belgium and France. Plus tis always wise to have clandestine escape routes should we ever find ourselves at war."
"So you and my father have been hunting for Rath
burn’s treasure?"
He turned the full force of his grin upon me. "Not hunting, my dear. Recovering."
I reflected back on my own history. We had inherited a large sum of money from a distant aunt of my father's six months earlier. Or so my father had claimed. The hush-hush nature of our sudden fortune made sense if the treasure had not yet been fully recovered. "And the submersible looks like a sea monster, why?"
"To frighten off the curious, to deflect attention from our real objective--"
"How much more treasure lies in the caves?"
Robert clenched his eyes shut, lips pressed together. "Umm..." Eyes opened and twinkled with mischief. "Let's just say, that our grandchildren will still be able to live quite well without having to lift a finger."
Our grandchildren? "Oh my."
The clearing of a throat interrupted us. We both turned to see Thomas strolling our way. In his hand he carried a pistol that he pointed at Robert.
"Thomas! What's the meaning of this? Mr. Rankine has not threatened me."
"Sorry, Miss, but I've been waiting far too long to discover the location of your father's fortune. I'd nearly run out of patience until Sarah and I saw you and the submersible this morning. Mr. Rankine here kindly supplied the rest of the story for me." He motioned to Robert with his pistol. "Where've you stashed the Viking bounty?"
Robert appeared surprisingly calm. "Sir, the treasure you seek is not here."
"Don’t lie to me! I heard you say you’d found it. If not here, where is it?” Thomas' voice rang out and bounced off the rafters.
"In the caves, of course."
Thomas walked closer and pressed the muzzle of his weapon against Robert's chest. "You'll take me to it then."
We had to do something, and soon. If Thomas found the treasure, he'd have no reason to keep either Robert or me alive.
"The submersible is only large enough for one," Robert said, his eyes never leaving his aggressor’s.
Thomas lowered his pistol and walked to me. "Very well. You go and bring it to me, and Miss Blake lives. You don't come back, and she dies." As if to prove his point, he cocked the hammer and pointed the pistol at my head.
Robert paused for a moment, then raised his hands as if in surrender. "Alright. Fine. I'll fetch it for you. I will require assistance moving the submersible back into the loch, however. My assistant left before you arrived and it's a two man job."
A smirk played across Thomas' face. "I'm sure Miss Blake can assist you. She’s in her men’s clothes and so is prepared to do a man’s job. I'm afraid I've drawn the job of keeping my pistol trained on her." He snickered. Thomas' insistence on escorting me on my expeditions made a lot more sense.
"As you wish." Robert walked to the pod, where he slipped inside and flipped several switches.
The submersible roared to life, emitting a black cloud of smoke. Another few switches flipped and Nessie's nearly prehensile head and neck spiraled down from the rafters and coiled on top of the pod like a snake. I would have never thought her anything other than a motorized carriage in her current, compact state. She rose up on four chunky legs; and Robert jumped out of the pod.
"I need help pushing the sled under her, Lizzie." He pointed to a wheeled pallet with a rope tethered to one end.
Thomas nudged me forward to assist. A quick glance out the open door in the back of the barn as we worked revealed a smooth path that led to the water's edge.
Once we’d loaded and secured Nessie, Robert and I maneuvered her slowly down the makeshift boat ramp. At the bottom, we shoved Nessie off the sled and into the dark water lapping the rocky shore.
Robert looked out over the loch, then stepped into the water where he battened hatches and closed valves before he climbed inside. A flipped switch sent a thunderous ripple through the water that also shook the ground we stood upon. He continued a long series of pre-voyage procedures. Thomas shifted from foot to foot, his impatience obvious.
Finally, the water behind Nessie boiled and splashed. Tremors under the water grew stronger.
“I say, Thomas, she seems to be stuck. I’ll need a bit more muscle than Miss Blake can provide in order to dislodge her so we can move out to deeper water and submerge.
What the Darwin’s devil was he up to?
Thomas motioned for me to come with him into the water. When he moved beyond the opening to the capsule, Robert raised a hand and mouthed, “Stay there.”
The disturbances in the water grew in intensity as if something large but invisible drew near. Twenty feet behind Thomas, a silver dorsal scale broke the surface, then another and another. Wide-eyed, I looked to Robert, who pressed a single finger to his lips.
The head of a dragon rose at least ten feet into the air before Thomas turned and laughed. "You must be Nessie the First."
The beast opened its jaws and seized Thomas from head to the waist. It lifted him from the water and shook violently. Thomas discharged a single shot before his agonized cries came to a bone-crunching halt. The lower half of his body fell with a gush of blood into the water.
I watched and screamed before Robert jerked me away by my arm. “Miss Blake! Come now!”
With his help, I clambered inside. We were all elbows and knees, but we managed to slam the door and seal it.
Out of breath and tangled with Robert, my face only inches from his in the tiny cockpit, I closed my eyes and whispered my heartfelt thanks. When I opened them again, Robert flashed a roguish grin.
“Oh my God! There really is a Loch Ness monster!” I shook my head as I shifted into a slightly more comfortable position, but no less scandalous.
“Where do you think your father got the design in the first place?” He shook with soft laughter and hugged me closer, easing me between his legs and pulling me back against his chest. His breath moved my hair as he spoke. “And now, Lizzie, how about we go find a little bauble for my newest joint venture partner before Nessie the First gets any amorous ideas.”
I turned in the arms that surrounded me. Robert Rankine really was a superb male specimen. “She’s amorous?”
“Oh, aye, Lizzie. Aye.”
“Darwin’s devils,” I sighed, nestling into the warmth of Robert’s body.
The End.
###
About the Author
CLAIRE GILLIAN is the pen name for a number-crunching executive by day and a darkly romantic curmudgeon by night. She writes smart, witty stories for smart, witty people. Her debut novel, The P.U.R.E. was released in April 2012. Since then she has released short stories in Tidal Whispers and Conquest Through Determination anthologies.
She also writes fifty shades naughtier stuff under the pen name of Lila Shaw, but please don’t tell her mother. No matter which name she uses, Claire is happiest penning romance drenched in humor with a dash of intrigue and loads of spice.
Claire lives in the boggy Pacific NW with her husband and two teen-aged sons.
Claire loves to hear from her readers at: [email protected]. For more news and writerly knick-knacks (including a free story every now and then), please visit her website at: www.clairegillian.com
Connect with Claire Online:
Twitter: @claire_gillian_
Facebook: Claire.Gillian
Claire also writes steamier romance Lila Shaw. Be sure to check out Lila's offerings too including a free read Succubus Bites: Tasmin.
If you enjoyed Clockwork Nessie, you might also enjoy:
Purely Relative (The P.U.R.E. #1.5) by Claire Gillian
Unemployed and living far from home, Gayle Lindley is nevertheless lucky to be alive after narrowly escaping her murderous ex-employer. She’s also thankful to the boyfriend gods for having blessed her with a former co-worker. Jon Cripps is brains, brawn and bedroom-certified, all in one delectable package. Life is finally on the uptick.
…Or so Gayle thinks until Jon pops the big question—no, not marriage, but meeting the rest of his family. What he neglects to mention is his loose familial definition also
includes the parents of his ex-fiancée. And too bad Gayle has already met one sibling while engaged in a vigorous mattress inspection with Jon. Everyone will think she’s a man-stealing hussy!
As Gayle tiptoes into the bosom of Jon’s extended family, she is deluged with more secrets than even her curious nature can absorb. But the drama hits hardest when Jon, mysterious as ever, drops a bombshell that threatens to unravel every single stitch of progress she has made with him and his … ‘interesting’ relations.
Prometheus Unstitched by Lila Shaw
Cory Blindbarrow of Blindbarrow Crimefighting Couture, loves her work—from tailoring bulletproof fabrics to engineering concealed weaponry. Kowtowing to the over-sized egos of her superhero clientele? Not so much.
Her newest client, Theo Richelieu, aka Prometheus Man, can see five minutes into the future. Unfortunately, nobody believes him. He’s exactly the type that pushes Cory’s buttons. But he’s also quite talented at engaging (and disengaging) her buttons and zippers. As maddening as Theo can be, Cory can’t deny their supernatural chemistry.
When a sniper targets Cory’s colleagues, Theo appoints himself her protector. His know-it-all attitude soon has her ready to tattoo a bullseye on her forehead. If Theo is unable to convince the headstrong couturier she’s the sniper’s next mark, their happily ever after might never make it out of the design phase.
Clockwork Nessie Page 2