Loch Ness

by Donovan Galway

  Chapter Two

  Louisa sat in the spacious lab in her New Zealand site. The building was in the best part of town and the suite leased by Spencer Research and Exploration was the best in the building. Her computer was brand new, bought and programmed especially for her, as was much of the research equipment in the room. She had spent the better part of two days downloading and filing her research to merge with that of her new team leader.

  Beau Spencer had a string of ambiguous credentials that meant far less to his investors than the provable, tangible, publishable results he invariably produced for his funding. It was his track record which helped him continually draw more money from universities, museums and science bodies. His team was the most highly recommended in their field and each member of it guaranteed to come up with some new paper, twist or imaginative breakthrough. Spencer had made a career of keeping a team of believers and taking ownership for their accomplishments. Tall, confident to the point of arrogance, dashing to a fault and seemingly too young for his experience, Beau Spencer was the perfect front man. His team was always a success so the money was always assured.

  Spencer’s research had been kept within the immediately provable and socially popular world of whales and dolphins. These were politically correct subjects with any conscientious society and he was continually identifying new behavioral traits or discovering new species. He had never been able to get any of John Nagle’s work because John did so much of it himself. His people gathered data, but John and Louisa made the determinations. Even recruiting Davis Billikin proved fruitless. Billikin only had numbers extrapolated by his expertise with the sonar equipment.

  But now Spencer had a new angle. He quietly looked over Louisa’s shoulder as she catalogued her charts and studies. It was an impressive array she wouldn’t dare take full credit for. As intrigued as he was by the work, he couldn’t resist leaning closer to the unsuspecting Louisa. He bent over close enough to smell her hair. By then she was able to sense him.

  Without turning, she scanned the screen for a dark spot and used it like a mirror to see Beau inches behind her. “See anything interesting?”

  “She asked the kid in the candy store. Where do I begin?”

  Louisa spun around in her chair to face him. Spencer backed up but not quite out of reach. Her smile was protected but clear. “Start with the species identifications. I’ve got tissue and DNA samples of sixty-two mammals and reptiles. You promised me access to your files to run a comparison.”

  “Send it to Davis. I’ve got a whole team to deal with the boring stuff. Let them.”

  “So what do you deal with?”

  “Well, I deal with the funding for one thing. All this costs money. It’s my job to be sure we’re doing something productive and to be sure it’s presented in the most profitable method.”

  “So we do the work and you take the credit?” She made no attempt to hide the broad smile which told him she did not totally disapprove of the concept.

  “No. They do the research. We…” he said flicking his index finger between the two of them, “We make the decisions. We decide what to look for. We put the data together in a nice, presentable package that will sell well to National Geographic, Sea World or Disney. And that’s just the boring part.”

  “So what’s the fun part?”

  “The fun part is that that part only takes about five percent of the job time.” He leaned in close to her, placing a hand on each arm of her swivel chair. “The other ninety-five percent of the time is ours.”

  She didn’t flinch. She offered no reaction whatsoever to his advance. As he stared at her from well inside her personal comfort zone she looked him in the eye without the slightest change to her already set smile. “Work now. Play later. Okay?”

  “I’m all for work when there’s work to do.”

  “There is. At least for me there is.”

  “Okay. Can I watch?”

  She spun back around to face the keyboard. “You can do more than watch. You can speed this filing up by getting me a species analysis for comparison. I need to see the duplications in our research before I can move forward.”

  “So I don’t get to watch?”

  “You don’t strike me as voyeur type.”

  “Depends on what’s showing.”

  She looked back at him with a smug grin. “Am I going to have trouble with you?”

  “Yes. But I’m thinking you can handle me. So do you think you’ll hit a stopping point any time soon?”

  “Maybe. Why?”

  “It’s time for the new team member inauguration. I gave you time to settle in but now you need to take your place on the team.”

  “And what can I expect from this ritual?”

  “Oh, it’s grueling. It starts with a seafood dinner at the best restaurant in Queenstown. Then an evening of drinking that is guaranteed not to include any karaoke. Finally a walk in the moonlight along the river.”

  “Hmmmm. Team thing, huh?”

  Beau held his hands out. “You wouldn’t want to break tradition. Would you?”

  “I’m just trying to imagine the whole team walking along the river.”

  “Well, it’s more of an individual ritual.”

  “Is it?”

  “It works out better that way.”

  “So what did you and Davis talk about on your moonlight stroll?”

  “Now don’t jump to conclusions. Davis Billikin happens to be a marvelous dancer.”

  Louisa allowed the subtlest of laughs. “What do you say we establish a working relationship first? Okay, smoothie?”

  Beau walked toward the door. “Sure. But science is patience and patience is a science.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I can wait. At least that’s what I think it means. Anywho, I’ll get that species data for you. Don’t work too hard.” He noticed her smiling more at this comment than his feeble joke and had to ask. “What?”

  “It seems so odd being told not to work. I’ve spent five solid years without so much as a day off. Work was all there was.”

  “New team. New rules. Get ready to have a moment to yourself.” He elected to exit on that positive and slid gallantly from the room.

  She sat for a moment, taking in the concept of time. She glanced down at the CD case on the floor next to her. It contained years of research. Relentless work went into compiling this data and she knew no one would ever believe this was only her contribution to Nagle’s project. She would decide as she went along how much to share. Beau had much to offer but so far it was all bland and extremely elementary. He was clearly protecting the good stuff. She resolved to bide her time and see what there was for her here.

  She finally hit a stopping point but four years of habits die-hard. She couldn’t bring herself to stop without first downloading the new files to disc. She opened a few drawers and cabinets but her new workspace was far too virginal to have such things just lying about. Still she looked and her search brought her out to the corridor and down the hall. The next office was the lab where Billikin and the others conducted research. There had to be a blank in here, she thought.

  She softly knocked just after her head was in the door and she had determined no one was here. The drawers by the main terminals were mostly open but contained nothing earth shattering. Only two of the drawers were locked and she was fine with it. One of the open cabinets held a few stacks of re-writeable CDs. Some were used. Others were blank. A few were simply not labeled. She picked up two seemingly blank discs and returned to her workspace.

  The first one she inserted showed several files already on it but it had some room left. As her files were only preliminary copies, this disc would do. She started the download and sat back to wait. As the files copied onto the disc, she read the names of the existing files. She was not looking for anything but rather looking the way one reads the back of a cereal box while eating the flakes. But one file piqued her curiosity. It simply read, “Unidentified sea calls.”

&
nbsp; They had recorded something in the sea that they hadn’t identified? It seemed odd to her that Beau would first be stumped by a species categorization and second be content to simply leave it. Where was his curiosity? Hers was surely intact and she opened the file the instant her download was complete.

  The sound recorded was a deep moan. It was nothing like a whale. It seemed closer to a sea elephant. But Beau would never deem this “unidentifiable” if it were from a common species. The origin was not marked. She looked at the file path and saw that it was copied from a file with the initials SIM. It meant nothing to her other than he didn’t originally record it.

  Chapter Three

  The Florida wildlife sanctuary had quarters for overnight staff duty. The handlers and crew typically took turns standing the night watch here. Many of the animals were nocturnal feeders and many others were valuable for their hide if nothing else. The zoo needed twenty-four hour monitoring and the shift was part of everyone’s employment agreement. They were mostly relieved when John volunteered for night watch until further notice. He hadn’t quite settled in Clearwater yet and the quarters were bare minimum but suitable to support life.

  John staggered into the small room and fell heavily into one of the small twin beds there. His partner, Earl Jackson, was among the easiest in the park to get along with. He was smart and fairly well educated but saw no career here. Like John, he was content to leave it all to Eugene but would not pass up an opportunity to smack him if he ever got the chance. Earl had studied his way off the streets of Birmingham and struggled through a small college on an athletic scholarship he augmented with night work and government grants. His degree was enough to get him hired here and he hoped this experience and the occasional contacts would lead him to something more lucrative. Until then, he managed to laugh things off and did his best to relieve John of the aggravations of the day.

  “Beer?” Earl asked John as he opened the half-size fridge in the corner.

  “Fired?” John replied, sinking deeper into the pillow.

  “Man, who’s going to tell? The gators an’ me got a deal.”

  “Knock yourself out. I’ve got two hours before the next feeding. I plan to spend it sleeping.”

  Earl twisted the top off a long neck beer bottle and sat down at the tiny third-hand dinette table someone had brought in some years prior. He studied John with a blend of curiosity and pity for ten seconds before denying sleep. “You know, I know you’re a smart man and you been out there and everything. But you don’t need to be so depressed about this place. It could be worse.”

  “Could it? I don’t think so.”

  Earl took a long gulp and forced it down. “You don’t? You telling me this is the worst place in the world? Come on. You’ve seen worse. Don’t tell me you never been to Memphis.”

  “Oh, there’s worse. That’s not what I meant. I don’t think I could be any better or worse off right now. I’ve always protected myself by playing it safe but at the same time I managed to screw up every opportunity I ever found. No sir. I’m right exactly where I put myself. I could be no better or worse off because I made this shithole for myself on purpose. That’s what’s so depressing.”

  “You made it?”

  “Well, I made my place in it.”

  “How so, Doc?”

  “I never accepted anything for what it was. Never saw the big picture. So meticulously pedantic.”

  Beer nearly came out of Earl’s nose. “Meticulously pe-what-ic?”

  John found the first smile of the evening. He sat up on the edge of the bed. “Pedantic. That’s what it says in my yearbook. ‘To Johnny. The most meticulously pedantic soul in the history of Southern California University.’ That’s me. I over-analyze everything until there’s nothing left of it. The details. That was my passion. Being right.”

  “So what’s wrong with being right? You’re a scientist. Details are what we do. I mean you.”

  “It’s okay, Earl. You’ll probably make a better scientist than I ever was. You still see the world for what it’s supposed to be. I never did. Did I ever tell you about the time my brother and I found some rope and decided to put a rope swing in the big oak tree by my house?”

  Earl seemed beyond puzzled. “I’ve known you all of four days. I didn’t even know you had a brother.”

  “I did. Tony was two years younger than me. A fun guy. One day we found a bunch of rope and decided to put a swing up. Now Tony was happy enough to shinny up the tree and tie the rope to a big limb. Two minutes tops and we’d be swinging.”

  “But not you.”

  “Nooooooo sir. Not me. I figured out we had enough rope for two lengths and I decided to make a seated swing like at the playground but super-long. But the limb we wanted to use went up at an angle. It came back down at one point and back up so I decided that I’d find the exact point where the limb was level in two places. I’d hang one rope from each spot and the swing would be perfect. But the tree was on a hill and created an optical illusion. It was hard to tell the exact spot where the limb was level.”

  “It didn’t have to be exactly level.”

  “Oh yes. It had to be perfect. But that wasn’t easy. So I designed the seat and sent Tony to find a board and cut two holes in it. I warned him the holes had to be just this size so the rope would go through and not wobble around. Then I thought about it and analyzed the tools available. I took a garden hose and filled it with water. I corked it on both ends and tied one end where I wanted one of the ropes to go. Then I pulled the cork out and scooted over to the other spot. I pulled the cork out and moved the hose around until the water in it was at the exact same spot on both ends of the hose. I had to carry a canteen to top it off a few times but I managed to find the exact perfect spot for the second rope. They would be the same height and the swing would be perfect.”

  “You made a water level.”

  John looked at him with raised eyebrows.

  “I used to be a carpenter.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “So what did your bro think of the perfect swing?”

  “I’ll never know. When I got down from the tree to test the perfect length, I found a board on the ground with two holes cut right where I’d ask him to cut them. Tony was off somewhere playing. It was getting dark so I just went home. Tony told me that night that he got so tired of waiting for me to stop worrying about the stupid ropes he went down to the creek and made his own swing. He and Andy Butcher swung on it until they were blue in the face. Then they went home for dinner. Tony had eaten, had a bath and was ready for bed before I’d finished tying the rope in the tree.”

  “So that’s pedantic.”

  “Mine was right. It was perfect and flawless and absolutely no fun whatsoever. Tony told me I sucked the fun out of everything. I just wanted to do it right. Why isn’t that good enough for anybody?”

  Earl sipped his beer and pondered. “Why do I get the feeling there’s a girl in this horribly boring story somewhere?”

  “If there was a girl, would I be sitting here telling this story to you?”

  “Did she call you an obsessive compulsive nut-job and take off with the pool boy?”

  “Kinda. The pool boy is like… well imagine Jacques Cousteau and Indiana Jones rolled into one.”

  “That can go two ways. I take it I’m not thinking of a shriveled up little cowboy with a French accent and a whip.”

  John fell back into the pillow. “But the rest is dead on. Like I said. She was right. I make people crazy. I never stop to smell the flowers. I never see the big picture. I have to…”

  He stopped when he heard the loud snoring coming from the chair Earl sat in. His friend had managed to drop off into a deep sleep in the few seconds John had been talking. Or was it hours? He was no longer sure and simply closed his eyes to sleep.

  * * * * *

  Louisa needed to compare this sound to John’s files. The unidentified moan on Spencer’s junk file was so close to the clue sounds John had tracked acro
ss the northern hemisphere. It was so close that only an expert could tell the difference. Despite her years of working with him, John, not she, was the expert.

  She was a nut for details and figures and was the backbone of John’s filing system and budget management. But when it came to the natural world and these ultra-subtle anomalies they chanced upon, no one matched John Nagle’s unerring eye.

  A Greek fisherman once brought a cassette tape to John and offered to sell it. He claimed the sound was like nothing he had ever heard in forty years at sea and he taped it in open waters. She and Billikin both thought it was a genuine find but John quickly dismissed it. When the man challenged him, John asked him if he’d thrown the lion overboard or did it just swim a few hundred miles out to sea. The man instantly accused John of buying merchandise from his brother-in-law because there was no other way he could have known this was just a tape of a male lion, which they had slowed down a bit and played underwater. He had heard Nagle would pay for ‘weird stuff.’ He had heard wrong. John could tell the difference between a fur seal and a California sea lion by the smell. She needed this shrewd determining nature.

  “Need anything?” Beau asked from the doorway. He had slipped into her office unnoticed while she was immersed in thought.

  “Um… no. No thanks. I’m just getting settled.”

  “Still? You’ve been with us long enough to unpack. You aren’t having second thoughts. Are you?”

  “No. Of course not. It’s just so… different.”

  “Because I fully understand. It is different.” His tone was sympathetic and consoling as he came fully in and sat at her desk. “You’ve been through the worst kind of exploratory ordeal.”

  “Four years of it.”

  “So take your time and adjust. I don’t want to rush you.”

  “Thanks. I really appreciate that. I’ll be okay soon.”

  “Do you mind if I offer a suggestion?”