Loch Ness

Home > Other > Loch Ness > Page 6
Loch Ness Page 6

by Donovan Galway


  “As opposed to deciding for yourself what you want and going after it.”

  “Is that how you do it?”

  “That’s how I run my research team. Yeah.”

  “So how’s that working for you now?”

  The deliberate dig stalled the pleasantries and left them strolling along silently. As they passed the hammer booth, Louisa shoved her prizes into John’s hands and attempted to diffuse the tension by stepping away from them and into the booth.

  “As long as we’re measuring testosterone here, I’ll take a shot.” She handed the grinning attendant a bill. “You don’t have anything against women trying this. Do you?”

  He held up his hands. “Anyone who rings the bell wins a prize. Don’t matter to me.”

  Both her escorts stood back and smiled as she wrestled with the oversized sledgehammer. Finally raising it over her head, she let it fall onto the fulcrum forcing the ringer up only slightly higher than her shoulders.

  Turning defiantly to the men, “So I aimed high and got squat. Explain that.”

  “Applied principles and dynamics,” Beau smiled, stepping up to take the hammer from her hands. “Let’s see what happens when we apply some upper body strength.”

  John stood back and watched with some degree of annoyance as the bigger, younger man flexed for the girl. His annoyance turned to amusement as Spencer’s powerful overhead wallop sent the ringer upward to within inches of the lofty bell before it stalled and returned silently to its platform.

  Beau turned with a self-admonishing smile. “Close.”

  “But no cigar,” John added with a notable tone of sarcasm.

  Beau presented the cumbersome mallet to John in a clear challenge. “Why don’t you show us how it’s done?”

  John carried the mallet back to the striker and examined the apparatus. He noticed that the rocking platform seemed to sit slightly off center. This would send the ringer up at an angle and cause friction. He bent over and manually adjusted the rocking apparatus to sit straight. Then he looked up to the bell twenty-five feet above his head. He felt the weight of the hammer in his hand and assessed the ringer. Then he picked up a few pebbles and dropped them onto the pedestal to find the exact point of drop. Finally he lifted the hammer and held the head exactly where he had determined was the perfect spot. With a brief glance at Spencer to be sure he had his attention, John simply let the hammer fall. As he had surmised, the hammer struck the fulcrum dead center and the weight of impact combined with the lessened drag sent the ringer cleanly upward to soundly ring the bell. His prize was a three-foot plush crocodile that John proudly accepted before turning to his audience. “So much for your dynamics.”

  Spencer looked at him more in disappointment than annoyance or disgust. “Congratulations, John. Once again you completely missed the point.” He turned and walked away with Louisa, after only a brief, remorseful glance back, following at his side.

  The dig hurt, not only because Beau meant it to or because Louisa did not defend him in the least, but because he knew Beau was right. In his relentless pursuit of the end result, John had thought right past the true objective and answered a question no one was asking. This was not a test of analytical prowess or scientific application of physics to pre-existing conditions. It was merely a test of who could hit the hardest. Nothing more. John did as he had always done and thought it to death, proving nothing to anyone but himself. He was quite right in his summation, but Louisa was on Beau’s arm.

  After a moment of reflection and acceptance, John dropped the mallet and caught up with them. He knew Beau was right and he had indeed done as he had always done. He thought briefly about a comeback that might save some of his dignity, something to redeem him at least in Louisa’s eyes though surely not his own. Then it came to him. It was thin, but Beau was certainly not expecting it. It was worth a try. He mentally honed it, silently mouthing the retort as he came to within arms’ reach of the pair.

  As he opened his mouth to redeem himself, Spencer’s phone rang and he instantly had it in his hand and speaking. John was left unrequited as Spencer gave them the “Be back in a minute” finger and stepped away for a private exchange.

  John watched him walk away only to avoid looking at Louisa. He could feel her staring. He could sense the words on the tip of her tongue. She only needed half an opening to start off. He knew it was coming and opted for a pre-emptive strike. He turned to face her.

  “Look. I knew better than to—”

  She had walked away and was some lengths off examining the impulse items in a souvenir booth. His initial indignation with the denial was quickly surpassed by the relief as his reply to Beau was actually humiliatingly adolescent and he had no real response for her at all. He walked over to see what had drawn her attention.

  Louisa had deliberately stalled them here. Spencer’s phone went off every twelve minutes during business hours and only slightly less frequently in the evenings. She needed a break and the call gave it to her. She had taken the opportunity to go into the little shop with the big sign that read “South Island Magic.” Among the post cards, fur-tipped pencils and tourist baseball caps stood a spinning display case of cassette tapes and CDs. The sounds playing seemed to be a soothing blend of whale songs and classical music. The sign atop the rack read “Authentic Sounds of New Zealand.” Louisa turned the rack slowly as John walked up behind her. She stopped the rack and removed a CD of whale songs.

  “Gray whales don’t swim down here,” John said.

  She turned around to look at him for only a second before turning back to the proprietor. “Can you tell me where you get these?”

  The old man rocked forward in his hand-made, rustic looking chair. With a minor struggle he managed to get to his feet and find a smile for Louisa.

  “I make.”

  “You? You made these recordings?”

  John leaned in. “You personally recorded these whales?”

  The old man nodded. “I make. You like hear?”

  “Yes please,” Louisa answered. The old man opened a drawer full of CDs. With a glance at the one in her hand, he pulled an open version from the drawer and placed it in the CD player next to the counter that was doubling as a coffee table. They listened to the sounds of whales and aquatic animals. It was a general and relatively predictable collection.

  “So you made these yourself?” John asked again.

  “I make. You want buy now?”

  “Would you mind telling me where you recorded a gray whale?”

  His leathery smile cracked broader but the old man stood his ground. “You know the whale?”

  “Yeah. I know the whale.”

  The old man looked at Louisa and leaned in close and personal to speak softly. “He know the whale good?”

  Louisa nodded. “He knows.”

  He looked again at John. “You know… it all. Eh, college man?”

  John returned part of the smile. “I can’t change the battery in a car. I have no idea why roofing nails are different from flooring nails and I know absolutely nothing about women. But I know these sounds didn’t come from this part of the world.”

  “No?”

  “No. A humpback or even a fin whale. But not this whale. No.”

  The standoff ended with the old native grinning in acceptance. “I make. You know… Internet?”

  John scoffed and started away. But Louisa placed the worthless CD back in the rack and took out her cell phone. “Have you got anything that sounds like this?” She played a recorded message of the unidentified sound. The old man barely moved in response, but his eyes told her he knew.

  “Pretty bad quality. Where’d you get that?”

  “Sound familiar?”

  “Maybe. You like to hear something a little bit clearer?”

  “More Internet downloads?”

  The old man shook his head and took Louisa’s wrist. “No, no. I make. We make. You listen these. See you know.”

  She agreed to wait while he put
another CD in. He advanced a few tracks and turned up the volume to get her reaction. The new sound they heard was different from the songs of the gray whales. It was a deep, thumping sound. It seemed almost threatening at times, like a warning growl. Then it turned to a low moan. It was the same sound Beau had. It was John’s tape, but longer and clearer. As Louisa listened intently, she felt John leaning against her.

  The old man smiled to see John’s reaction to the recordings. He had played them on occasion for a learned few in hopes someone would have the experience as well as the open mind to recognize what he heard. Until now, it had never happened. “Now it seems I have your attention, college man.”

  John looked up at him. “This is no whale. Not even close. Where did you get this?”

  “My family records the sounds of the sea around our island. We’ve been collecting sounds and amassing knowledge for generations. I use technology like the Internet to feed my family and keep a roof over my head. But you’re no ordinary tourist.”

  “And you seem to have lost your accent.”

  His grin broadened still farther. “Tourists expect colorful characters. Supply and demand. It’s the name of the game out here.”

  Louisa cut him off. “What is this on the tape? Do you know what it was you were recording?”

  From behind them, Kyle Murphy and Frank Inness came through the crowd. Mac was trailing behind them immersed in a book he had picked up at one of the stalls. Murphy had a wooden doll with a grass skirt that he waved at Louisa. “Hey Lou! Do you think this is real?”

  “No. I told you real women are taller and are always walking away from you. Go ask your boss.”

  “He doesn’t like that,” Frank said. “We get paid to answer his questions, not the other way around. He’s made that abundantly clear.” Frank was clearly feeling the influence of a few beers but was alert enough to take notice of the CD playing. “Hey. That’s a mating call. Where’d you get that?”

  John turned to him. “Mating call of what?”

  “It’s reptilian. Can’t tell the species. Is that underwater?”

  Mac caught up and listened. “Resonance is right. Might have been from an underwater speaker.”

  The old man hit the ‘STOP’ button. “You buy. Me need eat.”

  “Oh give it a rest, Tonto.” Louisa snapped at him.

  The old man shook his head. “No more freebies.”

  John stepped inside the booth and got close to the old man. “What if I told you I had similar recordings? I think they’re from the same animal.”

  “You recorded them or downloaded them?”

  “I recorded them myself in open water.”

  “Where’d you record them, if I may ask?”

  “Deep sea scans near the Mediterranean. I thought I had sounding whales but I couldn’t identify the species. Can you?”

  “Buy the CD,” Inness said. “We’ll find out what it is.”

  “Voice patterns,” Mac said. “We’ve got a bank of them. I’ll match it or die trying.”

  “But will you find out where it is, or when?” Louisa challenged

  “Where or when what?” Beau asked as he attempted to join the conversation. He was putting his cell phone away and clearly had no idea what he had stumbled into.

  Mac shot Murph a serious glance. His long-time partner quickly picked up on the silent gesture and turned back to intercept Spencer. “Where do you think this was carved, boss? We think it’s from one of the aboriginal tribes here.”

  Beau scarcely glanced at the trinket. “Well, that’s obviously brand new.”

  “Exactly!” Murphy said, deliberately pulling Beau away from the matter at hand. “That’s what’s so weird. See we think…”

  John watched the defensive maneuver with curiosity. “What was that all about?” he whispered to Louisa.

  “They generally try to keep Beau out of the picture as much as possible.”

  “The boss tends to view everything through green tinted glasses,” Frank added.

  The old proprietor tapped John on the shoulder. “You say you taped this same animal in the Mediterranean? You’re sure it’s the same?”

  “Well, same order. Maybe another strain but the same species. I’d have to do a digital comparison.” He pulled out his wallet to purchase the CD as he spoke.

  “There’s only one strain. It was migrating.”

  John’s eyes widened. He turned to Louisa and whispered as loud as he dared. “See? We were right!” Turning back to the old man. “Do you think it could migrate all the way to Scotland? Do you have any more calls?”

  “Some. We’ve known about it for years. The thing used to come here to raise its young. Safe. You know?”

  “How long ago are we talking?” Frank asked. “People have only been on this island a few centuries.”

  “That long, plus a bit. The island changed. It couldn’t find its way inland anymore. The callers used to guide it until they stopped coming. Then it had to find a new nesting place. It still came down to feed and live. But it needed a safe place for the young to hatch.”

  “Safe from what?” Frank pressed.

  “From you. It’s a very private creature, you know. Most private there ever was. It smells you coming before you ever think of seeing it. It always lives here, has babies there. Safe from you. From us.”

  “Uh huh,” Frank said, unimpressed by the theatrical depiction of a typical mating and spawning cycle. “So how much for the CD, Pops?”

  The old man returned his disdainful stare. “Fifteen hundred dollars, sonny.”

  John stood with his wallet and mouth open. “Um… how much?”

  Louisa stepped up. “We’re on kind of a budget here. Is there any way we could work out a trade of some sort?”

  The old man’s face twisted with thought. “Maybe. What did you have in mind?”

  “John has similar recordings. We could let you have some of ours to market and in return, you could let us have this one for…”

  “Five hundred,” the old man countered.

  “Two hundred plus some pictures.”

  “Okay. Two-fifty.”

  “Deal!” Frank shouted. “Pay the man.”

  John started doling out the bulk of his budget.

  “Hold the water here,” Mac said. “Who are the callers?”

  “Nothing. Just an old legend.”

  “No, you mentioned them,” Louisa objected. “What was that about?”

  The old man picked up John’s cash. Then he lifted the CD from the machine and laid it on the counter. “Thank you. Come again.”

  “Come on,” John urged. “Share a little more. Who were they? And where was this nesting ground?”

  The old man sat back in his creaking chair. “You find one, you found them both. You guys looking or buying?”

  Louisa took out one of the souvenir maps. “Can you show us on here where to look?”

  “Hard to remember. It was so long ago.”

  Frank looked back to see Kyle was still managing to hold Beau’s attention. Kyle was an expert at making anything sound profitable but Beau knew when to cut losses and get out. He looked at everything for potential to sell it to the highest bidder with a minimal investment or mess it up trying to short cut it. They had only seconds left before Beau recognized no market in the wooden doll. Frank turned and whispered in the old man’s ear.

  The old man looked at him with skepticism. He held up three fingers. Frank countered with two. “You can get that?”

  Frank nodded. “Yes I can. Promise to be discreet and…”

  After looking the others in up and down suspiciously, the old man nodded and took out a pen to mark a location on the map. “You’ll never find this place alone. My grandson will guide you. He’s a good boy but typical. Thinks he knows it all.” He looked up at John. “You’ll like him.”

  Spencer finally pried the doll from Kyle’s hand and turned it upside-down. He pointed to the stamp on the right heel of the doll. “Did the first New Zeala
nd tribe come from Thailand? That’s where this thing was made in 2004.”

  Chapter Six

  That evening, Beau had reservations at one of the nicer restaurants in Queenstown. The team was excluded, as the initial intent was Louisa’s indoctrination. But as had been his way since John’s arrival, Spencer had invited him along. John wasn’t sure if it was to denigrate him in front of Louisa or to simply keep a watchful eye on him. Spencer clearly didn’t know what truly brought John there. Logic provided a number of immediate possibilities. One was that John was trying to persuade Louisa to rejoin him. Another was that John was trying to get some on Spencer’s research to use to draw further funding. A third was that Spencer thought he was looking for a job. John elected not to dismiss any of these possibilities. He would show no interest in Beau’s files and little romantic interest in Louisa, while Beau was present, in hopes of relaxing the watchdog a bit. He would further drop hints about needing work. This would lead Spencer to believe this of his likely motives and further give him cause to spend less time around him.

  Spencer pondered the menu. “So John. See anything interesting?” He deliberately lowered his voice to tell John, “It’s on me tonight.”

  John took the jibe to his male ego in stride, as the fact was he could not afford a meal here. Still a defensive response was called for. “Well, since you called it first, I’ll let you. But the next one’s mine. Fair?”

  Beau nodded in agreement. “Are you a seafood lover, by chance?”

  “After the better part of five years in Scotland, anything not swimming in grease sounds perfect. Right, Lou?”

  Louisa laughed. “God yes. I’d hate to look inside our arteries right now.”

  “So you’re not anxious to get back?” Beau directed to John.

  “Someday I’d like to pick it up again. But I’m looking for something a bit more lucrative at the moment. Loch Ness isn’t going anywhere.”

  The waiter came to the table and Beau immediately took the initiative. “We’ll have a late Cabernet Sauvignon to start and—”

 

‹ Prev