Loch Ness

by Donovan Galway

  “So what did nature have to do with it?” Kyle asked.

  “If he’d been born with a voice like regular people, he might never have been left behind. He would have had more tolerance for the things in nature that can’t talk. We have a hang up about that. And he never would have found the other weird thing nature did on that island. In that very lake where they left him, the very one youse smart asses were in, he found a hatchling. It was too young to get out to sea on its own and a harrier bird was trying to eat it. That’s kind of like a hawk. He killed the harrier and the hatchling made it back into the water. The boy wasn’t sure what the thing was. Meter and a half long and mostly neck. He thought it might be a sea turtle that the harrier already tore the shell off of. Hell who ever saw a turtle with no shell?”

  “I saw a shell with no turtle? Does that count?” Mac said without smiling.

  “Okay… this would look like that opposite of that. And by the way you are a dork. But anyway. The boy ate the bird and threw some of the bits into the water. Then he noticed the turtle in the water eating them bits and he knew this weren’t no turtle. He kept feeding it and it wound up following him around, long as he stayed by the water. He liked the thing and in the three seasons he was here they became friends, sort of.”

  Kyle was intrigued but skeptical. “A trained reptile? Even nowadays that’s pretty rare.”

  “It didn’t actually like him or do tricks or nothing. I mean he didn’t have no dinosaur fetching the newspaper. But it trusted him to keep it safe from hawks and falcons until it was big enough they weren’t a threat anymore. That makes a fierce bond, needing someone like that. When his people came to collect him he went along and left his friend behind. As the boats sailed off, the boy put a do in the water and made noises. They thought he’d gone daft on the island until they saw the thing following them. He called it to come up and he said bye to it, then told it to go back and wait. The thing did it. They all thought he was pretty cool for knowing how to do that and not dying and all. Made him kind of a local hero.”

  “So it followed him back to his homeland?” John asked.

  “Not right away. He knew the thing was too young to make the journey with him and was better off on the island so he left it there. It was five years before he came back. First thing he did was call his old friend and they got on alright. The animal was older now and ready to find him a mate. Taught him a few new calls if you know what I mean. The older people liked this thing because it swam with their boats when they were down there. The hardest thing about these waters was the big sharks. These boats weren’t too big and the sharks could turn them over. But no shark or nothing else would come near them while these things were around. In fact, they were the second biggest things in the water, with only one real predator. It was so big and scary even the caller himself never saw it but he knew it was out there looking for his friend.”

  “That’s why it laid its eggs in the lake you know. Safe from that thing until they knew how to dodge it. Only really scary time was coming in and out of the lake from the sea. Never knew if it was right there waiting. The caller figured this out. He learned a trick of doing calls in the water like his friend. Then he’d move away south and do it again. He’d move all the way around to the other side of the damn island and this thing would think it was tracking a lizard but it was just the boy.”

  “So the callers actually called the predator away from it.”

  “No way to know if they needed it or not but he sure did it anyway. The thing got in and out of the bay safely for generations. This boy passed the calls on to his son and on for generations. Got to where the things wouldn’t come in unless the caller said it was safe.”

  “So what changed?” John asked.

  “We did. Each time the callers made their loop around the islands they attracted attention. Finally lesser travelers started settling here. Came down from Hawaii and Japan and stuff. The thing didn’t like that. Didn’t like humans.”

  “Except the callers.”

  “Even them. It never came to shore and gave them pony rides or nothing. It just accepted what the caller offered and in return gave them a legacy no one else on the planet could ever claim. That was worth something back then. But as people started coming around, the lake here got too small. It needed a bigger place. More space. Not sure what made him try it but a caller about two hundred fifty, maybe three hundred years ago did a different call. He led the beast all the way back to his home to lay her eggs. The animal wouldn’t stay up there but it returned whenever it had to. The big one had no chance of finding it and wherever it was, the people there couldn’t find it. Better hiding place it was. Good nesting ground.”

  John scratched his head and looked at the old man. “That’s got to be the crappiest legend I ever heard.”

  “Well, I gave you the most believable version. Judgment call. It varies. The best legends are usually the most far-fetched. One version of this story has the boy sprouting wings and flying home when his family comes by. Seems he fell from the sky or some shit and had to live there until his wings grew back. After he flew off with his winged family, the thing in the water missed him so much it grew legs and walked out to look for him. Thus the crocodile. You like that one better, college man?”

  “Very Kipling. So did you ever meet any callers?”

  The old man thought. “I was a boy. I heard about it but didn’t know what it was. Some calls are to bring it and some to send it. That much I knew but I didn’t know which was which and the caller didn’t tell me. He did say the next man would be the last.”

  “So how would he know that?”

  “And how long ago did you say?”

  “Over fifty years. We could use another one. Why don’t you go find them, college man?”

  John smiled. “Maybe I will.”

  The team employed every bit of technical and mental ability to determine that there were five potential candidates in New Zealand and three in the U.K. Kyle tapped into several mainframes to gather information not readily available on the Internet while Mac researched genealogy. One of the most useful tools they found was the immigration site. They downloaded passport records as far back as they were kept. Then they sorted them by names and dates. The next step was to eliminate all records save those of males coming in from the U.K or Europe. Then they looked for men who returned at least twice and stayed less than three months. The outstanding list was surprisingly short.

  The five in New Zealand were easily traceable. Mac ran down their genealogy and came up with addresses of the nearest living relatives. While John and Kyle did the legwork of interviewing them and crossing them off the list, as it came to be in each case, Mac and Frank stayed at the terminal tracing the known links of the remaining three.

  One was in Dublin, one in Scotland and one in London. By the time John and Kyle returned with no luck, Mac had an agenda that left them only to pack up and head for Scotland. They were all willing to go. But Mac put his foot down when it came to transferring the funds.

  “Plain and simple. Does she have access to this account?”

  John could neither mask the truth nor defend her integrity. “So I need to get up there and open a new one.”

  “We’ll all come. I can pull enough cash to keep us in fish and chips until the transfer can be made.”

  Kyle seemed excited about the move. “Right. Let’s go say goodbye to anyone we can and pack our stuff. Mac? Can you make the arrangements?”

  “Already on it. We’ll land at Heathrow on Thursday. From there, I thought John and I could go to Dublin and you two could find this chap in London.”

  “Sounds good,” Frank said. “I love London. Except for the people.”

  John had been strangely silent. Mac took notice first. “So say your goodbyes to her, John. It’s about time. Wouldn’t you say?”

  “It’s not just that. I mean, I’m not looking forward to it. But the way you guys just fall in like this. I can’t help wondering what I might’ve been
able to do with a team like this.”

  Kyle smiled. “Let’s find out.”

  Frank leapt from his chair and wrapped his arms around Kyle and John. “Group hug!”

  “I want in!” Mac shouted, enclosing the embrace from the other side.

  Mashed against John, Kyle looked at him and whispered, “Get ready to run. The shower is next.”

  It was late afternoon when John came to the end of the private pier where the Discovery Princess had been moored. He sat in the car rehearsing his Bogart farewell speech, knowing he couldn’t help but bend toward a plea for her to join him. He wanted to tell her what he had and that he had funding. He knew the guys were right and she would be swayed to come along. But she had her chance. If he came back with her, the team would pull out. He was sure of it. No, he needed them and they needed him and no one needed her. That was the foundation of his speech. He took a breath and stepped out of the car. He walked assertively down the pier toward the gangplank.

  Finally drawing the courage to look up and face her in all her newfound opulence and glory, he looked up to a rusting fishing boat. The Discovery Princess was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, he went back to the start of the pier. Lido pier, right where he’d been twice before. The guard was sitting in the little shack watching him. He went over to the guard and started to ask.

  “Where—”

  “Pulled out,” the old local replied to the anticipated question.

  “The Dis—”

  “Discovery Princess. Pulled out.”

  “When?”

  “Friday last. You missed her by four days.”

  John was crushed. She didn’t even make the effort he so reluctantly made. Not even a goodbye. “Did they happen to—”

  “Nope. They never do. But I did hear one of them mention South Africa.”

  John could only nod. That would have to be the end then. It was by her design and not his but it was all he had. “See you around, Lou,” he muttered.

  Chapter Ten

  Kyle and Frank enjoyed a relatively comfortable flight to Luton Airport in England. They had an agenda and a timeframe but they had never been to London before and were determined to enjoy themselves at least part of the time. They rode the giant Ferris wheel called the “Eye.” They saw Parliament, Big Ben and Buckingham Palace. Frank was positive he saw Dudley Moore getting out of a cab in front of Harrods and plugged his ears and made childish noises every time Kyle tried to tell him that Dudley Moore had passed away.

  Eventually the two got around to seeking out a man named Ian Crawler. Immigration reported him traveling to Auckland every three or four years over two decades. He stopped for a while and then, after thirteen years, he went again just three years ago. This pattern seemed close enough to investigate.

  Kyle and Frank found themselves standing outside a well-kept semidetached house in West Wend. A stone’s throw from Notting Hill, Kyle felt this was a historic enough venture to be worth the trip. They weren’t sure how to approach the man, as they had no idea what to say, so when a fifty-ish gentleman in an expensive overcoat came out of the front door, they had an almost overwhelming urge to run as if they’d rung his doorbell. Instead, they stood silent and stationary on the narrow sidewalk as he walked past them.

  The gentleman gave them a subtle smile as he passed which they’d already learned was unnatural for Londoners so they silently concluded this must be their well-traveled subject.

  As their well-traveled subject walked away, Frank nudged Kyle to say something. Kyle nudged him back. They exchanged three quick silent demands of each other before Kyle blurted out, “Mr. Crawler?”

  The gentleman stopped and turned to them with almost no noticeable surprise. He slowly walked back toward them eyeing both men suspiciously. “May I help you?”

  Kyle had blurted so he took the initiative. “We were hoping we could have a moment of your time, Mr. Crawler. It’s Ian Crawler. Right?”

  “It is. Have we met?” he said, still protective.

  “Not officially. My name is Kyle Murphy. This is Frank Inness. We’re doing research on the fauna in New Zealand. I was wondering if you could—”

  “Good day, gentlemen,” he said in a stern tone. He gave them each two seconds of a glare firm enough to convince them he was serious before turning away.

  Frank had not come halfway around the globe to be so easily dismissed. “We just want to know why you go to New Zealand!” he shouted after Crawler.

  Mr. Crawler stopped as abruptly as if they’d fired a shot over his head. He hurried back to them, glancing nervously up toward the windows of his home. “Who are you? Why are you here?” he demanded of them in a low, hissing voice.

  Frank was quicker on the uptake than Kyle and smiled with the taste of victory at hand. In a soft voice close to a whisper, he said, “We need to talk about your excursions. Shall we go someplace more…private?”

  Kyle looked at him. “What’s wrong with his living room?” Without knowing why, he won the argument. Mr. Crawler led them to a small café down the street. They took a secluded corner table and the two readied for the story.

  “Yes,” Crawler said in confessionese. “I used to go to Auckland and Sydney as often as I could. As I’m sure you know, she came up here as well but she couldn’t get away as often. My job covered me. Hers did not.”

  Kyle was not sure he was following but held a poker face comparable to Frank’s as they let Crawler spill it out.

  “I know it was wrong, but when the baby came, I couldn’t just leave her to raise him by herself. I did what I could, when I could. It wasn’t just sex. In fact the last few years it wasn’t sex at all. I know that’s what you’re thinking. But you’re wrong. I loved her. I always did. If she’d have had me, I’d have married her at any point. But she couldn’t. So we met when we could. Funny thing. She always greeted me like I’d been out of town for no more than a week or so. So happy to see me every time. Always smiling. Always comforting. She was always anxious to cook for me. It was more than nice. Any man would kill for that relationship.”

  “But you already had one, I take it.”

  “My family up here knew nothing. When it got hard for us to part, too hard, we decided to call it quits. She knew it was for the best. But Brian lost it. I knew he resented me but I thought he wanted me to stay away. Turns out he wanted me to stay. I hated leaving him. Ten years without seeing him was torture.”

  “You went back,” Kyle said. “Three years ago.”

  “I had to. I couldn’t miss the funeral. Brian blew up when he saw me there. I assume that’s why he sent you to find me.”

  Frank stared at him over his coffee. “You mean Brian.”

  “Of course. Look. I can send some money. I don’t know how much. Can you just go back and tell him I’m sorry? I can’t be a father to him with an entire planet between us. Tell him I’m getting on with my life. Its time he did the same. He’s a grown man now and…” He reached around to the back of his neck and unhooked a gold chain. He handed the medallion to Kyle. “Give him this. It belonged to Julie. It’s all I have left. Can you do that?”

  Kyle looked at the medallion. It was an Australian design and clearly old. He looked at Frank, and then handed the memory back to its owner. “Keep this, Ian. Hold onto her as long as you can. All we want you to do is call Brian. Get to know him. If it doesn’t work, at least he’ll know his dad.”

  Ian Crawler picked up the check and thanked them for leaving without whatever it was Brian had sent them to retrieve or do. They had seen enough of the sights of London. They went back to their hotel to call John. Hopefully he and Mac were having better luck.

  * * * * *

  John and Mac came out of the international airport in Dublin and took a coach into the center of the most Irish city in the world. The autumn weather was far from what they had become accustomed to and the first stop was a hotel where they could drop off their luggage and change into more suitable attire. Shirts and jackets on and sunglasses left behind,
they went off in search of the address Mac had pulled up from his Internet search.

  The taxi took them only as far as the outskirts of the run-down estate they’d directed the driver to. Their subject, Sean O’Callaman, lived somewhere in the center of the foreboding confines of the clan descent neighborhood. They walked cautiously down the granite block footpath as though they were walking through the haunted forest at midnight. Every wind-blown scrap of paper or startled cat had them jumping. The air here seemed to reek of descent. The perceived need for caution was irrepressible.

  Their attempt to appear as if they belonged here was wasted as they walked toward number fifteen. They sensed but had no real idea that they were being closely scrutinized by two pairs of eyes in the darkened rooms of number three across the courtyard. From inside number three, one voice spoke to another of them.

  “Recognize these two?”

  “They’re not on my list.”

  “New players, maybe?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. That short boyo isn’t from around here. We’ll wait and see.”

  John walked up to the door and looked at Mac. Mac could do no more than look at the tarnished number on the weathered door and match the fifteen to his written address. He looked at John and nodded. With the last hope that it was the wrong house vanished, John raised his knuckles to knock.

  Before he could touch the door for the third time, it swung partially open and a man peered through the seven-inch opening at them.

  “Y’all right?” he said through a thick accent.

  “Um… fine thanks,” John replied. “Can you tell us if—”

  “We didn’t order no Chinese,” he snapped, looking at Mac.

  “Well, we didn’t bring one. We were hoping you could tell us—”

  “Why the fook should I be tellin’ you anyting? Fook off.”

  “We’re looking for Sean O’Callaman,” Mac managed to blurt before the door slammed again. As they watched, the door slowly opened again and the man studied them more closely.