Loch, The

by Steve Alten

  My heart beat like a race horse’s as Brandy cut the Nessie III’s engine, maneuvering us into an open berth in the Fort Augustus marina. “Dr. Wallace, could ye grab the bow line for me? Hello? Zachary ... the bow line?”

  I refused to move, the pressure in my head continuing to build, the NOVA producer refusing to back down. “The public trusts you, Dr. Wallace. Why not end the controversy here and now?”

  Frustrated, Brandy grabbed the line herself and jumped onto the dock. “I think Dr. Wallace would like to mull this over and discuss it on oor return trip, ain’t that right, Dr. Wallace?”

  Return trip? Was she insane?

  “And everyone who prepays now will save an extra two pounds—”

  “No,” I said, interrupting her commercial. “Look, Mr. Oldham, I appreciate your offer, but I’m not a cryptozoologist, and I don’t want the world to perceive me as one. All this nonsense about monsters creates an impossible environment to conduct a serious study. Fakes, phony sightings, doctored photos, childish pranks, tongue-in-cheek movies ... is it any wonder so many reputable scientists avoid Loch Ness like the plague? You want to know if there’s a large water creature inhabiting these waters? My answer is maybe, but I’m not interested in risking my reputation as a marine biologist to find out.”

  “That’s where you and I disagree,” Oldham said. “Settling the debate once and for all would actually enhance your status as a scientist.”

  “Tell that to Denys Tucker,” I mumbled.

  “Maybe he’s just afraid?” Bibi surmised.

  The migraine moved into its next stage as the Nessie III settled into an open berth.

  ‘Are you afraid, Dr. Wallace?” Oldham accused.

  “It’s okay to be afraid,” offered the younger Jordan boy. “I’d be afraid to go down there, too.”

  My insides gurgling, I patted the four-year-old on the head, then stood, pushing my way through the wall of passengers.

  “Zachary, wait!”

  Ignoring Brandy’s calls, I jumped onto the dock, my eyeball throbbing as I frantically searched for a public bathroom in which to be sick.

  Chapter 11 Quotes

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  It was about 3 PM on an overcast day when I saw it. Its head and neck rose from the calm surface of the Loch and moved along quite near the shore. The head was small in comparison to the thickness of the creature’s neck. After about five minutes, a passing steamer sounded its siren and the creature, after turning its head in an agitated manner, plunged out of sight.

  —MISS RENA MACKENZIE, INVERMORISTON, 22 DECEMBER 1935

  Loch Ness was calm the day my first mate (Rich) and I took the (steam tug) Arrow on her maiden voyage from Leith to Manchester. Suddenly, we noticed a huge black animal, like a humpbacked whale, emerge on the surface and keep pace with the ship. At first we saw two distinct humps, one after the other, but after a brief disappearance, the beast reappeared with seven humps or coils, before tearing past the tug at a terrific speed, leaving large waves.

  —CAPTAIN BRODIE, 30 AUGUST 1938

  Chapter 11

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  Fort Augustus, Loch Ness

  Scotland

  NEARLY TWO HOURS after docking in Fort Augustus, I emerged from the men’s public bathroom, drained and pale, the effects of the migraine still lingering like a bad morning hangover. I was in no shape, physically or mentally, to manage a return trip up the Loch, and yet I knew I was in deep shit with Brandy.

  Honesty’s the best policy, Zack. Tell her about your phobia, and she’ll have to forgive you.

  Rehearsing my speech, I walked slowly back to the Nessie III. Brandy was out on deck, cleaning. Before I could get in a word edge­wise, she launched her attack from the starboard rail.

  “Well, look who decided tae come home. First, ye blow me off last night, then ye ruin my bloody tour.”

  “Ruined?”

  “Do ye see anyone besides us standin’ here? Ye dumb bastard, ye chased them all away! Never tell payin’ customers there’s no Nessie. What the hell were ye thinkin’?”

  “Wait, I didn’t say that.”

  “Tae hell ye didnae. No, Miss Kate, that’s a wave. No, Mister James, that’s a duck. No, Mr. Nova-Producer, I’d never risk my bloody Albert Einstein reputation by investigatin’ a ridiculous Highland legend like Nessie. Twenty-three tourists, my best load all season, an’ ye sent every one o’ them off tae ride home wi’ my competition.”

  “Brandy, I’m sorry, but see, ever since the Sargasso thing I ...”

  “Fuck yersel’, Zachary Wallace! I never want tae see ye again, dae ye hear? Far as I’m concerned, ye can crawl back tae Inverness an’ hang wi’ yer no good faither.”

  Having worked herself into a good lather, she proceeded to toss things at me. First it was her bucket and sponge, then her shoes, one of which caught me across the shoulder. Still not satisfied, she hustled down to the galley, emerging moments later with a cast-iron frying pan, which barely missed my head.

  When she went for the anchor, I took off running.

  I left the waterfront and hailed a taxi. Forty minutes later, the driver dropped me off at the Clansman Hotel, where I picked up my motorcycle and rode back to Drumnadrochit.

  True was gone, probably fishing somewhere. I considered waiting for him, but the thought of being alone at the lodge while Crabbit stalked the mountainside in his thirteenth-century pajamas and sword was clearly not an option. So I left True a note, included my contact information in Inverness, then drove off, convinced this would be my last appearance in the village of my birth.

  * * *

  There was a note waiting for me at my hotel when I returned.

  Dearest Half Brar:

  Monday’s an important day for us. After being locked up for nearly four months, Angus is anxious to have his square-go at it. He thanks our Creator in heaven that his own flesh and blood will be in court to help him in this, his time of need, and requests you wear a nice suit and clean keks (boxers) so as not to put off the jury. (Ha) See you at 8:30 AM sharp.

  —Maxie

  The thought of my father, isolated from society, alone in his cell, sober and grateful to have me by his side after so many years brought tears to my eyes.

  Had I known then what Angus had in store for me, I’d have been on the next plane home to Miami.

  Chapter 12 Quotes

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  Isolation (also) is an important element in the modification of species through Natural Selection. All fresh water basins, taken together, make a small area compared with that of the sea or of the land. Consequently, the competition between fresh water productions will have been less severe than elsewhere; new forms will have been more slowly produced, and old forms more slowly exterminated. And it is in fresh water basins that we find seven genera of Ganoid fishes, remnants of a once preponderant order. These anomalous forms may be called living fossils; they have endured to the present day, from having inhabited a confined area, and from having been exposed to less varied, and therefore less severe, competition.

  —CHARLES DARWIN, THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES, 1859

  I had no doubt that there was something abnormal in the Loch and that it must be the monster or some unusually big living object which was making one of its rare appearances.

  —MR. J.W. MCKILLOP , 4 APRIL 1947

  Chapter 12

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  Inverness Castle, Scottish Highlands

  Scotland

  “THE HIGH COURT OF JUSTICIARY is now back in session, Lord Neil Hannam presiding.”

  The judge took his place behind his bench, wished his clerks a cheery good morning, then addressed Max. “Mr. Rael, is the defense prepared to make its case?”

  “We are, my lord.”

  “Then you may call your first witness.”

  “Call to the stand, Mr. Angus William Wallace of Drumnadrochit.”

  Angus turned, gave me a wave, and was sworn in.

  “Mr. Wallace, what is your relationship with th
e deceased?” He was a friend and one-time business associate.”

  “Describe your business dealings with Mr. Cialino for the High Court.”

  “Cialino Ventures wis interested in constructin’ a five-star resort, hotel, an’ holiday apartments on a parcel o’ land my ancestors owned overlookin’ Loch Ness. I selt him the land, which wis tae be paid in installments. He owed me for the last payment, but he’d been puttin’ me off for weeks. So I went ower tae his site an’ we went for a wee walk tae chat.”

  “And?”

  “An’ the lyin’ bastard telt me he wis short o’ cash, which wis crap, bein’ that he’d jist bought his mistress a fancy new diamond necklace no’ two days earlier.”

  I glanced at Theresa Cialino, who seemed unfazed about the mistress comment.

  “Johnny didnae ken it, but I saw his tart wearin’ it when they left the jewelers together. Quite a piece of ice for that piece o’ ass. Ye willnae catch me payin’ for—”

  “Objection!” The prosecutor was standing. “My lord, the victim’s personal life is not on trial here.”

  “Sustained,” said the judge, his dour expression intended as a warning to Max.

  Max signaled for Angus to ease up. “What happened after Mr. Cialino told you he was short of cash?”

  “He claimed he’d pay me after the resort did some business, an’ if I didnae like it, it wis too bad, that wis the price o’ doin’ business wi’ the Cialinos. So I hit him.”

  “You struck Mr. Cialino?”

  “Aye, square in the nose. Didnae break it, but I drew blood, an’ he stumbled back a few steps, cursin’ up a storm, then he twisted his ankle on a tree root an’ tumbled ower the edge, right intae Loch Ness.”

  “What happened next?”

  “I dropped tae my knees an’ looked ower the slope. John had surfaced an’ wis treadin’ water. He wis in fair shape, though blood wis pourin’ frae both nostrils. I called oot, ‘and that’s the price o’ doin’ business with a Wallace, ye cheatin’ bastard.’ Suddenly, the water came alive wi’ salmon, must’ve been hundreds o’ them. Some were leapin’ straight oot o’ the water, a few smackin’ John right in the heid. Made me laugh, it did, but then ... then the sun slid behind a cloud an’ I saw it.”

  “It?”

  The benches creaked in unison as the public leaned forward to listen. “Aye. A huge animal it wis, long an’ serpentlike, had tae be at least fifteen meters, an’ it was circlin’ John an’ thae salmon like a hungry wolf. Grayish in color, or maybe broon, hard tae tell ‘cause it wis stayin’ jist below the surface, an’ visibility in the Loch’s like lookin’ through a dark lager. I could jist make oot a bizarre dorsal fin runnin’ the entire length o’ its body, almost like a horse’s mane. John couldnae see the creature, but he could feel its powerful undertow as it circled, an’ he grew all panicky, callin’ oot tae me for help.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothin’ I could dae, for whit happened next happened awfy fast. The sun appeared again an’ splattered across the surface, blindin’ me in its reflection, so that I lost sight o’ the beast. An’ then ...” Angus paused, pinching the bridge of his nose with a quivering hand.

  “Go on.”

  “Then John let oot a cry ... a terrible wail it wis, the most awfy sound I ever did hear, only it ended abruptly as the creature grabbed hold an’ dragged him under frae below, an’ the two o’ them jist disap­peared.”

  The courtroom erupted in a hundred conversations, some people laughing hysterically, others aghast, howling and swearing like they’d seen the Holy Ghost. The widow Cialino bit her lip and covered her face in her hands, and more than a few of the older ladies fainted dead away.

  Me? I just sat there, incredulous.

  The judge banged his gavel for quiet, nearly breaking it in the process. “Let me remind you that this is the High Court. Another outburst and I shall order this courtroom cleared!”

  The silence became deafening, no one, save me, wanting to leave.

  The judge turned to Angus, a skeptical look on his face. “Mr. Wallace, are you actually testifying, under oath, that you witnessed Mr. Cialino devoured by ... by the Loch Ness monster?”

  “No’ devoured, m’lord, but snatched an’ dragged below, abso­lutely.”

  I closed my eyes, praying not to see any purple spots.

  Angus turned to the jury, reciting a well-rehearsed speech. “I seek no alibis for my actions. It wis wrong o’ me tae strike my friend an’ business associate, an’ I never meant him tae go ower the cliff, that wis an act of God. But I’ve been sworn tae tell the truth, an’ this is whit I’ve done. No matter whit ye may think, I saw that beast, an’ he saw me. Whether he intended to snatch John Cialino or did it by accident, we’ll never ken, but snatch him he did, an’ he took him straight under, never tae be seen again. The Polis can drag Loch Ness frae now tae my hangin’ day, but they’ll never find nothin’, mark my words, an’ I’ll never change my testimony, for it’s the truth, so help me God.”

  The judge banged his gavel again, silencing the buzz, then requested all attorneys to join him immediately at his bench for a conference.

  The courtroom exhaled and the media’s feeding frenzy offi­cially commenced. Reporters typed furiously on laptop keyboards and Blackberrys as fast as their cigarette-stained fingers could move, while others frantically called their editors on cell phones, demanding front- page space in their evening editions.

  The judge chastised Maxie with a hard scowl. “Mr. Rael, I warn you, if you intend on turning this trial into a three-ring circus, I shall hold you in contempt and burn your barrister’s license.”

  “My lord, the accused has given us his account of what happened, and we intend to prove it to the jury.”

  “That I’d like to see,” scoffed Jennifer Shaw, the assistant prosecutor.

  As I watched them talk, my mind underwent sort of an out-of-body experience. Was I really here in Scotland? Had my father actu­ally testified that the victim had been dragged below by the Loch Ness monster?

  And what part was I to play in this, Angus’s latest charade? The attorneys took their seats.

  It was time for Act Two to begin.

  “Lord Advocate, would you care to question the witness?”

  “Indeed we would, my lord.” Mitchell Obrecht shot back, his voice booming through the two-hundred-year-old courtroom. “Mr. Wallace, I’ve been a prosecutor for twelve years and a barrister for eight before that, and in all my years, I’ve never heard such a ridicu­lous, fantastical testimony as yours. The legend of a water beast in Loch Ness has never been proven in fourteen centuries, and even if accepted as a mystery, no accounting has ever been documented of a person actually being attacked.”

  “Ye’re forgettin’ the Pict warrior Saint Columba saved. An’ there’s plenty more attacks that remain documented only as drownings.”

  “Nonsense, ridiculous. What shred of evidence do you offer to back such a claim?”

  “At this juncture, only my word.”

  “Your word? Do you take us all for fools, Mr. Wallace, or are you merely—”

  Maxie interrupted. “Objection, my lord. If the Lord Advocate has a question for the witness, he should ask it, and not use this as an opportunity to practice his closing remarks.”

  “Agreed. Get on with it, sir.”

  But the prosecutor had nothing to add, for how does one prove or disprove a legend in a court of law?

  Max Rael was about to show us.

  “Call to the stand, Mr. Calum Forrest of Invermoriston.”

  A tall, thin Scotsman in his late sixties took the stand and was sworn in.

  “Mr. Forrest, what is your present occupation?”

  “Head water bailiff o’ Loch Ness.”

  “And how long have you held this position?”

  “Ten years an’ two months, but I wis assistant bailiff for seventeen years prior.”

  Max retreated to his table and removed a document from a manila folder. “Mr. For
rest, would you explain to the High Court the con­tents of this document.”

  Calum Forrest took a quick glance. “It’s the accident report I sup­plied ye wi’ several weeks ago.”

  “The accident report of Loch Ness?”

  “Aye.”

  Max handed the document to the witness. “My lord, we’d like this document marked Defense Exhibit A.”

  “So be it.”

  “Mr. Forrest, how many drownings were there at Loch Ness last year, and feel free to use the report as a reference.”

  “Last year? Nine.”

  “And the year before?”

  “Five.”

  “And the year prior?”

  “Six.”

  “And if you were to estimate an average year of drownings at Loch Ness over the last two decades, excluding the past nine months?”

  “Be aboot the same I’d say, roond aboot half a dozen.”

  “In your opinion as water bailiff, why do so many people drown at Loch Ness?”

  “Well, the Ness is vast, o’ course, an’ she’s cold ... real cold. A lot o’ tourists dinnae realize jist how cold she is ‘til their boat tips an’ in they go. Only takes aboot a minute or two of exposure before the whole body starts shuttin’ doon.”

  “And what might cause a boat to tip?”

  “Could be lots o’ things. The Great Glen’s like a giant wind tun­nel, sometimes blowin’ waves mair than two tae three meters high. If ye get in trouble oot there, there’s no’ many places tae dock. Plus ye get yer usual crazies overdoin’ it wi’ the alcohol, that makes for lots o’ problems.”

  “Do you usually recover the victims’ bodies?”

  “Almost never. The extreme cold an’ high peat content sink almost everythin’ like a rock, an’ that’s a long way doon. If ye ever drained Loch Ness, ye’d probably find hundreds o’ skeletons stuck in the bog.”

  “So, prior to this year, Loch Ness averages about a half dozen drownings each season.”

  “Now tell us how many drownings have been reported so far this calendar year.”