The Loch (43 page)

"I'm too pumped up to sleep."

She rolled over, her eyes seducing me as she climbed on top of me, pulling me into her warmth.

Our lovemaking soothed my brain fever, at least for the moment. When we were through, Brandy curled her back and buttocks against my chest and fell asleep. I put my arm around her and closed my eyes, comforted by her warmth and the arriving dawn.

* * *

Soaring through a watery graveyard. A flash of light. I am in a cavern. Alone. Enveloped by darkness. Not alone! Death whispers at me, growling in my brain. Stop! Stop! Stop!

I shot up in bed, bathed in sweat.

Brandy stood over me, trying to shake me awake.

"Zack! Zachary, look at me! Look at me, Zack, it was just another nightmare."

I turned and looked at her, consumed by fear, unable to find my voice.

"What was it then? What did ye dream?"

"I was in the monster's lair. It was dark and cold… cold like death. It seeped into my bones. It surrounded me, whispering into my brain. I couldn't see them, but something was out there, creeping in on me, and my flesh and my mind crawled in their presence. They encircled me… no escape—"

"Gees, yer whole body's tremblin'." She pulled me next to her and held me. "It was just a bad dream, Zack. It was just a nightmare." She was wrong, of course, for I knew what it was.

As True would say, it was my destiny.

It was in mid-March and I was working on the banks of Loch Ness. I'm the area manager for an insurance company, and I cover a large part of the Highlands. Anyway, I was finishing some paperwork when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw this black hump come out of the water. I thought, "heavens" and looked at it again, and sure enough, it went back into the water and came back out again, and then back down. I thought, "I've seen it… after all these years, I've actually seen it!"

It's just typical of these things that I didn't have a camera with me and no one else to corroborate. But on the hump, I would say it was black, sort of a dark black color, and it had water coursing off of it, and it was just big… I think that's the best way to put it. It certainly wasn't a seal, it certainly wasn't a fish. All I can say is that, looking at the Loch, that somewhere in there is the Loch Ness monster. And as far as I'm concerned, I've seen it."

—
G
ARY
C
AMPBELL,
I
NVERNESS RESIDENT, 14
M
ARCH 1996

Upper Foyers, Loch Ness

H
aving barely slept, I found myself racing the Harley-Davidson south on General Wade's Military Road, climbing the hills toward Upper Foyers with the rising sun.

I had called Max earlier, requesting a private meeting with Theresa Cialino at Inverness Castle. He told me the prosecution had decided not to call her as a witness, believing her testimony might dissuade the jury from seeking the death penalty, in the likely event they found Angus guilty. Max told me I could reach her at her summer estate in Upper Foyers, but asked that I return to Inverness in time for the barristers' closing remarks.

I turned onto the B852, a single-track road with sharp twists and turns, following the highway to Upper Foyers.

The Cialino's summer home was an estate that had once belonged to John Charles Cuninghame, the seventeenth and last Laird of Craigends, a powerful family dating back to the fourteenth century. The residence had horse stables and acreage for grazing, along with a spectacular view of Loch Ness and Foyers Falls.

I parked the Harley, then knocked on the huge double doors. Expecting a servant, I was a bit surprised when Theresa Cialino answered her own door. "Hello, Zachary. Do you want to come inside?"

"Not really."

"You don't like me, do you? I can understand why. I don't blame your father for what happened, I blame my husband. Money changes a person. It changed John. He became a control freak."

"Lady, I really don't—"

"When he drank, he became a bully. I know you can't relate to these things, but—"

"I can relate. More than you know. It still doesn't make things right."

"Zachary, I only slept with your father the one time. Back when John and I had briefly separated. I know what we did was wrong, but—"

"I'm not here to judge you."

"I love your father. His friendship… it got me through a difficult time."

"Great. Look, Angus said you had a boat you could lend me."

"Your father didn't kill Johnny. What happened out there was an accident."

"Tell it to the judge."

"Zachary, Angus is your father, and he loves you."

"Our definition of love probably differs. Angus tosses around the word to use people."

"You're wrong. Yes, he needed you in court, but there were other motives. He's been worried about you."

"He'd better worry about himself. Now can I borrow the boat or not?"

She shook her head, exasperated. "It's the
Brooklyn-224
, you'll find it docked at the Clansman Wharf. Keys are in the master suite, under the pillow. Take it, take whatever the hell you need, I don't care anymore."

It was the first thing she said we agreed on.

Inverness Castle

I was late getting back. Having missed Max's closing remarks, I managed to slip inside the courthouse, finding my seat next to Brandy just as Mitchell Obrecht was concluding his final speech to the jury.

"Remember, ladies and gentlemen, it is not the Loch Ness monster that is on trial here, but the man who used the monster as an excuse to commit premeditated murder… murder in the first degree. What is happening in Loch Ness today has no bearing on the heinous events that took place on February 15. More than a dozen eyewitnesses testified that Angus Wallace struck John Cialino, Jr. on the bluff overlooking Loch Ness. The defendant's own son testified that Angus Wallace was lying when he said a school of salmon lured a water creature to the surface.

"Facts, ladies and gentlemen, not folklore. There was no monster attacking John Cialino on February 15, there was only Angus Wallace and his lust for Theresa Cialino. Premeditated murder… murder in the first degree. Your verdict will do more than send this monster away, it will send a message throughout Great Britain and the world that Scotland will not accept such unscrupulous behavior in our society, that we are a nation of law, not an unwitting sideshow. Now is the time of reckoning. Now justice must be served."

The judge gave his final thanks and instructions to the jury, then they were led out of the courtroom.

I turned to Brandy. "I need to speak with my father."

"Go on. I'll meet ye back at the hotel.

* * *

By the time the guards let me pass, Angus had changed back into his prison uniform and was back in his cell.

"Ye missed yer brother's speech. It wis quite movin'."

"I met with Theresa."

"So I heard. Whit're yer intentions then?"

"Who was Adam Wallace?"

He sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed his face, which seemed to have aged ten years in the last two weeks. "I see ye've been talkin' tae my guid pal, Calum, aye?"

"Answer the question."

"Adam wis first cousin tae Sir William Wallace, an' he wis jist as brave a soul. In Spring o' the year 1330, he accompanied Sir James the Good, commonly kent as the Black Douglas, on a mission o' great importance, tae take Robert the Bruce's heart tae the Holy Land."

"Yeah, yeah, I know the story of the Braveheart. What I don't know is the story of the Black Knights."

"Dae ye ken whit a blood oath is?"

"Does that mean you won't tell me?"

"No' unless ye wish tae become a Knight."

"I don't have time for this nonsense."

"Nor dae I. Now whit are yer intentions wi' the monster?"

"Why do you want it dead?"

"Why? Because it's dangerous."

"It killed Calum's wife, didn't it?"

"That, I cannae say. But it went after
you.
An' that's enough for me."

"That was an accident. It was lured up by the salmon, real salmon, not the kind you used in your alibi."

"My guilt or innocence has no bearin' on this. Whit's important now is that this monster is dealt wi', once an' for a', afore it kills again."

"Interesting how the jury's deliberating upon the same thing."

I turned and left, knowing that might well be the last time I'd see him alive.

Clansman Wharf

True met me an hour later in the Clansman parking lot. I was surprised to see the media had vacated the wharf.

"A'right, Zack, I got yer message an' brought ye a' that ye wanted an' mair," True said, pointing to a rental truck. "But I'll expect an explanation afore we make way."

"I told you, there's crude oil leaking into Loch Ness. You and I are going to find it."

"Ye want tae find an oil leak, call the EPA. This deep divin' suit ye had me fetch is for somethin' else entirely."

"The oil will guide us to the monster's lair. I mean to descend into the passage and reopen it, releasing the Guivre to the North Sea."

"Free the Guivre? Dae ye work for bloody PETA then? Bloody hell, Zachary, first ye're too feart o' even gettin' on a docked boat, now ye want tae go swimmin' wi' Nessie? An' whit makes ye think I'll help ye wi' this crazy plan?"

"If you won't help me, I'll find someone who will. I'm sure those monster hunters are game."

"Thae arseholes?" True shook his head. "Why dae ye want tae dae this, Zack? My sister loves ye. Take her away frae this dreary place an' live oot yer lives. Ye dinnae need this tae be happy."

"It's not like I have a choice. You said so yourself, it's my destiny to deal with this animal."

"Dinnae listen tae whit I said, listen tae whit I'm sayin' now! Fuck this destiny crap."

"Destiny aside, I can't live anymore with these night terrors."

"An' ye think by doin' this crazy stunt, the dreams'll go away?"

"I don't know. Maybe. All I know is I keep waking up every night, screaming like a lunatic."

"Better than the monster chewin' on yer bones."

"The underwater lights will keep it away, at least long enough for me to reopen the passageway and release it."

"Ye're still crazy."

"Not yet, pal, but I'm getting there. Think about it. If I do nothing and these night terrors continue to worsen, how long do you think it'll be before I really end up in a padded cell? Think that'll help my relationship with your sister? No, I've thought long and hard about this, and it's better I face the devil now, than deal with it in a mental ward."

True mulled it over. "I see yer point. Guess ye cannae keep livin' like this."

"Anymore than you and the rest of the Black Knights can spend all your nights patrolling the Loch."

"Black Knights? Whit're ye talkin' aboot?"

I slapped him on his rock-hard shoulder. "Come on, big guy, did you really think I wouldn't recognize that physique of yours bulging beneath that black tunic? Or that bilge water you call cologne? You're the one who killed that Anguilla eel and saved my life, and I'm grateful. You did what you had to do, now let me do the same."

He shook his shaggy head. "Shouldae let that eel eat its way up tae yer bollocks, that's whit I shouldae done. Come on then, help me wheel this gear tae yer boat."

True unlocked the back of the rental truck and pulled up the aluminum slide door. Secured inside were a half dozen wooden crates and what looked like an oversized bright orange space suit, supported on a heavy steel frame.

"There she is, the Newt Suit. Best damn atmospheric divin' suit we got."

"How'd you manage to borrow it?"

"Told the boss I wanted tae service it afore I dive the rig next week. These things need lots o' attention, the better they build them, the mair complicated they get. Still, it beats a' hell oot o' the auld JIM suits."

I pointed to the crates. "And the detector and demolitions?"

True winked. "Them I stole."

* * *

With the Newt Suit's rig on wheels, it took us less than twenty minutes to secure everything onboard the Cialino's yacht.

The
Brooklyn-224
was a fifty-seven-foot twin-screw diesel trawler, with an eighteen-foot beam and wide-open bow and stern decks. Its interior was tastefully decorated, its lavish furnishings done in maroons and creams, its woods polished teak and mahogany. The aft saloon's master quarters was luxurious to a fault, complete with a king-size bed, plasma screen television, steam room, and black onyx marble whirlpool.

I paused to gaze at a framed photo in the master suite. The image was of a young John Cialino in his early twenties standing with a group of firefighters in a New York City firehouse, a sign reading
Brooklyn Heights Engine 224
.

"This guy was a fireman?"

"Guess that explains the boat's name." True looked around and whistled. "Ye ken whit, Zack? I say screw the monster. Let's you an' me get Brandy an' a few o' her friends an' take this barge oot on the Moray Firth. A week or three an' ye'll forget a' aboot thae nightmares, that I promise."

"No." I reached under the bed's silk pillows, found the yacht's keys, then headed for the wheelhouse.

True followed me up to the main deck, then peered out the open venetian blinds. "Ye sure aboot no wantin' tae take that cruise?"

I looked out the window.

Brandy had just exited a cab and was heading for our berth. "Damn. Wait here."

I hurried outside, meeting her halfway up the dock. "Hey. What're you doing here?"

"I've been lookin' all over for ye. The jury came back, they delivered their verdict less than an hour ago."

"Already?"
No wonder the media had vacated the wharf
"What did they rule?"

"Guilty. Murder one." She looked up at me, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Zack."