He woke to thin, watery sunshine coming in through the small porthole above him, and the smell of cooking bacon and coffee wafting down from the cabin above. He had a remarkably warm shower in the cramped washroom, then quickly dressed and went up onto the cabin to find Hynd and McCally tucking in to a fried breakfast.
“Make yourselves at home, lads, why don’t you?” he said. The other two grinned back at him.
“Nowt happened all night except Wiggo’s snoring. And now a full breakfast? Cushiest job in ages, Cap,” McCally said. “Can we live here?”
“Don’t get too comfortable, Cally. We’re still on the clock,” he replied. “Everybody get kitted up and on deck in five. Sun’s up and we need to get going.”
Seton had already thought of that, and had made all the preparations for departure. The engine kicked in just as Banks walked out onto the rear viewing deck, and Wiggins stepped down off the quay after dropping the mooring ropes back aboard.
“All ashore who’s going ashore,” Seton shouted, then put the boat in gear and they pulled away from the bank.
Banks went back inside and grabbed a bacon sandwich and a mug of coffee from the cabin, taking them both out onto the deck to join the men. The sun was up, the mist had cleared away, and they’d divested the fleece overcoats, but each had his rifle in hand.
“Cally, up front, Sarge and Wiggo, rear deck,” he said. “I’ll be up top at the wheel with Seton. Shout if you see anything.”
There was no chitchat now; they all knew when they were needed to be paying attention. Banks waited until he was sure they were all in position, then went up the six-step ladder to the top deck, where Seton sat at the upper pilot’s wheel station, the best driving position to get a view, if the weather permitted it.
“A fine day for it,” Seton said, and Banks could only nod, his mouth full of bacon and bread. He washed it down with coffee, made sure that Seton seemed to know what he was about in piloting the boat up the loch, and put in his first report of the day to the colonel.
It took longer than normal to get connected, a byproduct of the fact that he wasn’t calling Lossiemouth, but a field base down the far end of the loch. He heard scramblers engage; given the colonel’s obvious feelings for the press, they were being extra careful to avoid any eavesdroppers.
“Any news of the missing kid, sir?” he asked first.
“Nothing yet,” the colonel said, and Banks heard the weariness in his superior’s voice. “And no reported sightings of either them or your beast. We can’t issue a general alert for the public to keep an eye out because of the damned List D notice. The press will be making shit up anyway, of course. That’s what they do. I’ve asked for more men to be sent up from Leuchars, but it’ll be a couple of hours yet before they get here. Anything at your end?”
“Nothing here either, sir, although we have procured a boat and will make a tour of the loch throughout the day, taking our time to get a good look around. We should be down your end at the castle by around 1600 hours.”
“Very well, check in with me here then if you’re still drawing a blank, and I’ll be in touch to let you know if anything happens here apart from me kicking every single damned reporter up the arse.”
Seton saw Banks’ grim smile as he switched off the phone and put it away.
“Any news?” the older man asked.
Banks shook his head.
“Nothing yet,” he replied, and heard the same weariness in his voice he’d heard from the colonel. He knew that the longer the search went on, the less chance there was of finding anyone alive, let alone a child. He changed the subject.
“I’ve had a wee think about your theory, Mr. Seton,” he said.
“Are you convinced?”
“Partially. But don’t stories exist about monsters in the loch far older than the newspaper report you cited as the first?”
“Indeed there are many, myths, legends, snippets of song, oral history, and even some scrambled fragments of history in journals and manuscripts,” Seton replied. “They date from Columba’s supposed encounter in the 7th century all the way up to the time of the Jacobite rebellions. But you’d struggle to find any large body of dark water on the planet that hasn’t been rumored to host one kind of beast or another; Nessie’s hardly unique in that area.
“Can I read you something? I happen to have one such piece of ‘evidence’ on me. It’s a fragment only, one I translated from the Latin, a document that was found in Urquhart Castle years ago, detailing a failed Viking raid in the 12th century. It might amuse you, if nothing else, as you’ll see you’re not the first warriors to venture onto the loch unaware of what might be there, nor are you even the first captain. You’ll have to take the wheel as I read though. Wouldn’t want me causing an accident.”
Banks swapped positions so that he was in control of the wheel, then waved him on. Seton took two thin sheets of paper from his pocket and read, in the singsong voice of a storyteller.
“It starts, and ends, in the middle of a story. I’m afraid this is all that has survived down the long years.”
“A serpentine shape took form, a huge body that looked to be the length of the longboat itself, and nearly as wide. A long, swan-like neck rose up, and a head like a great axe wedge turned. Deep blue eyes looked straight at Tor as it solidified and strengthened.
“The serpent fell the short distance out of the air into the loch, the resulting splash sending the longboat careening from side to side, almost capsizing before righting itself. Fully solid now, the beast aimed its gaze at the longboat, and came forward, straight at them. The great neck rose, the wedge head came down and its mouth gaped impossibly wide, a black maw some four feet across. The guard next to Tor raised a sword but the beast was too fast. It plucked the Viking from the deck so neatly that he had no time to scream. Tor heard bones crunch, and felt the spatter of blood on his face.
“The huge head of the serpent rose high above the boat then made a new lunge forward toward the stern of the longboat. The Viking — Orthus Klinnsman — who stood directly beneath the open jaws was awake to the danger. He stepped back sharply, cutting a swipe with his sword at the beast’s exposed snout, only to curse when his blade hit flesh and immediately broke in two, as if he’d just struck a hefty blow at obdurate rock. The beast lunged again, and knocked Klinnsman off balance then caught him between its jaws and bit his torso into two bloody pieces, as easily as a man might bite into a soft fruit. The sound as the body was chewed and broken between the serpent’s twin rows of teeth echoed loudly all along the longboat.
“Tor stepped forward, sword raised as the serpent’s head rose up high above the longboat, preparing for another strike. Terror and fear raged through him, but as captain to these men, he was determined that no more of them would die. The deep blue eyes of the serpent fixed on him as he stepped forward, and seemed to pierce into his inner depths. Once again, Tor heard the rhythmic beat in his bones and in his gut, felt the call of the dance, offering him peace, an eternity to be spent swimming in the darkness of Niflheim. And even above the roars and shouts of Vikings now scrambling for weapons, he heard the invisible choir’s song rise in the wind again, their hymn to the Dreaming God.
He sleeps in the deep, with the fish far below,
He sings as he sleeps in the dark.
“Tor felt more than saw Skald step up to his side, but he could not afford to take his eyes off the writhing serpent that was even now propelling the bulk of its body closer and closer to the longboat. As Tor stood tall on the stern, he saw for the first time the full extent of the thing. The skin was gray, almost black in mottled areas, and seemed oily, with a shimmering to it like the air above a hot skillet. The head and neck were definitely serpentine, but the body resembled more that of a large seal or walrus, barrel-shaped and complete with two massive triangular flippers which propelled it through the water with great rapidity. Behind the bulk of the body, it tapered away into a tail at least as long again as the swan neck. In total length, it was almost twice the size of the longboat, and it was coming ahead so fast now that its intent was clear. It meant to swamp the Viking vessel completely.