“Any chance they compared notes?” Slater asked.
Laine gave his head a noncommittal side-to-side bob. “In some cases, it’s possible, but why would they? No one has anything to gain from foisting a false legend on the community. And in several instances, the person with whom I spoke swore they had never told their tale to anyone but me.”
Silence descended as they watched the footage of the flyover. Aston’s frown remained, annoyed that they really were on a giant bug hunt. Why couldn’t the billionaire have employed him for some genuinely useful scientific research?
“We are looking for a lake monster,” Holloway said. “And I’m fairly convinced we’re going to find it.”
“Why?” Aston asked. “People have been mounting expeditions searching for Nessie for decades and they’ve never succeeded. Almost certainly because there’s no such damn thing! Why is this any different?”
“Just bear with me.” Holloway clicked the remote again and scans of newspaper articles began to cycle past.
Aston couldn’t read the Finnish, but the pictures and multitude of exclamation points made it pretty obvious Holloway considered this tabloid nonsense some kind of proof. How long would the old man persist with his foolishness? Aston supposed the least he could do was play along for a little while and take some of the fool’s money.
“Aston does have a point,” Slater said, and she went up in Aston’s estimation immediately. “I mean, even if there were a monster, how would you find it? This lake looks much bigger than Loch Ness and the primary reason Nessie has never been found is because Loch Ness is such a difficult place to search. It’s large, deep, and the water is extremely murky.” And with that, just as quickly as she’d risen, she dipped in Aston’s estimation once more.
“This lake is indeed much bigger,” Holloway said. “And in a more remote area, which makes it a far better candidate than any other lake I’ve ever investigated to be home to something we would never find elsewhere in the world. There’s hilly terrain all around, and at least some caves that we know of, though we suspect there could be many more subterranean passages in the area, including some underwater channels where a beast could make its home. That won’t make the creature easy to find by any stretch, but it does increase the likelihood that something resides there undiscovered.”
“But why would this place, regardless of size, be any more likely to house a Nessie or goddamned Ogopogo than anywhere else?” Aston asked, his voice rising with his frustration. “There’s no proof. No evidence beyond the same sorts of myths and legends that surround every lake monster, everywhere else in the world.” He turned to Slater. “It’s not because Loch Ness is a big peat-filled expanse that they’ve never found Nessie. It’s because it’s just another of the bullshit stories people love to tell!”
Holloway smiled, pausing to let Aston’s words hang in the air. As Aston drew breath to protest further, the billionaire said, “In our case, we do have proof.”
“Actual proof?” Aston scoffed. “Beyond the drunken legends of the townsfolk?” He looked at Alvar Laine. “No offence.”
The Finn shrugged; chose not to reply.
“I sent a hunter to this lake last year,” Holloway said. He clicked the remote again and a mugshot of a sensible-looking fellow appeared. Aston realized that Holloway had anticipated the course this meeting would take and had constructed his slideshow to account for that. The marine biologist was annoyed he had played his role perfectly for the rich lunatic.
“The man’s name was Sweeney and, honestly, he spent weeks out there and turned up nothing of any real interest. I was about to give up and stop pouring money into the endeavor when he stopped communicating entirely.”
“What happened to him?” Slater asked.
“He died, presumably. But his body was never found. And before you protest that he simply ran away, consider this. Wherever he might have gone, he left everything behind. Camping gear, research equipment, personal effects, all still there. Since a lot of the equipment he was using belonged to me, and was labeled as such, the authorities eventually contacted me.” Holloway paused. Aston had the sense it was for effect.
“Do you think he saw something that scared him and he bugged out?” Slater asked.
Holloway shrugged. “That’s one theory. In any case, most of his research was useless, except for a digital camera, found a little way up the shore from his last camp. Here are the final photos he took.”
Click.
A photograph appeared of an indentation in the earth by the lake shore.
“What is that?” Slater asked.
“It’s a wallow.” Aston leaned forward, heart racing. His skepticism had just taken a huge kick in the gut. Using the nearby trees as a source of scale, he leaned closer still. “A massive wallow. I’ve never seen one that size before.”
Holloway nodded. The grin Aston caught from the corner of his eye was infuriating, but he couldn’t take his gaze from the screen. Was it really possible? Of course, something like that was relatively easily faked, but he chose to keep that fact to himself for the moment.
Click.
Another shot of the wallow, from a different angle.
“And there is no known creature in the lake that could make that impression,” Laine added.
As Aston stared, Holloway clicked through more pictures of the wallow, the surrounding area, a section of mud and stone that showed clear evidence something huge had been dragged through it. Holloway was clearly enjoying Aston’s interest.
“And then there’s Sweeney’s final picture,” Holloway said, almost a whisper.
Click.
The shot was blurry, as if the camera, the subject, or both had been moving when the photo was snapped. But there was no mistaking what filled the screen: a huge row of razor-sharp teeth.
Chapter 6
Aston leaned against the starboard rail and watched the dark water slide past, the boat sending frothy waves out across its smooth surface. A crisp morning breeze ruffled his hair and the sun danced on that water, a striking counterpoint to his dark mood.
“Quit your moping, Sam,” he muttered. “You’re safe and you’ve got money coming in. And you’re a damn sight better off than you were a few days ago.”
“I suppose I should warn you, our parabolic mics can pick up just about anything you say.” Joanne Slater sidled up to him and propped her elbows on the rail. Her ponytail billowed in the breeze. Aston thought she looked rather like a wind sock. “Not to worry,” Slater said. “We’re not filming at the moment, though I’ve told the team to be ready in an instant in case we find something.” Her team, which consisted of a chubby cameraman named Dave, and Carly, a tiny young woman who wielded her boom mic like a sword, hovered a few paces away, eyes locked on Slater. The only other crew besides Holloway and Joaquin were Olli Makkonen, the ship’s captain, a grizzled, leather-skinned man with bloodshot eyes, and his first mate, Gazsi, a scrawny young man who seemed to wear a perpetual frown at their activities.
Aston threw Slater a wan smile and a brief bob of his shoulders.
“At least I finally got a smile out of you. Why are you always such a Gloomy Gus?”
“I don’t know. Just waiting for this rusty tub to sink on us,” he deadpanned. The boat Holloway had hired, the Merenneito, with its pitted exterior and green ropes, did not inspire confidence. “Besides, I’m not paid to be cheerful. I’m here to ride out the clock while Holloway plays monster hunter, collect my check, and be on my way.”