David Caldwell, wearing a yellow hard hat and mirrored sunglasses, stood on the southern shoreline of the bay, the ruins of Urquhart Castle at his back. The area was fenced off, preventing the public from accessing the bridge. Still, the tourists and media were out in droves, snapping pictures of "Nessie's new habitat" and David Caldwell, too, as if he were the monster hunter, Carl Denham, about to capture King Kong.
I gave my name to a security guard, who allowed me to enter. "David?"
He signaled me to approach.
"David, why're you wearing a hard hat?"
"Hello? We're standing in a construction site."
"Construction's in the bay. The only thing that hat'll protect you from are birds as they shit on your head."
"More sarcasm. What happened to us, Zack? I thought you and I were a team?"
"Some team. My brains and your mouth."
"Say what you will but it worked. We were the first to catch a giant squid on film."
"We? You took all the credit and blamed me for losing a sub." He turned to me, feigning sincerity. "I was wrong in doing that. I'm sorry."
I ignored his offered hand. "What is it you want?"
"Brandy told me about your offer. You still interested in gaining access to our sonar array?"
"Go on."
"I can't allow you access into the system, but I am willing to let you monitor the array from your laptop… in exchange for telling us why we still can't track the monster."
"I want it in writing, authorized by Provost Hollifield."
"Whatever." He reached into his pants pocket, handing me a folded piece of paper. "That's a Web link my engineer just set up for you. It'll connect you to the array.'
"Fax the agreement to my hotel. Meanwhile, I'll check out the link. If it suits my needs, I'll call you on your cell phone and tell you everything you need to know."
"Do it soon. That provost guy's getting on my nerves."
"What'd you expect? You're spending their money, they want results."
"Results? The creature's been around for fifteen hundred years. All of a sudden they're in a rush?"
"They certainly rushed getting that bridge pieced together. How much they end up spending?"
"About a million dollars or pounds, I forget which. Either way, it's nothing. They'll make that back in crossing fees alone during the first few months."
"You're not actually going to allow people out there?"
"Damn straight. We'll have guardrails up, separating the tourists from the plesiosaur. It'll be safe."
I could have spouted off then, lecturing him about dinosaurs and timelines and how a deepwater feeder, whatever was out there, wasn't about to surface during the day just to please a bunch of humans with cameras.
Instead I only shook my head and walked away.
Chapter 26
I believe the Loch contains Zeuglodons, also known as Basilosaurus, which means "King of Reptiles." Basilosaurus was a prehistoric ancestor of modern-day whales, though it actually looked more like a sea serpent. It was 55–75 feet long and very narrow, had a five foot skull and a blowhole on its snout, and was prevalent all over the world some 37–53 million years ago. These beasts could have swum into Loch Ness in search of food when there was ample access from the sea.
A long, thin whale is closer to eye-witnesses descriptions than a plesiosaur.
I was back in my hotel room an hour later, my laptop set to the sonar array's Web link. Using my touchpad, I could zoom in on each section of the Loch, obtaining real-time data on any biologics passing by the pinging buoys.
Before I could begin, however, I was interrupted by a knock on my door. Not another reporter …
I peeked through the peephole, then opened the door for a stocky waiter with short, dirty blond hair and matching beard. "You must have the wrong room, bud. I didn't order room service."
"Compliments of your father, sir." He handed me a card.
Dearest Zachary:
Tomorrow's a big day for both of us.
Keep up your strength, my faith's in you.
— Your loving father.
Now what was Angus up to?
"Set it by the desk, please."
He pushed the cart of food inside, then noticed the laptop screen. "Hey, is this some sort o' sonar array? We're studyin' these things in university. My professor, he writes for the Fish an' Fisheries journal, the one put out by Edinburgh, St. Andrews, an' Leeds."
"I've read it. They do nice work."
"Yeah, they're pretty intense. I helped compile information used in one o' their special issues, it wis about how fish are smarter than scientists once thought. Ye know, steeped in social intelligence, cooperatin' wi' each other when it comes tae spottin' predators an' catchin' food. Stuff like that."
"So you're a marine biologist posing as a waiter?"
"Jist an undergrad tryin' tae pay my way through university." He extended his hand. "Ed Homa. It's a real pleasure tae meet ye, Dr. Wallace."
I shook his hand. "I was just about to take a peek in on Loch Ness. Want to watch?"
"Aye, that'd be amazin'."
I sat down at the desk and clicked on the northern third of the Loch, focusing my search from Lochend south to Urquhart Bay.
"So, Doc, where do ye think Nessie might be hidin'?"
"I'm not searching for Nessie. It's schools of fish I'm after, beginning with the salmon population. As I'm sure you know, they prefer the surface waters."
"Aye, sure."
Finding nothing, I clicked to another section of grid, then continued, one after the next, unable to find any fish.
"Uh, so where are they?"
I ignored him and moved on, focusing my search south toward Invermoristion.
Still nothing.
I shut the laptop fifteen minutes later, having failed to locate a single school of salmon. "Bizarre."
"Whit's bizarre?"
"They're not out there… or maybe they never arrived."
"Whit never arrived? Ye mean the salmon?"
"Yes. It's as if they're avoiding Loch Ness."
"Whit about the other species?"
"I can't be sure about the deepwater species. The array still has blind spots along the bottom. Still I—"
The phone's ring cut me off "Wallace. Oh, sorry, David, guess I forgot about you. Uh, yeah, hold on."
I turned to the waiter. "Sorry, do you mind?"
"Oh, sure. Hey, Doc, thanks."
"Good luck in school." I waited until he left before speaking. "Okay, David, you wanted to know why the array's not working, let's see how well informed you are."
"Zack, I don't have time for your games."
"Pay attention. A few years back, a federal court ruled the Navy could no longer use its high-intensity LFA sonar system. Do you remember the reason the system was shut down?"
"Who cares?"
"LFA is low frequency active sonar, David, the optimal word being active. The Navy's signal would have blasted hundreds of thousands of square miles of ocean with enough sound to deafen, maim, and even kill whales."
"And this has what to do with Loch Ness?"
"Jesus, David, wake up! Loch Ness is essentially a long, giant trough. Everything reflects off her walls, every wake, every sound, every ping. And every monster hunter before you has made the same mistake in hunting the beast with sonar."
"Which is?"
I shook my head in disbelief. "Active sonar, David! The creature's sensitive to sound. The pinging from your buoys is scaring it off. It's hiding along the bottom somewhere, or in its lair, wherever that might be. And it won't come out again until you—"