And then I noticed something bizarre.
All the grass nearest the farmhouse had been heavily grazed upon, much of it exposing bare earth, yet the grass closest to the Loch remained high and untouched.
And yet the herd refused to venture away from the farmhouse.
Curious, I unbolted the gate and entered the grazing area. The heavy scent of farm animals filled my nostrils as I moved past the sheep and across the untouched grassland, heading for the far fence that bordered Loch Ness's shoreline.
Arriving at the opposite gate, I immediately noticed several things.
Unlike the fencing near the farmhouse, the wood and wire along the Loch side was brand-new and far sturdier, its gate heavily chained. More curious were coils of barbed wire set along the outside of the fence, creating a barrier that separated the grazing area from the Loch's fifteen-foot drop-off.
But the mental alarm bells truly sounded when I spotted the aluminum shed housing a portable generator and the half dozen bundles of wire that fed into Loch Ness!
Desiring a better vantage, I scaled the bolted fence, then maneuvered down a tight, twisting foot path bordered by barbed wire which led to the boating dock. Walking out on the pier, I lay down on my belly and scanned the water's edge.
There were eight underwater floodlights, set in pairs and all facing out toward the Loch.
Now I knew why the sheep were huddled away from the water— they were afraid! Calum was afraid, too, but he'd chosen to adopt new defenses rather than expose the creature to the rest of the world.
Why?
Wind whipped at my face, the once-clear sky growing overcast and gray. Feeling more than a bit uneasy on the dock, I walked back to the gate, scaled it, then returned to my motorcycle just as it began to rain. The barn door was unlocked, so I pushed the Harley inside, then lay back against a bale of hay while I awaited the return of Calum Forrest.
Wind whipped across Loch Ness, rattling the pilothouse windshield while churning the dark surface into three-foot swells.
Brandy Townson stood steady at the wheel, her mind preoccupied with keeping the Nessie III clear of Urquhart Bay's unforgiving shoreline.
Michael Newman sat behind her at the sonar array, his head in his hands, his stomach queasy from the constant rocking. Being stuck inside the pilothouse was only compounding the engineer's seasickness, and he desperately needed to get off the water and back into his dry, warm hotel room.
"I can't take this anymore, I'm going to be sick!"
"No' in here," Brandy yelled. "Use the head."
Hand over mouth, Newman took off down the steps, barely making it to the bathroom in time.
David emerged from below, not bothered by the motion. Slipping behind Brandy, he nuzzled her neck.
"David, stop. That tickles."
"David stop, David stop. That's all I've been hearing from you over the last week. What's the problem?"
"If ye don't mind, I'm tryin' tae keep us off the rocks."
"You know what I mean. That first night in the bar, you were all over me. Now you act like I have a disease."
"I'm just feelin' a wee bit vulnerable. I'm comin' out o' a bad marriage, ye know."
"That's not it. If you remember, you came onto me, obviously so I'd choose your boat to lead this hunt. You used me."
"Oh, please! Like you're so innocent. I needed the job, an' ye've never hesitated paradin' me around in skimpy outfits, usin' me as Highland arm candy. Business is business."
"If that's the way you want to play it, fine. Just so you know, I met with a very wealthy woman earlier today who offered me use of her boat. It's about three times the size of this piece of driftwood, and the press'll eat her up just as much as they do you."
"Ye're lyin'."
"Her name's Theresa Cialino."
"Johnny C.'s widow?"
"You got it. So you'd better start making nice again or …"
Michael Newman stumbled back into the pilothouse, his face pale. "Caldwell, I can't handle much more of this. We either do this now, or you drop me off somewhere."
"Relax, I just spoke with Hoagland. The buoy with the bait's in the water. You can reset the array from active to passive."
"Thank Christ." Using the mouse, Newman clicked on a command, then typed in PASSIVE.
Across Loch Ness, thirty-four pinging sonar buoys went silent.
I opened my eyes, enveloped by darkness. Thunder echoed in the distance, and for a frightening moment, I'd forgotten where I was.
The barn.
I must've dozed off, but something had woken me.
The storm?
The wind?
No, it was a beeping sound, coming from my laptop.
I fumbled for the machine and opened the monitor, its luminescent screen bathing my surroundings in blue light. The GPS real-time image of Loch Ness gradually came into focus, highlighted by thirty- four green dots representing the sonar buoys.
The word ACTIVE had changed to PASSIVE in the upper-right corner of the screen.
The beeping sound was coming from a sonar alert. Heart pounding, I typed in a command, isolating the object's location.
The screen changed, focusing in on the middle third of the array. A tiny red blip was moving south, following Loch Ness's eastern shoreline.
I typed in IDENTIFY OBJECT and pressed ENTER. BIOLOGIC. Length: 15.75 meters.
Speed: 13 knots.
Direction: South by southwest.
Location: 2.48 kilometers south of Foyers.
Almost sixteen meters? That made it over fifty feet long!
As I watched the screen, the red blip suddenly altered its course and crossed the Loch, heading toward the opposite shore.
Jesus… It's moving in this direction.
I pushed open the barn door, shocked at what I was now seeing.
It was night, a nasty one, the dark shoreline directly behind the perimeter fence bathed in an artificial white light. Calum's boat was docked at the pier. Two sheep were baaing in a small clearing outside of the fence, the animals tied off to stakes located close to the water. The patch of grass was made visible in the darkness by a red light coming from a lamp post situated atop the perimeter fencing.
Then I saw Calum. The water bailiff was dragging a third sheep to the clearing. The petrified animal was on a short leash, and it was bucking against him furiously.
Calum knelt in the grass and attached the free end of the leash to something unseen on the ground. Reentering the grazing area, he secured the gate, then hurried toward a corner post and pulled a lever on an electrical box.
The shoreline's lights were extinguished, leaving the land and Loch enveloped in blackness save for the red patch of light where the three sheep huddled together, bawling into the night.
I glanced at the laptop. The red blip had crossed over to our western shoreline and was continuing its approach, the object now less than a mile from Invermoriston.
This is insane. He's… he's actually feeding it!
Patches of lightning flashed overhead, revealing storm clouds, mountains, and Calum, still at his post. Sweat poured from my body. My flesh tingled.
The blip grew nearer.
Trembling, yet needing to get closer, I slipped out of the barn and crept toward the fence.
The three sheep fought their collars, their cries becoming more desperate.
I crept along the outside of the fence, close to where the rest of the herd huddled and snorted.