Maybe she was right. Having rendered my decision I felt uplifted, as if my life had meaning again.
Dr. Ahmed looked shocked. “Perhaps you need a few days to think this through?”
I assured him my mind was made up, sending Dr. Liao into a ten-minute diatribe about my obligation to the scientific community and how this expedition could affect everything from our knowledge of how life began to climate change and its threat to the planet. When I still refused her call to duty, she argued that some major investors had threatened to withdraw their support if I passed on the mission and that if it was simply a matter of money, perhaps she could manage to up the offer another ten to fifteen percent. When I assured her my objection had nothing to do with money, she interpreted my response as one of fear. Challenging my manhood, she again assured me that there’d be no risk, certainly nothing on par with what had happened to me two years ago at the bottom of Loch Ness.
“Trust me, Dr. Wallace, I wouldn’t be making the descent if I had any doubts as to our safety. As for water creatures, I sincerely doubt we’ll find anything larger than a salmon. There is no food supply.”
She was baiting me to oppose her statement, which dismissed an entire chemosynthetic food chain. The bizarre thing was Brandy’s reaction; the more I held my ground against Liao, the more turned on she became. At one point she interrupted the conversation to remind me that Willy’s nanny was due to leave soon and that we really needed to get back to our room.
And then she winked!
That was all the prompting I needed.
Ending the meeting, I shook my guests’ hands and said goodbye — unaware that Liao had one final card to play.
“It’s late, Zachary. Rather than drive back to Inverness for our return flights in the morning, may we stay in the resort for the night? I’m sure there are vacancies.”
Perhaps it was Ming’s addressing me informally; perhaps it was the implications of her wanting to sleep under the same roof. But the Asian beauty’s request clearly set Brandy off, her mood swing threatening my anticipated bout of make-up sex.
I scrambled to neutralize the brewing storm. “I think the north wing has a few rooms open, but we’re not serving food. Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in the village?”
“And miss out on this view? No, we’ll stay here. Besides, I’m sure Ben would love to speak with you about his undersea work. You two have so much in common. Ben?”
Ben finished the last of his drink. “Maybe later. Right now I think Dr. Wallace would rather be with his wife.”
Like I said, a kindred soul.
“Go downstairs to the check-in desk. True will meet you there.”
My brother-in-law and best friend, Finlay “True” MacDonald, was a gentle giant, carrying two hundred and sixty pounds on his six-foot-five-inch frame. He kept his beard short and his auburn hair long and in a ponytail. You could kid him about it unless he was drunk, which he was a lot these days. My father had hired the big fella as his hotel manager, but the lack of business had added handyman, electrician, plumber, lord of the laundry, and groundskeeper to his job description. True didn’t mind, he lived rent-free and always had a clean room in which to bed his women, most of whom he met “interviewing” for summer housekeeping jobs.
Entering the lobby, he greeted Liao like a hungry tiger. “So, Zachary tells me ye’ll be spending the night. Don’t get many visitors this time o’ year, and none that look as good as you. The name’s Finlay, but my friends call me True. How many rooms then, Miss…?”
“Liao. Four rooms, non-smoking. I assume you accept credit cards?”
“Aye, but ye’ll be needing tae eat, and most of the places in the village only take cash. It’s a fair walk intae town, but I can drive ye.”
“That would be nice.”
“My pleasure. Fiddler’s serves the best haggis and tatties this side o’ the Ness. Your friends can drink in the café while you and me sit in the backroom and get tae ken one another.”
Liao ignored True’s attempt at romance. “Fiddler’s sounds fine. Make the reservations for four. Oh, and could you arrange for Angus Wallace to meet us there?”
“Angus? Whit do ye want with that old buzzard?”
“Please tell him I have a business proposition to discuss.”
Fiddler’s was located on the other side of the A82 highway across the road from the Oakdale Bed and Breakfast. The two-story white stucco structure housed a pub and restaurant downstairs along with a café extension that was strictly for drinking. The rooms upstairs were for rent. During tourist season the restaurant was always crowded, with seating overflowing outside onto the patio. The frigid March weather kept its local patrons indoors, most stopping by to partake of a Fiddler’s homemade malt whisky chosen from over five hundred selections.
My father was seated alone at a table in the back room behind the bar, feasting on venison steak and black pudding with a bottle of cider. Angus Wallace’s mane of silver-gray hair was tucked under a green Nessie’s Lair golf cap, and his matching beard and mustache sported remnants from his meal. His piercing gray-blue eyes glanced up as Liao entered the hideaway. “Dr. Liao, I presume? My-my, aren’t ye a dazzling Chinese dish. Enough tae set my daughter-in-law off, I’ll wager.”
“May I sit?”
“Sit, piss, shyte, do whitever ye want. Ye came a long way tae get rejected. Antarctica, huh? Imagin’ it gets quite Baltic in that ice box.”
“Baltic? Ah, you mean cold. Yes, very cold. But how did you—”
“Lass, I’ve connections all aboot the Great Glen, including immigration, and I like tae ken who’s stayin’ under my roof. Three eggheads an’ a sub pilot, all here tae recruit my Zachary. All that way ye traveled and the lad turned ye down.”
“He would have signed on if—”
“Brandy? Ye think so, do ye? Ye ken nothing aboot my son.”
“We offered him the chance of a lifetime, and he passed it up for a faculty position at Cambridge.”
“What was yer offer?”
“I’m afraid that’s confidential, but it amounts to quite a figure for the summer season.”
“Summer in Antarctica… is that anything like winter in Hell?”
“It’s cold, but we will assemble an environmental dome to protect our team from the elements.”
“Aye. And ye’ll be accompanying him on this chance-of-a-lifetime mission?”
“Correct. My role is to analyze the geology of Lake Vostok. As for the mission itself, the risk is minimal. I think he’s more afraid of upsetting his wife.”
“Lass, yer bum’s hangin’ way oot the windae. Yer talkin’ rubbish. This ain’t aboot money or pleasin’ his auld lady. It’s aboot fear. Ye think yer the only one who’s come calling on my son since his latest resurrection? The lad’s passed on every underwater expedition offered, and better paying ones than yers. Ye forget, Zachary near died aboard one of them submersibles three years back. If it means going underwater, the answer is always no.”
“What if he didn’t have to make the dive? Right now, I just need him on the expedition to secure a few private investors.”
“And so ye’ve come tae me for help because ye heard the lad listens tae his auld man like I was Jesus climbed down from the cross.”
“Well, no. But if that is true—”
“Lassy, butts are fer crappin’. Ye came here tae bribe me, so start yer bribing.”
She reached into her bag and removed an envelope. “This is a letter of commitment. When your son signs it and arrives at our new station in East Antarctica you will receive a sum equaling five thousand U.S. dollars.”
Angus snorted a laugh. “Lass, who do ye think yer dealing wit’? A Highland pig farmer? The plane fare to Antarctica for you and the other eggheads alone costs more than five thou. No, ye’ll pay me that sum tonight jist for acceptin’ the job. Then you’ll pay me another fifty thousand when he signs. That fee will be wired intae my bank account before Zachary leaves Inverness.”