The Spy Who Haunted Me

by Simon R. Green

  “Was he really?” said Katt after a pause. “The wickedest man in the world, I mean?”

  Walker smiled. “No.”

  “You’d know,” I said generously.

  “Well, that was all very interesting, I suppose,” said Honey. “But when I asked if anyone knew anything, I meant anything relevant.”

  “Legends about the monster of Loch Ness go all the way back to the sixth century,” I said briskly. “Saint Columba was supposed to have come face-to-face with it while crossing the loch in a boat. He spoke gently to the creature, and it turned away and did him no harm. There were various stories after that, all for local consumption, but the first modern sighting was in 1933, which was when the world first learned about Nessie.”

  “Why then?” said Peter. “I mean, why 1933 precisely? What happened then?”

  “They built a road alongside the loch,” I said. “Up to that point, Loch Ness was way off the beaten track. But once the road was opened up to regular traffic, linking two major cities, people started seeing things. There have been all kinds of sightings since the thirties, some photos and even a few short films, but never anything definite or definitive. Never any proof. Nessie is apparently a very shy beastie and never pops her head above the surface for long.

  “As for the loch itself, it is twenty-four miles long, averaging a mile or so in width, and reaches a depth of some seven hundred feet. If you’d care to consider the waters for a moment . . . Yes, they are pretty dark, aren’t they? That’s peat, stirred up from the bottom. Any disturbance in the water churns up even more peat, and soon enough you can’t see a damned thing.”

  “Teacher’s pet,” said the Blue Fairy.

  “How is it you know so much about our first mystery?” Katt said suspiciously.

  “He’s a Drood,” said Walker. “They know everything.”

  “Pretty much,” I said cheerfully.

  “Anything else?” said Honey.

  I shrugged. “Not unless you want to argue over the merits of the various photographs and films. The exact nature of Nessie’s identity is a much discussed and disputed matter. Some driven souls spend their whole lives here, perched on the edge of the loch, hoping for a sighting. No one knows anything for sure. Not even the Droods.”

  “That is why we’re here, after all,” said the Blue Fairy.

  “Oh, come on,” said Katt. “We’re supposed to solve a fifteen-hundred-year-old mystery, just like that, after everyone else has failed?”

  “Why not?” said Walker, smiling briefly. “We are, after all, professionals.”

  “Bloody freezing cold professionals,” said Peter, hugging himself and kicking miserably at the muddy ground. “Where are we, exactly? And don’t anyone just say Scotland or there will be slaps for everyone.”

  “A long way from anywhere civilised,” said the Blue Fairy.

  Peter smirked. “Like I said, Scotland.”

  “If any locals should happen to wander by, I think I’d better do the talking,” said Walker.

  “Hold everything,” I said. “Where are the locals? I haven’t seen anyone on or around the loch since we got here. There should be someone knocking about . . . And where are the tourists? There should be boats going up and down the loch on a regular basis, as well as the more hardy souls out for an improving walk to see the scenery. Hell, there isn’t even any wildlife about that I can spot. No birds on the water or in the air . . . It’s like we’re the only living things here.”

  “Perhaps the Independent Agent has kindly provided for us to have a little privacy while we work,” said Walker. “Which would seem to indicate he still has connections with the outside world, for all his isolation.” And then he stopped and looked thoughtfully at the darkening clouds filling the sky overhead. “Can anyone tell me what time it is? My watch says midmorning, but I don’t think I trust it. It feels much later than that.”

  “I have a computer implant in my head,” said Honey, not at all self-consciously. “And according to Langley’s computers, it’s exactly 15:17. We’re missing some time. More than could be allowed for by different time zones.”

  “So the bracelets’ transportation isn’t instantaneous,” said Walker.

  “Or they’re preprogrammed to deliver us to a particular point in space and time,” I said.

  “Oh, hell,” said the Blue Fairy. “I feel jet-lagged now.”

  “A problem for another time,” I said firmly. “What are we going to do about Nessie? Shout, Hey, monster, we’re very important people on a tight deadline, so would you please get your scaly arse up here and talk to us?”

  “Please do that,” said the Blue Fairy. “I’d really like to see you do that.”

  “Don’t be so negative,” said Honey. “We’re professionals. We can do this!”

  Katt sniffed. “You would say that. You’re American. You can do anything.”

  Honey smiled brightly at her. “Exactly!” She looked decisively out over the still and placid waters of the loch. Her hands were back on her hips again. “We could always lob in a few hand grenades and see if anything comes up to complain about the noise.”

  We all winced, just a little. “Philistine!” hissed the Blue Fairy. “There’s been creatures here for hundreds of years, and you want to risk killing what might be the last one?”

  “Typical CIA,” said Peter. “All brute force and ignorance.”

  “Hey,” said Honey, entirely unaffected. “Don’t knock it if it works.”

  “I still have contacts with the army and the navy,” said Walker. “A few words in the right ears, and I could have all manner of manpower and resources rushed up here . . . but that would take time, which we don’t have. And I rather think it’s part of Alexander King’s game that we’re supposed to do this on our own.”

  “I have absolutely no problems with a little creative cheating,” said Peter. “Especially if it means we can get out of this cold one moment sooner.”

  “Quite right, darling,” said Katt. “This is so not my professional venue. I flourish best in city streets.”

  “Yes,” said Honey. “You do have the look of someone who should be walking the streets.”

  “Girls, girls,” murmured Walker just a bit tiredly, while the Blue Fairy sniggered openly.

  Peter kicked miserably at the ground again. “I just know I’m going to catch something. God, I’d kill for a Starbucks.”

  I felt sorry for Peter. He was so clearly out of his element and out of his depth. Probably got his place in the contest only because his grandfather saw one last chance to make Peter over into the kind of grandson the Independent Agent should have had.

  “I could go fishing for the monster,” the Blue Fairy said abruptly. “You have heard of my ability to go fishing in other dimensions? One of the few useful talents I inherited from dear absent Daddy and his rampant elven genes. I’ve never gone after anything this big before, but . . .”

  I considered the Blue Fairy thoughtfully. He didn’t look like much, even with his new health and his somewhat damp Elizabethan finery, but I had seen him pull all kind of amazing things out of a dimensional pool he could conjure up. He caught me looking at him and smiled superciliously.

  “I can handle anything I can sink my hook into these days. I learnt a lot during my time at the Fae Court under Queen Mab.”

  “I thought the elves killed half-breeds on sight,” said Katt just a bit spitefully. “Breeding outside the species being their greatest taboo, after all.”

  “Not when you come bearing gifts,” said the Blue Fairy, one hand rising very briefly to the golden torc around his throat.

  Everyone looked at me. I looked right back at them until they got the message and changed the subject.

  “Could you really fish the monster out of the loch?” Walker said to the Blue Fairy.

  “Maybe,” said Blue. “But it would take time, and—”

  Something stirred in the stunted shrubs nearby. We all spun around. Katt produced an impressively big gu
n from out of nowhere and fired a single shot in the direction of the noise. The shrubs all but exploded, and blood and fur flew on the air. The sound of the gun was shockingly loud in the quiet, echoing back from the surrounding hills. We all waited, on guard, but nothing else moved in the tattered shrubs at the side of the loch. Honey looked at Katt with new respect.

  “Can I ask, where precisely did you produce that unnaturally large gun from?”

  Katt smiled. “Please; allow a girl her little secrets.”

  “I once knew a girl who had teeth in her—” said the Blue Fairy, and then shut up when I looked at him.

  Walker was already poking through the ruins of the smouldering shrubs with the tip of his umbrella. He bent over to inspect something and then sighed, straightened up, and looked back at Katt.

  “Congratulations, my dear. You have just exploded an otter.”

  She shrugged and smiled prettily about her. “Sorry, darlings. Instinct.”

  “Otters are a protected species, aren’t they?” said Peter.

  “Not from me,” said Katt. Her gun had disappeared again. I had to wonder what else she might have hidden about her person. I wouldn’t have thought there was room for anything under a dress that tight; not even underwear.

  The Blue Fairy produced a fishing rod and reel out of nowhere.

  It looked battered and mended and much used, but he handled it with professional ease. “What do we think the monster is, anyway?” he said without looking up.

  “It’s supposed to be some kind of dinosaur, isn’t it?” said Honey. “The last of its kind, preserved in a lake cut off from the rest of the natural world. The few photos I’ve seen all show a long neck and what might be the humps of an extended body.”

  “I always hoped it would turn out to be a dragon,” said the Blue Fairy just a bit wistfully. “Not those nasty things the elf lords ride; I mean the real thing, from ages past, when there was still wild magic in the world . . .”

  “You soppy old romantic, you,” I said.

  “Maybe it’s an alien!” said Katt. “Descended from the crew of some crashed alien starship, long ago.”

  “Could be some kind of elemental,” said Walker. “Which would explain why it never seems to look the same twice.”

  Peter sniffed loudly. “More likely it’s just another tourist trap, making the most of an old legend to separate the gullible from their money.”

  “If this contest wasn’t so important, I think I’d be just as happy for Nessie to stay a mystery,” I said. “After all, what would the rest of the world do, if presented with actual proof of Nessie’s existence and nature? Trap it, or shoot it? Drag it out of the loch to be shown off at some aquatic zoo? It would certainly never know a moment’s peace again. No, I think it’s safer and better off as a legend.”

  Walker stood at the very edge of the bank, staring down into the dark still waters. “What if there is no monster?” he said thoughtfully. “No Nessie. What if that’s the answer to the mystery; that there’s nothing down there, really, and never was? How are we supposed to prove a negative? I mean, short of draining the whole loch . . .”

  “Damn,” said Katt. “You’re actually considering it, aren’t you?”

  “Philistine,” said the Blue Fairy, deftly slipping a barbed hook onto the end of his fishing line.

  Walker looked back at us, smiling. “I doubt even the CIA could pull that one off, with all its resources. And certainly not without seriously upsetting the locals . . .”

  “What we need,” Honey said firmly, “is a submersible.”

  Her face became preoccupied; no doubt she was communing with her superiors at Langley via her computer implant. No way that was Earth technology. I was beginning to get a very good idea of which particular nonexistent department Honey worked for. A few moments passed, and then a great rent appeared in the sky above us, an actual tear in reality itself. Out of which dropped a large and very yellow and extremely futuristic-looking submersible. It was the size of an articulated lorry, and it fell almost lazily through the air, heading for the water right next to where we were standing.

  “Everybody back!” yelled Walker.

  He was already retreating at speed, and the rest of us were right on his heels. The submersible hit the surface of the loch hard, and a great explosion of water jumped up into the air, raining down just where we’d been standing. Some of the icy waters still reached us, and Katt squeaked miserably as it splashed across her bare shoulders. Served her right for being so slow off the mark. Walker remained cool and calm under his opened umbrella. The rest of us glared at Honey, who pretended to be very interested in her newly acquired submersible, which had now steadied itself and was bobbing happily at the side of the loch. It was big and blocky, with wide fins, a blunt nose, and all kinds of bristling scientific protrusions. There was even a (hopefully reinforced) extra-wide window at the front, backed up by great glaring headlights. Which it was going to need, down in the depths, where just the submersible’s passage would stir up enough peat to fill the water.

  “Trust the CIA to show off,” said Peter.

  “The CIA does big,” I said. “Droods prefer subtle.”

  Honey sniffed loudly. She didn’t look exactly inspired with what she’d been sent. “Wonderful!” she said acidly. “Someone who only thinks they have a sense of humour has sent me a yellow submarine. Probably programmed the ship’s computers to sound like Ringo. Heads will roll when I get back, and other things too. I asked for a proper research vessel, not this . . . toy.”

  “I’d mention Thunderbird 4,” said Walker. “But it would only date me.”

  “I think it’s very pretty,” said Katt.

  “How are we all supposed to squeeze into something that size?” said the Blue Fairy.

  “You aren’t,” Honey said shortly. “I’ve used that model before, and it’s strictly a single seater. And no, you don’t get to draw straws over who goes. It’s my submersible, so I get to drive.”

  “Typical CIA,” said Katt. “Never big on sharing.”

  “We’re supposed to let you go down there on your own?” said Walker.

  “Unless one of you has gills and can hang on to the outside,” said Honey.

  “You might be able to locate Nessie with your wonderful new toy,” I said. “But how are you going to get proof? I don’t care what your new rubber duckie comes equipped with; you’re not going to get a clear image underwater. It’s been tried, and without a clear background to give you scale, any sonar image you get is worthless.”

  “Why do I just know you’re about to suggest something clever?” said Honey.

  “Because I’m a Drood,” I said. “We always know best. It’s in our job description. Look, this isn’t exactly rocket science. First you find the creature, then you bring it up to the surface, and finally we photograph it right next to your submersible. That gives us size and scale and a clear image, right?”

  “The submersible’s cameras are only designed to operate underwater,” said Honey.

  We all looked at each other.

  “I’ve got a really good camera built into my phone,” said Peter.

  “Oh, this is all just so amateur night, darlings,” said Katt.

  “It’ll do,” Honey said shortly. “I’m not begging and pleading with Langley for more equipment. This whole mission is drowning in paperwork and requisitions as it is, and you just know they’ll find some way to stick me with the overruns. I’ll locate Nessie and goose her up to the surface, and, Peter, you had better get some really good photos.”

  “This is a state-of-the-art phone, with still shots and film,” Peter protested. “I designed it myself.”

  He started to spout off some detailed technobabble, only to shut up and sulk as it became clear none of us was listening. Honey stalked down to the edge of the bank, and we all trailed after her, feeling just a bit left out. None of us were used to being left behind while someone else went off to do all the interesting fun stuff. Honey jumped lightl
y onto the side of the bright yellow submersible, grabbing one of the more sturdy protrusions to steady herself. The submersible hardly bobbed at all under her added weight. She hit the access panel with her fist, and a hatch swung slowly outward. She wriggled in past it and disappeared inside. This was followed by a certain amount of swearing as she couldn’t find the light switch and then the sound of powerful engines coming on line, and the whole submersible seemed to shake itself like a hunting dog coming awake, ready for action. The access hatch opened itself a little wider, and then we all ducked and fell back as a package the size of a kitchen sink shot out over our heads and crash-landed on the bank behind us.

  We all turned to look, and then watched with interest as the package jumped up and down on the spot, turning itself rapidly over and around in midair, shaking and shuddering as it unfolded in several different directions at once. It kept growing and growing in size, throwing out offshoots of itself, and finally sank several barbed steel legs into the ground to hold it securely in place. By the time it had finished showing off, the package had formed itself into a large, flashy, and more than state-of-the-art remote communications centre, complete with radio, sonar, live television feeds, and a few things even I didn’t recognise. Walker immediately strode over and commandeered the nearest keyboard, looked it over briskly, and then punched in a series of instructions that had the whole thing up and running in a few moments.

  I wandered around the console, checking the data streams on the monitors, familiarising myself with the various comm systems, very careful not to touch anything. I was damned if I was leaving any fingerprints or DNA traces on the console’s suspiciously gleaming surfaces for the CIA to study once the mission was over. After a while I moved in beside Walker and casually indicated a few more things he could do to bring the console up to full power. Just to show I wasn’t being left out of things. The others crowded in beside us, peering over our shoulders.