by Steve Alten
"Cialino's company owns the oil rig?"
"Six o' them, a' in the North Sea, plus part o' a new hydroelectric dam bein' built east of Fort Augustus. They've got underground pipelines runnin' through the Moray Firth intae Inverness an' throughoot the Highlands. Alban disnae like it, an' he's made a big environmental stink aboot it tae the Masonic Cooncil. The auld bampot booted me oot o' the Order the day I selt my acreage tae Johnny C., an' my life's been hell ever since."
"Angus, on Saturday morning, I caught the Crabbit hiding in the woods, dressed in Templar garments, only they weren't white, they were black, and instead of the Knight's Cross, the tunic bore a symbol, like a heart with an X across it."
My father looked away.
"What?"
"I cannae say."
"Why not? Wallace blood flows through my veins, just as it flows through yours."
"It's no' a clan thing. Blood oaths've been taken, preventin' me frae speaking o' certain things."
"You're talking in riddles."
He looked up at me with those piercing Gael eyes, but said nothing.
"Okay, you want to keep playing head games, fine. But Alban's sword was covered in blood. I don't know whether it was animal or human blood, but he had that crazed look in his eye, the one that used to scare the shit out of me when I was a kid."
"Aye. MacDonald lost his marbles long ago. He's no' fit tae run the Cooncil, if ye ask me. A disgrace he is, an' a liar—"
"You're one to talk. Do you really think the judge and jury are buying into your ridiculous little scheme? So you used my childhood scars as a means of kicking over a hornet's nest, that still doesn't make you innocent. In fact, in the end, you may have just sealed your own fate."
"How dae ye work that one oot?"
"Had you simply claimed Cialino's death was an accident, Max probably could have gotten you down to manslaughter, and you'd have served five to ten years in prison, maybe less. But now, with this whole ridiculous Loch Ness monster claim, everything changes."
"And how's that?"
"Because the monster alibi, as hokey as it is, required planning. You had to get Cialino to Urquhart Castle, you had to fly me in as a witness, you even went so far as to obtain my unpublished dissertation. Planning means Johnny C.'s murder was no accident, it was premeditated. When that jury rules you guilty, and believe me, when the smoke clears they will, you'll spend the rest of your days behind bars… if you're lucky. See, this isn't a Rubik's Cube you've cheated this time, Angus, it's the High Court of Scotland. You may have had fun tossing dynamite at the media, but you've overplayed your hand, pissing off that prosecutor, who's going to nail your hairy ass to the wall."
"So says you."
"And what says the merry widow?"
He looked up at me then, anger in his eyes. "Theresa? She had nothing tae dae wi' this."
"Sure she didn't. I saw how she was looking at you… playing you like a fiddle."
"Och! Ye dinnae ken anythin'!"
"Pretty face, gorgeous body, it was sweet bait, and you grabbed it, hook, line, and sinker. Only this woman, she's got her own ambitions. Tell me, how many times did you screw her behind Johnny C.'s back before she began planting the idea of killing her husband?"
"Shut up."
"I'll bet it was her idea to use Nessie as an alibi. Just think of what this publicity will do to generate business at her new resort. And then you jumped right in, telling her how you could solidify your defense by dragging me into it."
"Ye're aff yer heid!"
"Use the Nessie story, Angus, and I'll triple the money Johnny owes you. We'll live happily ever after … except, of course, she'll have all of Johnny's assets, including his new resort, while you're pledging your undying love as you dance on the end of a rope."
"Shut up! Theresa's a friend, nothin' more."
"Yeah, sure. No wonder you hired Max instead of a real attorney. Bet he's getting a piece of the action on the side, too, huh?"
"Get oot! Get the fuck oot o' here, ye wee bastard! I never want tae see ye again! Ye're no son o' mine!"
"Ah, how I wish that were true," I said, rolling over to get some sleep, congratulating myself on finally being able to push Angus's buttons. "But here's some free advice from one bastard to another. Be sure to hold your head up nice and high when they hang you, Pop. Remember, you're a Wallace."
Chapter 14 Quotes
It was late, just after one in the morning. I was on my motorcycle, approaching the Abriachan turn out of Inverness when I noticed something large in the bushes up ahead. I was almost upon it when it abruptly turned, exposing a long, hefty body, maybe 4.5–6 meters (15–20 feet). It possessed a very powerful tail, rounded at the end, and two front flippers. The head was snakelike, flat on top, and my headlight reflected an oval eye. The animal made two great bounds across the road and down into the water, followed by a big splash.
—MR. W. ARTHUR GRANT, VETERINARY STUDENT, 5 JANUARY 1934
I was driving on the A82, just south of Invermoriston when I saw it! It was half ashore and I had a clear view of it for nine minutes in my binoculars. It was at least 12–18 meters long (40–60 feet) but did not see its full tail as it was not quite completely out of the water. As it turned I had a clear view of its left fore flipper, which is grey in color, spade-shaped, and devoid of any markings which might indicate toes or claws. It was a clearly a flipper and not a foot. The animal eventually made sort of a U-shaped turn and flopped back into deep water. It did not reappear and left only ripples, no wake.
—MR. TORQUIL MACLEOD, EXCERPTED FROM A LETTER TO INVERNESS AUTHOR, CONSTANCE WHYTE, 28 FEBRUARY 1960
Chapter 14
Invermoriston, Scottish Highlands
Scotland
While I tossed and turned on my lumpy jail cell mattress and hundreds of reporters from around the world descended upon Castle Inverness like bees to honey, the real story was unfolding twenty miles to the south on the banks of Loch Ness.
* * *
Two major rivers intersect Loch Ness along its western shores. Enrick River is the larger of the two, flowing west to east through the Great Glen and past Drumnadrochit until it reaches Loch Ness at Urquhart Bay. Fifteen miles farther to the south, the River Moriston passes through the Glen Moriston dam, rages into a grade-five waterfall, then rushes below the old stone Telford Bridge on its way past Invermoriston before it too releases into Loch Ness.
The hamlet of Invermoriston dates back to the early 1600s. It's home to a handful of lodgings, taverns, and quaint craft shops, and its pier was once a popular destination for steamships traveling up and down the Loch in the 1890s.
Invermoriston first found fame in 1746 when the town harbored the "Seven Men of Moriston," a loyal band who protected Bonnie Prince Charlie from the English forces following the massacre at Culloden.
Thirteen generations later, the tiny Loch Ness village was about to become popular for an entirely different reason.
* * *
Tiani Brueggert had been planning her family's weeklong camping trip around Loch Ness for months. Although her husband, Joel, and their two teenage daughters, Chloe and McKailey, preferred to stay in bed-and-breakfasts, Tiani would hear none of it, insisting her "average American family" rough it in tents along the legendary banks of the Loch.
Their backpacks loaded with gear, the Brueggerts set out on their walking tour in Fort Augustus, the Loch's southernmost town. An eighteen-mile trail awaited them as they hiked north past scenic Loch Ness through forests heavy in spruce and pine.
The first day's journey ended eight hours later in Invermoriston. Crossing the Telford Bridge, the Brueggerts posed in photos of the majestic Moriston Falls, then followed the river farther west, but by seven-thirty, they were back in the village, their bodies spent.
The sun was still high when they stopped for dinner at the Glenmoriston Arms Tavern and Bistro. Two hours later, the exhausted family finally made camp on the banks of Loch Ness, just southwest of the inlet. There were dozens of
other campers at the site, most on holiday from Europe. A few were fishing, all were enjoying the remains of a Highland summer sunset.
By the time they had crawled into their sleeping bags, the graying skies had darkened into storm clouds, and the Glen's southeasterly breeze had intensified, whipping up whitecaps on the Loch's threatened surface.
The more experienced campers quickly battened down, anticipating a rough night.
The two Brueggert girls were in their tent, having fallen asleep within minutes of their heads hitting their pillows. Joel was lying on his side next to his wife, reading by flashlight, but Tiani was in too much pain to sleep. It was the second day of her period, the heaviest bleeding day of her menstrual cycle. Her lower back ached, and both her ankles were swollen from the day's hike. She knew another long day lie ahead, having scheduled her family to be in Drumnadrochit by the next night, and the trail would be steep one—assuming she could even get her feet back into her hiking boots by morning.
Swallowing two more aspirin, she turned to her husband. "I'll be back in a few minutes, I want to soak my ankles before it rains. Joel?"
Her husband mumbled a reply, his eyes already closed.
Tiani crawled out of the tent, pulling on her hooded navy sweatshirt against the wind. Locating the wooded path leading to the Loch, she staggered gingerly through the forest down the sloping trail, her flashlight barely cutting the darkness.
The pain forced her to pause at a park bench situated in a small clearing littered with trash from an overflowing steel barrel, then she continued down the steepening path to the shoreline.
Gusts of wind and spray greeted her as she left the shelter of the forest. Turning right, she followed the heavily pebbled beach to the boating dock. Menacing dark waves rolled against the launch, sending a dozen aluminum canoes and wooden kayaks banging against one another as they fought their tethers.
Walking to the end of the pier, Tiani removed her unlaced boots and thick wool socks, rolled up her pant legs, then sat along the edge and plunged her throbbing ankles into the near-freezing waters.
Tiani yelped in protest, and it took several attempts and four full minutes before her skin finally numbed to the cold. Lying back, she gazed east across the Loch at an ominous outline of mountains and thunderheads, then closed her eyes, believing she was alone.
* * *
"Huh!" Tiani bolted upright, her heart pounding, her eyes wide as she searched her surroundings.
Something had startled her awake. What was it?
Raindrops pelted her, and she laughed at her foolishness. She pulled her legs from the water, but her feet were so numb she could no longer feel them. She massaged them until the circulation returned, her eyes never leaving Loch Ness's choppy surface.
Stop being stupid. Next, you'll be searching the woods for Big Foot.
Still nervous, she slipped her socks back over her feet, then gently tugged on her boots, keeping the laces loose. The swelling was down, and that was good, but now she just wanted to be back in her tent and out of the rain.
Tiani stood, then headed back down the pier, her unlaced shoes clopping on the weathered boards.
Leaving the boating area, she turned right and retraced her steps along the rocky shoreline until she came to the beginning of the wooded trail that led up to the campsite.
Tiani paused, inhaling the wind. An acrid scent lingered in the brisk air, the smell reminding her of a zoo cage that desperately needed hosing.
Whomp!
Tiani let out a half scream, startled by the sudden crash of metal somewhere up ahead. "Hello? Who's there? Joel?"
Gusts of wind whipped the rain-soaked pine needles against her arms, urging her to begin the climb.
Focusing her flashlight on the path, she started up the slope, the scent growing stronger.
She was perspiring by the time she arrived at the park bench—the halfway point to the campsite. Raindrops pelted the rusted steel trash barrel, which, strangely, was now lying on its side, garbage strewn everywhere.
The wind? Impossible. The can must weigh over two hundred pounds. She circled the small clearing with the beam of her flashlight. Nothing.
The climb had loosened her unlaced boots to the point they were slipping off her feet. Shuffling over to the picnic table, she lifted her right boot to the bench and began pulling the laces tighter.
She jumped again as a gunshot of thunder echoed across the heavens—and something huge floundered across the path leading up to the campsite.
Tiani's heart fluttered. What the fuck was that? She crept to the edge of the trail, shining her light up the dark, tree-lined path. Maybe a bear?
There was nothing there now… but something had been there a minute ago. She caught a heavy whiff of decaying fish in the swirling wind.
And then the heavens opened up overhead, drenching her in a summer squall. "Terrific." Tiani yelled up the path as loud as she could. "Joel! Joel, help!"
The cloudburst rose into a crescendo of splattered leaves, swallowing her cries.
Wind lashed at the limbs of pine encircling the rest area, scattering the garbage at her feet.
"Joel! Hello! Can anybody hear me?"
A spiderweb of lightning answered her, igniting the heavens, revealing the shadowy figure, now poised at the edge of the clearing. Tiani Brueggert looked up in horror… and screamed.
The Diary of Sir Adam Wallace
Translated by Logan W. Wallace
Entry: 24 October 1330
I can only estimate this date of entry, no' that it matters, for I fear my words will ne'er see the light o' day nor another's eyes. Still, whit mine have seen… scarcely can I steady my hand to record the tale.
When last I wrote, the Knights were hard at work, assemblin' an iron gate meant tae block the Guivres' exit tae the North Sea. The cavern's air had grown heavy wi' smoke frae oor torches, an' Sir Iain wis close by, busy preparin' a meal o' mince an' tatties. The scent o' the meat caused my stomach tae gurgle, when suddenly a terrible scream shattered oor calm an' I dropped my quill.
Twis Sir Michael Bona that screamed, an' by oor torches' flickerin' light I saw him—his body raised above the edge o' the overlook, caught within the powerful jaws o' the most ungodly creature I could e'er imagine.
It had risen frae the underground river, its enormous head, ten times that o' a horse. Its fangs were sharp an' curved, the largest teeth barbed, positioned ootside its hideous mooth. Nodules covered the top o' the skull, taperin' doon a thick neck, the remains o' its body remainin' hidden in the water.
Grabbin' my sword, I lunged at the beast, inhalin' its horrid stench even as I lashed at its throat. My blade sliced its oily dark hide, but could barely penetrate against its heavy coat o' slime.
Stunned by the blow, the creature released Sir Michael and submerged, its immense tail loopin' oot frae the river an' slappin' wildly at the surface, the icy splashes drenchin' us… an' oor torches.
Cast in darkness, we were at the De'il's ain mercy.
I backed carefully awa' frae the edge, drookit (wet) an' shiverin', unable tae see my ain hand afore my face. Sir Michael lay by my feet, his gurglin' cries drooned in his ain blood.
"We need a flame," MacDonald called out. I heard flints scrapin' against the cave walls behind me, an' then a spark caught fabric, an' we had light.
Sir Michael's wounds were fatal, an' even MacDonald's whisky couldnae comfort oor fallen comrade. I have seen many men die o' battle wounds, but none in so much agony. The beast had crushed Michael's internals, an' his insides were burstin' forth frae his mooth like air frae a bellows, makin' it impossible tae swallow. Blood gushed frae a half-ring of teeth holes, each as big as a man's fist.
We held him doon until he died. MacDonald offered last rites, an' then we lowered his body into the water, an' watched it swept away.
MacDonald divided us after that, three men on the gate, three at sentry, the remainin' two tae rest. Long hours have passed, an' it's noo my turn tae sleep. My body i
s heavy frae this terrible day, but my mind refuses rest, for now I have seen the De'il—his brood is close, an' I am too feart tae close my eyes.
Chapter 15 Quotes
I was standing at the shore near the mouth of the Altsigh Burn, watching to see whether any trout were rising when I saw this extraordinary sight. It was the monster's head and neck, less than eight meters from me and it was without any doubt in the act of swallowing food! It opened and closed its mouth several times quite quickly and then kept tossing its head backwards in the same manner as a cormorant does after it's devoured a fish!
After two minutes, it put its head down and a hump and tail came into sight. It submerged, then surfaced again, farther away. I saw no limbs or flippers, but the skin was slick, dark in color, paling along the belly. I'd guess it was at least six meters [19.68 feet] long.
—JOHN MACLEAN, INVERMORISTON, JUNE 1937
Chapter 15
Inverness, Scottish Highlands
Scotland
True MacDonald arrived early the next morning, bundles of newspapers tucked under each of his burly arms. He pushed my breakfast cart away from my cell door, then shoved a stack of papers in between the iron bars. "Wake up, Zack, there's work to be done."
I pinched sleep from my eyes, then rolled over in bed to the smell of powdered eggs and bad aftershave. "Aren't you a little old to be working a paper route?"
"No' when my best mate's the toast o' Scotland." He handed me an Inverness Courier. "Go on, take a' look at this."
It was hard to tell which was the more shocking, the photo of me standing on the witness chair, exposing part of my buttocks, or the story's headline.
RENOWNED MARINE BIOLOGIST SURVIVED NESSIE ATTACK
TESTIMONY EXPECTED TO LAUNCH LARGEST SEARCH OF LOCH NESS IN SCOTLAND'S HISTORY.
