The Loch Ness Legacy tl-4

by Boyd Morrison

  “Oh, you’re wrong about that,” Zim said, then barked at his men. “Kill them.”

  Blond and mustache rushed at them.

  Tyler thought this would be a good time to raise the alarm. He howled with his best battle cry as he steeled himself for the assault. Alexa followed suit with a guttural scream. No one in the courtyard outside would fail to hear them. They had to hope the cavalry would arrive before there was nothing to do but mop up their remains.

  Either through miscommunication or not taking Alexa seriously as a threat, both men went after Tyler. The blond’s short swords swirled, but his aim was off due to his missing glasses. Metal clanged against Tyler’s saber. He had to leap back to avoid a swipe from the second sword, and then sidestepped an overhead chop of the mustached man’s claymore, which took a massive chunk out of the floor.

  Tyler was hoping Alexa would take the opportunity to make a run for it, but he should have known she wouldn’t leave him to be slaughtered. Gripping the handle of the halberd like the bat she’d used in college softball, she swung the weapon around, her eyes locked onto her distracted target.

  The spike pierced the blond man’s ribs, and his swords clattered to the floor. He collapsed backward, wrenching the halberd from Alexa’s hands. She stood there staring at what she’d done, mute.

  The mustached man sprang back to action. He reared back for another strike of the claymore. It was only when he experienced the inertia involved with the backswing of such a huge weapon, though, that his face registered he might have selected not only an intimidating weapon, but also one that was unwieldy.

  Before the man could swing the claymore on its down stroke, Tyler thrust forward and stabbed the saber through his heart. The mustached man looked down in surprise at the blood soaking his shirt and then fell backward, motionless as soon as he hit the floor, the claymore clattering to the ground next to him.

  Zim stalked toward them, a menacing sneer on his face, and Tyler honestly didn’t know whether he could win. He was already huffing from the battle so far, while Zim was fresh. And by the looks of her, Alexa wasn’t going to be able to repeat her prowess with the blade. Tyler not only was on his own, but he had to protect her as well.

  Zim slashed his sword toward Tyler, who blocked it with the saber. He grabbed Zim’s wrist, drawing him into a clinch, Zim’s fetid breath hot on Tyler’s face.

  In the brief glimpse Tyler got, he could see two things: an organic piece of skin and flesh floated in the clear liquid, and a label on the jar clearly spelled out “Loch Ness.”

  Zim might be holding the only known tissue sample from the Loch Ness monster, hidden by John Edmonstone two hundred years ago. If Tyler could get it from him, their search would be over.

  “This isn’t going to get your brother back, Zim,” Tyler said. “Either one of them.”

  “This isn’t about getting them back. It’s about justice.”

  “You mean revenge.”

  Zim’s lips spread in a vile grin. “Semantics.”

  The door to the hall flew open. Four men rushed through holding batons, their radios cackling.

  “Gotta go,” Zim said and heaved Tyler back. Still gripping the jar, he ran for the door, swinging the sword wildly, creating a wide path through the outmatched rescuers.

  “Stay here,” Tyler shouted to Alexa and took off in pursuit.

  He exploded out of the door. Instead of the exit, Zim was angling toward the café. Tyler sprinted after him, the saber still in his hand.

  He burst through the café door and saw another door closing inside. Tyler gave chase and flung the door open, his weapon at the ready.

  As he entered, he realized it was the men’s lavatory. He found Zim inside, the jar poised above the toilet. Zim turned it over, and the contents splashed into the bowl.

  “No!” Tyler yelled, but he couldn’t stop Zim as he flushed the last known bit of the Loch Ness monster into the sewer.

  “You bastard!” Tyler shouted, and raised his saber for the final battle. The only thing that stopped him was the pump action of two shotguns.

  “Police!” one of the men called out. “Drop your weapons!”

  Tyler grimaced and dropped the saber only after Zim let go of his sword. They each put up their hands and were thrown against the wall.

  As handcuffs were laced around his wrists, Tyler was face to face with Zim. The former prisoner didn’t seem to have a care in the world as he smiled at Tyler with undisguised glee.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Brielle was able to get Grant out of Holyrood Palace and into a taxi before they could be detained by the police. Tyler’s phone hadn’t yet been replaced, so she tried Alexa repeatedly, but the call kept going to voicemail. No reason to panic yet, but troubling nonetheless.

  With Edmonstone’s journal in hand, they had to head straight to Loch Ness, so she and Grant went to the nearest rental facility and hired the only standard sedan in the lot. She raced over to the train station to retrieve their bags and purchased a disposable mobile phone from a kiosk.

  For the next fifteen minutes, they tried calling Alexa and got no answer. By that time, Grant was feeling well enough to drive, so he let Brielle out as close to the castle as he could and went off to find a place to wait for her call.

  She walked the block to the esplanade in front of the castle and was stopped by a cadre of armed policemen. Tourists streamed out of the castle, and none were being let inside.

  She waved to a policeman. “Sir, why can’t we go in?”

  “There’s been a death inside the castle.”

  Brielle’s stomach dropped. “Who was it?”

  “We don’t know yet. Please step back.”

  She called Grant, her heart hammering.

  “Did you find them?” he asked.

  “No. The castle’s closed off because of a death inside.”

  “Are Tyler and Alexa okay?”

  “I don’t know. They won’t let anybody in or answer any questions.”

  “Dammit! I’ll be right there. I have to make a call.”

  He hung up. The policemen pushed the crowd back, allowing a convoy of three patrol cars to pass out of the castle, their sirens wailing. Brielle strained to see who was inside, but they flashed by too quickly to get a good look. They were followed by two ambulances, leaving a dozen emergency vehicles at the entrance.

  Brielle dashed back to where Grant dropped her off, arriving just as he did. He hopped out and got in the passenger seat.

  “You know how to drive here better than I do,” he said. “And I have to navigate.”

  “Why?” she asked as she got in and stepped on the gas.

  “After we thought Alexa went missing in Seattle, Tyler got her permission to track her phone, and Aiden set it up. He transferred the software to my phone.” He showed her a map of Edinburgh with a moving green dot.

  “Is she on foot?”

  “It’s moving too fast,” Grant said. “She must be in a vehicle. I got them pulling away right after you called me. Did you see anything?”

  “My God! I saw police cars and ambulances coming out of the castle.”

  “I saw two ambulances pass me on my way to pick you up, but Alexa wasn’t in them. Or at least her phone wasn’t.”

  “But what about Tyler?”

  He pressed his lips together.

  “Where do I go?” she asked.

  “You’re on the right route. They’ve turned onto a road called A700. Make the next right.”

  Brielle turned onto King’s Stables Road. They both were quiet as they contemplated what could have happened to Tyler and Alexa. Since she and Grant had come across Marlo Dunham, it was very likely that Tyler and Alexa had a run-in with Victor Zim. If that were the case, then someone was killed in the encounter.

  Brielle could barely keep her hands from shaking on the steering wheel. Of course, she had gone through Tyler being injured before, but that was after the fact, when she knew he would be all right. For the first time she was real
ly afraid of Tyler dying.

  She sped past dawdling vehicles, yelling obscenities at each putz slowing her down. She wanted to be there as soon as Alexa arrived at wherever she was headed.

  Grant guided her onto another road and then through an interchange to Queensferry Street.

  “They’ve stopped,” Grant said with a confused look.

  “They’re at the station?”

  “No. That’s strange. The map says they’re in the middle of a bridge.”

  “Where?”

  “Just up ahead.”

  She rounded a crescent of buildings and saw lights flashing on the road in front of her. The unmistakable sound of automatic weapons shattered the air.

  “What the hell?”

  “Ambush!” Grant yelled. “They’ve got the police in a crossfire.”

  The police cars were sprawled across the road, boxed in by two SUVs blocking their path in either direction. Two ski-masked men on each end poured withering gunfire into the policemen, who were dropping right and left.

  Instead of putting the car in reverse, Brielle jammed her foot on the accelerator.

  She went up on the sidewalk and around the stopped cars, their drivers ducking as low as they could to avoid stray rounds. The police seemed to have been finished off, so the gunmen by the Range Rover closest to her lowered their weapons and walked around the vehicle to mop up. They were so focused on their targets that they didn’t notice her coming.

  At the last moment, the gunmen heard the roaring engine behind them. They turned in time to face her as she plowed into them. One of the men went flying over the side of the bridge. The other sailed into the boot of the rear police car and didn’t get up.

  Screeching to a halt, she jumped out and grabbed the weapon from the downed gunman, the habits from her service in the Israeli Army coming back instantaneously. The gun was an Enfield L85 assault rifle used by the British military and Ministry of Defence. She took cover behind the bonnet of her car and lifted the weapon to her eye, aiming with the red dot sight. She shot twice at the attackers behind the vehicle at the other end, but they took cover while replying with errant potshots that kept her down.

  She heard two people banging on the back window of the rearmost police car. Brielle took a quick peek, and to her surprise and relief she saw Tyler and Alexa, both in handcuffs.

  “They can’t get out!” Grant yelled to her.

  “Did you get the other weapon?”

  “No. It went over the side with Peter Pan.”

  “You get them! I’ll cover you!”

  She laid down suppressing fire as Grant crabbed his way to the police car. He opened the door, and Tyler and Alexa scrambled out. They got back to the cover of the SUV just as they were bombarded with fire from up ahead.

  She didn’t take time for greetings, although she wanted to throw her arms around Tyler.

  “Are you both all right?” she asked them.

  “We’re fine,” Tyler replied.

  “We have the journal,” Grant said as he unlocked their cuffs with a key he’d plucked from a dead policemen.

  “Then we need to get out of here.”

  One of the gunmen at the other end of the bridge ducked low to get to the first police car. He opened the rear door, and someone got out. He poked his head up once to look and then dropped again, but it was enough for her to see that it was Victor Zim.

  Brielle was about to debate the wisdom of leaving the scene of a police ambush when more shots pelted the Range Rover, from three weapons this time. Zim was now armed, and she had to be down to the bottom of her magazine. Continuing with a gunfight when outgunned wasn’t a smart strategy.

  “Tyler’s right,” Alexa said. “If the police take us in, we’ll be questioned for days. We’ll never get the antidote in time.”

  Brielle nodded reluctantly. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  They jumped into the sedan and peeled away. Brielle was still hopped up on adrenaline, but the rest of them slumped in their seats from exhaustion. In the rearview mirror, she could see Zim’s car tear off as the sound of more sirens headed their way.

  Now all of them were fugitives from the law.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Getting out of the Edinburgh metro area was a challenge for Zim and Dunham. Zim ditched the Range Rover that was pocked with bullet holes from the gun battle with the police, and they piled into the one Pryor was driving, with Dunham in the passenger seat. Zim certainly wasn’t going to sit in the back, so he made Pryor switch.

  The only advantage they had was that the police were overwhelmed with three extensive crime scenes — Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh Castle, and the bridge. Few were left over to throw up any roadblocks on the myriad highways and back roads leading out of the city. Still, they prepared themselves to fight the few times they spotted a police car.

  By the time they got to Stirling, an hour’s drive west of Edinburgh, Zim felt confident that they were out of immediate danger of being caught. He and Dunham would have to wear their disguises in public from now on knowing sketch artists would soon be blasting their faces out to the world.

  Zim was glad that he’d taken the precaution of having Pryor monitoring the police bands. As soon as Pryor heard that a muscle-bound caucasian man had been taken into custody and would be transferred to the Lothian and Borders Police headquarters, he had quickly drawn up the likely route that would be followed and sent the Scottish part of his team to ambush the convoy.

  What Zim wasn’t happy about was losing men one after the other. Five more were either dead or injured because of Tyler Locke and his group. Their persistence was infuriating.

  Dunham’s whining was almost as bad.

  “Why are we still going to Loch Ness?” she asked. “I burned up the journal.”

  “Did you see it burn?” Zim countered.

  “I saw it start to char, yes.”

  “Start to char…Did you see it finish charring?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then they might have it. Even if they don’t, Locke won’t give up. I saw him get away.”

  “You should have—”

  Zim raised a fist. “So help me God,” he growled, “if you say I should have killed him when I had the chance, I will kill you right now.”

  For the first time, Dunham looked meek. She swallowed and licked her lips. “Fine. We both could have done better. And you did well to get rid of the sample from the other deer trophy. That was quick thinking. You must have been shocked to see it.”

  “Thank you. See? A little compliment doesn’t hurt anyone now and then.”

  Pryor got a phone call.

  “Yeah? Uh huh. Okay, hold on.” He looked at Zim. “It’s the captain of the Aegir. They want to know where they should meet us.”

  “Send him the GPS coordinates I gave you. Tell him to send the Zodiac to pick us up.”

  Pryor conveyed the plans and told the captain they’d be there in two hours. Before he hung up, Zim asked another question.

  “Have they been keeping an eye on the other ship?” The Aegir had two men in the Zodiac observing an odd ship that had entered the loch the day before.

  Pryor relayed the question and after a long pause said, “They’ve kept their distance like you told them, watching with binoculars all morning, but they haven’t been able to figure out what they’re doing.”

  “Is it a fishing vessel?”

  “No. It’s like no boat the captain has ever seen.”

  “Have them record some video of the ship. I want to see it when I arrive.”

  Pryor gave the instructions and signed off.

  “What do you think Locke is up to?” Pryor asked.

  “He’s going to have to assume Nessie is real and alive, just like we do. If he’s got Edmonstone’s journal, he has to be coming up with a plan for capturing the creature.”

  “I think it’s about time I hear your plan for destroying the creature,” Dunham said.

  “I thought you trusted me to spend the money
wisely.”

  “I did. Now I want the rest of the story.”

  She already knew that Zim had paid a Norwegian crew more than a year’s wages to bring their whaling vessel over to Loch Ness disguised as a regular fishing boat. For that much money, the captain hadn’t asked any questions, even when he took on the remainder of Zim’s men as additional crew. Hunting minke whales in the Arctic Ocean was not only a rough business with hot and cold streaks, but because Norway was one of the only countries in the world still whaling, frequent run-ins with protesting ships made it even harder to catch their quota.

  The hundred-foot-long ship was small enough to get through the locks into Loch Ness. The Caledonian Canal, built almost two centuries ago, slices all the way from the North Sea through the four lochs making up the Great Glen — Loch Dochfour, Loch Ness, Loch Oich, and Loch Lochy — to its outlet just above the Irish Sea. Built as a bypass around the rough waters off the aptly named Cape Wrath, the canal could handle vessels up to 150 feet long, making it no problem to bring the Aegir through.

  “The whaling vessel was a nice idea,” Dunham continued. “But if we find the Loch Ness monster, how are we going to destroy it?”

  “We’re not going to destroy it.”

  Dunham was flabbergasted. “What? All they need is a few ounces of flesh, and they can synthesize the antidote.”

  “I know,” Zim said.

  “We have to make it so they can’t recover any part of the creature.”

  “I know.”

  “If we don’t kill it, all of this has been for nothing!”

  “Calm down. I didn’t say we weren’t going to kill it.”

  “So we’re going to haul it up onto the Aegir and sneak it out of Loch Ness? That’s insane.”

  Zim was rather enjoying egging her on like this. They still had a long drive ahead of them, so he may as well be entertained.

  “You’re correct. If Alexa Locke’s video is accurate, then Nessie is at least thirty feet long. I think it would be difficult to smuggle something that big out of the area.”

  “Then what are we going to do? Just leave it there?”