by David Wood
When they returned to their boat, the Sea Foam, Maddock was relieved to see that the storm had, indeed, changed directions. The sun was setting to the west, and the first hint of evening’s approach was painted purple on the eastern horizon, but the clouds had fled, leaving behind clear skies and balmy seas.
“Y’all find anything good down there? You were gone a while,” Willis said.
Maddock recounted the discovery of the U-boat and showed them the items he’d collected.
“It was cool,” he finished, “but I can’t say we found anything of much interest.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Smiling, Bones reached into his dive bag, took out something large and dark, and held it out for the others to see.
“What in the hell,” Willis marveled, “is that?”
Chapter 2
Ben MacDui, Scotland
“You know you don’t have to go up the mountain this way?” Isla Mulheron paused and looked ahead at the faint path that skirted a steep cliff as it wound upward toward the summit of Ben MacDui. To the north, low-hanging clouds shrouded the mountaintops in mist. A stiff breeze ran through her long, auburn hair, sending a chill down her spine as she imagined invisible hands nudging her closer to the edge. She set her jaw, stiffened her resolve, and followed along behind her interview subject.
“This way will be of much more interest to your readers. You should get some pictures for the magazine.” “Grizzly” Don Grant turned and struck a pose—hands on hips, one foot propped on a boulder, face tilted slightly upward.
Isla sighed. “Fine. Can you try to look more… natural?”
Grizzly’s brow creased. “What do you mean? Like this?” He moved a hand to his chin and attempted a “Thinker” pose.
“Tell you what,” Isla said, focusing her camera on him with the greatest reluctance. “Just start climbing the trail. Our readers like ‘action’ photos.”
“But you won’t be able to get my face,” he protested.
“It’ll be all right. I’ll take plenty of photos when we reach the summit.” The American cryptozoologist was handsome, with wavy brown hair, penetrating eyes, and stubble that emphasized his strong jawline, but his personality ruined it. “Maybe you’ll fall over the cliff,” Isla whispered as Grizzly began his ascent, dropping down to all fours and splaying out his hands and feet to make the climb appear more difficult. Ever the professional, she chose the best angle to support the illusion, focused, and snapped several photos.
“How does this look?” he shouted back over his shoulder.
“Brilliant!” She gave him a thumbs-up. “But you can get up and walk now. I’ve got plenty of you pretending to…I mean, scaling the rock.”
Grizzly flashed an approving smile, scrambled back to his feet, and resumed the trek up the mountainside.
Isla snapped a couple more pictures, just to prove the buffoon was capable of walking upright, and then followed along. Not for the first time, she questioned the life choices that had brought her to work for Scottish Adventure magazine. Granted, it paid better than her job in New York, and her flat here was twice the size of what she could afford in The Big Apple, but the subject matter upon which she was expected to report ranged from boring to downright insulting. This one was the latter.
“Up ahead is where the trail forks off. We’ll be crossing the Allt Clach nan Taillear.” Grizzly somehow managed to botch almost every syllable of the name. “The way ahead is rough and thick with boulders, but it will give the reader a more authentic adventuring experience. Lots of photo-ops, too. I just hope you can handle it.” He gave her a sly wink.
Isla managed a smile. With greater effort, she kept both hands closed in fists, despite the fact that her middle fingers were struggling to rise. She heard her nan’s voice in her head.
Failing means you’re playing.
At least the man was trying, if trying badly. Somehow, despite his apparent lack of skill, he’d managed to fashion a career and a bit of a reputation, even if it was among conspiracy theorists and nutters.
“I’ll be okay. I did a fair spot of climbing when I lived in the States.”
“You lived in America? I thought your accent was milder than the locals,” Grizzly said, scrambling up the trail.
He wasn’t wrong about that. In America, Isla had found her thick Scottish accent often worked against her, and she’d worked hard to lose it.
“Where have you climbed?” Grizzly asked.
“Mostly in the Adirondacks. I did some climbing at Yosemite last summer.”
“Have you ever summited Everest?”
Isla stopped short. “No. Have you?” Perhaps she’d missed something in the man’s bio. The Everest angle would improve the story dramatically. Maybe there was more to him than she’d initially believed.
“Not yet,” Grizzly said. “I had an offer from a television show last year. They wanted to look for the Yeti. I turned them down. They weren’t willing to meet my appearance fee.”
Isla highly doubted that, considering Scottish Adventure was paying him nothing at all. In fact, he’d only gotten in touch with the magazine after his request for coverage had been turned down by several larger media outlets. He’s all bum and parsley, she thought. It would be a miracle if the man gave her anything of value for her column. Yet, her editor would hold her to blame if her column were lacking.
Up ahead, Grizzly paused and turned to face her. She winced as his over-laden backpack swung out over the edge of the cliff. “The boulder field is up…whoa!” Like a cartoon character, Grizzly windmilled his arms as he overbalanced and began tipping backward.
Isla dashed forward and managed to grab him by the belt as he fell. She pulled with all her might, hauling the sturdily built man back from certain death. He fell forward, and they landed in a heap on the rocky mountainside and slid several meters before skidding to a halt. She found herself lying, winded, on her back, with Grizzly on top of her.
“Well, that was an adventure, wasn’t it?” He grinned down at her.
Isla would have punched him, but she was busy trying to catch her breath.
Grizzly stood, folded his arms, and quirked an eyebrow as he looked down at her. “Panic attack,” he said, sagely. “Just relax. Most women have them at altitude. It will pass in a minute.”
Isla couldn’t help herself. She lashed out and kicked Grizzly square in the shin.
“Ow!” He staggered back two steps before kneeling and rubbing his shin. “I know you’re scared but don’t take it out on me. I was only trying to help.”
Isla finally managed to suck in a breath. The air was thin here, close to the summit of the second-highest peak in Britain, and it took several lungs full before the dizziness subsided. By then, she’d managed to suppress her urge to push the American over the cliff. He offered his hand, and she debated for a full second before taking it and letting him help her to her feet.
“Like I said, you’ll be all right.” He turned and headed toward the boulder field. “Watch your step near the cliff,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to fall.”
This time, Isla’s middle finger won the battle of wills.
“Lord, just get me through this assignment.”
Chapter 3
Off the Coast of Wigtownshire
Maddock looked at the dark, curved object in Bones’ hand. He recognized it immediately, and a shiver ran down his spine. “That is one big tooth.”
“Let me see.” Willis took the tooth from Bones and held it up for closer inspection. It was long, slightly curved and roughly cylindrical in shape, tapering to a point at one end. “Looks like a shiny, dark gray carrot.” He passed it over to Matt.
“If it’s a shark tooth,” Matt said, turning it over in his hands, “it’s a variety I’ve never seen before.”
“That’s no shark tooth,” Maddock said. “But I have no idea what it actually is.”
“I think I can tell you exactly where this thing came from.” Bones grinned broadly, excitement evide
nt in his twinkling brown eyes. In his usual, infuriating manner, he kept his silence.
Corey broke first. “Fine, I’ll bite. What do you think it is?”
Bones took the tooth from Matt and held it up. “Before I say anything, I need you guys to keep an open mind about this and hear me out.”
His words elicited a chorus of groans from the crew. Matt buried his face in his hands, and Corey gazed wearily up at the heavens.
“Here we go again,” Corey muttered.
“Aw, man,” Willis grumbled. “Is this another one of your cryptids?”
“Screw you guys.” Bones glared at each man in turn until they fell silent and he once again had their undivided attention. “I read a story about a World War I-era German U-boat that went down somewhere west of Scotland. The thing is, it wasn’t attacked, at least, not by the enemy. Some sort of sea creature took it down.”
“What sort of creature?” Maddock asked, already doubting his friend’s story.
“No one knows. There aren’t any surviving accounts of what it looked like—only the fact that it was able to bite through the hull of the sub. It took whole chunks out of it.”
“Sounds like it would make an excellent B-movie,” Matt said. “Are you sure this isn’t something you saw while you were drunk?”
Bones scowled at him.
“I hate to say it,” Maddock began, “but I think the story could be true. We saw puncture holes in the sub that I first thought might have been made by bullets, but they didn’t look quite right. Considering their shape, they could easily have been made by teeth like this one.”
Willis ran a hand over his head, sweat glistening on his bare scalp. “But I’ve never heard of anything that can bite through the skin of a sub.”
“It happened,” Bones said. “The one thing we know for certain is I found this thing,” he brandished the tooth, “stuck in the side of the U-boat. Whatever this creature is, it had a powerful bite.”
Silence fell over the crew as they considered this new bit of information. A thought occurred to Maddock, though it pained him to share it with the others.
“I’ll bet some of the ancient sea creatures had a bite that powerful.”
“Like dinosaurs?” Matt asked.
Maddock nodded. “Yes, but then again, that sub went down about a century ago.”
Corey pursed his lips and frowned at the tooth in Bones’ hand. “What if, and I know this is far-fetched, someone did this as a prank? They found the sunken U-boat, came back later and shoved a stolen fossil into one of the bullet holes.”
Maddock shook his head. “What would be the point? There’d be no telling how long that sub would go undiscovered. Besides, that tooth is clearly not fossilized.”
“Now you’re catching on.” Bones patted Maddock on the shoulder. “I’ll make a monster hunter out of you yet.”
“Hold on. Y’all saying there’s sea monsters in this channel?” Willis’ eyes darted back and forth, as if something deadly lurked nearby, ready to rise up out of the water and snatch him.
“I didn’t say ‘sea monster,’” Maddock said. “All I’m saying is something strange might have happened here about a hundred years ago.”
“That’s nice,” Matt said, “but I’m guessing this tooth would only bring us bad publicity if word got out that we found it. We don’t need that.”
“But we can’t just let it go,” Bones pleaded. “Come on. It’s not impossible that something survived. We’ve seen strange things before. If there are still some prehistoric sea creatures swimming around, I want to prove it.”
Willis shook his head. “Don’t even start that talk about Nessie. I’ve been listening to that crap from you since the first damn day of SEAL training.”
Matt chuckled. “SEAL training must be as easy as they say if Bones can manage to chat about cryptids the whole time.” The former Army Ranger seldom missed an opportunity to needle the crew’s three ex-SEALs.
Willis rolled his eyes. “Man, I will rip your arm off and beat you with it.”
“Promises, promises,” Matt said, then turned his attention back to Bones. “You can’t still believe in Nessie. I mean, come on. That surgeon guy admitted he faked his photograph. It was all over the news.”
“He lied,” Bones said flatly. Nessie was a touchy subject for the big Cherokee.
“Why would he do that?” Matt asked.
“To protect the creature, or creatures, actually. He knew the Nessie legends were true and he felt guilty about all the attention he brought to the loch. He probably thought he was doing the right thing by recanting his story.”
“While you guys debate monsters,” Corey said, “I’m going to do a little research. Maybe I can get some idea of what sort of creature this came from.” He took the tooth from Bones and headed back into the cabin.
“Whatever. This has been a fun diversion,” Matt said, “but we need to return to the reason we came here in the first place—treasure. I doubt there’s profit in finding one mysterious tooth. So, what’s our next move?”
“We make another run at the U-boat,” Bones said.
“What for?” Willis asked. “The tooth is cool, but we got to get paid.”
“Oh, did I forget to tell you?” Bones’ eyes widened, and he gaped in mock surprise. “There’s another part to the story. The U-boat was rumored to be carrying a stolen Scottish treasure.”
Chapter 4
The summit of Ben MacDui
Isla kicked at a patch of snow that stubbornly held on against the approach of springtime. Patches of green poked up through the many gray rocks and boulders that cluttered the summit of Ben MacDui. It was chilly up here, but she’d known what to expect and had dressed accordingly. Grizzly, it seemed, was not as well prepared. He shivered, stamped his feet, and paced to and fro. Trying to tune him out for a moment, she turned away and gazed out at the hilltops and peaks, some still speckled with snow, that encircled the mountain on which they stood. It was a beautiful sight, calming, but not sufficient to soothe her growing annoyance as Grizzly began to give orders.
“You should get some pictures of me from over there,” he pointed to his left. “I’ll look better from that side.”
“Couldn’t you just turn?” she asked, once again taking out her camera.
Grizzly seemed to think she was kidding. He stood shivering, hands thrust in his pockets, until she repositioned herself on his good side.
“Don’t you have anything in your pack you could put on to keep you warm? Some gloves, a few layers of clothing, maybe?”
“I do,” Grizzly said, “but layers make me look fat. I’ll put them on after you take your pictures.”
“In that case, let’s get it done in a hurry.” She focused and began clicking away. Meanwhile, Grizzly launched into a lecture about Ben MacDui.
“Standing at a height of just over thirteen hundred meters, that’s over four thousand feet to us Yanks,” he winked at the camera, “Ben MacDui is the tallest peak in the Cairngorms, and the second-highest mountain in England after Ben Nevis.”
“You mean in the United Kingdom,” Isla corrected.
“What’s that you say?” Grizzly asked.
“We’re in Scotland, not England. Ben Macdui is the second highest mountain in the United Kingdom.”
Grizzly smiled. “Ah, I understand the confusion. England is part of the United Kingdom, and Scotland is part of England, so it’s really all the same. Now, let’s get back to it. I’m cold.”
Isla grimaced and raised the camera. “Bawbag,” she muttered.
Grizzly finally turned and picked his way across the mountaintop, over to the summit indicator. Isla kept clicking the shutter, hoping he might take a spill.
The summit indicator was a stone disc set upon a pedestal atop a large cairn. All around it, arrows pointed to various hills and mountains, with their names and distances marked. The legend at the center denoted its purpose and dedicated it to the memory of an Alexander Copland.
Griz
zly struck a pose and resumed his lecture.
“Here atop MacDuffs’s Hill, the summit indicator was set in place in 1925 by…”
“Hold on,” Isla said. “You do realize this is not a video camera?” She held her camera out for emphasis. “It’s not recording anything you say.”
Understanding crept across Grizzly’s face like the slow approach of dawn.
“Okay. Don’t you have a recorder or something?”
Isla took a deep breath, counted to five, and let it out in a huff. “I think I’ve got enough photos for now. How about you put on some warm clothes, and we find a place out of the wind to do the interview segment? Behind one of those, maybe?” She pointed to one of the many horseshoe-shaped stone walls that dotted the mountain’s summit.
“Are you sure you want to sit there? Some say the Grey Man built those.” Grizzly winked and waggled his eyebrows.
“I think the World War Two commandos who built them during training would disagree with you.”
A glint of intelligence flashed in Grizzly’s eyes. He tilted his head and looked at her suspiciously. “You know a lot about this place, don’t you?”
“I studied up on it in preparation for our interview.” That was true, though hardly the whole story.
Grizzly stared for a long moment, but if he doubted her, he didn’t say so. He opened his pack, donned a few extra layers of clothing, and then took out a tent which he proceeded to pitch on the leeward side of one of the stone bivouacs.
Meanwhile, Isla busied herself studying the summit indicator. She snapped photos of every inch of its surface, from every angle. After that, she stood and simply gazed at it, as if something of value would leap out at her.
“What are you doing over there?” Grizzly called.
“Nothing.” She whirled around at the sound of his voice. Pain shot up her leg as her foot caught between two stones and her ankle twisted. She fell hard, cracking her knee and scraping her palms on the rocky ground.
