The Loch

Chapter 32

True shook his great Viking head as he accelerated the trawler yacht away from the dock and into deep water.

"Brandy's gonna kill ye, assumin' ye ever survive this lunacy."

"I'll make it up to her."

"That, I doubt. So, Captain Ahab, exactly where we headed?"

"North. Follow the western bank until we reach the Bona Narrows. It's where the fish must enter the Loch, the oil's got to be seeping somewhere close by."

He gave me a weary look, then turned the wheel, guiding us toward the northern entrance of Loch Ness.

"Ye say he means tae go underwater tae battle this demon?" Angus squeezed his eyes closed, rubbing his face. "This isnae whit I wanted, no' at a'."

"What did ye want then?" Brandy spat back. "Ye've been pushin' an' pushin' him ever since he returned, hell, ever since he was born."

"Same as my auld man aye did tae me! Life's tough, ye ken. Ye got tae have a thick skin tae—"

"Don't you lecture me on life, Angus Wallace! An' don't you talk tae me about tough love. My mum died when I was seven an' my arsehole father kicked me out when I was sixteen. What you call tough love, I call no love at all. Yer son came all the way back tae Scotland because he sought yer approval, an' all ye've done since he arrived was lie tae him an' push him tae find that monster. Well, congratulations, ye've got what ye wanted. Guess some things'll never change, eh?"

She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm through the cell bars.

"Let go, or I'll break it off."

"It's no' whit I ever wanted, lass, it's whit had tae be. It's the only way I kent tae help Zachary."

"Bollocks."

"Zack's sufferin' inside, has been ever since that night he first drooned. I ken whit he's gone through. My ain childhood demons made me a bitter auld man on my best days an' a nae-guid drunk on my worst. A restless man cannae be a guid family man, Brandy, "cause he's aye seekin' pleasure frae somewhere else. That wis me, still is. I never wanted that for Zack."

"So you pushed him intae locatin' the creature?"

"Aye. "Twis the only way he could conquer his fear."

"An' get ye out o' prison, I suppose."

"Aye, that's true enough, but see, if anyone could locate Nessie, I kent Zachary could. After a', he did it back when he wis only nine years auld."

Brandy's eyes narrowed. "What are ye talkin' about? "Twas the salmon that led the monster topside when Zack was attacked. Purely an accident."

"That's "cause Zachary cannae remember, at least his mind willnae let him. Trust me, Brandy, that wisnae an accident. My laddie wis a clever sort, even back then. Figurin' Nessie fed in the deep, he rigged underwater microphones tae his fishing lines an' recorded the sounds o' the bottom-dwellin' schools. Took him months tae perfect it, but on the day o' his ninth birthday he wis ready, intent on impressin' me wi' his wee invention. "Course me, bein' the restless arsehole that I am, wis mair interested in dippin' my wicket than bein' wi' my son."

"So Zack set out with his Nessie lure alone in that rowboat? Gees, Angus. An' now he's Join' it all over again."

"Aye, but we cannae let him, can we? I need yer help lass, so come closer an' listen carefully, there's no' much time, an' an awfy lot tae be done."

Locating oil and gas reserves buried beneath the bottom of the ocean, as well as leaks from crude oil pipelines, relies on a variety of technology designed to detect anomalous concentrations of dissolved gases and emulsions in water. When oil is present, its surface film can be measured using the intensity of its reflected light. The interface detector True had "borrowed" was an antenna-shaped device that used a small laser beam to detect oil along the surface, along with a second probe that measured the energy absorption of insoluble liquids in the water itself.

The device was now rigged to our port-side bow, its data sent through my laptop.

As we crept north along the western shoreline, the needle twitched, the levels increasing as we approached the Bona Narrows.

"Have ye got somethin', Zack?"

"It's just a trace. Let's follow the narrows downstream a bit and see what happens."

We left Loch Ness and followed its river, True keeping us close to the northeastern shoreline. As we passed the Bona Narrows Lighthouse, hydrocarbon gas levels jumped, increasing again as we approached man-made Loch Dochfour.

The farther north we ventured, the greater the hydrocarbon levels. "The northern current's moving the oil," I said, "keeping it from being noticed."

"Aye, an' it's a nineteen kilometer journey frae the Moray Firth intae Loch Ness. Nae wonder the fish're turnin' back. But we still dinnae ken where the oil's originatin' frae."

"Take us back into Loch Ness, True, I want to explore the eastern shoreline."

"My faither, yer grandfaither, Logan Wallace, he died in these very waters when I wis aboot yer age. An awfy gale hit the Glen an' his boat flipped. Everyone says he drooned, but I ken better, see. Twis the monster that got him, a' part o' the Wallace curse."

"Are ye talkin' aboot Nessie?"

"Nessie? Nessie's folklore. I'm speakin' o' a curse wrought by nature, a curse that's haunted the Wallace men since the passin' of Robert the Bruce."

"Zack! Hey, wake up!"

My eyes snapped open. "Sorry."

"Yer damn monitor's twitchin' like a polecat's tail."

I checked the laptop, then glanced out the port side window. We were nearing Aldourie Castle.

"Shut her down, True. We're here."

"Aye? Whit makes ye sae sure?"

"Just a hunch."

"A hunch, aye? Ye expect me tae believe that? Yer faither telt ye this, didn't he?"

"Long ago, through the wisdom of whisky. He claimed the dragon's lair was down there. Said us Wallaces were cursed, and that the devil himself lurked in the shadow of our souls."

"A drunk dinnae offer any wisdom, Zack, jist ignorance. Ye dinnae need tae dae this. There's better ways tae die."

"And better ways to live."

"At least let me go wi' ye then. I can have a second suit brought within eight hours."

"Sorry, big guy, but this is strictly a solo act. Now show me how to use that dive suit."

Man has been searching for better ways to explore the depths since humans first learned they could hold their breath. The challenge lies in transporting an adequate supply of air, while handling the complexities associated with water pressure. In seawater, the weight of water increases by one atmosphere for each thirty-three feet, meaning, at thirty-three feet, the water pressure doubles, at sixty-six feet it triples, and so on. As pressure increases, air volume within a contained space decreases by the same ratio, and the density of the air is likewise compressed. For human beings, this means the deeper a diver goes, the greater the "squeeze" on air spaces within the body, including the lungs and sinus cavities. Prolonged activity underwater can also lead to dangerous increases in nitrogen in the bloodstream, maxing out normal scuba dives at 130 feet.

To access deeper depths required shielding a diver against these enormous pressures, leading to the invention of the first atmospheric dive suit, or ADS. An ADS is an underwater suit and helmet, its internal pressures maintained at one atmosphere. With an ADS, there is no need for compression or decompression. Special gas mixtures are not required, and dive times can be extended by many hours, with divers able to comfortably attain depths exceeding twenty-five hundred feet.

The first atmospheric dive suits originated in the seventeenth century. They resembled bulky suits of armor with long air hoses, and were created so that treasure hunters could explore sunken ships. Advances continued through the 1900s, leading up to the development of the JIM suit, named after its chief test diver, Jim Jarrett. The JIM suit allowed greater freedom of movement in deeper, colder water, and quickly attracted the attention of the oil and gas industry, who needed a means to effect deep water repairs to pipelines.

With new oil monies invested in the technology, the JIM suit soon evolved into WASP suits, which used thrusters in place of articulated legs. While bulkier and requiring more deck space, the WASP gave divers greater range and mobility underwater and became the workhorse in pipeline repair.

The Newt Suit combined the best of both worlds. Like the JIM, the Newt resembled a space suit, with a backpack added that housed air tanks, a life-support system, propeller, and thrusters, which the diver operated using controls within his boots. The headpiece was made of a clear, heavy acrylic, allowing for unobstructed vision, and two-pronged claws extended out of the suit's "mittens" for grasping.

True explained all this to me while he rigged the Newt Suit's support frame and built-in winch to the starboard rail.

"The suit's got twenty joints, makin' it easy tae maneuver, an' the aluminum surface is a breeze compared tae the auld JIMs. The problem a novice like yersel's gonnae have is dealin' wi' the turbidity an' currents. The suit's got a large surface area, which means it'll catch a lot o' water. Get caught in a nasty current, an' ye become a human underwater kite. If that happens, and it will, ye'll need yer thrusters an' propeller. They're controlled usin' pedals in yer boots. Right boot's the thrusters, propeller's in yer left. The air tanks on yer back'll give ye three hours of air, but yer umbilical adds another forty hours, no' that ye'll need it."

"Umbilical?"

"Aye. One end connects tae yer backpack, the other tae this free-floatin' life-support system." True pointed to a five-foot aluminum barrel. "That unit holds yer backup power source, plus an independent oxygen re-breather an' surface communication system. I had tae add a wee generator tae get enough juice tae feed a' these underwater lights. Two lights are rigged tae yer backpack, one rear-facin', the other forward. The third light'll be hooked up front along yer waistband, allowin' ye tae maneuver it usin' yer claw. It can be turned off an' on independently of the two bigger lights, jist in case ye want tae reserve yer batteries."

"Three lights should be fine."

"Aye, well if it wis me, I'd want a bloody lighthoose beacon comin' oot o' my arse. Now pay attention, we need tae go ower these demolitions."

True pried open a wooden crate and removed a small metal tube about the size of a Cuban cigar, along with a red plastic cap.

"We call this a G-SHOK. On the rig, we use them tae clear away rock an' debris. Comes in two parts. This long piece's the cartridge. It's filled wi' highly compressed liquid gas, at the end of which is a primer. The red cap's an electrical fuse. Pop the cap ower the primer an' it sends a small charge intae the liquid, causin' a chain reaction. Within ten seconds, the gas expands tae 800 times its volume, an' boom."

"How big a boom we talking?"

"Big enough tae split rock. If ye need mair than ten seconds, the fuse igniter can be detonated usin' its timer option. Set the timer on the outside o' the cap frae one tae three minutes, then snap it ower the cartridge, same as before."

"And how am I supposed to carry all this stuff?"

"After we get ye intae the Newt, I'll snap a utility belt roond yer waist. The belt contains compartments for a dozen G-SHOKs an' caps."

"Anything else?"

"There's an auld wool sweater in that box. Better put it on. Suit's heated, but the water gets even colder along the bottom."

I grabbed the garment, then noticed a man walking out along Aldourie Pier.

True stared at the Newt Suit, debating. "Zack… whit if I said there might be another means o' gettin' doon there… ye ken, intae the monster's lair?"

"Hey, isn't that your father?" I pointed to where old man MacDonald was standing, watching us.

"Shyte, it's him a' right."

"What's he doing?"

"Keepin' vigil, nae doubt. Damn Templar."

"What were you saying about accessing the lair?"

"Uh… nothin'. Come on, if ye're gonnae dae this, then let's dae it."

I climbed into the lower torso of the Newt Suit while True connected the umbilical cord to the aluminum barrel and backpack.

"Ye ready then?"

I nodded, sliding my arms and head into the upper half of the dive suit as True lifted it over me. With a twist, the waistline clicked down upon the lower torso. True snapped the hinges shut along both sides of the waist.

Sweat poured down my face, my faceplate fogging with steam. Retracting my hand from its sleeve, I wiped my forehead clean, while True opened the tank valves on my back.

A cool stream of air blew into the helmet, lifting the fog.

I raised my arms, amazed at how flexible the appendages were. True fixed the utility belt around my waist, then lowered the bulky pack supporting the underwater lights and air tanks onto my back. I would have toppled over the side had my suit not been attached by cable to its support frame.

"Easy, Zack. Ye'll feel steadier once ye're underwater."

True activated the winch, raising me off of the deck. Looking down, I watched as my boots passed over the rail, and then I was slowly lowered into the water up to my chest.

For a long moment I hung there, my feet in the water, my upper body still tethered to the winch. The thought of what awaited me below sent shivers down my spine.

I focused upon the noise from my own shallow breaths until static crackled in my right ear. "Zack, can ye hear me?"

"Loud and clear."

"Let's go through yer checklist. Activate yer thrusters by pressin' doon on the ball o' yer right foot. Use it like the accelerator o' a car."

I pressed down, too hard, as the powerful twin thrusters' shot me clear out of the water, smashing my head piece against the winch.

"Easy!"

"Sorry." I eased back, the Newt Suit bobbing like a cork. "That was cool."

"It's no' a carnival ride. The propeller's the pedal in yer left boot, designed tae move ye horizontally. Dinnae use it until ye're close tae the bottom."

"Understood."

"Feel for the toggle switch in yer left glove. That's the master switch tae yer underwater lights."

I flicked the switch, my forward-mounted beam glancing off the dark surface. "Works fine."

"Usin' yer pincers, reach for one o' the G-SHOKs at yer waist. Make sure ye can grip baith the cartridge an' fuse… but dinnae put them together!"

It took a few tries until I could get a feel for the pincer mechanisms in each mitten. "No sweat. I think I'm ready."

"An' I think ye're aff yer heid," True muttered, as he climbed over the rail. He gave me a quick "thumbs-up,' then disconnected my support cable, and down I went.

It was a frightening sensation, falling like an anchor into the darkness, and I panicked, forgetting everything I'd just learned.

"Thrusters, Zack! Right boot!"

I pressed down with my foot, breathing easier as the thrusters slowed my descent.

The beam from my forward light cut through the darkness. I was dropping through a brown tea-colored world, but everything seemed to be spinning. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling sick."

"Speak tae me, Zachary."

"Dizzy, I'm just a little dizzy."

"Ye're spinning. Look inside yer headpiece. Jist below yer lower jaw, ye'll see a set o' gauges."

I opened my eyes, focusing on the digital display.

"Check yer compass, it's in orange. It shows direction an' course, sort o' like a submarine. Press on yer thrusters again an' come tae a complete stop."

I did as told. "Okay."

"Call oot yer depth tae me."

"Two hundred thirty feet."

"Have ye stopped spinnin'?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now ease off the thrusters an' continue descendin' while callin' oot yer depth."

"Two-sixty. Three hundred. Three-thirty …"

"Still droppin' too fast. Press doon on yer thrusters gently, let's slow ye up a bit."

"Three-fifty. Three-seventy."

"That's better. Now, the light on yer waist is tethered. Take a moment an' lock it intae the pincers of yer right glove so it'll be there when ye get closer tae the bottom."

"Got it." Securing the light in my right pincer, I aimed the beam into the darkness, feeling more in control. "Four-sixty. Five hundred feet. Five-forty—"

"Dinnae get cocky, Zack. Keep it slow an' steady. Whit dae ye see?"

"Not much. Even with the light, visibility's still less than fifteen feet. Outside the beam, the water's pitch-black."

"Like swimmin' in ink. I want ye relyin' on yer digital display. Which way are ye pointed?"

"South, at one-five-two degrees."

"Keep an eye on yer position, or ye'll be walkin' in circles. By the way, yer backup system's ower the side, the umbilical cord's feedin' fine. How deep are ye now?"

"Oops, I just passed seven hundred feet."

"Hit yer thrusters, afore ye bury yersel' in the bottom!"

I pressed down again, slowing my descent until I regained neutral buoyancy. "I'm good… I'm good."

"Good? Ye're turnin' my hair good an' grey. Check yer gauges again."

I was in 723 feet of water, the pressure outside of my artificial skin over twenty atmospheres, the temperature a chilly thirty-eight degrees.

Inside, I was dry and cool.

I felt a current at my back and allowed it to push me ahead as I looked down, aiming my handheld beam.

The bottom passed twenty feet below my boots. It was a murky desert of mud, its flat expanse desecrated here and there by petrified clumps of Scots Pine. The massive trees were embedded in the soot, belching tiny streams of gas, their plankton-covered branches reaching out for me like the rotting arms of Loch Ness's dead.

Jesus… what am I doing down here?

"Zack, ye still alive?"

"Sorry. I'm drifting, guess I'm about twenty feet off the bottom."

"Ye see oor friend?"

I'd been so preoccupied with surviving the descent I'd completely forgotten about the monster!

I looked around nervously, my anchored shoulder beams revolving back and forth like a lighthouse. "I don't see anything."

"Whit aboot a cave?"

"Nothing."

"By the direction o' yer umbilical I can see ye're headin' south. Did ye want to head south then?"

I checked the digital compass. One-seven-two… he was right, I was drifting south. "Standby." I pressed down with my left foot, activating my propeller for the first time.

The powerful motor blasted me through the alien underworld, my arms reaching out awkwardly for balance as I soared through the abyss doing eight knots.

Easing back on the propeller, I slowed, then used my thrusters to execute a turn. After a few tries, I was able to steady my heading at zero-nine-zero, moving due east, aiming for the eastern bank and Aldourie Castle.

Through the brown-black darkness I flew, the intensity of my beating heart causing the arteries in my neck to throb. I looked left then right, feeling like a lone antelope on a lion-infested plain.

And then my eyes caught movement, a brief shimmer along the bottom.

I slowed, circling back as I searched the gray-brown void. And then I saw it.

It was an Anguilla eel, a big one, maybe ten feet long, only it wasn't slithering like a sea snake, it was hanging vertically off the bottom, the tip of its tail buried in the sediment, its head aimed at the surface.

As I drifted slowly over the eel, my light reflecting off the opaque eyes of another and another, then dozens more, all frozen in the same vertical holding pattern, like a ballet of cobras, caught in a trance.

"Zack, whit dae ye see?"

"Eels. Must be hundreds of them. They're just hanging off the bottom, as if standing on end. It's eerie."

"An' dangerous. Steer clear."

"Wait… I see something else."

I eased forward using my propeller, aiming my light along the bottom. The beacon caught the jagged edge of a dark shadow. Moving closer, I saw that it was not a shadow, but a chasm, cutting across the Loch's bottom like a miniature version of the Grand Canyon.

"It's a narrow trench, and it looks pretty deep. The eels are positioned around it, almost as if they're sentries standing guard."

"Stay downcurrent if ye can. Anguilla have poor eyesight, but if they smell ye—"

"The chasm's about sixty feet wide. If I hover over it, I think I can drop down nice and easy without disturbing the eels."

I pressed gently on my thrusters, ascending higher over the rift before engaging the propeller again. Slowly I circled, the handheld beacon shining down upon a hole so deep it seemed to absorb my light.

I never noticed the elongated tract of sediment, piled eighteen feet high, that wound more than fifty feet along one edge of the crevice. Nor did I see the two luminescent-yellow eyes that gleamed up from it as I circled by.

"Stand by, True, here I go."

I pulled my feet away from both boot controls, allowing the weight of the Newt Suit to sink me — too fast… way too fast!

Sensing the sudden disturbance, the once-sedate eels broke from their ranks. They whirled about in a chaotic frenzy, then swarmed in on me, snapping at my arms and legs from all angles, bashing my face mask and backpack with their powerful bodies. I tried to fend them off, but there were too many of them, and I was moving two speeds too slow. My lights kept most of them from my face, but they attacked my legs without mercy, their sharp needle teeth clawing my metal skin, their muscular torsos whipping at my gear, and I was petrified of losing pressure within the ADS.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the assault ceased.

"Jesus …" I sucked in deep breaths, then retracted my left arm from its sleeve and mopped the sweat from my face.

"Zack? Are ye okay?"

"The eels… they came at me, all of "em at once. Then they just disappeared. Holy shit… and now I know why."

"Why? Whit is it?"

Looking around, I realized I had dropped into the chasm… and I was still falling.

"True, I'm descending within the canyon. Standby."

Pressing down on my right foot, I engaged my thrusters and slowed my descent. Raising my right arm, I aimed the hand-held light and looked around as a blizzard of brown sediment fell into the trench from above, obliterating my view.

And then something immense plowed sideways into me with the force of a locomotive and an immense pressure squeezed my brain, bashing me into unconsciousness.