Primordial

Chapter 11

Alvar Laine moored up the dinghy and cut the engine, thankful it had been so close to the Merenneito. He didn’t mind a bit of exercise, but it was a long way and he wasn’t a youth any more, regardless of what he’d told Aston. He climbed up onto the dock and paused to take in Kaarme, the tiny town nestled on the shore of its namesake lake. Weatherboard buildings dominated the narrow street. All around he saw brick and stone, steep roofs, and small windows. Some buildings were giant inverted vees, made to hold up beneath even the heaviest snowfalls. Deep green pine trees and bright green grass framed the scene in vibrant hues

A wistful smile painting his face, he headed across the marina for home. It wouldn’t take long to check in with Charlotta and say hi to Nikla, if the boy hadn’t left for school yet. In all honesty, he would rather stay out on the lake, and be sure not to miss anything. But his family was already annoyed at his absence and he was keen to keep things on an even keel if he could. He might even be in time to sit down and have breakfast with them both. It would give him a chance to remind Charlotta just how much Holloway was paying him. If one thing would appease his wife, it was the thought of how much more quickly their mortgage might be paid from this venture. There was no way he could risk his involvement; it was the chance of a lifetime. If that meant a day with his family instead of on the expedition, so be it. He was unlikely to miss much.

“Enjoying your adventures?” The voice dripped disdain and Laine sighed.

He turned to face Mo. The old man stood on the corner, the early sun bright through his mop of pure white hair. “What are you talking about?”

Mo sneered. “Taking these Americans out onto the lake, no doubt stirring up things best left undisturbed. You should know better, Alvar.”

“Are you jealous they didn’t offer you some of their dollars for your expertise?” Laine tried to inject as much derision in his tone as Mo, but he lacked the old man’s cynical skills.

“I’m sure they’ll come to me when they’re ready. Once they need someone who actually knows what he’s about.”

That stung, but only a little. “You think so?”

“I’ve been watching you all,” Mo said. “They told Rinne they’re making a nature documentary.”

“That’s right.”

“Bullshit!” Mo managed to pour generous helpings of condescension into the two syllables.

Laine bristled. “What’s it to you? Why do you care?”

“You know why I care!” Mo spat, disdain melting into hot anger. “You’re trouble, Alvar. And so are they. All of you together? There’ll be hell to pay.”

“Will there really? Because of a few cameras?” He clucked his tongue. “Are you sure it’s not you who’s causing trouble? Spreading your lunatic stories, whipping up fear whenever the town gets too relaxed?”

Mo shook his head slowly. “Is that really my job? The way I see it, I care about all of this.” He waved his hand in a sweeping gesture that took in the town and the lake. “You care about yourself. Are you maybe projecting a little bit here?”

“You know what I think?” Laine demanded. “You’re just fishing for information. You’re just a bored old man wishing you hadn’t wasted your youth, wondering how long until you die, and if maybe you can suck something from other people before you go. Tell a few more tall tales that some loser might remember you by.”

Mo tipped his head back and laughed hard. “Oh, Alvar, you have a bitter, mean streak in you! Whatever happened to make you so nasty?”

Laine clenched then relaxed his fists. Mo should already know the answer to that question. “I call it as I see it.”

Mo nodded slowly, waved a hand in a gesture of truce. “So how’s it going out there? Find anything?”

Laine’s eyes widened. “You see! You’re just desperate for new stories. You can fuck off, Mo. You’ll get nothing from me.”

Mo chuckled deep in his throat and wagged one index finger like a schoolteacher. “You’re easier to play than a cheap fiddle, Alvar Laine.” His eyes narrowed, his expression suddenly serious. “But I’m watching you.”

Before Laine could respond, the old man turned and walked off back toward his shack in the forest out of town. Laine had no idea why he let Mo get to him the way he did, but it had been that way since Laine was a child. Everyone in town at least endured the white haired old yarn-spinner, most seemed to love him, thought him some valuable elder. But nobody else seemed to see the bastard for what he really was. Why was Laine the only one who saw through that kindly old man bullshit? Why could only he see the real danger Mo represented? Whatever. As long as he kept out of the way and didn’t risk Laine’s new income stream here, he could continue to be ignored. It wasn’t like he would really be able to mess up any plans.

Laine sneered. Maybe Mo’s interests all cut a little too close to the bone. Perhaps that was it. He shook his head and turned back toward home, his mood dampened. If the old bastard had made him too late for breakfast with his family, he’d be extra pissed off.

The Merenneito spent the morning cruising back and forth, the crew reading sonar and getting thoroughly bored. Dave and Carly sat around chatting with nothing to do, Slater stalked about making everyone feel as though they should be working harder. Holloway’s enthusiasm was undiminished as he made noises of wonder at the slightest thing.

Aston was surprised at how many deep channels they were finding. When Holloway pressed him, he made the billionaire happier still when he admitted there was every possibility some of the channels could potentially lead all the way out to the ocean under the Finnish coastline. But he insisted it was equally likely that none of them did.

“Either way, not much chance of me ever being able to film that,” Dave said, a little bitterly.

“Not to worry,” Holloway reassured him. “There’ll be wonders for you to film before this expedition is over, I guarantee you that!”

Dave snorted, shook his head. “How can you guarantee anything of the sort?” He grinned. “I’m starting to think Gazsi had the right idea. Not about being scared, but I bet he’s in a nice warm pub enjoying a few beers right about now.”

An hour later they broke for lunch and Slater said to Dave, “As you’re bored, I’ve got a job for you.”

The cameraman winced. “Should have kept my stupid mouth closed!”

“There’s another rubber dinghy?” Slater asked Makkonen.

“Yes, one more.”

She turned back to Dave. “Laine should be back any time now, so how about you take that one out and get some shoreline shots.”

Dave raised an eyebrow. “Shoreline?”

“Yes, take the small video camera and row along near the shore, hold the camera low near the water and get some shots of the shore from, like, a monster’s eye view, you know? Like something watching the land from the water, that kind of thing.”

Dave nodded, lips pursed. “Yeah, okay, I see what you mean. I can do that. What if something exciting happens here?” His smirk betrayed his opinion of that likelihood.

“Carly can catch anything here,” Slater said. She looked over to the quiet sound girl. “She’s a pretty accomplished camera operator too, right?”

Carly jumped slightly, and then nodded. “Yeah, sure. I don’t have Dave’s skills, but I can point his camera if necessary.”

Half an hour later Aston helped Dave pull the cord to inflate the second of their blue and orange rubber dinghies at the dive platform.

“Shame you drank all my beer,” Dave said. “I could have had a nice quiet afternoon out on the water with a few drinks.”

Aston let his mouth fall open, mock outrage. “Me? I reckon you had a fair go at that stash yourself. And Carly and your boss were instrumental too.”

“Yeah, but you Aussies live up to your reputation as big drinkers,” Dave said. “Talk about pounding some brews. You raced us two for one all night.”

“Did I?” Aston was genuinely contrite, a wave of guilt making him blush slightly.

Dave grinned and slapped his shoulder. “As a matter of fact, you did, but it’s okay. We’ll have to try to get some more though. Maybe I can sneak away and make a beer run?”

Aston liked the idea, but couldn’t imagine Dave rowing like Laine. “It’s way too far in this thing,” he said.

“The thought of a night off, a hotel bed, a few drinks in a warm bar… It’s all very tempting,” Dave said wistfully.

“You know what? I’ll talk to Slater and Holloway. Maybe we can go to the pub in town for a break tonight or tomorrow. We can declare the need for a crew morale-boosting outing. Then you and me can sneak some takeaways back on board afterwards.”

“I don’t like your chances of convincing Holloway.”

Aston shrugged. “True. But it’s worth a try. Better than you rowing all that way!”

“Maybe.” Dave stared out across the lake. “Honestly, Sam, this whole thing is bullshit, right?”

“Quite possibly.”

“So if I did head off for the day, enjoy some beers, I wouldn’t miss anything? And I can still get the shots Jo’s talking about along the way.”

“Let me talk to Holloway. I’ll convince him.” Aston held the dinghy steady while Dave climbed in.

“Okay” the cameraman said. “Just don’t forget about me out here.”

Aston grinned. “Get your shots, then row back out into plain sight. We’ll come and get you.”

After several more hours of mapping the team was finally beginning to expand on their original grid. The results were interesting, but only geographically. Nothing on sonar indicated anything bigger than fish and no more evidence had been found of anything other than a huge, largely empty lake.

Aston had repeatedly stood on deck with binoculars looking back to shore to see if Dave was ready to be picked up, but the cameraman was lost among the ridges and folds of the shoreline. Probably enjoying a bit of peace and quiet, Aston thought with a smile.

As the afternoon wore on, he began to get a little more concerned at the cameraman’s absence. Maybe he had gone to the pub in town for a few beers after all. At least, Aston hoped that was the case. He was about to go and suggest to Makkonen that they take the Merenneito close to shore and look for him when the sound of a burbling engine drifted through the air. He scanned back toward town and saw their tin boat, piloted by Laine. The cryptozoologist towed the rubber dinghy he had taken to town along in his wake. A few minutes later Aston was helping the man tie the inflatable at the dive platform then re-cradle the tinny.

“Where was it?” Aston asked as Slater joined them. Carly stood nearby, Dave’s main camera balanced on her shoulder.

“Not far from here,” Laine said. “I found it on the way out, used it to get to town and back. Gazsi must have taken a long walk like Makkonen suggested.” He began unloading plastic bags of groceries and handing them out to be carried inside.

“Did you see Dave out there?” Slater asked.

Laine laughed. “Yes, I did. Has he deserted us too?”

Palpable relief washed over Aston. “No, he was getting some shots. Where is he? Why didn’t you pick him up?”

“Pick him up?” Laine said with a frown. “I saw him in town as I was leaving.”

“In town?” Slater asked, aghast.

Aston suppressed a grin.

“He was heading for the liquor store,” Laine said. “I called out to him, said I had the motorboat to take him back and he told me not to worry.”

“He’s not fit enough to row back again, surely,” Slater said.

“Exactly what I suggested, as politely as I could,” Laine said. “And he replied he had no intention of coming back today, he’d be back in the morning.”

Slater spat a curse. “That lazy good for nothing bastard!”

Aston let the grin out. Good old Dave. He could hardly blame the guy. All that talk of beer must have made him thirsty. Aston was tempted to try to convince Holloway that they should all go back to town and crash Dave’s party, but that felt mean. Let him have his night off and then he could pay for it by having to row back in the morning and face Slater’s wrath.

They spent the rest of the afternoon mapping more of the lake bed and shore, the repeated results of nothing with extra nothing doing little to ease the boredom. All Aston did was ensure he avoided Slater at all costs. He hoped Dave was making the most of his impromptu day off. Nothing short of a massive party with all the booze, cocaine and hookers the cameraman could handle was going to be enough to offset the hell he was going to pay on his return.