The Loch

Chapter 18

Dripping wet, I slung my water-laden backpack over my shoulder and trudged up the banks of Loch Ness, True following me to the public rest rooms. Tourists gawked, and the locals laughed, and it was all I could do to avert my eyes.

Entering the men's room, I stripped down to my boxers, washed the peat from my skin, then squeezed the excess water from my clothes into the sink. With the exception of the specimen containers and vacuum-packed food supplies, everything else in my backpack was ruined, including my sleeping bag and change of clothing.

True opened his own pack and pulled out a few dry shirts and two pairs of wool socks, tossing one of each to me. "Put these on. We'll hitch a ride back tae Drumnadrochit wi' Brandy, then fill our bellies at the Clansman before startin' oot fresh in the mornin'."

"I'm not going back."

"Zack, ye cannae go on wi' nae supplies."

"Then lend me yours and you go back. I need to go on before I lose my nerve, and there's still the entire east bank to cover."

"It's too dangerous alone."

"I'll be fine."

"Yeah, I'm sure that woman who got hersel' killed said the same thing."

"I'll camp out in the Glendoe Forest for the night, keeping a distance from the Loch. We'll rendezvous in Foyers tomorrow around noon."

He thought it over. "A'right, Foyers it is. But promise ye'll keep a guid fire goin'."

"Done. True, before you go, there's one thing I need to ask you. The other day, I woke up early and ran into your father. He was wearing the tunic of a Templar Knight, only his uniform was black."

The expression on True's face changed. "I cannae discuss this wi' ye, Zack."

"Your father's sword was covered in blood."

True turned on me then, bulldozing me against the wall. "Are ye insinuatin' my auld man had somethin' tae dae wi' that woman's murder?"

"No, but I—"

"Now listen tae me, Zachary Wallace. One o' oor faithers might be a killer, but it isnae the auld man who saved yer life seventeen years ago, see?"

"Okay, okay, easy big fella."

He backed away, then slapped me playfully behind my ear. "Sorry, lad. There're things goin' on in the Highlands that ye cannae see, battles between traditionalists like my faither, who aim tae keep the Highlands pure, an' those like yours, who wish tae cash in on oor wild lands. Me? I'm a' for progress, but there's a fine line between economic benefits an' environmental ruin. As tae these Templar, from whit I ken, they operate independently ootside the Cooncil, an' the Black Knights, they dinnae like outsiders lookin' into their business."

"Black Knights?"

"Ne'er ye mind." He handed me his backpack. "Here, take my stuff, I'll meet ye in Foyers. Jist make sure ye keep that fire goin' tonight, I dinnae want tae read yer obituary in the Courier."

Barefoot, my wet boots hanging from True's backpack, I headed out of Fort Augustus, following General Wade's Military Road. It was late in the afternoon, but the Glen's summer days were growing longer, and my goal was to make it to the eastern bank of Loch Ness well before dusk.

As I walked, my mind wandered.

Two people were dead, and while their deaths were being blamed on a mythical creature, my mind told me the mystery had more to do with the political undercurrents surrounding the Highland Council than a water beast. Of the two major players involved, I knew I'd get nothing from Alban MacDonald, and only lies and deceit from my father.

But a new clue had emerged, one that had accidentally slipped out of my friend's mouth.

The Black Knights of the Templar.

What was this secret sect? What was their mission? And how were they tied to the goings-on at Loch Ness?

An hour passed before I found my way around the southeastern tip of the Loch to its eastern banks. From here, Loch Ness ran north another twenty-three miles, bordered by the Glendoe Forest, which hugged the base of the imposing Monadhliath Mountains.

The east side of the Loch was far less populated than the west, the country wilder, the forests denser, and much of the shoreline was inaccessible.

General Wade's Military Road circled around the forest before turning north along the B862 that led to Foyers. Not wishing to take a long detour, hoping to stay as close to the Loch as possible, I paused to put on True's socks and my damp hiking shoes, then abandoned the single lane tarmac and cut through the forest, remaining parallel to the waterway.

After twenty minutes, I came to a newly paved winding access road that cut through the dense foliage, the sounds of Nature interrupted by the noise of heavy machinery. Following these sounds led me a quarter mile up the road to a massive construction site. A posted sign read:

I remembered having read about the new power station, most of which was supposedly being built underground. It was going to be a large plant, its capacity between fifty and one hundred megawatts, with water, collected from seventeen kilometers of underground aqueducts, relocated in a new reservoir located more than six hundred meters above Loch Ness. The reservoir would be situated at the head of Glen Tarff, impounded by a massive dam, thirty-five meters high and one thousand meters long.

Whether Alban MacDonald liked it or not, technology was invading Loch Ness.

Milling about the outside of an imposing chain-link construction fence were more than a dozen protesters, their banners identifying them as the Scottish Wild Land Group.

An auburn-haired woman in her early forties introduced herself by thrusting a picket sign in my hand. "Glad ye could join us, brother, the TV reporters should be arrivin' anytime. I'm Gloria Snodgrass, assistant director o' the SWLG Steering Group, an' you are?"

"Confused. What's all this about?"

"It's aboot savin' oor Glen. The government ministers' decision tae go through wi' this hydroelectric plant will cause irreversible damage tae oor peat bogs and rivers, an' dae ye ken how much forest we're already losin'? The dam alone requires three new access roads, an' ye can add another twenty-two kilometers o' pipeline tae that order. An' that's no' countin' the seventy-five kilometers needed jist tae build the reservoir."

"I understand, but—"

"But nothin'. Grab yer sign an' come join us before the cameras get here."

"I can't. Sorry."

"Sorry? You'll be the one that's sorry when we lose oor upland areas. Hey—"

Waving her off, I circled the construction fence, hoping to get a glimpse inside. Building a large-scale hydroelectric scheme so close to Loch Ness must have required a detailed environmental assessment, but then how does one properly access the ecological impact on an undiscovered water creature?

With no foreman visible and no way in, I headed back down the road toward Loch Ness, not sure what to do with this potentially new piece of the puzzle.

The town of Foyers lies a third of the way up Loch Ness on its eastern shore. While the beginnings of the village can be traced to an inn, built back in 1655 at a time when Cromwell's troops occupied Inverness, it was not until the late 1800s that the North British Aluminum Company put Foyers on the map. For years the aluminum mills dominated the industry, until a drastic drop in the price of the metal, combined with Kinlochleven's easier access to the open sea forced the townspeople to refocus Foyers primary source of commerce. The answer lay in the village's abundant and varied sources of water, which included lochs, streams, and the River Foyers, which plunged a spectacular 140-foot chasm into Loch Ness. In their search for a suitable source of power for a new Highlands hydroelectric plant, British engineers quickly targeted Foyers Falls. Work began in 1969 with the construction of a two-and-a-half-mile-long pressurized tunnel connecting Loch Mhor to Loch Ness…

"… this major undertakin' allowin' the turbines, erected in the auld aluminum plant we're now passin', tae reverse the flow o' water back tae Loch Mhor at night when demand wis easier tae calculate, keepin' the head water supplied at all times."

The tour guide paused as the open-air bus rolled to a stop and belched exhaust in front of the old smelting plant.

Twenty-four-year-old Justin Wagner fought to conceal his yawn from the tour guide, then nudged his childhood friend, Amber Korpela. "We've seen the falls, let's skip the rest of the tour and go boating."

"Not yet. I want to see Boleskin House. The original owner was supposed to be heavy into devil worship. Did you know that after he died, Jimmy Paige bought the house and—"

"Amber, who cares? I didn't fly all the way from Alaska to see some stupid house. Let's grab a few more rolls of film, rent a boat, and do some serious monster sighting."

Taking Amber by the hand, Justin dragged her past the tour guide and off the bus. "Sorry, dude, Nessie calls."

Twenty minutes later, the two Alaskans were hiking down a wooded hillside path through lower Foyers, heading for Loch Ness.

With the sun beginning to set, I found my way to a small clearing in the thick of the forest, adjacent to a twisting creek that drained into Loch Ness. Whoever had occupied the campsite last had used dead branches to fashioned a lean-to, no doubt to keep out of the rain. Exhausted and hungry, I slid my backpack off, then set off to gather wood for a fire.

After finishing a less-than-appetizing can of green pea soup, I set my tent up beneath the lean-to. A heavy forest separated my campsite from the waters of Loch Ness, which loomed a good hundred yards down sloping woods to the west. With darkness settling on the Great Glen, I began feeling a bit uneasy, my thoughts lingering on True's warning. Like it or not, I was vulnerable, and I seriously considered spending the night in the lower branches of a tree. But the likelihood of being attacked so far from the water's edge was considerably less than falling out of a tree and breaking my neck, so I opted for a weapon.

Using my hunting knife, I fashioned several four-foot-long spears out of tree branches before my eyes grew too weary to focus. Stoking the fire one last time, I crawled into my sleeping bag, and spent the next few hours drifting in and out of a restless sleep.

The motorized raft, commonly known as a Zodiac, spewed oily fumes as it cut an erratic course through darkness and mist.

Justin Wagner tried to quell the hot waves of frustration coursing through his blood. Four hours earlier, he and Amber Korpela had rented the watercraft, guiding it across Loch Ness to its western shores. They had journeyed as far south as Cherry Island, enjoying a sun-soaked summer evening exploring the man-made crannog before embarking on the long ride back. But with their reserve tank of gasoline running low and dusk coming quickly, Justin had decided to save time and distance by taking a northeasterly shortcut across the Loch.

That was over an hour ago.

Justin, an accomplished boater back in Alaska, had not counted on the sun disappearing so suddenly behind the mountains, nor had he planned on the bank of fog moving in from the east.

The whine of the Zodiac's single-prop sixty horsepower engine, combined with her companion's constant course changes, had given Amber Korpela a pounding headache. "Okay, Magellan, enough's enough. Where the hell are we?"

"Somewhere in the middle of Loch Ness… I think."

"No shit. Don't you have a compass?"

"What makes you think I'd have a compass?"

"I don't know. I guess I didn't expect you to be stupid enough to get us lost on Loch Ness."

"You want to take the tiller, be my guest."

"Instead of zigzagging back and forth, why don't you just keep us pointed in one direction until we hit land?"

"Land? Can you see land in this fog? What if we're pointing north? We could cover twenty miles before we hit—"

"Shh! I think I hear something."

"Yeah, my stomach growling."

"No, I'm serious. It sounds like people's voices. Justin, cut the engine."

Justin turned off the motor. The raft rose and dropped beneath its own swell, then continued drifting forward. "You're crazy, I don't hear a thing."

"Shh. Listen."

Justin listened, then he heard it… splashing sounds, followed by strange whimpers, coming toward them from their right. "Sounds almost like a baby crying."

Amber leaned out over the bow. "Oh my God, look! It's a deer… no, it's a herd of deer."

Justin moved next to her as the heads and slender necks of a half dozen Sika deer appeared out of the fog. "Excellent. The deer know their way, we'll just follow them in to shore. Told you I'd get us back to Foyers."

"How do you know they're headed to Foyers? They could be swimming towards the western shore."

"At this point, who cares?"

The first two deer paddled past the Zodiac's bow, their hoofs churning water in a frenzy of movement, their nostrils lathered in foam with the effort.

"Justin, do they seemed frightened?"

"They're probably cold."

Another deer appeared from out of the fog. Suddenly the animal let out a high-pitched, "nehhhh—" tossed its head back… and disappeared in a froth of waves.

Amber clutched Justin's arm. "Did you see that? Oh my God, something huge just dragged that deer underwater!"

Justin searched the surface. "No. It… it must've got tired and drowned, that's all."

"It didn't drown! Something ate it!"

"Easy, girl. I was just teasing you before about Nessie. There's no such thing."

"Hey, I'm not stupid. I'm telling you, something big just took that deer. Start the engine!"

They grabbed one another as the Zodiac rocked violently, then spun counterclockwise several quick revolutions before drifting sideways.

"Okay, what the hell was that?"

Now Justin was trembling. "Let's just get out of here."

"Justin, watch out!"

Emerging from the mist, a panicking buck veered for the Zodiac, lunging its front hoofs out of the water and over the edge of the rubber raft.

"Shit!" Grabbing the wild animal by its neck and antlers, Justin fought to shove the two-hundred-pound beast back into the water without being lanced. "Amber, help—"

The buck continued thrashing and kicking, intent on climbing out of the water, when it was seized by its hindquarters by an unseen force and dragged below.

Pulled off-balance, Justin Wagner tumbled overboard after it.

"Justin!" Amber knelt on her bench seat, looking in every direction. "Justin? Justin, where are you?!" She heard splashing sounds behind her and turned to the source. "Justin?"

"Ambhhhhhh—" Justin's head poked free of the freezing waters, his arms slapping frantically at the fog-covered surface. "It's fuuuuckinnng freeeezing!"

"Hold on!" Amber climbed back to the stern. "Okay, you can do this." She pushed the tiller out of her way, then stood behind the outboard and attacked the starter cord with both hands.

It took her several awkward jerks before the engine started. But as the revving propeller caught water, the bent tiller sent the raft lurching sideways, spilling Amber Korpela headfirst into the Loch.

The bone-chilling water, combined with his soaked clothing, were zapping Justin's strength. Through blurred vision he saw Amber fall overboard, the now-empty Zodiac left to cut wide circles across the surface.

Pathetic. Okay, boat first, then Amber…

He kicked for the vessel, never hearing the whines and yelps from the deer, his heart skipping a beat at Amber's bloodcurdling scream.

"Amber?" Justin stopped swimming and spun to his left. Through the fog-laced surface he saw something dark and massive breach a half dozen boat lengths away, rolling and twisting in a frenzy of movement that whipped icy water and warm fleshy shrapnel at his face.

A column of deer swam past him, whimpering and gasping with their exertion.

Justin tried to move, but couldn't, not until the attack ended with one final heavy splash.

The silence that followed was petrifying.

With trembling hand, Justin touched his forehead, smearing away gobs of blood and bone fragments.

"Amber…"

The whine of the approaching Zodiac grew louder, snapping him into action. Justin swam as hard as he could, then lunged for the passing water craft, his chest bouncing off the inflatable's side, his fingers managing to catch the raft's trim line.

Too weak to pull himself on board, Justin managed to loop his wrists around the rope, his weight counterbalancing the Zodiac's trajectory.

The motorized raft raced away, towing its semiconscious passenger along with it.