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“How’s the wee man?”

“Constitution of an ox,” the medic said. “But he’s got three broken ribs, and possibly a concussion. He’ll definitely be out for a couple of hours, and there’s an ambulance coming down from Inverness for him. When he gets his back braced, he’ll be sore, but walking, by tomorrow. Oh, and he asked me to give you this.”

The medic took a thumb drive from his chest pocket and passed it to Banks.

“He was doing something on our laptop, and wouldn’t go down and under until it was done. He says C is for the chant, and D is for the command. I don’t have a clue what that means.”

“I think I might. Thanks,” Banks said. He passed the drive to Wiggins.

“This’ll give you something to do, lad. Find us a laptop, and see what’s on this. If it’s what I think it is, it might come in handy.”

He thanked the medic again, and left Hynd and Wiggins by the mess tent.

He needed to clear his head.

* * *

Banks felt at a loose end, his nerves frayed and buzzing. The vision of the beast chewing down as it carried McCally away remained big in his mind. He walked past the other tents, along the side of the truck carrying the temporary office, up a narrow gravel track, and onto a mound overlooking the castle. The rain had eased back to thin drizzle, although with the wind it still felt harsh against his cheeks. He turned his back on it, and lit a cigarette in cupped hands.

The tumbled ruin of the castle was still lit up for visitors, although Banks had the place to himself. It was normally a tourist trap. In high summer, there would be rows of coaches in the area the colonel had chosen for his H.Q., and scores, even hundreds, of people would be milling around the grounds and gift shop. Banks wondered what they’d think, them with their wee plush Nessie toys, their porcelain ornaments, tea towels and postcards all showing the now traditional, serpentine, cute, and often green monster. What would they make of the raging dark beast that had so easily overcome the boat, had so casually taken the life of his corporal?

And there I am already, back worrying at it again.

The colonel was right; from his perspective, Banks had been negligent in not taking the shot when Seton had the beast calmed.

But I promised the wee man I wouldn’t. And the day my promise means nothing is the day I quit.

But there was still the direct line that ran from letting the beast lie there as if asleep, and the later events that led to McCally’s death. Part of him wanted to lay the blame at the door of the BBC reporters in the chopper, but they too were dead. Anyway, he knew that in the long nights when sleep wouldn’t come, McCally would be there with him, in line with the other men he’d lost over the years, all ready to ask why.

Because we chose the life.

That was the real answer, one that all soldiers, if they were honest to themselves, knew. But that didn’t stop them lining up at three in the morning to admonish him. And it didn’t stop the guilt.

He smoked two cigarettes while standing on the mound in the rain, face turned toward the castle but not really seeing it, lost in thought, of times spent with McCally in the field, in bars, and just hanging out around the pool table in the mess.

Christ, I’ll miss him.

He ground the butt of his second smoke out on the gravel and finally turned back into the wind and rain, heading for the tents to find out what Wiggins made of the thumb drive. They might be suspended, but that didn’t mean they had to just sit quietly on their arses.

* * *

He found Hynd and Wiggins in the mess tent again. They sat side by side at a laptop. As Banks approached, he noticed that the thumb drive was installed on its right-hand side.

“The colonel’s secretary has gone home for the night,” Hynd said, “so we helped ourselves to a wee lend of her machine. Would you believe her password is ‘password12’?

“And what about the drive? Anything on it?”

Wiggins turned the laptop so Banks could see. There was a small blue window in the center of the screen, with just two round red buttons, one labeled ‘C’ and one labeled ‘D’.

“It’s a wee simple JavaScript routine, attached to two.mp3 files,” Wiggins said. “A piece of piss for a programmer, but not something I expected the wee auld man to be capable of.”

“I think wee Sandy kens a lot more than he’s let on,” Banks replied. “But does it work?”

“Aye, well, it’s him singing that Gaelic stuff right enough, and shouting the two words. I heard it in the headphones earlier, but it’ll work just fine through the speakers. Here, I’ll show you.”

Wiggins clicked the mouse before Banks could stop him. The sound of the Gaelic chant, slightly tinny, and hoarser than they’d heard it previously, came clearly through the speakers.

“Ri linn cothrom na meidhe, Ri linn sgathadh na h-anal.

“Ri linn tabhar na breithe Biodh a shith air do theannal fein.”

A loud bark echoed from out on the loch in reply.

- 10 -

“Oh, fuck,” Wiggins said. “What do we do, Cap? Leave it on or switch it off?”

The two lines looped ‘round again.

“Ri linn cothrom na meidhe, Ri linn sgathadh na h-anal.

“Ri linn tabhar na breithe Biodh a shith air do theannal fein.”

And again a loud bark came in reply. They were not the only ones to hear it. People came out of tents to gather in the open area, bemused by the sheer volume of the beast’s call.

“Leave it on, Wiggo,” Banks said. “This might be the only chance we get.”

“Has that fucker been following us or what? And how the fuck can it hear it? It’s hardly loud enough to carry outside the tent,” Hynd said.

“Maybe it’s fucking Supernessie,” Wiggins said.

“Stow it, lads. Let’s take the laptop down to the shore, see if we can bring this fucker to us. If it comes, we’ll put it down hard this time.”

“What about the colonel?” Hynd asked.

“We’re doing this for Cally,” Banks said. “Fuck the colonel.”

“You’ll have to get in line for that,” a voice said in the tent opening. Banks looked up to see his superior officer glaring in at them.

The two lines of the chant looped ‘round again.

“Ri linn cothrom na meidhe, Ri linn sgathadh na h-anal.

“Ri linn tabhar na breithe Biodh a shith air do theannal fein.”

The bark came in on the last syllable. It sounded closer now.

“This is your doing?” the colonel said.

“It’s just something the man Seton left for us,” Banks said. “I had no idea it would bring the thing here, with all these people about.”

“Aye, well, it looks like you might have done something right after all, and saved us a night on the loch in the dark looking for it. Did I hear you say you were going to the shore?”

The bark came again in response to the next looped chant. It was definitely closer now.

“Yes, sir. And I think we’d better do it soon, before we have a bloody big angry visitor.”

“I’ll get you some backup,” the colonel said, and turned away from the door.

“You heard the boss,” Banks said. “To the shore it is, double time, lads. Let’s nail the fucker once and for all.”

* * *

Wiggins held the laptop open in his left hand. The chant kept looping, and the barking got ever closer. Several people had already moved down to the stony beach, staring out over the dark loch.

“Get the fuck back, you idiots,” Hynd shouted. “Either that or get a weapon. This thing’s not a fucking cuddly toy.”