"Lord Advocate, your opening remarks."
Mitchell Obrecht stood and faced the jury. "On February 15 of this year, the accused, Mr. Angus William Wallace of Drumnadrochit, met with the deceased, Mr. John Cialino Jr., of Cialino Ventures, London, on the grounds of the soon-to-be-opened Nessie's Retreat and Entertainment Center. Her Majesty's Advocate shall show that Mr. Wallace had owned some of the acreage along Loch Ness and had sold it to Mr. Cialino's real estate firm for development some eighteen months prior.
"At approximately four-thirty that evening, no less than a dozen people witnessed Mr. Wallace and Mr. Cialino engaged in a heated argument, which ended when Mr. Wallace struck Mr. Cialino directly in the face with his fist, sending him caroming seven meters into the unforgiving six-degree Celsius waters of the Loch. If Mr. Cialino was not dead when he struck the water, then he drowned minutes later. The waters surrounding Urquhart Castle are in excess of two hundred meters, and it is doubtful we'll ever find the body.
"Her Majesty's Advocate intends to prove that Mr. Wallace is not only guilty of Mr. Cialino's murder, but that the act was premeditated, murder in the first degree."
Murmurs filled the courthouse as the prosecutor returned to his seat. I watched the faces of the jury, and from what I could tell, they were buying what Obrecht was selling.
Now it was Max's turn.
"Ladies and gentlemen, my client, Angus Wallace, admits he was arguing with his friend and one-time business partner, Mr. John Cialino Jr., on that tragic 15 day of February last. He confesses that yes, he did strike his friend, much as one might strike a mate in a pub over a pint of ale. But Mr. Wallace did not kill John Cialino, neither by accident nor intention, for Mr. Cialino was quite alive after he hit the water. We intend to prove that Mr. Cialino's death was, in fact, caused by his own negligence, and not by the hand of his friend, Mr. Angus Wallace."
The judge made a few notes, then turned to his Court Macer. "You may call the first Crown witness."
"The High Court calls Mr. Paul Garrison of Las Vegas, Nevada to the stand."
A middle-aged American with light brown hair, graying at the temples, entered the witness box and was sworn in.
Jennifer Shaw questioned him from her seat. "Please state your full name and occupation for the record."
"Paul Garrison. I work for a large, high-end resort casino located in Las Vegas, Nevada."
"What brought you to Scotland last February, Mr. Garrison?"
"Vacation mostly. Nice of you to fly me back like this."
"Were you at Urquhart's Castle on the evening of February 15?"
"Uh, yes… yes, I was."
"And what did you see?"
"Well, it was winter, so it grew dark pretty fast. Looking over from the ruins, I saw that big silver-bearded guy—"
"Let the record show Mr. Garrison has identified the accused."
"Right, that's him. Anyway, I saw that guy with the silver beard punch the other little guy—"
"Mr. Cialino?"
"Right, Mr. Cialino, right in the face. Anyway, this Cialino guy stumbled, then took a nosedive right into the Loch."
"No further questions."
The judge turned to Max. "Mr. Rael, your witness."
Max looked up from his notes. "Mr. Garrison, from your vantage, were you able to see Mr. Cialino as he fell?"
"Yes."
"Did you actually see him hit the water?"
"I saw the splash, but the drop's too steep."
"So you never actually saw him in the water?"
"No. Like I said, the angle was wrong, me being close to the castle tower. With that drop, you'd have to be right near the edge to see straight down into the water."
"So then, you had no way of knowing if Mr. Cialino was still alive after he fell into Loch Ness?"
"Yeah, I mean no, there's no way I could see him."
"Thank you, Mr. Garrison. No further questions."
And that's the way it continued for the entire first day. The prosecution would present its eyewitnesses, and Max would establish that none of them actually saw John Cialino in the water after Angus had hit him.
At 4:22 that afternoon, the prosecution rested. Max would present his defense on Monday.
Reporters hustled to transmit their stories.
The best was yet to come.
Entry: 17 October 1330
Three weeks have passed since I came upon the care o' the Chivalric Military Order o' the Temple o' Jerusalem, the Templar name havin' been discarded, so I'm telt, since the massacre under Phillip the Fair. The Priest Knight, MacDonald, claims bloodlines goin' back tae Saint Columba himsel', an' his healin' ways offer me little doubt. The fever is gone, an' I am beginnin' tae feel like mysel' again. Guid news, I'm telt, as I will need my strength against whit lies ahead.
Entry: 22 October 1330
A long day has come an' gone, the night settlin' in ower oor arbor. A tempest wind whips the flames o' oor fire, causin' it tae dance, makin' it difficult tae write, but I am determined tae complete the entry.
We had set oot on foot frae the Moray Firth jist afore the dawn, eight Templars, mysel', an' the Bruce's sacred casket, hung safely roond my neck. For hours we followed the River Mess as it wove its may south, but by midday, the mountains had risen along either side o' us. The goin' got awfy rough, but ne'er had I seen such a bonnie sight. Hills once emerald were dyin' intae golds an' reds an' purples, an' I could smell the winter in the air. The river thickened along a bend an' MacDonald pointed out the very spot where Saint Columba wis said tae have saved a Pict warrior frae one o' the beasts we noo sought.
I remained a disbeliever.
By last light we completed oor day's march, comin' tae the banks o' a narrow channel that widened along the mooth of Loch Ness. Twis the first time my eyes gazed upon its dark waters, which ran tae the horizon as far as I could see. The sky wis heavy an' grey noo, an' thunder shook the valley roond us. Seekin' shelter, MacDonald instructed we make camp in the forest awa' frae the shore, lest the dragons surface an' become curious.
The Templar's talk o' dragons, at first jovial in nature, has begun tae unnerve me a bit in these ominous surroundings. Though I still refuse tae believe, the blade o' Sir William shall remain close by my side as I sleep.
Chapter 8
The general proportion that (Nature) must obtain between certain groups of animals is readily seen. Large animals cannot be so abundant as small ones; the carnivora must be less numerous than the herbivore; eagles and lions can never be so plentiful as pigeons and antelopes; the wild asses of the Tartarian deserts cannot equal in numbers the horses of the more luxuriant prairies and pampas of America. The greater or less fecundity of an animal is often considered to be one of the chief causes of its abundance or scarcity; but a consideration of the facts will show us that it really has little or nothing to do with the matter. Even the least prolific of animals would increase rapidly if unchecked, whereas it is evident that the animal population of the globe must be stationary, or perhaps, through the influence of man, decreasing.
Max dropped me off at the hotel lobby after the first day of Angus's trial, but I was antsy, and in no mood to stay in my room. Despite being convinced of Angus's guilt, this was the first time my father had ever acknowledged me in a positive way, dissolving years of anger. A well of emotions filled my soul, sobered only by the skeptical, analytical left side of my brain, which kept screaming at me to leave Scotland immediately, warning me that allowing Angus back into my heart was like putting out fire with gasoline.