"You're a Templar Knight, too, aren't you?"
He paused then, thinking it over. "Wis, Gracie, I wis, 'til that bastard, Alban MacDonald, removed me frae the Order. Can ye believe it? Me, a direct descendant frae Sir William Wallace himsel', kicked oot o' the Masonry? The Wallace clan's aye given oor all for Scotland. It wis a descendent o' Wallace that spilt blood at Bannockburn wi' the Bruce. An' when the Bruce died, a Wallace went tae the Holy Land, only tae find oor entourage outnumbered by the Moors at Teba. There, in Calavatra—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know the story, and stop exaggerating! It was there that the Black Douglas, Sir James the Good, flung the Bruce's heart into the Moorish lines and proclaimed, 'Go Braveheart and we, your Knights will follow,' and that's where the name, Braveheart, was really coined."
He shook his head. "Why dae I waste my time?"
"Just answer me this, Angus. If you were such a chivalrous Templar, why did Alban MacDonald expel you."
"Politics. The auld fart refuses tae change wi' the times. The Knights guard the ancient ways, see, but there are those among us who prefer tae live in the twenty-first century. Alban's a Priest-Knight o' the highest order, so what he says goes. He an' a few o' the senior cooncil members didnae like me sellin' my ancestor's land tae Johnny C., though it's okay for the hypocrites' sons tae work for Cialino Ventures, includin' one True MacDonald."
"Cialino's company owns the oil rig?"
"Six o' them, a' in the North Sea, plus part o' a new hydroelectric dam bein' built east of Fort Augustus. They've got underground pipelines runnin' through the Moray Firth intae Inverness an' throughoot the Highlands. Alban disnae like it, an' he's made a big environmental stink aboot it tae the Masonic Cooncil. The auld bampot booted me oot o' the Order the day I selt my acreage tae Johnny C., an' my life's been hell ever since."
"Angus, on Saturday morning, I caught the Crabbit hiding in the woods, dressed in Templar garments, only they weren't white, they were black, and instead of the Knight's Cross, the tunic bore a symbol, like a heart with an X across it."
My father looked away.
"What?"
"I cannae say."
"Why not? Wallace blood flows through my veins, just as it flows through yours."
"It's no' a clan thing. Blood oaths've been taken, preventin' me frae speaking o' certain things."
"You're talking in riddles."
He looked up at me with those piercing Gael eyes, but said nothing.
"Okay, you want to keep playing head games, fine. But Alban's sword was covered in blood. I don't know whether it was animal or human blood, but he had that crazed look in his eye, the one that used to scare the shit out of me when I was a kid."
"Aye. MacDonald lost his marbles long ago. He's no' fit tae run the Cooncil, if ye ask me. A disgrace he is, an' a liar—"
"You're one to talk. Do you really think the judge and jury are buying into your ridiculous little scheme? So you used my childhood scars as a means of kicking over a hornet's nest, that still doesn't make you innocent. In fact, in the end, you may have just sealed your own fate."
"How dae ye work that one oot?"
"Had you simply claimed Cialino's death was an accident, Max probably could have gotten you down to manslaughter, and you'd have served five to ten years in prison, maybe less. But now, with this whole ridiculous Loch Ness monster claim, everything changes."
"And how's that?"
"Because the monster alibi, as hokey as it is, required planning. You had to get Cialino to Urquhart Castle, you had to fly me in as a witness, you even went so far as to obtain my unpublished dissertation. Planning means Johnny C.'s murder was no accident, it was premeditated. When that jury rules you guilty, and believe me, when the smoke clears they will, you'll spend the rest of your days behind bars… if you're lucky. See, this isn't a Rubik's Cube you've cheated this time, Angus, it's the High Court of Scotland. You may have had fun tossing dynamite at the media, but you've overplayed your hand, pissing off that prosecutor, who's going to nail your hairy ass to the wall."
"So says you."
"And what says the merry widow?"
He looked up at me then, anger in his eyes. "Theresa? She had nothing tae dae wi' this."
"Sure she didn't. I saw how she was looking at you… playing you like a fiddle."
"Och! Ye dinnae ken anythin'!"
"Pretty face, gorgeous body, it was sweet bait, and you grabbed it, hook, line, and sinker. Only this woman, she's got her own ambitions. Tell me, how many times did you screw her behind Johnny C.'s back before she began planting the idea of killing her husband?"
"Shut up."
"I'll bet it was her idea to use Nessie as an alibi. Just think of what this publicity will do to generate business at her new resort. And then you jumped right in, telling her how you could solidify your defense by dragging me into it."
"Ye're aff yer heid!"
"Use the Nessie story, Angus, and I'll triple the money Johnny owes you. We'll live happily ever after … except, of course, she'll have all of Johnny's assets, including his new resort, while you're pledging your undying love as you dance on the end of a rope."
"Shut up! Theresa's a friend, nothin' more."
"Yeah, sure. No wonder you hired Max instead of a real attorney. Bet he's getting a piece of the action on the side, too, huh?"
"Get oot! Get the fuck oot o' here, ye wee bastard! I never want tae see ye again! Ye're no son o' mine!"
"Ah, how I wish that were true," I said, rolling over to get some sleep, congratulating myself on finally being able to push Angus's buttons. "But here's some free advice from one bastard to another. Be sure to hold your head up nice and high when they hang you, Pop. Remember, you're a Wallace."
Chapter 14
It was late, just after one in the morning. I was on my motorcycle, approaching the Abriachan turn out of Inverness when I noticed something large in the bushes up ahead. I was almost upon it when it abruptly turned, exposing a long, hefty body, maybe 4.5–6 meters (15–20 feet). It possessed a very powerful tail, rounded at the end, and two front flippers. The head was snakelike, flat on top, and my headlight reflected an oval eye. The animal made two great bounds across the road and down into the water, followed by a big splash.
I was driving on the A82, just south of Invermoriston when I saw it! It was half ashore and I had a clear view of it for nine minutes in my binoculars. It was at least 12–18 meters long (40–60 feet) but did not see its full tail as it was not quite completely out of the water. As it turned I had a clear view of its left fore flipper, which is grey in color, spade-shaped, and devoid of any markings which might indicate toes or claws. It was a clearly a flipper and not a foot. The animal eventually made sort of a U-shaped turn and flopped back into deep water. It did not reappear and left only ripples, no wake.
While I tossed and turned on my lumpy jail cell mattress and hundreds of reporters from around the world descended upon Castle Inverness like bees to honey, the real story was unfolding twenty miles to the south on the banks of Loch Ness.
Two major rivers intersect Loch Ness along its western shores. Enrick River is the larger of the two, flowing west to east through the Great Glen and past Drumnadrochit until it reaches Loch Ness at Urquhart Bay. Fifteen miles farther to the south, the River Moriston passes through the Glen Moriston dam, rages into a grade-five waterfall, then rushes below the old stone Telford Bridge on its way past Invermoriston before it too releases into Loch Ness.