Lorrie Paulsen, Deputy Chairman of Tourism, stood, addressing the Council. "Before ye shut doon this story, Mr. Provost, there's another issue we need tae consider, and that's tourism. As everyone in this room kens a' too well, tourism's been way doon. But this trial, it's already havin' a positive impact on our economy. I'm receivin' reports frae a' ower the Great Glen that hotels an' bed-'n'-breakfasts are fillip' up fast, an' most o' that's jist frea the media. Jist wait until season hits. This could be the best summer we've had in thirty years… in fact, I spoke wi' the airlines less than an hour ago, an' flights comin' in tae Inverness are already booked solid through June. Could be the best thing that's happened tae the Highlands in a long time."
Murmurs of agreement.
"Ridiculous," said William Greene, convener of the Northern Joint Police Board. "We're no' dealin' wi' monster sightings here, this is multiple murders, at least one o' which wis most likely committed by a man whose ravings aboot a water creature are based on lies an' circumstantial evidence at best. As tae this recent death, who's tae say Angus Wallace didnae hire an accomplice tae dae the deed an' make it look like a monster? This whole thing stinks, if ye ask me."
More murmurs, with a few accusing glances aimed my way.
Jesus… I've got to get off this island before these lunatics lynch me.
Owen Hollifield signaled for quiet. "Go on, Sheriff."
"I don't disagree wi' Convener Green's analogy, but one way or another, we need tae dae somethin'. Whether it wis human or beast that killed that woman, tae me, a' these summer tourists flockin' tae Loch Ness jist means more potential victims. How dae we police seventy- six kilometers o' shoreline? I simply don't have the men or the means."
"Might I make a suggestion?" Judge Hannam offered.
The provost nodded. "Please do, my lord."
"By involving the monster in his defense, Angus Wallace has opened a Pandora's box on the High Court's proceedings. Like it or not — and off the record I don't — what's done is done, but it's still my job to see justice served. As such, the only way we'll ever secure a fair and just verdict is to allow the authorities the opportunity to actually search the Loch. Now I'm not suggesting that a water beast killed John Cialino or this American woman. I'm only saying that the public, and the world, must at least perceive that we're doing our due diligence to learn the truth, even concerning matters of proving, or, as the case may be, disproving a water beast exists."
"Council should offer a reward for proof demonstratin' Nessie's existence." Lorrie Paulsen called out. "I think ten thousand pounds should show we're serious."
Owen Hollifeld scoffed. "I could increase that tenfold wi' a few phone calls. Discovery Channel an' National Geographic both called this afternoon, wantin' permits tae send film crews. Turned them a' down. Told them we're considerin' offerin' exclusive rights tae the highest bidder."
Loud murmurs of agreement.
"Do as you need to do," the judge countered, "but I'm only delaying the trial for two weeks. That's about as long as I can keep this jury sequestered."
That sent the room abuzz once more.
The provost banged his hand again. "Run yer trial as ye see fit, Neil, but I can't allow dozens o' monster hunters cruisin' Loch Ness without rhyme or reason. It's counterproductive, an' it's dangerous. Seen it all before. Amateurs start playin' Moby Dick, comin' out wi' dynamite and home-made bombs. What we need is someone tae manage this whole affair, someone whose credentials are unquestioned."
All eyes turned toward me, and I realized that this was why the judge had insisted I be at the meeting.
"How about it, Dr. Wallace?"
"Sorry, my lord, you've got the wrong man."
"Actually, ye're perfect," William Greene declared. "Ye were born in the Highlands, yer reputation as a marine biologist precedes ye, an' ye're related tae the accused, which means ye'll dae everything in yer power, as far as the public's concerned, tae complete an efficient, yet comprehensive search. An' those scars—"
"What about them? Half the world thinks I was bitten by a beast, the rest think I doctored them in order to save my father. My reputation as a scientist is being destroyed even as we speak."
"Then prove them wrong," the provost said. "There's somethin' very real goin' on in Loch Ness, has been ever since the A82 was blasted. Your testimony an' involvement could finally separate fact from fantasy."
"Forget it. This whole affair's been humiliating enough, and besides, there's plenty of other qualified scientists out there. Kevin Gonzalez at Scripps, or that British scientist, Antony Chomley. And what about Robert Rines? Dr. Rines has far more experience than—"
"Dr. Rines has been up and down the Loch a thousand times," Judge Hannam retorted. "No, you were our first choice, Dr. Wallace. If Nessie's really out there, then we're convinced you'll find her."
"And if I refuse? What will you do? Hold me in contempt again? No, I don't think so. See, I may have been born here, but I'm an American citizen now, and my government will have a few things to say to Parliament if the High Court of Inverness jails one of its more prominent scientists just because he refused to search your lake for monsters."
From the judge's dour expression, I knew I had him.
"Now, Lord Hannam, if you don't mind, it's been a bit too real and not much fun, but I need to make some quick flight arrangements if I'm to be back home in Florida by tomorrow night. Hasta la vista."
I made it halfway to the exit before Sheriff Olmstead stopped me. "Lord Hannam?"
The judge thought for a moment. "Dr. Wallace is right, of course. We certainly can't force him to organize our search. For now, we'll just have to allow the researchers to organize themselves, God knows the media attention should draw them to Loch Ness in droves. However, Doctor, bear in mind you're still a witness in a murder trial, which means you can't just leave the country either, at least not until the prosecution's had a chance to cross-examine your testimony. Confiscate his passport, Sheriff, then you can release him."
The bastard took my passport, then showed me the door.
"I dinnae understand," said True, slogging down his third lager in the last half hour. "Seems tae me they're offerin' ye a chance of a lifetime. Why no' jist dae it?"
I poured another shot down my throat, the burning sensation now a warm friend. "If I tell you, and you repeat this to another living soul, then you and me as best friends …pffftt."
He leaned in with his big shaggy Viking head. "Go on, I'm listenin'."
I pointed to my temple. "Angus was right about one thing. I'm screwed up, right here in the brain. Ever since that Sargasso thing, I can't get near the damn water."
"Meanin'?"
"Meaning? Meaning I'm afraid to get near the water, ya dumb bastard, what the fuck did you think I mean?"
"Why? Whit's wrong wi' the water?"
"Nothing's wrong with the water, ya dullard, I just can't get near it. Jesus, why do ya think I didn't boff your sister Friday night? Outta respect for your whacked-out old man? Geez Louise, give me a little credit."
"Wait a minute… are ye sayin' ye're feart o' the water?"
"Yes, shit-for-brains, yes!" I stood upon my chair, teetering like a drunken fool. "Now hear this! I, Zachary Wallace, marine fucking biologist, son of Angus the drunken murdering bastard, distant cousin to Sir William Wallace the Braveheart, am deathly afraid of the water!"