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“Congratulations, my dear. You have just exploded an otter.”
She shrugged and smiled prettily about her. “Sorry, darlings. Instinct.”
“Otters are a protected species, aren’t they?” said Peter.
“Not from me,” said Katt. Her gun had disappeared again. I had to wonder what else she might have hidden about her person. I wouldn’t have thought there was room for anything under a dress that tight; not even underwear.
The Blue Fairy produced a fishing rod and reel out of nowhere.
It looked battered and mended and much used, but he handled it with professional ease. “What do we think the monster is, anyway?” he said without looking up.
“It’s supposed to be some kind of dinosaur, isn’t it?” said Honey. “The last of its kind, preserved in a lake cut off from the rest of the natural world. The few photos I’ve seen all show a long neck and what might be the humps of an extended body.”
“I always hoped it would turn out to be a dragon,” said the Blue Fairy just a bit wistfully. “Not those nasty things the elf lords ride; I mean the real thing, from ages past, when there was still wild magic in the world . . .”
“You soppy old romantic, you,” I said.
“Maybe it’s an alien!” said Katt. “Descended from the crew of some crashed alien starship, long ago.”
“Could be some kind of elemental,” said Walker. “Which would explain why it never seems to look the same twice.”
Peter sniffed loudly. “More likely it’s just another tourist trap, making the most of an old legend to separate the gullible from their money.”
“If this contest wasn’t so important, I think I’d be just as happy for Nessie to stay a mystery,” I said. “After all, what would the rest of the world do, if presented with actual proof of Nessie’s existence and nature? Trap it, or shoot it? Drag it out of the loch to be shown off at some aquatic zoo? It would certainly never know a moment’s peace again. No, I think it’s safer and better off as a legend.”
Walker stood at the very edge of the bank, staring down into the dark still waters. “What if there is no monster?” he said thoughtfully. “No Nessie. What if that’s the answer to the mystery; that there’s nothing down there, really, and never was? How are we supposed to prove a negative? I mean, short of draining the whole loch . . .”
“Damn,” said Katt. “You’re actually considering it, aren’t you?”
“Philistine,” said the Blue Fairy, deftly slipping a barbed hook onto the end of his fishing line.
Walker looked back at us, smiling. “I doubt even the CIA could pull that one off, with all its resources. And certainly not without seriously upsetting the locals . . .”
“What we need,” Honey said firmly, “is a submersible.”
Her face became preoccupied; no doubt she was communing with her superiors at Langley via her computer implant. No way that was Earth technology. I was begi
“Everybody back!” yelled Walker.
He was already retreating at speed, and the rest of us were right on his heels. The submersible hit the surface of the loch hard, and a great explosion of water jumped up into the air, raining down just where we’d been standing. Some of the icy waters still reached us, and Katt squeaked miserably as it splashed across her bare shoulders. Served her right for being so slow off the mark. Walker remained cool and calm under his opened umbrella. The rest of us glared at Honey, who pretended to be very interested in her newly acquired submersible, which had now steadied itself and was bobbing happily at the side of the loch. It was big and blocky, with wide fins, a blunt nose, and all kinds of bristling scientific protrusions. There was even a (hopefully reinforced) extra-wide window at the front, backed up by great glaring headlights. Which it was going to need, down in the depths, where just the submersible’s passage would stir up enough peat to fill the water.
“Trust the CIA to show off,” said Peter.
“The CIA does big,” I said. “Droods prefer subtle.”
Honey sniffed loudly. She didn’t look exactly inspired with what she’d been sent. “Wonderful!” she said acidly. “Someone who only thinks they have a sense of humour has sent me a yellow submarine. Probably programmed the ship’s computers to sound like Ringo. Heads will roll when I get back, and other things too. I asked for a proper research vessel, not this . . . toy.”
“I’d mention Thunderbird 4,” said Walker. “But it would only date me.”
“I think it’s very pretty,” said Katt.
“How are we all supposed to squeeze into something that size?” said the Blue Fairy.
“You aren’t,” Honey said shortly. “I’ve used that model before, and it’s strictly a single seater. And no, you don’t get to draw straws over who goes. It’s my submersible, so I get to drive.”
“Typical CIA,” said Katt. “Never big on sharing.”
“We’re supposed to let you go down there on your own?” said Walker.
“Unless one of you has gills and can hang on to the outside,” said Honey.
“You might be able to locate Nessie with your wonderful new toy,” I said. “But how are you going to get proof? I don’t care what your new rubber duckie comes equipped with; you’re not going to get a clear image underwater. It’s been tried, and without a clear background to give you scale, any sonar image you get is worthless.”
“Why do I just know you’re about to suggest something clever?” said Honey.
“Because I’m a Drood,” I said. “We always know best. It’s in our job description. Look, this isn’t exactly rocket science. First you find the creature, then you bring it up to the surface, and finally we photograph it right next to your submersible. That gives us size and scale and a clear image, right?”
“The submersible’s cameras are only designed to operate underwater,” said Honey.
We all looked at each other.
“I’ve got a really good camera built into my phone,” said Peter.
“Oh, this is all just so amateur night, darlings,” said Katt.
“It’ll do,” Honey said shortly. “I’m not begging and pleading with Langley for more equipment. This whole mission is drowning in paperwork and requisitions as it is, and you just know they’ll find some way to stick me with the overruns. I’ll locate Nessie and goose her up to the surface, and, Peter, you had better get some really good photos.”
“This is a state-of-the-art phone, with still shots and film,” Peter protested. “I designed it myself.”
He started to spout off some detailed technobabble, only to shut up and sulk as it became clear none of us was listening. Honey stalked down to the edge of the bank, and we all trailed after her, feeling just a bit left out. None of us were used to being left behind while someone else went off to do all the interesting fun stuff. Honey jumped lightly onto the side of the bright yellow submersible, grabbing one of the more sturdy protrusions to steady herself. The submersible hardly bobbed at all under her added weight. She hit the access panel with her fist, and a hatch swung slowly outward. She wriggled in past it and disappeared inside. This was followed by a certain amount of swearing as she couldn’t find the light switch and then the sound of powerful engines coming on line, and the whole submersible seemed to shake itself like a hunting dog coming awake, ready for action. The access hatch opened itself a little wider, and then we all ducked and fell back as a package the size of a kitchen sink shot out over our heads and crash-landed on the bank behind us.