"Barely. I'll wait a few more minutes before I shoot another series of 30-second exposures."

"You sure this high-speed film'll work?"

"I'm not using it, I told you that three hours ago. Faster speeds aren't better for long exposures, the images come out too grainy. Drink your beer, I know what I'm doing."

Chuck Jones leaned in to whisper. "Forget that nonsense, I'm out to hook that sum'bitch. You guys can take all the photos you want after we haul its dead ass back to port."

"Yeah, well I'd settle for one blurred shot at this point. You sure this captain knows what he's doing?"

"Let's find out."

Jones stumbled forward, entering the pilothouse. "So what's the story, skipper? Been four frickin' hours and we still haven't seen a goldfish on that fish finder of yours. You sure that thing's working?"

"It's working fine. Maybe that full-proof bait of yours is scaring the fish away."

"Or maybe we should try another spot?"

"It's your money, I just figured you'd want to create a nice scent trail." Lindner pointed to the ship's navigational console and a real- time GPS chart representing Loch Ness. "We've been cruising back and forth between Brackla and Urquhart Bay. The area's a hot spot for Nessie sightings. Better to keep the scent strong in one locale… unless you think otherwise."

"No, guess that makes sense. Hey, what're all these bright objects on your screen?"

"Sonar buoys. Power pack gives off thermal radiation. The Loch's lined with 'em now, but I don't think they've become active yet. Just as well. All that pinging scares away the big fish."

Clansman Wharf
12:20 A.M.

Dr. Michael Newman, associate director at the National Institute of Standards and Technology, waited impatiently on the dock as two local delivery men stacked the last of the seven aluminum crates into the Nessie III's pilothouse. Newman scrawled his name in triplicate on the offered invoice, then turned as David Caldwell and the local woman made their way, arm in arm, toward the berth.

"Ah, there's Dr. Newman now. So, Doctor, is everything hooked up and ready to go?"

"No, everything's not hooked up and ready to go. The equipment just arrived, it took six hours just to get it out of customs, and another two hours to find a delivery company, all of which you were supposed to handle. We need to speak."

"Speak."

"In private."

"It's okay," Brandy said, "I'll see ye on board." As the two men watched, she removed her spiked heels, hitched up her dress, then climbed over the rail.

David watched her climb aboard the Nessie III. "God, what a package. So Newman, what's up?"

"I can see what's up. Look, Caldwell, when you came to the NIST seeking help, we agreed to lend you our equipment, not risk it."

"How are you risking it?"