"Big, too big, which is why you shouldn't get too excited yet. It's probably just a school of char, they like it about those depths. Just the same, tell your photographer buddy to keep shooting, maybe he'll get lucky."

Chad hurried from the pilothouse and returned to the stern. "Captain says there's something big following the bait. It's either a school of fish, or… "

"Yeah!" Jones pumped his fists. "A hundred and fifty thousand pounds. What's that in dollars, Casey?"

"Who cares? Will you quit jumping!" Casey hunched over his camera, his right thumb pressed against the free end of the cable lock, keeping the telephoto lens open. "Damn it, we're starting to bounce again. Chad, go tell the captain to cut his speed."

"What am I, your errand boy?"

"Just do it."

Ron Casey returned his right eye to the telephoto lens. As he watched, the bait suddenly disappeared.

"Whoa."

"Whoa what?"

"Either our bait sank, or it was just snatched."

"Look!" Jones pointed to the length of steel cable as it strained against the cleat. "We hooked it, baby!"

Fiberglass moaned, then began cracking along the edges of the cleat.

Casey looked at Jones, a lump in his throat. "I thought you said this boat could handle a big load?"

"It can, I mean it should. The monster must've gone deep. Maybe the—"

Captain Lindner bounded from the pilothouse. "What the hell's going on back here?"

Casey pointed to the line. "We think we hooked Nessie."

"Hooked? You never said anything about catching it!"

The boat lurched, causing the tripod to tip.

Casey caught the camera as the stern dipped hard to starboard.

The captain fell sideways against one of the outboards, then held on tightly as he examined the cleat. "Are you assholes crazy? The transom's not made to drag this kind of weight."

The boat rolled back to port, the steel cable catching the starboard engine's propeller, sheering off two of its blades.

"Son of a bitch! I just had that prop rebuilt!" The captain hurried back to the pilothouse, Chuck Jones trailing.

"Skipper, relax, you're about to be famous. All we have to do is haul this monster in, and we'll have enough money to buy you a dozen new props."

Lindner shut down the starboard engine, then pushed down on the port throttle, his vessel straining to move against the ungodly force. "Haul it, Mr. Jones? Haul it where?"

"Into the shallows. The Bona Narrows."

"By the time we reach the narrows, this boat'll be kindling."

The vessel rolled hard to starboard again, sending both men caroming across the navigational console.

The captain grabbed hold of the wheel, yanking it hard to port. Pushing down on the throttle, he accelerated, his lone engine fighting to achieve six knots. "Your plan's got a few holes in it, hotshot. For one, whatever you hooked weighs more than my whole damn boat. For another, it ain't too crazy about having a hook in its mouth."