"They've been in the news. A few years back, Talisman wis implicated in a lawsuit that accused the company o' collaboratin' wi' the Sudanese government, jist after yer President Bush declared it a terrorist state. The country wis run by mair o' thae Islamic extremists who used profits frae Talisman's oil wells tae buy weapons… weapons they used tae commit genocide against their Christian population. Word is, close tae two million people died."

"Lovely. No wonder Johnny C. got himself such a bargain."

"Aye."

"These fields in the Moray Firth, what happens to the oil after it's pumped?"

"The crude's stabilized, then sent through export pipes to the Nigg Oil terminal for processin' an' export. Niggs wis also owned by Talisman, an' it's had its share o' problems, too. No' long ago the EPA found leaks in the pipelines at the tanker terminal carryin' supplies frae Beatrice. Pipes are aye corrodin'. Problem is, companies like Talisman an' Cialino drill closer an' closer tae shore every year."

"Any supply lines feeding into the Great Glen?"

"A few, but they're heavily monitored."

"Any chance of getting hold of a map that shows the buried distribution lines?"

"Hmm… maybe. Got a few muckers at Niggs who might help. If no', I can aye hitch a ride back oot tae my last rig an' borrow a few things, if ye ken whit I mean."

True's cell phone rang. "MacDonald. Hey, sweets. Jings, no shyte! Sure, he's right here. Okay, I'll tell him."

He hung up. "That wis Brandy. David Caldwell wants tae meet wi' ye right now, doon at Urquhart Castle. Alone."

Urquhart Castle

The steel-gray modular bridge stretched end to end across the mouth of Urquhart Bay, each of its free-floating prefabricated platforms twenty-eight feet long and fourteen feet wide. Lightweight and portable, the newly completed expanse had been designed to support army and commercial vehicles, though its use on Loch Ness would be limited to pedestrian traffic only.

A construction pontoon stood a quarter mile offshore, the boom of its three-hundred-ton capacity Shearleg Derrick rising 250 feet into the mouse gray sky. The crane was supporting a spool that fed fourteen foot wide, 750-foot long lengths of chain-link fencing down through the modular's precut slots. Each length was weighed down by a five-ton concrete weight, which served to anchor the steel barrier to the bottom.

David Caldwell, wearing a yellow hard hat and mirrored sunglasses, stood on the southern shoreline of the bay, the ruins of Urquhart Castle at his back. The area was fenced off, preventing the public from accessing the bridge. Still, the tourists and media were out in droves, snapping pictures of "Nessie's new habitat" and David Caldwell, too, as if he were the monster hunter, Carl Denham, about to capture King Kong.

I gave my name to a security guard, who allowed me to enter. "David?"

He signaled me to approach.

"David, why're you wearing a hard hat?"

"Hello? We're standing in a construction site."