Journal Entry #4 - Mr. McPherson

January 22nd, 2013

I'm tired. And I just realized that you have no idea what time it is. To fix that, I'll make sure to put not only the date, but also the time at which I'm writing.

It's 9:47 pm. Not that late, but I've had a busy last week. Meetings are very boring, and it doesn't help that I'm sitting the whole time. Sitting makes me tired if I don't take some breaks to walk around and actually do something.

Anyway, my last meeting was yesterday, and today I went to visit Mr. McPherson.

At 11:29 am, I knocked on his door. Surveying the land, I saw that all that I had heard was true. Electric fences lined the yard, and the only way onto the property was the pathway to the front door.

The door opened.

"Hello," I said, "I'm-"

"I ken who ye are lad." McPherson interrupted.

"Oh? How's that?" I was very interested.

"Simple. I had some goons come up to me door just this mornin'. They told me not to talk to ye. But I ken what yer after." He looked left and right. "Come in, I cannae have you standin' around all suspicious like."

I complied.

We went straight to his living-room. McPherson had tea ready, and set it on the small table in the middle of the room. It was a cozy den, nice and small, with a large fireplace. It was the only light shining in the room.

"So," McPherson started, sipping at his tea, "What is it ye'd like to ken lad?"

I picked up my own cup of tea. "Why is the government so intent on keeping outsiders off this chunk of land? Are they hiding something?"

McPherson smiled deviously, like a child who knew a secret and wanted someone to savor for it. "Nae."

I found myself leaning towards him, on the edge of my chair. "No? Then why fence up the place?"

McPherson leaned back in his chair. "If ye put a line that is not to be crossed in front of a toy that a wee lad wants, he'll cross it. Why not put a different line somewhere else to distract the laddy?"

McPherson's a pretty smart guy.

"So then where's the real 'line'?"

McPherson leaned close to me and whispered in my ear. "Right under ye wee nose lad. That's all I can tell ye."

I left McPherson's mansion puzzled to say the least. Who knew about my being here in Scotland, other than those at my work place? How did McPherson know all that information? And why would the government set up a decoy? At the very least, pieces were starting to fall into place, but the bits and pieces of the picture I had left me with more questions.

I picked a dock and stood at its edge, studying Loch Ness's beauty. I wish the lake could speak to me, and tell me its secrets.

But secrets are made for a reason, whether it be good or bad. And secrets were naturally made to be exposed.

Tomorrow is my last day here in Scotland. I'm gonna make it count.

Until then...
Inspector Kornelson