Mountain Skies and Other Highs - A Dafydd Owen Story.
I was in a pretty good mood as I kicked my bike into life and pointed it down the road towards Winter Creek. Wrapping up the decidedly unusual missing person case I’d been handed, at least to the point that the lid shouldn’t blow off things anytime soon, felt good. Now I wasn’t on anyone’s clock but my own and fully prepared to enjoy the time I had. I hadn’t expected to discover something I wanted to personally check out right at my destination on this trip, but along with the gossip I was trying to tap into while working that case I’d picked up an interesting tidbit.
It was a conversation I’d overheard at the diner. With the place so popular it was hardly surprising that lots of gossip happened there and with my semi-feral senses I was able to overhear a lot more of it than people thought. On this occasion I hadn’t needed the advantage though, the two skunks in the booth next to me, a pair of sisters by the look of them, had been just talking normally, not particularly trying to keep it quiet. I’d seen them before and was guessing they ate lunch together most days.
“Honestly, Sandra, I know he’s got to do the best for his client but I do wish he hadn’t taken this one or that asshat had walked into a different law office.”
“What’s got you so worked up?”
“It’s the old Dawkins place. Adam didn’t have any kids, and he didn’t leave any will that anyone knows about, so his nephew got everything. He’s got no interest in the place. Until three days ago he’d never set a hind-paw in town. As far as I can tell he never even met old Adam. He just walked into the office and engaged Mr. Kelley to ‘help dispose of his uncle’s estate’. Now he’s back in New York.”
“Well, you can hardly expect him to keep the place up if he’s got no interest in it or in being here.”
“No, but he’s got some property development speculator interested in the land and is being offered an insane price. Mr. Kelley tried to get the state or county interested in it so it could remain unspoiled, but their budgets weren’t up to it. The county looked into land use and zoning but got a snippy letter from the speculator’s company saying that its previous use was residential and if the council tried to change it because somebody else wanted to put it to residential use, they’d get sued.”
“Ugh, all that mountainside and forest covered in mcmansions or nasty little condos.”
“Yeah. Those two trails that Adam kept open for anyone will be gone too. The county could probably create easements to keep them open but who’d want to walk them through that?”
Well, now that my case was done with and wrapped up, I had some time on my hands and a perfectly valid reason to cause a little mischief here, given the long term plans that Sarah and I had dubbed ‘Operation Haven’.
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After heading back to my hotel, I quickly changed out of my ‘working gear’ into something more suitable for a hike in the hills. I kept my sidearm though. I knew the feral bear and cougar population was steadily increasing in Colorado and those hills had sure looked like bear country to me last time I’d ridden through them. With my nose and ears, I should be able to avoid them, but if they decided not to ignore me I wanted to have the means to scare ‘em off, preferably before I had to send a round at the bear rather than safely into a soft patch of ground.
Properly equipped, I got back on the bike and headed off, through Winter Creek and down the road where I’d found out that the property in question lay. Sure enough, about five miles outside the city limits, just as the road started to get steep in preparation for heading up into the serious mountains, I saw a mailbox with the right number and the name ‘Dawkins’ in fading yellow paint. The gravel track next to it led pretty much straight uphill away from the road. There was a power pole there too, but that’s where the line ended. So this was pretty much as far out as you could get and still get city power. I went on another quarter mile and there was the area I’d been told about; A spot by the side of the road, graded and graveled so that a couple of vehicles could park there. A trail was visible on the far side and a faded sign. Pulling off the road, I got off the bike and wandered over to look at the sign. Although it was too faded to read from a distance, up close it was barely legible.
PRIVATE TRAIL
Open to the public for non-motorized traffic only.
Overnight camping by permission only.
NO HUNTING.
Seemed reasonable to me.
I pulled off my riding gear and shed the boots, stashing everything in the bike's luggage, then took a few steps down the trail. There I stopped for several long minutes, smelling the air in the cool breeze off the hills, flexing my hind-claws against the ground. I let my senses expand some, liking what they discovered, and then walked slowly up the hill, following the trail. Walked? Who the hell was I kidding. In the slowly gathering evening, I prowled.
Before long I was seriously getting into it and was moving faster, though still completely silent. It wasn’t that I was in a hurry, but I wanted to see as much of this place as I could without disturbing it. The land seemed to fall in waves, steeper sections alternating with more gentle slopes and flat areas. About a mile in, I crossed a small creek which ran rapidly, bright and clear. A couple of stepping stones had been placed but I was having too much fun. I gathered myself and jumped, landing almost noiselessly on the other side, speeding up to a slow jog that I could keep up for hours, even with a pack on, and I was completely unladen this time.
A couple of hours later, I was standing atop the ridge line having jogged my way almost its entire length, looking down to either side. What looked like an extensive cave system riddled the middle section of it and looked interesting. From up here I’d spotted the roofs of a small cabin and a well-house a little way from it. Scents and tracks on the way up here had told me that the place was home to a decent sized deer herd and... yep, at least one bear. Down by the road the wind had been barely a breeze but up here on the ridge it was significantly stronger, blowing out of the taller mountains that were already snow capped. On the far side of the ridge the ground fell away again to a meadow and a mountain lake. As far as I could tell the property line ran right through the middle of that lake.
I liked this place; It was perfect. I had no cell reception up here, of course, but plenty of time to make phone calls tomorrow. I flicked my ears against the wind and set off back the way I’d come, setting a faster pace now that I was moving downhill. What took me two hours to cover on the way up only took me an hour on the way down, but the skies were dark by the time I pointed my nose down the road back to the hotel, stars bright in the fall sky, away from any source of light pollution.
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Back in my hotel room, there was one call I could make tonight. It went through immediately.
“Dafydd?”
“Hi Love. How’s Alan holding out?”
“He’s doing okay with two ladies to boss him around and keep him from sticking his hind-paws too far into his muzzle. How are things going with you?”
“You remember that I said I might have some surprising news? I’m sending you a folder of photographs. Tell me what you think.”
“Okay, but that will take me a while. Why don’t you start by telling me what you think?”
“One word: Perfect. Far enough out in the boonies that there’s going to be little to bother us, large enough that we can disappear into it and not be disturbed for a long time, although there’s a couple of trails the previous owner kept open for folks to hike or bike along and I’d like to continue that if possible. There’s a cabin already on it with power and its own well. I haven’t had a close look at it yet, but it’s been lived in constantly so is unlikely to be in so bad a shape we can’t get it fixed before winter sets in for real. Excellent schools in the area, and you’ve seen the nearest town. It’s just outside Winter Creek.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Owner recently passed and his only heir is his nephew, who’s never been here, lives in NYC and is only interested in selling it. Since, much to some local chagrin, it looks like the best offer he got was from a property developer, also from NYC. I’m thinking about throwing a monkey-wrench in that plan and making him a better offer, with cash in his hands faster than the developer could manage.”
“You’ve got me excited to look at those photos now. Let me do that and I’ll get back to you.”
“Ok, Sweetie. Give me a call or a message later?”
“Sure. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
An hour later, as I was relaxing in front of the TV with a drink, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Sarah. One word. “Yes!”
My last few minutes before crawling into bed became a little more busy at that point. I quickly sent off a few emails so that they’d be waiting for their recipients first thing in the morning. I set my alarm for 5am in case one of the recipients didn't realize I was in a different time zone at present, slugged the last of my drink and drifted off to sleep.
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Both Frank Andrews and Mr. Kelley, the local lawyer, worked Saturdays in order to take a short day during the week and sure enough Frank called me just before seven, local time.
“Dafydd. Tony is on the early flight already. I rousted him out as soon as I got your email over breakfast. He’s got everything you sent in the way of instructions and will ping you when he gets off the plane to make sure there’s nothing else.”
“Sounds good. I should have hard numbers for him then. He’s to negotiate as he sees fit up to the limit I set, with discretion for a 5% premium over that if, in his opinion, the incentive he’s offered warrants it.”
“He’s the best I’ve got for something like this. He cut his teeth working as an independent negotiator and the reason he made partner so fast is that he’s so damn good at it.”
“Glad to hear it. I look forward to talking to him.”
“You planning something down there, Dafydd?”
“You could say that, but since we’ve known each other, when have I not been planning something?”
“Too true. Give me a call when you find out how things went.”
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Before the flight arrived, I’d spoken to my accountant, my banker, and a couple of real estate brokers. As I’d promised, I had numbers and relayed them along with some more explicit instructions.
“... You are to strike the best deal you can up to that limit and have discretion to go 5% above it if offered sufficient incentive. Further, you are explicitly authorized to sign contracts on my behalf if a deal is struck. I’ve faxed a signed letter of authority to that effect to Frank’s office and emailed an image of it to you. There’s a vulture developer in competition with us. If you can come to agreement, I want this sewn up tight before he even feels the rug coming out from under his paws. You are not to reveal my identity but you can give assurances that your client does not intend to subdivide the plot, that it will remain in single-residence use and that the trails will remain open.”
“Sounds good, Mr Owen. I’m collecting my car now and will be on the road in five.”
“No need to feed me a running commentary. I expect to hear only one of two things from you. Either ‘Sorry, we couldn’t make a deal’ or ‘We struck a deal and the papers are not just signed but filed.’”
“The courthouse is closed today, but there’s a county clerk’s branch office that’s open until noon in the Prairie Flats main post office and if necessary I can drive to the clerk’s home and deliver them in person. It’s unorthodox but once they are in the county clerk’s paws, they are filed, whether that happened via his office staff or directly. Date of record may be first thing Monday morning, but effective date will precede anything that comes in via the office on Monday.”
“Frank said you were good, and you just proved it. Go prove it some more.”
“Yessir!”
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At this point it was out of my paws and would either come together or come apart. I tried not to fidget and sank my nose into a book, but by eleven I was a little too antsy. I climbed on the bike and headed over to Winter Creek, finding a nice little spot where I could relax and people-watch the traffic in and out of the diner. I saw what I was hoping to see around twelve thirty. One of the skunk sisters was walking towards me, talking on her phone.
“...but since it’s only a half hour I’ll just buy a coffee and wait….. No, no problem. You seem really excited, what’s up? … Okay, I guess I can wait. See you then!”
I gave her 15 minutes, then walked in to order my own lunch. I was able to get a table well within earshot of where the skunk was sitting, nursing a coffee mug. This was Sandra. I never caught the other girl’s name last time. I’d just placed my own lunch order when she walked in and hurried over to join her sister.
“Wow, that turned into an intense morning.”
“What happened? I thought Saturdays were usually quiet?”
“The Dawkins place has sold!”
That was all I needed to hear to really relax and look forward to Mel’s excellent food. I kept my ears on the girls though; I wanted to hear exactly how Tony had handled it.
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About nine-thirty a rabbit guy walks in and asks if Mr. Kelley was available. I knew he wasn’t busy but I checked anyway. He introduces himself as Tony Chesterham, says he’s acting for a client who has instructed him to make an offer on a local estate property our office is handling. Mr. Kelley asks me into the office to take notes and he gets right to the point…
“You are, I believe, handling the liquidation of the Dawkins estate on behalf of the heir?”
“That’s correct. The primary asset is the land. Probate was certified complete this last week and we have a buyer interested in that already and we were going to prepare contracts on Monday.”
“My client is aware of that. I’ve been instructed to beat their offer and authorized to sign contracts for a cash sale immediately if our offer is accepted. Funds transfer to be initiated on contract signature and sale effective as soon as your bank confirms receipt.”
“I’m afraid our bank isn’t open today.”
“On the contrary. They have a 24 hour corporate business line open seven days a week, as do ours. You just won’t be dealing with your local branch.”
I swear to you, Sandra, Mr. Kelley looked like somebody had slapped him in the face with a fish. Asked me to get him the Dawkins file as quickly as possible. When I did he passed a sheet of paper over the desk.
“This is the amount of the current offer.”
The bunny just pulled what looked like an index card from his pocket, wrote a number on it and passed it over.
“That is the figure offered for the expedited process we propose. If that expedited process is not possible, unfortunately we may not be able to offer this much but we will still beat what is currently on the table from our competitor.”
“May I ask your client’s interest?”
“Primarily to ensure it will not be subdivided as the other buyer intends and to keep the trails open. While there may be some development work the intent is that it remains no more than a single residence and the land will either be left untouched or restored to that state as much as possible.
“I have to call my client.”
“Then please do so. Do you wish me to wait outside?”
“No. I may need to bring you into this conversation, In fact I’ll put it on speaker.”
“Hello?”
“Mr. Dawkins, this is Mr. Kelley in Winter Creek. I’m sorry to disturb you on a Saturday, sir, but I need to inform you we’ve received a significantly higher offer for your uncle’s land. You’re on speaker with the potential buyer’s lawyer and I”
“How much higher?”
I’m telling you Sandra, it was all I could do not to gasp when he read the figure!
“I’ll have to talk to Dempsey.”
That was when the rabbit guy chimed in.
“As it stands, Mr. Dawkins, we are proposing an expedited sale. This offer is contingent on that. For it to proceed you will need to grant Mr. Kelley, here, your authorization to sign on your behalf. He can advise you on the proper way to do that. However, if you do accept the offer you’ll have the funds cleared into your account in a matter of days, not weeks. If you are unable to contact Mr. Dempsey and gain a counter-offer within the next hour, this will become a take it or leave it proposition. I am now going to leave the room so Mr. Kelley can speak to you privately, since the matters you are about to discuss should remain between you.”
Then he just got up and walked out to the front office and closed the door.
“Mr Kelley, I’m not sure I can reach Dempsey in an hour. Did I hear it right that this a cash sale for the full amount, because it always worried me how much of Dempsey’s offer was financed by shares in the project.”
“Indeed. In all conscience, I cannot advise you to turn down this offer if Dempsey can’t make a better one - and we already know any increase in his will be in shares rather than cash.”
“Quite. Take it, Mr. Kelley. Tell me what you need for me to authorize you to sign.”
Then he sent me out into the front to prepare a standard land sale contract. While I was about half way through, a fax came through and when I took it in to him he was pacing in front of his desk, asked me to bring Mr Chesterham back in.
“Mr Chesterham,” he said, holding out his paw, “We have a deal.”
“Very good.” and they shook paws. “While your charming assistant finishes preparing the contract, I took the liberty of bringing this with me. It is a mutual escrow agreement between our two firms that allows me to initiate the transfer of the agreed sale price between our firm’s escrow account and yours while we await the final contract. If our banks are suitably efficient you should receive confirmation of the transfer around the same time as we sign the contracts.”
That was when I went back to my desk to finish them and called you.
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I’d finished my lunch and was taking a stroll through the park when Tony called me.
“Papers were hand-delivered to the county clerk at his residence five minutes ago. As of his office opening Monday morning you will have been the owner of some prime mountain acreage for a day and a half. I had him write the contracts as ‘all structures thereon and all contents thereof’ with exceptions negotiable for any single item worth more than three thousand that was neither a fixture nor fitting of any structure, So he has a set of keys for you, Mr Owen, and would like to meet you up at the cabin this afternoon to conduct a mutual inspection and hand them over.”
“How did he know I was in town and could be available this afternoon?”
“Given your stated objectives I think he assumed you were a local. He also assured me he would respect your privacy and not reveal your identity, although I think he’s racking his brains working out who locally it could possibly be. I’m to call him back after I’ve spoken with you to confirm a time.”
“Let’s give him a chance to wonder for a bit, and to catch his breath. Say four thirty.”
“Okay. Should I meet you and hand over your copies of all the paperwork before I leave? I’d rather not catch the redeye if I can avoid it; my daughter has a recital tonight and there’s a flight I can make to be there in time if I go straight there from the airport.”
“No worries. I’m currently staying in room 208 at the Best Western in Prairie Flats. You can stick them in an envelope and leave them at the front desk for me. It’s on your way to the airport. Excellent job, Tony.”
“I could probably have started lower, this Dempsey guy sounds like a real piece of work. Not only was he lowballing on the price, but half of it was shares in the project. Given the speed you wanted this to move I simply offered a fair price for the land without trying to talk them down some for cash. It pretty much guaranteed that they’d bite and bite hard and yet come in well below your limit. As a result they didn’t bat an eye at the ‘all structures and contents’ clause being included.”
“Like I said, an excellent job. Sorry for throwing a wrench in your weekend. There’s a bottle of scotch with your name on it when I get home.”
“Between that and imagining the look on Dempsey’s face on Monday, I think I’m going to have quite an enjoyable flight. This was definitely one to tell stories about at the Bar club.”
“Embargo on that until spring, please?”
“Sure thing. I gotta go, need to call Kelley and then hustle to make that flight.”
“No problem. Catch you later.”
“Bye.”
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Four-thirty gave me just enough time to get back to the hotel, collect my paperwork from the front desk, stuff everything back in the luggage, and strap it all back on the bike. I checked out and headed for my meeting with Mr. Kelley. This time, instead of passing the mailbox I took the sharp right and headed up the narrow gravel road. My Indian was certainly no dirt-bike, but the gravel was well-packed and I guessed I wouldn’t have any problems so long as I didn’t do anything stupid. So I took it easy, noting a couple of places along the way where the road would likely need work in the spring if the winter weather and spring runoff were anything like they were in the Welsh mountains I grew up in.
As I’d hoped, when I arrived in front of the cabin, I saw that I’d arrived before the guy I was supposed to be meeting. For once my usual meticulousness had slipped and I hadn’t prepped myself with memorizing all sorts of details about him. I hadn’t even downloaded a picture or glanced through his office window so I didn’t even know what species of person I’d be meeting. However, I was pretty sure that nobody else would be coming up that track in the next fifteen minutes.
Maybe it was my realizing just how badly I’d slipped up, but I pulled the bike around the back of the cabin and settled myself somewhere where I could see anything coming up the track before it saw me. What I saw, not five minutes later, was a dark blue BMW. It pulled up in front of the cabin and a guy got out and looked around.
Looking at him, there was no doubt that this was Mr. Kelley. Everything from his car to the way he was dressed screamed ‘lawyer’. He was a raccoon, looked to be a shade shorter than me but stockier. From the amount of grey showing in his mask and the rings on his tail, I’d put him in his early fifties, but he’d obviously kept himself in good shape. Since he was looking down the track, he didn’t see me approach until I cleared my throat.
“Mr. Kelley?”
“Yes?”
I reached out a paw as he turned.
“Dafydd Owen. Tony told me there were some keys to pick up?” He instinctively shook my paw before he answered.
“Tom Kelley. Please, call me Tom.”
“Pleased to meet you, Tom. Likewise, call me Dafydd. I’m sorry for all the cloak and dagger stuff but…”
“Wait… ‘Owen’. Aren’t you the investigator Mrs. Daniels hired to find her husband? I’ve heard of you of course; most people in this town have.”
I nodded. “Yes, that’s me, although that job wrapped up a couple of days ago. I’ve given her what I found. What she does with it is up to her.”
His eyes lit up with sudden but mistaken understanding. “So whoever is behind all this hired you to maintain his anonymity?”
For a moment I considered playing along with his misunderstanding, but thought better of it a fraction of a second later.
“Not exactly. The offices of Tony’s firm and my own office are only a dozen city blocks apart. His senior partner and I go way back and we act as resources for each other when we need an independent lawyer. I’ve acted for him and his people countless times, and they’ve done so for me. The fact that we’ve been on opposite sides of the same courtroom a few times keeps everybody honest. On the PI side of the business, I pulled his daughter out of a seriously nasty situation a while back, so he also thinks he owes me favors. When I told Frank I needed an independent negotiator, he sent down one of his best.”
“Mr. Caterham is certainly a very capable individual.”
“He definitely is that. He seems to have an instinct for what to say and how to say it to get exactly what his client wants from anyone. He plays a mean game of poker too; I swear he’s almost impossible to bluff.”
“Just a moment, you said that you needed an independent negotiator…”
“That’s right, Tom. He was negotiating for me. I’m the buyer.”
“Why the secrecy, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Well, I grew up three doors down from my aunt Gwen, who was the biggest gossip in town, so I know how the small town rumor mill works. Heck, I used it pretty effectively gathering stuff to start me off on that job for Mrs. Daniels. I didn’t want my interest hitting the grapevine unless the deal went through and until it was sewn up tight. Like I told Tony when I was giving him his final instructions, I wanted it to be a done deal before that Dempsey guy even started to feel the rug being pulled out from under him.”
I gestured out over the hills and forest then I grinned.
“Anyone who can look at this and see it cut into postage stamp sized lots and covered over with fake landscaping and think that’s a good thing deserves the kind of bad day Mr. Dempsey is going to have on Monday.”
“I somehow doubt that was your entire reason for committing that much money.”
“Of course it wasn’t. I’ve been looking for a place like this that I could quietly get my paws on for years, and stashing the funds for it and what I want to do out here..”
“Sounds intriguing.”
“I know, but I’ll keep those cards a little close to my chest for now. I know I can’t keep it off the grapevine forever, but I promise you that when the gossip starts it will be good gossip. Near as I can tell there’s precious few folks in town or around it who would object to what I plan on doing up here or how I plan on doing it.”
He laughed at that, then reached out to me.
“Well, we should probably get to why we’re both up here. Here’s the keys to your new place. Let’s do a quick walkthrough together before it starts getting dark. You won’t be able to get the power back on until tomorrow. Those crews do work Sundays but that means there aren’t going to be any lights tonight.”
“I’m not so sure about that. I noticed something when I was parking the bike around the back. Let’s get the door open so the place airs out a bit and go check it out.”
When we got to the back of the cabin there was what looked like a low lean-to shed built onto the back wall. It was padlocked but there was a key to that on the small keychain Tom had handed me. Opening it up, I found exactly what I expected. Leaning down I pulled the small generator out.
“Yes, see here, Tom. It’s hardwired to this switch panel. Can’t have both generator and main power on at the same time, it’s a sure way to burn stuff out. Hmmm. Here we go.”
Throwing the required switches, I pulled out the gas can that was also in the little storage shed. “I’m not sure how long this has been here. I’ll use the reserve can I carry on the bike.”
It wasn’t long before we were walking in the front door. I reached out a paw and flipped a switch and was rewarded with light. Able to take our time, we made a thorough walkthrough, checking out both the structure and contents. The place was sound, well maintained and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Okay, there shouldn’t be any problems quickly winterizing this place once the power is hooked up again. Shrink-wrap the windows, set the thermostat to frost-protect… Just in case, who’s the nearest neighbors? I’d like to talk to them and see if it’s okay to leave them a key in case of emergencies, because it’s possible I may not be back until spring.”
“Neighbors? I’m not sure you actually have any, this side of the city limits. I mean, I know or can easily find out who owns the land, but I don’t think anyone is actually living on those lots.”
“Fair enough. Even if I come back and all that’s left is the foundations, getting some kind of shelter and creature comforts back online shouldn’t be too hard. So long as the well hasn’t run dry in the meantime at least. May I impose upon your office to hold a spare key and be an emergency contact? I’ll cover the inconvenience with your usual retainer of course.”
“Mr. Owen, that well has served this place while three generations were born and grew old here. I’m pretty certain it will outlast either of us. As for the emergency contact thing, I’d be happy to help out and since you’re obviously going to be doing as much as possible to ensure there won’t be any problems I need to attend to, the retainer will be quite nominal.”
“Who’s the best guy locally to get in and work on some stuff with me?”
“Stop by the office Monday, sometime in the afternoon. I’ll take you around and introduce you to a few folks and you can take your pick.”
“Sounds good to me. Well, you have a good rest of your weekend. I think I’ll spend mine exploring this place some more.”
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“Mr. Mendelssohn, you came highly recommended, but I understand you are extremely selective about the projects you take on, so let me underscore up front that if you feel this one is not suitable for your talents or your time, I will not be offended. I am anxious for the work to proceed with a certain expeditiousness, you understand.”
“Well, yes, but I have only heard enough of your project to be curious so far and you have this commendable habit of not discussing business over dinner, so perhaps, if you could…”
I smiled at the mink who sat across the low table from me, and lifted my brandy snifter in his direction. We had just finished a truly excellent meal and were sitting in the lounge adjacent to the dining room of the Prairie Flats Bar Association Club, where I had finagled admittance as an out-of-town colleague.
“Well, I trust your discretion, so I will admit that I am the ‘mystery buyer’ of the old Dawkins place and it is my intention that it be my family's primary residence. Accordingly, the existing cabin will need a little expansion. However, this will not be what you might call an ordinary construction project. There will be specific project management, construction access and materials sourcing matters that need to be taken account of in the initial design. Quite frankly, Mr. Mendelssohn, the reputation you have for producing not only innovative but appropriate designs, your preference for not just handing over the drawings but for actively seeing the project through to completion are major factors why, if I can persuade you to take this project on, I want you in charge of it.”
“You intrigue me, Mr. Owen. But I must warn you, I am currently involved in another project. Any timelines I give you will have to reflect my existing commitments. If the necessary background work is extensive, I won’t be able to even start on yours until that one is completed.” He smiled slightly. “You do, however, give me the impression of a rather thorough individual, so I rather suspect you may have done more of that already than most clients? ”
“Perhaps a little more than I need to, to be honest. There are companies producing, ummm, unique products, shall we say, which I identified as being key to what I wanted to achieve with this, wherever I found the location for it. Accordingly I invested heavily in those companies, both to assure they were going to survive to be part of my project and to gain early access to their cutting edge of development when the project came to fruition. For example, these gentlemen...” I fished out a document from my briefcase and handed it over. “I wanted a degree of renewable self-sufficient power that almost demanded wind generation as a major component, but I really didn’t want to stick up a whole load of windmills. A wind tower can be camouflaged into the environment and it has the advantage of being simultaneously more efficient than a windmill and less disruptive to wildlife. It still requires a generating plant, of course, but there’s nothing in the technology that says it even has to be above-grade. As it happens, on my property here there are old mine workings just below the ridge line....”
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The following morning, I was in a fairly optimistic mood on the phone to Sarah.
“So, yeah, I plan on sticking around here, staying in ‘the new place’ for a few days, maybe a couple of weeks while he gets back to me and hopefully we get things in motion.”
“Do you think he’ll go for it? I mean, he really does sound like the guy we want holding everyone’s paw down there.”
“Love, I really think there’s a good chance. I saw the look in his eye when he left. He’s an artist as well as a consummate professional and I think he sees the canvas I want to have him paint on as a challenge.”
“So, dare I ask the sort of time scales we’re talking about?”
“Maybe spring to move in, early summer to finish off the rest. The architect I’ve spoken to is definitely the guy we want, but that might involve a delay if I haven’t got all my ducks in a row well enough to let him kick it off while he has another project underway. It’s not like we need to worry so much about school schedules yet, now, is it?”
“Not yet, no, but you’d better be back within three weeks, Dafydd. I’m not blowing off those appointments because we can’t do it together and you, you scruffy old cat, will find yourself in the DOG-house for months if you’re not there.”
“Never fear on that one, cariad. If it takes that long I’ll just bail anyway and finish up here by remote. Only reason I’m sticking around is that being here I can get things moving faster.”
------------------------
“Mr Owen. I’m glad I caught you. I think I've got something you’ll be happy with.”
“Mr Mendelssohn! Good to hear from you. Whatever you’ve spotted, I’m all ears.”
“Your ‘more preliminary work than you need to’ was spot on. I’ve a very good idea where you’re coming from on all of this and am confident that taking this on won’t impact the timeline of my existing project. You’ll have experts dealing with the power and water infrastructure so all I need to do is draw them some nice square boxes and tell the contractors to dig some holes. That means all I really need to consider is the expansion of the cabin from its current state to a home for a whole family while keeping it as green as it can get. The other thing is that you’re going to have a certain amount of extracted rock from the work you’ll have to do for ducting and safety improvements. If I draw the plans well enough, that would just about equal the amount of aggregate you’ll require for the below-grade portions of the cabin expansion. If we use it on-site that saves you haulage both inbound and outbound and is one more set of heavy loads you don’t need to worry about beating up the forest or budget the heavy-lift for.”
“You haven’t explicitly said it but this is sounding rather like a yes…”
There was a sigh, followed by a resigned laugh from the other end of the phone conversation.
“I may as well admit it, Mr Owen, the more I read into your project the more I want to be part of it. You’ve got the same ethical concerns in there as anyone else wanting to live in an environmentally-friendly manner but at the same time it’s almost like you’re trying to demonstrate that ‘green’ doesn’t mean ‘primitive’ or giving up any of the modern conveniences that so many such projects explicitly lack. The thing that makes it work for me on the timescales you want is that by the time you get into full swing my existing project will be winding down. It’s already at the stage where I can largely let the contractors finish off without being onsite every day.”
“I don’t want you to be ‘part of it’, I want you leading it. I need somebody who I can absolutely trust to take care of every aspect of it when I simply cannot be on-site or even in-state to keep things rolling and, quite frankly, sir, I think the fur I want in that position is you.”
“Mr, Owen, that kind of trust is daunting, but I do have to admit that having that kind of carte blanche on a project like this is very tempting. I rather think that if you want me, you’ve got me.”
“If we’re going to be working together that closely, my name is Dafydd. At least that way when I hear you call me ‘Mr. Owen’ I can get my ‘oh shit’ out of the way before you tell me how bad it really is.”
“In a similar spirit, I am Sebastien. I’ve a few thumbnail sketches I’d like to run by you. Maybe if you’re free for lunch tomorrow?”
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The freeway was empty and the stars were brilliant overhead. I cranked the bikes throttle a little wider and grinned as I seriously exceeded the speed limit heading towards a house in a city that might not be my family's home for much longer, and I was more than fine with that. ‘Operation Haven’” was a go.
I smiled at the surrounding mountains through my helmet visor, their towering boundary separating our new home from our old one and reaching up to almost scrape the stars from the sky. I’d be taking this road again. Soon. But the other way around, with my family in tow. A family that looked like it was about to grow.
I cracked my visor a notch, letting the wind in, then wrung the throttle. My lovingly-restored Indian rose to the challenge, snarling down the northward road towards Minnesota. It was late, there weren’t likely to be many cops about. And if there were, then fuck it. The fines would be worth it and I’d just pay them. I felt young and stupid again, and didn’t mind one bit.
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December.
The winter had struck a little early this year. There were like eight inches of snow on the ground but the plows were keeping the roads clear.
On this particular morning the mercury was hovering around 30 below and the air was so crisp and clear that every breath you took had knives in it. The light had this brittle quality, like if you shouted the sound could shatter the air around you. Sarah and I were bundled up to the max as we walked the couple of blocks from the parking ramp to the nondescript office where we had our appointment.
“Mr. and Mrs. Owen, we have a 10:30 with Mrs. Rasmussen.”
“I’ll tell her you’re here. Wait a moment please.”
Three minutes later we were sitting in an office with a pangolin lady sizing us up - as she did every time we’d met her over the last couple of months - and flipping through a file on her desk.
“Well, I’m pleased to tell you that the final paperwork has come through, so you can collect Anne and take her home tomorrow provided you’re ready for this.” I heard Sarah’s breath catch for an instant before she replied.
“We’re ready. Her room is set and we have everything we need.”
“I’m sure you think so, but please excuse me, I do have to confirm that you are aware of her needs and issues?” This was my cue.
“Mrs. Rasmussen, when we met that little girl we fell in love with her almost instantly. We’ve both had traumatic experiences in our own lives and can only imagine how they might impact a cub, but we think we’re pretty well situated to help her handle them. If Sarah hadn’t got so badly shot up we’d not be here, she’d be cursing my ass up one side and down the other for how she felt carrying our biological child and I’d be running from pillar to post taking care of the pair of ‘em. Anne needs us and we need her. Whatever it takes, we’ll work it out like any other parents do. If she’s okay with us, we can do this.”
The pangolin smiled.
“Mr. Owen, she’s more than okay with you. The staff tell me she brightens up like a sunny day whenever either of you walks in. I need your signatures on these forms and then tomorrow you can take your daughter home.”
The radiant grin on my mate’s muzzle was surely matched by my own. Anne was an orphan, the only survivor of a house fire. Her dad had pulled her out, handed her off to the firefighters and then gone back in to try and save her older brother before they could stop him. When they put the flames out they’d found him within a few yards of the door with his son in his arms. They’d found the mom halfway between their bedroom and the kids room, leaving Anne alone at the age of 8 months. Sarah and I had met her through the adoption agency we’d been working with and she’d instantly found a place in our hearts. She was a cougar/lynx cross, cute as a button with her sandy hair only starting to grow out when we first saw her. Sarah and I would joke that with the way she looked, folks would never guess that we’d adopted her. It wasn’t how she looked that had done it though, it was how she’d reacted when Sarah took her in her arms for the first time, snuggling close, the pair of them instinctively purring at each other. Right there, I knew. I wanted to get in the doorway protecting them, even though this was a totally safe place. Sarah and I had walked out of there knowing we wanted to take this little girl home and one or both of us had visited her every day since.
After spending the rest of the morning with Anne, Sarah and I headed off in different directions. She headed off to do a little shopping and I to the office. I was slowly winding the business down, taking fewer new cases as either lawyer or PI. I still helped out the cops whenever they asked and kept myself busy. Folks that could claim a more personal connection I’d still take on work for, but most walk-ins I referred them to a colleague. Liz knew I was contemplating at least semi-retirement and she’d been absolutely adamant that she’d stick around as long as the office needed her. I hadn’t said anything to her about it but I had privately sworn to make certain that she’d be absolutely deluged with well-paying offers when the time came that she’d need them. Basically, I was aiming to hit the end of March with as few outstanding obligations as possible.
Speaking of obligations, though, I had to do a bit of running around making sure my springtime plans went off without a hitch. I wasn’t hurting for funds by any means, with careful management of what I had over my entire life and my property investments, my net worth was a number that made me shake my head in surprise every time my accountant sent me a quarterly report. A lot of it, though, either wasn’t in particularly liquid assets or was part of a principal investment that, while I could tap it, I didn’t want to. Given that I had substantial plans for my new place and custom manufacturing of the big-ticket gear required at least half payment up front I was now going through a list of those property investments, looking at the ones I’d want to let go when Sarah and I moved, or could turn into a revenue stream some other way. The easiest one was the cabin up north. It was far and away the most valuable place in my portfolio, but one that I didn’t need to let go. Over the years I’d been quietly approached by several well-heeled folks in the Cities with substantial offers to buy it or get long-term leases. Two of them were now in a most satisfying little bidding war on a 10 year lease, with the first year paid up front. Between that and tapping the equity on the properties I planned to sell anyway, my ready-use account had a staggeringly high balance... and I was about to spend most of it.
---------------------------
Sitting in the offices of a local firm that specialized in innovative wind power systems, I smiled across the desk at the brindled wolf sitting on the far side of it.
“Yes, you heard correctly. I’m after a power facility that’s as invisible as possible, as close to zero wildlife or visual impact as possible, so that means no great spinning blades. Therefore I’m looking at a wind tower system. If you’ll check out this geosurvey map, these old mine workings connect to this cave system so you could put the tower on top of this ridgeline and conceal the venturis in this cave here.”
“I see you’ve done your homework on our technology, Mr. Owen. How recent is this survey?”
“About five years old. The previous owner maintained some public access trails and he was worried about local kids getting into the old mine workings and caves so he had the Colorado board of mines do a full survey in case some of them got through the gates and found trouble. This is the resulting map. I have a copy of their full report too. Thankfully the survey was never needed for rescue purposes but it also suits our needs rather well too.”
“It does. Assuming our engineers are okay with the concept, it would take months off the project planning, and some off the construction too.”
“Is there any possibility of getting a start quickly? I’d like the construction to start as soon as possible, right when the weather opens up for it.”
“Pretty rugged terrain. How’s the road access for heavy equipment and haulage?”
“Not good, I’m afraid, and I’m really not okay with the kind of environmental impact even temporarily improving it would cause.”
“Okay, we can work around that. Just looking at the topo map, I’d guess using a heavy-lift chopper would end up cheaper than constructing ground access anyway. We’ve a contract with Errickson for that and they are the best in the business. How is your afternoon looking, Mr. Owen? Because if you really want to kick something like this off in that time frame, I’d like you to spend some time with our lead project engineer as soon as possible.”
“You say the word and my calendar is cleared.”
He grinned at me and picked up his desk phone.
“Leo? Do you have a little while for a potential project discussion up here? … No, expedited planning with potentially a full kickoff in pretty short order… Okay, we’ll be waiting.”
The grizzly guy who tapped on the door five minutes later looked underdressed without a hardhat and tool belt. Before long we had moved down the hall to a conference room with a bigger table and a huge whiteboard that was rapidly being covered with notes as papers slowly spread across the table like a rising tide.
“I’m favorably impressed, Mr. Owen. You’ve covered most of the unknowns that normally plague us on a site.”
He was scribbling plans and timelines across the whiteboard as he spoke.
“If we’re going to be working together, as I hope we will, call me Dafydd. I knew what I wanted and the only place to get that kind of a system is you guys, so I did my research as thoroughly as I could before taking up any of your time. I read up on your other projects since you’re the only folks around right now that have any projects like this already under your belt.”
“You did a good job. As I see it the ideal tower site is here. Ridgetop, so it doesn’t even need to be particularly tall and can be easily disguised. You’d have to walk right up to it to see it isn’t a natural feature. Rather than sinking any bores, all we’d need to do is reinforce this old mine shaft. We’d have to enlarge and stabilize this cave some, make sure you have adequate access for maintenance on the plant but compared to preparing the site from scratch that’s nothing.”
“Timescales if we can green-light it as soon as possible?”
It took a frown and a few more notes on the whiteboard before he answered.
“If you can get me and a small crew down there to look it over we can kick off the manufacturing schedule before the new year. After the weather opens up, we should be ready to install the plant in less than a month, which should tie up with completing the manufacturing quite nicely. At that point it’s just move it in and hook it up so you should have power online by the end of March at the latest. Since you’re so keen on going green on this I presume you want the primary feed underground, not strung on poles? Poles are faster and cheaper but we’d need to clear a run through the woods. Underground we can remote-bore it and leave the land mostly undisturbed, just a few marker stakes to show where it runs.”
“Quote me for both. If it can be budgeted for, it will be underground. Either way the run terminates here where a below-grade concrete lined chamber will be constructed by the time you’re done.”
“Remote monitors and controls in there too?”
“Yes. I’ll be installing all my switch gear in there too, since I plan to put solar on every roof surface as well.”
“The tower roof is a good chunk of surface area. Wouldn’t cost you any extra for us to prep it for that during construction and include an extra wiring run for it.”
“Do it.”
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The following week I hopped a flight down to Denver with Leo and a couple of his crew. This deep in the winter we rented an SUV at the airport and headed up into the hills. I was keen to cast an eye over the state of the place, see how far the local crew had managed to get before the weather had shut them down.
As I looked around, I saw the accesses to the two places they had excavated near the old Dawkins place for my off-grid improvements, and wandered over to push open the door to the nearest one. Walking down the steps, I flipped on the lights and walked over to the hulking great container that occupied most of the subterranean room. I turned the key that had been left in the panel and stuck my thumb on the big green button. In sequence four green lights and one amber one blinked on, but nothing else happened. My containerized water-treatment plant was online.
With no waste flowing out of the house, the plant remained idle. It would only power up and run when it had work to do. It was evening, so we just then concentrated on moving our gear into the house, settling Leo and his crew into the two spare bedrooms and getting ready for an early start up to the ridge the following morning.
-----------------------------------
By midmorning we were pulling on our hardhats and strolling into the largest of the cave entrances at the base of the ridge. It was one of the places that Alan Dawkins had specifically highlighted as being a natural formation on his property that connected to the old mine workings. While there were many entrances into the system, this one was huge. It stretched many yards back into the hillside, wide and high. Leo had a massive grin on his muzzle.
“This is better than I hoped. If I read the map right, that boarded-off path down there takes us right to the old mine shaft and it’s wider than it looked from the map. The ground is solid and even enough we can just pour a big slab here and mount all the ducting and generators on it.”
“Plan on some overhead cover, boss.”
“What, Jack?”
The coyote pointed upwards. “The gear runs better when it’s not covered in bat shit.”
The next hour was occupied with the three engineers pointing laser rangefinders around the cave and making notes. I couldn’t contribute much to their efforts, so I pulled out my small camp stove and brewed coffee. That was appreciated, particularly when I dosed the last cups from the second pot liberally from my flask as we were packing up.
We didn’t stay there a second night, just headed straight back to the airport for the redeye flight. The guys wanted to get back to their offices and I wanted to get back to my family. Since Anne had moved in with us, I was feeling time away a bit more keenly than I used to. Besides, I had to order the other components of my plan using the funds I’d liberated.
--------------------------------
“That’s a pretty large capacity you’re asking for, Mr Owen.”
I was sitting in my office, on the phone with a rather adventurous electrical and technical contractor. I could understand the nervousness of the young raccoon on the other side of the tine. I had, after all, presented them with a complicated project on a short timeline. Unfortunately for him, he was aware that I owned about 20% of his company.
“It’s what the spec requires. Can you build it for me or can’t you?”
“With the technology we licensed from Tesla, we can, but it will take a couple of months.”
“That’s okay; You’ve got three. Battery unit, switchgear with a choice of three power sources to trickle charge and one ‘on supply’ output, one ‘always-on’.”
“Would one of those three be a net-metering deal with the local utility?”
“Yup. The plan is that I have enough generating capacity to keep the battery fully charged and have leftover from either wind or solar to give back. For as long as the wind is blowing or the sun is shining, I expect to be giving more than I receive. If both of them are down, I want at least basic services powered for a minimum of 12 hours before I need to use utility power.”
“That isn’t much of a margin in this business. You’re going to be kinda rural, so you may need longer than that.”
“In the last resort, there’s a gen-set available and already installed, but I’d rather not use it at all.”
“Drop us the deposit and we’ll be working on it immediately.”
“Wire transfer is already initiated. Contact me to confirm receipt and that you’ve started work.”
“Will do, Mr. Owen! And thank you for your business.”
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“Solara Enterprises, how may I direct your call?”
“Mr Sanchez, please. It’s Dafydd Owen, I’m on his contact list.”
“Can you spell that?”
“Delta, Alpha, Foxtrot, Yankee, Delta, Delta. It’s okay, spelling stuff in welsh kinda looks weird.”
“Found you. He’s between meetings right now so I’m putting you straight through.”
“Thank you.”
“Dafydd! Good to hear from you. I take it since you’re calling back, it’s good news?”
“Yes it is. Installation in the timeframe we discussed, updated worksheets uploaded already. There is also going to be a wind power installation going in and that crew have already contracted for a heavy-lift chopper to move equipment and supplies. I’ve sent you the contact details for their project engineer so if you can coordinate your needs it might defray a little of the costs for both of you. There will also be a local building contractor at work on expanding the main structure. They’ll be briefed to support your guys for the panel installations there.”
It was all coming together. The place would be livable by March and we could move in, with the final stages complete before summer. What was even better, to my mind, was the quotes so far had all come in under my worst-case budget. That was perfectly fine with me as I was pretty sure that the one remaining component of the overall plan wouldn’t. Time to make the call and get the final part underway.
------------------------
“Dafydd, good to hear from you. I take it you would like an update?”
“If you could, Tom. Everything else is coming together. Details are on their way to both you and Sebastien. Now I just need the extras you were negotiating for me nailed down.”
I leaned back in my office chair, my evening glass of whisky warming in my paw and spreading its aroma through the room. Tom Kelley was probably in a similar place, since I knew he had been expecting my call.
“Okay, the good news up front. I know you were a little nervous about how little of the original structure Sebastien was going to preserve, but the appearance hasn’t been altered much, it just looks like it grew some. What it did mean, though, is you get the highest level of “green building” certification it’s possible to get - and therefore every tax break on the books. The utilities commission cut you an even better deal, contingent on you submitting data on the operation of your wind tower system so they can evaluate the technology for possibly using it themselves in areas where turbines on towers aren’t appropriate, and they leaned on the power company to get you a sweeter net-metering deal than usual. I think they are really interested in how that system performs, and this lets them do a full evaluation of a system in use without spending any of their budget on the study. That much is nailed down, papers signed and in the bag.”
“They’ll get the operational data they want, no question. That will do me no harm at all as I’m a major investor in the company building the technology - I should be able to use that to get some folks down from the company to talk about it to them if they want. The crazy part about the whole thing is that wind towers are even older than windmills, it’s just that nobody ever thought about hooking up generators to them before, so nobody had done the engineering to work out the best way to do it. I do note, however, you haven’t mentioned the one thing we both knew was going to be awkward.”
“Yeah, your communications lines. Best deal I could get is you pay to install the fiber run into Winter Creek, they inspect it and hook it up then test… Make sure it meets their spec. If it passes, they buy the run to the property line from you at their costs to install it, less their costs to inspect and connect. If it doesn’t you remediate at your expense and retry. If it doesn’t pass the second time, the offer to buy is withdrawn and you’d be responsible for maintaining the entire length. You’re on the hook for all the risks here, Dafydd, and I can’t see a way to hedge them. You’d also be on the hook for the costs of all permitting for the work. It’s way over budget.”
“Is it way over budget by more than what we saved by the ‘good news’ coming in under?”
“Yes, but not by much.”
“Take it - and make sure it’s built to exceed their spec in every particular. With an independent post-build inspection to prove this before they make theirs. If they try to weasel, we sue.”
“You mean, I sue, right?”
“No, I mean we. If my paperwork comes through in time, I’m lead. If it doesn’t, then you’re lead and I’m appearing pro hac vice. If they have any sense, they’ll cave and follow through on the deal once they see our inspector’s report - and, more to the point, by seeing it they know we have it. If they try to turn the deal down after that we can make a case that it's malicious. Then we ask for costs and punitive damages ‘as the court sees fit to award’ that might even bring it back under budget if granted. They’ll probably settle for buying it at cost with no deductions.”
“You know, Dafydd, you’re actually a nastier lawyer than this town has ever really needed.”
“Tom, there’s a reason I’ve been making your life ‘interesting’ with this project and keeping you as my local lawyer. As the landowner and plaintiff I could go pro se and the fact I’m not licensed in Colorado yet would not be a factor. But the whole point of this is that I’m hanging it up. I’m retiring. I’ve still got old obligations and favors owed that mean I need to do the paperwork to make sure I can ‘unretire’ at need, but if they make me do that right out the gate, they are going to get me in full pissed-off-lawyer mode to make them pay for that. And the investigator with a certain knack for finding trouble and uncovering dirt will be back on the firm, as it were.”
“Well, if I need somebody that nasty, which I hope Heaven would forbid, I may call on you as one of those favors you mentioned. You could show me a thing or two.”
“It would cost you a bottle of expensive scotch, but as you say, it would just be a matter of returning a professional favor.”
“I got an email from Sebastien just now while we were talking. He’s got all your info and says the timelines are solid. Mid-march the place should be livable to move into, probably June for a final signoff.”
“The way he’s been tearing up the project so far, I’m thinking early June at the latest. But don’t tell him I said that. I don’t want him feeling pressured.That man is a true artist in his field and I want to let him be just that.”
------------------------
The following months passed in a bit of a blur. For the first of them, I did pretty much nothing on ‘Operation Haven’ at all. Sarah and I were all about settling Anne in with us and - let’s not forget - her first Christmas in our family. Early in the new year I finalized selling off the last of the real-estate I wanted to let go. I’d personally driven up to the cabin and sanitized the place, making sure that the security systems were no more than you’d expect from a well-off guy’s lakeside retreat and that the ‘emergency caches’” I’d stashed on the land were all gone.
The guy that had won the bidding war to lease the place clearly had more money than sense, to which I did not object at all, and when I quietly informed him about the ‘informal arrangement’ with the old fire tower, he’d had a good laugh and promised he’d respect it. Sarah and I opted to not renew the leases on our offices and closed that side of everything down. The timing was perfect for Liz, she’d caught a silver bullet on her wedding night and was about ready to take maternity leave.
Our house by Como lake was being quietly stripped and stuff stored in containers until we had the bare minimum in the place. Apart from Anne’s stuff, of course; That was everywhere. In February, I put the place on the market and we had a dozen offers inside two weeks. I immediately binned the ones from speculators or flippers. I wanted this place to be somebody’s home the way it had been for me and later for Sarah and Anne. By the end of the month I knew who I was going to be selling to, the only question was when.
First week of March I got a call from Sebastien and knew.
“You might want to be hanging onto your hat, sitting down, or both, Dafydd.”
“You didn’t call me ‘Mr. Owen’ so I know it can’t be that bad. Shoot.”
“We’re way ahead of schedule. The last of the heavy plant will be off site by the end of the week and they are finishing up the re-seeding and remediation right now. By midsummer you’ll not be able to tell that it wasn’t always like this. Your electrical and water treatment infrastructure are in place, currently only hooked up to utility power but the sparks are hooking up the wind system in two days, they tell me. I think they are drooling over that early completion bonus you promised them.”
“Okay, then, just as we planned. We close up here and get on the road. Call that two weeks at the most. Leave everything with Tom. Thank the local crews for me, they’ve more than earned the bonuses they’ll be getting. We’ll be road-tripping with the bare minimum. Containers with the rest of our stuff to follow shortly after.”
“Keep me in the loop. I’ll be there to show you around when you get here.”
“You got it.”
After we hung up, I looked down at the glass of whisky in my paw. I swirled it a few times before taking a sip and getting my thoughts in order then walking out of the den to where Sarah was playing with Anne.
“Sweetie?”
Both females looked up at me and I had to take a moment. Never thought I’d have this again.
“It’s on. Sebastien just called. We’re on the road as soon as we can make it happen.”
Sarah said nothing, just gave me that smile that always turned me to mush.
Anne was in the ‘babbling’ stage and rarely making actual syllables, but she smiled at the sound of my voice and said “Da!” and everything was right with the world.
------------------------
It seemed like no time at all before I was handing the last set of keys to the realtor and our little convoy was pulling out. Behind the truck was the big fifth wheel, set up for combined cargo/living, and our bikes in the cargo space with as much other stuff as we could fit piled around them. The Land Rover pulled the largest trailer I could rent with a standard hitch, large enough that they’d wanted to fully inspect the towing vehicle before letting me take it out of the yard. Anne’s baby seat would be taking turns with each of us, and whichever vehicle she wasn’t in would take the lead. Just a few minutes later we were at the I-35E junction and turning southwards.
We were planning on taking it easy, hitting a rest stop every hour or so until we got a good feel for how Anne was going to take the trip. Seems our small kitten enjoys sleeping in cars. She objected more to the stops for snacks, changes and stretches than she did to the time on the road. With the vehicles parked up side by side at a campground just north of Des Moines, it became a no-brainer which of our alternate onward itineraries we’d take. I canceled the campground bookings that would have taken us five more days to get there and confirmed the set for a three-day duration. Tomorrow we’d pick up I-80 and, as the saying went, ‘go west’.
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The only hitch came just as we entered Nebraska. We’d barely crossed the state line when my phone beeped and a bright red alert-box popped up. We were only a few minutes away from our next scheduled rest break anyway so I let it sit until then. It wasn’t as if we were close enough for a few minutes either way to make a difference. During our stop I took a few minutes to pop up the app that had alerted me and quickly scroll through the video footage it contained. Pretty soon I beckoned Sarah over.
“We need to crack on and make the campground a couple hours early this evening. I need to drive ahead a couple of towns and sort out some hassle for the boys.”
“Nothing bad I hope?”
“Small town cops never learned to read or to listen. You know the sort of thing. I’ll keep the lead for the next couple of legs and leave the kitten with you. I’m going to be burning up the bluetooth.”
She grimaced, but said nothing. An ex-cop herself, she did know. Only too well.
‘The boys’ were Bobby and Kev, a couple of brothers from White Earth who I’d met shortly after I’d started my business in Minneapolis. To look at ‘em you’d think this pair of beefy-looking wolves were hired muscle, but they were actually the gentlest and kindest guys imaginable. They were also total gearheads and ran a small auto and bike shop on the edge of the reservation. They’d leaped at the chance to drive Sarah’s car and mine down to CO for us, immediately started arguing over who got the first go in my jag.
I’d left them with the keys, some documentation and their argument, after reminding them that both cars had GPS trackers and that if it turned out they’d been thrashing the nuts off my jag I’d be displeased. They’d left after us, but were planning on being there the day before we arrived, to be available in assisting with the unload. Checking the tracker, I’d noticed them overtaking us the day before, but we hadn’t seen them. We were taking a rest stop break when they passed. Now it seemed they’d run into a spot of bother.
We did manage to pull in to our planned overnight spot well in advance of our planned time. It was barely midafternoon when I unhitched the Land Rover, crawled into the fifth wheel behind the truck and emerged having exchanged my jeans and tshirt for my ‘work attire’. I took a moment to hug and kiss Sarah, a longer moment to snuggle and tickle Anne and I was away.
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The ferret at the front desk didn’t even look up from his phone as I walked in. I waited for a couple of seconds, reading his nametag, before clearing my throat and making him look up.
“Officer Bradley, I have business with Captain Wilson. Please contact him.”
“Uh.. the Captain is on patrol at present, sir. Can I help you?”
“No. You cannot. You are far too junior to serve a lawsuit on. I advise you to contact Captain Wilson and get him here at his earliest convenience. The lawsuit in question includes a claim for costs and my time is expensive.”
He looked at my face, then at my expensively-tailored suit and my obviously-military tie and clearly decided that discretion was the better part of valor.
“One moment, sir.”
He got up from his seat and hustled over to a radio in the corner of the office. I think he thought I couldn’t hear him but I had feline ears and they’d been tracking him from the moment I walked in the door and mentally identified him as “prey”.
“Chief, you got me? This is Bradley at the barn.”
“Yo, Bradley, what’s up?”
“There’s a guy here wants to see you. Right now.”
“I’m busy. Tell him to come back in the morning.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Boss. He’s already talking lawsuits and he’s got the same look about him as sergeant Parker at the Guard base. I don’t think this guy’s bluffing, Boss.”
“Fuck it. Okay, I’m on my way. Be there in five.”
Bradley, at least, seemed to have a couple of brain cells to rub together. He returned to the front desk looking a little relieved.
“The Captain will be back here in a few minutes, sir.”
“Thank you, Officer Bradley.”
I deliberately looked at my watch, then took a step away from the desk and pointedly ignored him. It was four minutes, by my count, when my ears detected the sound of a car pulling in on the other side of the building. Less than 90 seconds later, I saw the Captain emerge from the back. Plus point for him, he didn’t look like he’d been sitting in his cruiser for the last hour or so, he’d taken a second or so to straighten himself out before stepping out to confront me. Shame that it would do him no good at all.
“Okay, what’s all this about?”
Bad move.
“Captain Wilson. I am prepared to discuss the matter that brings me here in public, but I suggest that the privacy of your office might be a better venue. Your call, sir.”
He was clearly weighing his options. In the end I think it was the chance to have the discussion on his own territory, safely armored behind his desk, that swayed him.
“Fine. Come back to the office then.”
He opened the door and led me to his office. Settling himself behind the desk he gestured at the chairs in front of it.
“Have a seat.”
“I will not.”
I laid a folded pack of papers on his desk.
“This is a lawsuit naming yourself and two of your officers, your department and your town as defendants. In your official capacity as chief of police of this town you have now been properly served with the same. I am prepared to settle this lawsuit right here and now if you can adequately explain to me the unlawful detention of my employees and the destruction of my property. If you are able to offer an adequate settlement, I will also contact the DA and withdraw my criminal complaint against the same named individuals for felonies and misdemeanors committed under color of law.”
I have to give the guy props. His jaw didn’t drop although he did go a tiny bit pale.
“Now hang on. You need to tell me what we’re supposed to have done to kick all this off.”
“What was the probable cause that led to the traffic stop yesterday by your officers Kennedy and Harshaw of a blue Jaguar and a red Corvette?”
“They were speeding.”
“No they were not. Both vehicles are fitted with trackers and I can demonstrate to any court that they were not exceeding the speed limit at the time of the stop. Unless they can come up with another reason that I can’t disprove, that’s not going to fly. Even assuming the stop was lawful, what was the probable cause for arresting the drivers and searching their vehicles?”
“Well, it just didn’t seem…” I held up a finger, claw extended, and he stopped talking.
“If you were about to say that the drivers didn’t seem to be people who would own such vehicles, you would be admitting to unlawful profiling. Particularly since both drivers were in possession of written documentation that they were lawfully driving my vehicle and my wife’s vehicle and that they were fully covered by my insurance. I should point out that both vehicles are equipped with cameras that upload continuously to the cloud once activated. I have video of your officers refusing to even read that documentation. That upload is continuing. I have video from both vehicles of your ‘search’ of them. There was no evidence to be found of any illegal activity. On what grounds are you holding either of my employees or our vehicles?”
He sat up straight in his chair. Here it comes.
“Well, then.. “ He seemed to relax a bit. “Maybe we should talk about the vehicles fitted for gun-running and think about the storage containers fitted to both. That’s the charge we’re holding ‘em on after all… “
Time to cut him off at the knees.
“Bullshit. The secure storage for firearms and tactical equipment built into both vehicles is entirely consistent with my wife’s and my roles as licensed investigators, bounty hunters and federally-licensed security contractors. There were no weapons or other equipment stored in those spaces when we employed the two drivers to ferry our vehicles in a home move. That equipment is currently all under my wife’s personal supervision, with the exception of my own registered sidearms which are on my person at this time. You know this to be true because I have video of your presence when that storage was broken open. The cost of custom fitted, biometrically locked secure storage is included in my claim for damages.
“In addition, you mentioned a ‘charge’. There has been no such. Neither the county attorney nor the DA has even been made aware of your detention of my employees. This is probably because you knew the search of the vehicles was illegal and nothing discovered during it would be admissible in court. Neither of my employees has been permitted their right to a phone call, because I assure you that phone call would have been to me if they had been allowed to make it. You have comprehensively exceeded your jurisdiction, your rights as a law-enforcement officer and infringed my employees constitutional rights in a most egregious manner, sir.
“You will make equitable restitution or I will bankrupt you, your officers, your department and your town. If that’s the way you choose to take it, I assure you that in addition, there will be criminal charges against you and your officers, backed up by irrefutable video evidence. Even if you escape jail time you will never work in any branch of law enforcement again - or indeed any employment that requires a criminal background check.”
I fished out my phone and hit “send” on a prepared text before he could reply.
“In a minute or so, your desk phone will ring. It will be Judge Harshaw. I advise you to answer it and you should probably put it on speaker.”
His muscles twitched like he wanted to pull his own gun. I was glad he didn’t. The paperwork involved in putting a round through his face would have been horrendous. The phone rang and the moment passed.
“Charlie?”
“Yeah, Judge. I’m here.”
“You stepped on your crank here, buddy. This guy’s legit seven ways from Sunday. He’s even on his local FBI field office’s ‘do not fuck with’ list. And his wife’s almost as mean. DA Corrigan was in law school a year behind him and has heard a lot of stories I can’t tell you. But you’re dealing with a guy who not only loves to sue the ass off folks that get up his nose but is also ex-special forces and has no problem getting into firefights with Russian mobsters. And comes out smelling like a rose.”
Wait, what the fuck? That was supposed to be buried so deep…
“So what do I do here, Judge?”
“You shut the fuck up, Son. And you let ME talk. Mr. Owen, what will it take to make this go away?”
“The production of my employees, here in this office, within the hour with all their personal effects and free from any constraint. The return of my vehicles in the condition they were in when unlawfully seized. Both my employees are licensed mechanics and custom auto engineers. ‘In the condition they were in’ will be contingent on their signoff that this is true. If they are dissatisfied in any particular, they will specify a custom auto shop to make good the damage and sign off on the end result. Their accommodation while waiting for this will be in reasonable comfort - to my satisfaction - and at city or county expense.”
“So, basically, make it good and we’re good, right?”
“Pretty much, your honor.”
“So ordered. Charlie, start making it happen. You owe me bigtime for this. Don’t fuck up. This is almost as bad as if you’d tried to arrest that Hawkins gal from Chi-town.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. The judge heard me.
“I guess you know her, right, Mr. Owen?”
“Never met her, your honor. But I know a few folks that have. She’s not in Chicago no more. She’s moved to the northeast coast with a bunch of her old military buddies. Haven’t heard that she’s mellowed any though.”
“No, nor have I. I think you’re cut from the same cloth.”
“I’ll take that as the compliment it was meant as, your honor. I truly don’t want to make life hard for your cops here, it’s just that they fucked up and now they find out. They needed the big rock hanging over their heads to make ‘em listen. Now that they have, we’ll sort it out.”
“Did you hear that, Charlie? You’re gonna fix this, right?”
“Yeah. it’s happening, right now.”
------------------------
Anne was already asleep by the time I got back to the campground. I was pissed off that I’d been held up that long, but I managed to keep my temper under control.
The following morning, after shamelessly monopolising my daughter’s company over breakfast to make up for the missed time last night, we were back on the road. The bluetooth started warbling about 10:30.
“Boss, It’s Kev.”
“Hey there. Getting things all sorted?” I heard a quiet laugh from the other end of the line.
“We’re not going to find a custom shop within a hundred miles of this town that can fix the cars properly, Boss. Bobby and I can do it but we’re a bit of a ways from our shop. There’s a guy in town willing to let us use his space but we’d still be waiting days or weeks for the custom-built parts. If you and Sarah want your cars back anytime sooner than month after next, I’m thinking the best way would be to book a custom shop in Denver, get the parts ordered now, and hire a couple of tow trucks to get the cars there. We’ll fly the rest of the way and still be around to help with the offload.”
“Do it. Use the expenses card I gave you and keep all the receipts. The town of west bumfuck will be picking up the tab.”
At our next rest break I emailed the judge with the revised plan. I got a response back almost immediately.
“Just send me the receipts. If those idiots had to fuck up, they might at least have avoided doing it to the two most expensive cars this town’s ever seen. Just finished having them in my chambers for a bit of a talking to. I think they’ll be walking funny for weeks.”
That produced a satisfied chuckle and on we went.
------------------------
A chill wind was blowing off the mountains as we pulled up the steep road that served as our driveway. A light dusting of snow, rapidly melting in the spring morning sunlight was making the whole place sparkle. As we pulled up side by side in front of the expanded cabin, I saw Sarah’s eyes go wide as she stepped out of the truck.
“Oh wow, Dafydd... It’s even prettier than the photos…”
A brown bear in a hardhat and safety vest in matching dayglo orange stepped off the porch to meet us.
“Mr. and Mrs. Owen. I’m glad to see you. All the exterior is fully weathertight and livable, but only the main pre-existing rooms are fully finished inside. If you need it, my boys would be pleased to help you move stuff inside while I show you the work we’ve done and point out what still needs doing.”
“Thanks, but we’re good. We’ve got the trailer for tonight and a couple of buddies showing up tomorrow to help us move everything without imposing on your crew.”
“Your primary power setup is live. Do you want one of our sparks to run you a temporary hookup for your trailer? The one you specified isn’t done yet, it’s one of the things that isn’t ahead of schedule, but we can run something out here for you that’s good for a day or two while we get it finished.”
“Now that is an imposition I won’t feel guilty about.”
He laughed. “Actually, Ian was planning it since we told ‘Mr. M’ how far ahead we were. He guessed you might be turning up soon.”
“‘Mr. M’ - you make him sound like something out of James Bond.”
“He’s not far off with the way he designs stuff.”
As the brown bear turned away to get the trailer hookup arranged, I took a deep breath of the crisp mountain air. We were home. All three of us.
