Chapter 11
eleven
DAGR
There wasn’t a trail, mountain, or cave that Dagr hadn’t run, climbed, or explored across Wales—not only Wales, of course, but as he was raised in Cymru, there wasn’t a country more special to his heart.
Going through his pre-hike stretches, he looked toward the trailhead he’d take in a few minutes. The Glyderau mountain range was a beauty of a site from his vantage point in the town of Machynlleth, where he’d spent the night.
As a pastime, he’d become an assistant ranger for Wales’s National Trust. He had a lot of friends in the Trust, and they called him periodically to run through the longer trail routes.
He’d done alternate routes of the Snowdonia Mountain route several times over the years.
He was more than happy to check the route’s safety.
It was a simple matter of doing what he loved—anything outdoors and adventurous—and filling out minimal paperwork, marking areas that could be improved or revamped. A perfect mini vacation from work.
Growing up, he’d spent more time outdoors with his father than in. He’d advanced to trail running years ago. His body was never more in tune with nature than when he was silently gliding up the side of a mountain.
He was a big man like his father. Both men should have been runner-lean with as much time as they spent in the wild, but Dagr’s main moneymaking gig landed him more often than not in a high-rise office building where the only form of physical exertion was in the gym.
Consequently, he carried a lot bulkier muscle than the typical outdoorsman.
He relished the challenge of pushing said bulk up mountains, doing it every chance he could.
The mountain route he was about to begin took even seasoned hikers nine to ten days.
He planned on knocking it out in five by moving fast and sleeping rough.
He tracked the weather when he woke up that morning, and a late spring snowstorm might hit the tail end of the last leg. He should be able to just skate by.
He grinned at the challenge. What adventure wasn’t made better by a bit of danger?
He was about to swing his heavy pack from the ground when his phone started buzzing in his jacket pocket.
Pulling it free, he looked at the screen.
“Dad,” he sighed before answering, not surprised his father was calling.
“Hey, Dad. You’re up early.”
“Surely not much of a shock for you, son, since I’ve gotten up early every day of your life.”
His dad was in a mood, but Dagr knew his old man would eventually tell him what was troubling him. “It’s a beaut of a morning. I’m about to take off, so if you need something from me, now’s the time. I plan on hitting some unmarked trails this time and not staying in any towns.”
His dad sighed heavily, and Dagr could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. He and his father were extremely close. They spoke every day, and never more than a week went by that they didn’t see one another, so his dad knew his son’s schedule this morning.
Finally admitting to the reason for the call, his dad said, “I pissed off Gerry Langdon last night, but only because the bastard pissed me off first. I would’ve called you then, but it’s taken the night to see my blood pressure down.”
“Christ, Dad, Gerry is one of INCC’s biggest donors.” INCC, or Initiative for Nature Conservation, was a charitable organization without government funding. Pissing off a man like Gerry…
“I warned my boss that making me speak to donors was a bad idea. I belong in the field. I only belong in the field.”
Stubborn. “Dad, for fuck’s sake, man, you’re usually the last man in the room to allow a blowhard to rile you up. You’re more educated, wealthier, and as for your “my boss” comment. You don’t have a bloody boss. You only pretend to follow protocol when it suits you.
“You’re still pissed that INCC wouldn’t let you fund and run the new nature preserve. Let me guess, Gerry wanted a special favor for his donation.”
“The twpsyn asshole wanted one of the trails named after his granddaughter. Seriously, Dag, the man is too old for that level of nonsense.”
Dagr coughed to cover his amusement. “I understand what you’re saying, Dad, but in the man’s defense, I’ve seen several of my friends with little children do the damnedest shit when teary eyes and quivering lips come out.”
Changing the subject, his dad added, “My boss,” emphasis on the word boss, “needs you to look over a contract to do with the new park information station. INCC is purchasing a fair bit of land outside Carmarthenshire—close enough to the reserve and the already popular tourist attraction, Carreg Cennen Castle.”
“Fine. Fine. Email me the particulars, and I’ll run through it when I get home.” Dagr was a solicitor with offices in London and Wales. His specialty was transactional law, focusing on contract drafting and negotiation, mergers and acquisitions, and ensuring compliance.
Dad’s boss—the pretend one—occasionally used Dagr’s services. Dad always tried to pay him, but that would never happen. He might not have the consuming passion for wildlife and land conservation that his dad toted around, but he’d been raised to respect the planet.
“Before I let you go, you know what you have to do to smooth things over with Gerry. Take him to lunch, buy him cigars and whiskey. He’ll forget all about the custom trail name.”
“Christ. Fine,” his dad spat out. “Weather coming your way, son. Best cut your run short this time.”
“I’ll make it,” Dagr blew the weather worry off. “Plus, I have a sat phone. If I get into trouble, I’ll be able to call my daddy,” he teased.
“Aren’t I lucky?”