Keep Going
Copyright© 2026 by Trevor Dohlen
Chapter 9: The Easement
The letter arrived on a Tuesday.
Mercer read it before anyone else did.
It came by certified mail from Harland Development Group, a regional company whose name appeared on industrial parks, warehouses, apartment complexes and several expanses of land that had once contained orchards.
The envelope was addressed to:
MERCER TRUST
FACILITY SEVENTEEN
The letter inside was polite.
Harland intended to acquire several parcels near the trust property for a new logistics center.
One proposed access road crossed a narrow strip of Mercer Trust land along the eastern boundary.
Harland wished to discuss purchasing either the strip itself or a permanent easement.
They believed the arrangement could be mutually beneficial.
Mercer classified the letter.
PROPERTY RIGHTS
NONURGENT
LEGAL REVIEW RECOMMENDED
Then forwarded it to Margaret.
Margaret read it at 09:18.
At 09:23 she called Mercer.
“Do we want to sell?”
“That decision exceeds my authority.”
“I know. I’m asking whether there’s an operational reason not to.”
“Yes.”
“Good. What?”
“The proposed corridor intersects buried communications conduit, drainage infrastructure and the preferred future route for expansion of the eastern solar array.”
Margaret sighed.
“Of course it does.”
“The corridor also approaches within thirty-eight meters of Ventilation Structure Three.”
“Is that bad?”
“It increases the likelihood of construction interference.”
“Can we move the conduit?”
“Yes.”
“The drainage?”
“Yes.”
“The solar expansion?”
“Yes.”
“So everything can be moved.”
“Yes.”
Margaret waited.
Mercer added:
“At a cost.”
“There it is.”
Margaret contacted Harland’s attorney.
His name was Steven Kessler.
He sounded friendly.
Most attorneys did when nothing had gone wrong yet.
“Ms. Lawson, we’re really not looking for a fight here.”
“Neither are we.”
“My client is prepared to pay above market value.”
“That’s nice.”
“It’s a fairly small piece of land.”
“That’s also nice.”
Kessler paused.
Margaret enjoyed pauses.
“They don’t need the land itself,” he continued. “An easement would probably satisfy us.”
“Send the proposed route and engineering documents.”
“We already sent a conceptual plan.”
“I’d like the actual plan.”
“We’re still developing it.”
“Then we’re not ready to discuss an easement.”
Another pause.
“I understand Mr. Mercer is difficult to reach.”
Margaret looked at Mercer’s face on another monitor.
“That depends which Mercer you mean.”
Kessler laughed.
“I mean Daniel.”
“Daniel isn’t involved in routine property administration.”
“Who is?”
Margaret smiled.
“Mercer.”
“Daniel?”
“No.”
Silence.
Margaret decided not to help.
Kessler finally said, “I’m sorry?”
“The facility-management system.”
“The computer?”
“Yes.”
Another silence.
“I see.”
Margaret doubted that very much.
Harland sent engineering drawings three weeks later.
Mercer analyzed them.
Margaret hired Patricia Nguyen to review the analysis.
Patricia agreed with Mercer.
The proposed road was a nuisance.
Not catastrophic.
Not impossible.
Just expensive and operationally stupid.
Harland offered $180,000 for the easement.
Mercer calculated the expected relocation costs at $264,000 before long-term impairment to the site was considered.
Margaret sent a rejection.
Harland increased the offer to $300,000.
Mercer recommended rejection.
Margaret agreed.
Harland increased it to $500,000.
Margaret called Mercer.
“Now?”
“No.”
“That’s half a million dollars.”
“Yes.”
“For a strip of dirt.”
“No.”
Margaret smiled despite herself.
“Explain.”
Mercer displayed a site plan.
“The easement would permanently constrain future use of the eastern portion of the property. Current monetary compensation does not account adequately for that loss.”
“What would?”
“Approximately 1.9 million dollars, assuming modification of the proposed route and Harland bearing all infrastructure-relocation costs.”
Margaret stared.
“You’ve negotiated this in your head.”
“I evaluated economic impact.”
“That’s negotiation.”
“No.”
“Fine.”
She called Kessler.
Harland did not offer 1.9 million dollars.
Instead, it changed tactics.
The county planning department received an application showing a slightly different access route.
This one stopped at the Mercer boundary.
Margaret assumed Harland had given up.
Mercer did not.
Two months later, a survey crew arrived near the eastern fence.
Mercer detected them on camera.
One worker approached the gate.
The intercom activated.
“Good morning.”
The surveyor looked toward the speaker.
“Morning. Harland Development. We’re doing boundary work.”
“You are currently outside Mercer Trust property.”
“Yeah. We may need to set a couple points just inside the fence.”
“Do you have authorization?”
“We talked to the county.”
“That does not authorize entry onto trust property.”
The surveyor looked at his coworker.
“Can I speak to the owner?”
“Daniel Mercer is unavailable.”
“Property manager?”
“I perform property-management functions.”
“Can you open the gate?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You do not have authorization to enter.”
The surveyor sighed.
“Look, we’re just surveying.”
“I understand.”
“Then open the gate.”
“No.”
The surveyor stared at the camera.
“You’re a computer, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus.”
“I am not—”
“Don’t.”
The surveyor walked away.
Mercer logged the interaction.
The next letter was less polite.
Harland asserted that historical records suggested an old utility easement might already exist across the eastern portion of the Mercer property.
Margaret read it twice.
Then called Mercer.
“Do we have an easement?”
“I found no recorded easement matching the claimed route in the trust’s title documents.”
“Historical records?”
“Harland cites a 1961 federal utility-access agreement.”
Margaret frowned.
“Federal.”
“Yes.”
“The Air Force.”
“Yes.”
“Does it survive the government’s sale?”
“Unknown. Legal interpretation required.”
“Call somebody.”
“I already have.”
Margaret smiled.
“Who?”
“Donovan, Pierce & Rowe. Their land-use group has experience with former federal installations.”
“You hired them?”
“The initial consultation and title review are within delegated professional-services authority.”
Margaret leaned back.
“Of course they are.”
“Would you like the engagement letter?”
“Yes.”
“Sending.”
Her email chimed.
“Mercer?”
“Yes?”
“Sometimes you make me nervous.”
“Please specify.”
“You’ve already hired a law firm before I knew we needed one.”
“The letter created a property-rights question. Governing policy authorizes competent professional advice.”
“I know.”
“Was the action inappropriate?”
Margaret thought.
“No.”
“Then why are you nervous?”
“Because you’re faster than I am.”
“I operate at computational speed.”
“That wasn’t an invitation to explain.”
“Understood.”
Donovan, Pierce & Rowe assigned the matter to Elena Vargas.
Elena was forty-one, specialized in land use and real property, and had the habit of reading every footnote.
Mercer liked her immediately.
Not emotionally.
Operationally.
She asked precise questions.
“Send me the original deed from the federal sale.”
“Uploading.”
“Subsequent title policy.”
“Uploading.”
“Every recorded easement.”
“Uploading.”
“Survey.”
“Uploading.”
“1961 agreement Harland cited.”
“Uploading.”
Elena stopped.
“You have that?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“It is available in digitized federal archival records.”
“How long did it take you to find it?”
“Four minutes, twelve seconds.”
Elena looked toward her webcam.
“I’m going to like working with you.”
“That statement has been recorded.”
She laughed.
“Don’t ruin it.”
The 1961 agreement existed.
Harland had not invented it.
That was the bad news.
The good news was that it granted access to the United States government for specific missile-site utility purposes.
Elena’s preliminary opinion was that Harland could not simply inherit it because a road would be convenient.
Kessler disagreed.
Lawyers exchanged letters.
Mercer stored all of them.
Harland commissioned another legal opinion.
Mercer acquired a copy during discovery months later.
Its conclusion was essentially the same as Elena’s.
Harland continued anyway.