Page 19 of The Debt

The prosthetic mask wrinkled at the corners in a smirk at Harold’s inability to contain his greed. A red-tailed hawk screeching overhead echoed his own thoughts of disgust for the man who wouldn’t think twice about turning his back on his most lucrative alliance for something he perceived to be better.

“Indeed,” Jarek drawled. “One that could make the mills of today look like a mere cottage industry.”

Harold’s eyes started to glimmer at the mention of money.

“The trails are surprisingly empty today,” he commented in a voice that carried the oratorical weight of a corporate real estate lawyer squabbling over zoning regulations in court. His furtive gaze darted around the clearing, a habit born from years of handling paranoid clients and attending clandestine meetings.

“Perfect for a private conversation,” Jarek replied.

“Well, I’m listening.” Harold rubbed his hands in anticipation.

“Not here.” Jarek looked around with a pretense of concern. “I prefer somewhere a little more private… where I can see and hear anyone approaching.” He gestured toward the trail beyond the mill that climbed into the rocky bluffs. “Shall we have our discussion up there?”

Harold glanced upward. His breathing became labored just at the thought of hiking up the steep trail. “Is it really necessary? There’s no one around.”

“I’m afraid I have to insist.” Jarek gestured toward the trail. “Shall we head up?” Without waiting for a response, Jarek took off at a robust pace.

There was an unpolished and untamed beauty here that reminded him of Ireland. Something he had missed since moving to the city. The air also felt cleaner here, sharper. It was like breathing in clarity itself.

The brisk pace Jarek set was meant to intimidate Harold. His labored breathing grew louder as they climbed higher, drawing a contrast between the steady rhythm of Jarek’s footsteps and the unfit sound of Harold’s gasping lungs. Although aided by expensive hiking boots, his clumsy gait caused him to slip and stumble on the uneven ground.

Jarek continued to climb, ignoring the struggling lawyer falling further behind. Instead, his gaze swept upward to appreciate the jagged rocks and the way the sunlight filtered through the canopy as it cast fractured shadows on the trail. He felt alive here. Grounded.

“This... this is some hike,” Harold puffed in a strained voice.

“It’s not much further now,” Jarek called back in a commanding tone. Glancing briefly over his shoulder, he caught the flush of crimson that bloomed over Harold’s face and the way he gripped a nearby tree for support.

“I’m not... you are quite the outdoorsman,” Harold wheezed. His words were broken by short, shallow breaths, accompanied by the scraping sound of the walking stick against the dirt.

“Staying fit is good for your health,” Jarek replied in a steady voice while hiding the satisfaction of watching Harold struggle. “Keeps the mind sharp, too. You need to keep both in good shape in this line of work.”

Harold groaned as he bent slightly at the waist, trying to catch his breath. “I’d... rather keep my sharp mind in an air-conditioned office, to be honest. This isn’t… exactly my element.”

“All the more reason to push through it.” Jarek was unperturbed. His pace remained unrelenting. “You’ll feel better at the top. Trust me.”

“Feel better!?” Harold barked out a laugh that quickly dissolved into another bout of wheezing. “I’ll feel better… when I’m back in my car… with the AC blasting.”

Jarek slowed just enough to glance back at him. His expression was unreadable as he responded with a hint of amusement, “You’ll thank me later. Physical exertion builds character.”

“God save me from morecharacter,” Harold gasped. His steps had become more lethargic as he dragged one leg in front of the other. Sweat-soaked and physically spent, his porcine face glistened as his carefully groomed image cracked under the strain.

“These trails... aren’t marked... properly,” Harold croaked as he paused to lean against a boulder. He muttered incoherently—the sound of a man out of his depth… and Jarek relished as he kept moving, forcing him to cut short the break.

“Come on, Harold.” His tone sharpened just enough to cut through the continued grumbling. “You’re not about to let a sixty-plus-year-old man outpace you, right?” He reached up and adjusted his cap with a practiced movement.

Harold glared at him with his beady eyes narrowing, but his pride forced him to keep going.

“Sixty or not,” he huffed, “I’d like to see you handle a property negotiation after this.”

Jarek didn’t bother responding. Instead, he turned back to the trail. His lips pressed into a thin line to hide his grin. The hike was doing its job. Harold was uncomfortable, off balance, and Jarek wasn’t about to let up. The bluff wasn’t far now, and with each step, his confidence seemed to fade, replaced by the raw, human fragility Jarek had aimed to expose.

Pausing at a switchback, he watched Harold stumble forward. “Nature has a way of stripping away pretense, Mr. Harold. Up here, we’re just two men having a conversation.”

Harold’s beady eyes narrowed, but his retort dissolved into more wheezing. Smiling, Jarek walked on, thoroughly enjoying the subtle dance of power play. Each step widened the gap between them, forcing Harold to expend precious breath catching up.

“Now, isn’t this lovely,” Jarek murmured as he stepped onto a flat rock with the ease of a man who belonged there. The view stretched wide before him. Sweetwater Creek wound below like a silver vein through the green forest. The ruins were distant but visible where they stood, cradled by nature’s reclamation. His chest expanded with each breath as he drew in air that was untainted by city pollution. This was freedom—raw, wild, and honest.

Harold stumbled into view, stopping a few feet short of Jarek. With his hands on his knees, he bent double, gasping for air. Sweat drenched his shirt, which was now clinging to his protruding belly. His face had turned into an alarming shade of crimson.

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