Trump told them that his late Scottish mother, Mary, came from the Isle of Lewis, in the Outer Hebrides. "I want to build this resort as a testament to her," he said, according to Forbes. "From the moment I saw the dramatic dunes and rugged coastline, I was overwhelmed. I've never seen such an unspoiled seaside landscape."

"So why do you want to ruin it?" asked Molly.

Trump shrugged and turned to her son.

"Michael," he said. "What's your price?"

"Donald," said Forbes. "These 23 acres are not for sale."

"Everybody has a price."

"Well, you can make me an offer and see what I say."

Trump offered him $700,000, about what he plans to ask for a small vacation home on the property.

Forbes said, "What? I could build one house on my land and sell it for that."

According to Forbes, one of Trump's minions said, ominously: "We'll make sure that never happens."

Forbes was insulted and infuriated. "I thought, So that's the way you want to play it, is it?" he recalls.

Not long after the encounter, Forbes says a letter appeared under his front door: Trump had raised his offer to $900,000. Forbes wrote on the envelope, in large block letters, TAKE YOUR INSULT AND SHOVE IT. NOT FOR SALE. Then he mailed it back to Trump.

"That's when Donald and his people started kicking the stuffing out of their teddy bears," Forbes says. "A harassment campaign began." Legal letters arrived accusing him of damaging Trump's property; humane society inspectors appeared to check on his farm animals; police grilled him about an unlicensed shotgun. "I don't even own a gun," Forbes protests.

Without naming his prospective neighbor, Trump took his case to the media. "The area is in total disrepair," he told a TV crew. "Take a look at how badly maintained the piece of property is: It's disgusting. Rusty tractors, rusty oilcans—I actually asked him: ‘Are you doing this on purpose to try and make it look bad so I have to pay some more money?'"

Sorial says he has heard that Forbes would have settled for $2 million. "He's a very smart man, and he plays a very smart game," says Trump's man in Balmedie. "But his numbers are too high. We can only make an offer based on the current market value."

Forbes, says Sorial, is Caliban—enchanted at the idea of riches.

"That's lies, all lies," Forbes grumbles. "I've worked hard all my life to get this place and to keep it. Money means nothing to me. I've got everything I need. I'm not like Trump and his hangers-on. The only thing I've ever demanded was to be left in peace."

British businessman Tony Bowman, an ardent environmentalist, has offered Forbes more than $1.8 million for the land, just to block Trump's path. "Tony told me I could keep my home and live on the property as long as I wanted," Forbes said. "It was a nice gesture, but I'm still not selling."

Sorial says the Trump project will plow ahead—with or without Forbes' acreage. "We don't need his piece of land," he says. "But we at least want him to clean up his property, as a good neighbor."

On the other hand, Trump may be growing impatient. Sorial warns that if the government doesn't approve the bid soon "what was once a good deal can go sour." He hinted that the resort could be built somewhere else. Indeed, Trump has negotiated a six-month option to buy a sizeable spread on an alternate site in Northern Ireland. Sorial dismisses suggestions that the deal was timed to scare Scottish government officials.

Whatever happens, Forbes says he will be ready. "I plan to assemble a half-dozen hovercrafts and hold races along the edge of Trump's course," he says giddily. "I imagine the clatter will be spectacular."