Mills’ eyes widened.
Elliott’s jaw fell agape. “You too?”
He eyed her with disdain. “Are we supposed to believe that you, my yellow-haired friend, are writing a book?”
“Not a book, no. But I’ve spent the last two years fighting the Corbotch Empire on behalf of northern New Hampshire communities.” She looked upon him with fierce interest. “Tell me about this book of yours.”
“For centuries, conspiracy theorists have accused the Corbotch family of assassinating leaders, arming terrorist groups, toppling governments, and inciting wars. But no one has ever been able to prove anything. My book will change that.” He eyed her with curiosity. “Your turn. Why are you fighting the evil empire?”
Elliott winced slightly. “Before… all this, Randi and I worked at Scrutiny. She is — was — the executive director and I serve as president.”
“With that hair?” Toland asked.
“Yes, with this hair.” Elliott rubbed a thin hand through her close-clipped, yellow hair. “Appearances are everything and me being a so-called wild child helped bring a certain class of donors aboard.”
“What’s Scrutiny?” Renjel asked.
“A global non-profit organization based out of Chicago. Our mission is to shed sunshine on corporate misconduct. You know, scandals, crimes, illegal deals. Stuff like that. So, about two years ago, we stumbled upon something strange.” She paused. “Has anyone ever heard of the Vallerio Forest? It’s a Corbotch holding.”
Toland nodded. “I have.”
Mills felt like she was coming out of a drunken stupor. “Me too.”
“Then you know it’s almost completely cut off from the outside world. A giant fence surrounds it and the U.S. government has designated it and its airspace as an official Prohibited Area. The only known residents work out of an isolated building called Hatcher Station. Supposedly, it’s some kind of observation center. Anyway local residents have registered all sorts of complaints about the forest. Strange sounds, missing pets, even missing people. The Vallerio Foundation, which Corbotch owns, refuses to listen to them. So, Randi and I have been helping them prepare a lawsuit to open up the Vallerio as well as its records for inspection.”
“Any luck?” Renjel asked.
“Not really,” she admitted. “But we have uncovered documents hinting at a weird project in the Vallerio. It’s called Apex Predator.”
“Weird how?”
“Mind you, this is mostly speculation. But we have reason to believe it involves the illegal importation of large predators to the Vallerio. Bears, lions, tigers… you get the picture.”
“Why would Corbotch do that?”
“From all appearances, he believes the world is in imminent danger of a systemic ecological collapse. He thinks this is because we’ve killed off too many predators. If they aren’t replaced soon, ecosystems will fail.”
“That’s crazy,” Mills said.
“Don’t be so quick to judge. I’ve read up on the subject and there seems to be a lot of truth to it. One example I remember dealt with large pieces of grassland in Australia. After predators died out, grass and shrubs grew faster and the soil received far less compaction. Seeds and shelter became more available. Rodent populations took advantage and doubled in size. The diseases they carried doubled with them.” Elliott shrugged. “Make no mistake about it. A kink at the top of the food chain can have disastrous consequences all the way down the line.”
“You make it sound like Corbotch is doing God’s work,” Renjel remarked. “So, why the lawsuit?”
“I’ll tell you why,” Toland said before Elliott could respond. “Because James is a veritable snake of a human being. Everything he does looks positive on the surface. But if you dig a little, you’ll find a whole rotten core on the inside.”
Renjel nodded and turned his attention to Mills. “So, you’ve heard of this Vallerio place, too?”
“Tricia isn’t the only one with a pending lawsuit.” Sighing, Mills stared at the schist ceiling. “You see, I rightfully own the Vallerio, or at least a part of it.”
“Impossible.” Toland gawked at her. “I would’ve known.”
“Back in the late 1700s, Alexander Corbotch sold part of the Vallerio to my ancestor, Thomas Mills. Thomas died shortly thereafter, willing everything to his sole heir, Daniel Mills. It appears Daniel never knew about the Vallerio transaction. He filed away the paperwork and it went unread until my lawyers discovered it last year.”
“And you’re suing to get the land back? Centuries later? Wow, I thought you were greedy before, but this—”
“I’m suing because it’s not right.” She brushed strands of damp, dirty hair back from her face. “The Corbotch family can’t just take things that don’t belong to them.”
“Curious.” Renjel turned to Toland. “Does your book deal with the Vallerio?”
“Not really,” Toland replied. “There’s not much material on it. Just stories of strange experiments and even stranger animals.”
Elliott perked up at the words, stranger animals. “Like sabers and woolly mammoths?”
“Unfortunately, the specifics are a little murky. For example, back in 1904, Miles Corbotch invited a famous zoologist named Professor Dasnoe to study the Vallerio Forest. All went well until a sudden attack — wolves, according to newspapers of the time — killed six expedition members. However, Dasnoe went to his grave — an unexpectedly early grave, by the way — trumpeting a different story. They weren’t wolves, he said, but rather mythical four-legged monsters of Abenaki lore.” Toland shrugged. “There are other stories like that one. Suffice it to say, the Vallerio has earned its reputation as one of the most mysterious places on Earth.”
“How about you?” Mills looked at Renjel. “Are you connected to the Vallerio?”
He paused, then nodded.
Her heart skipped a beat. “How so?”
“The New Yorker Chronicles is a tabloid paper. But we do a lot of investigative reporting, too. That’s my area of expertise.” He paused. “For the last four months, I’ve been researching a story on the Vallerio Foundation. Officially, the Foundation owns the Vallerio. But as most of you probably know, it’s really just a front for the Corbotch Empire.”
Mills flicked some dried dirt off her legs. “What’s the story about?”
“This probably won’t sound like a big deal,” he replied. “But over the last few years, dozens of the world’s top scientists have disappeared from the public eye. They’ve quit their posts at top universities and companies, stopped publishing research, and basically vanished into the ether. From what I’ve been able to gather, they took secret assignments with the Vallerio Foundation.”
Toland grunted. “Doesn’t sound like much of a story to me.”
Renjel took a deep breath. “The Foundation doesn’t produce anything. No research, no products. Its sole purpose is to manage the Vallerio Forest. So, why would James Corbotch, acting through the Foundation, recruit some of the world’s most brilliant scientific minds? What’s he really up to?”
“Do you have any theories?” Elliott asked.
“Not yet. But I have reason to believe the scientists work out of Hatcher Station. Which, of course, is located in the Vallerio.”
A moment of silence passed over the small group.
“So, we all have something in common.” Mills’ gaze hardened. “We were all, in one way or another, a potential threat to James Corbotch.”
Chapter 30
“I hate this thing.” Jermain Bernier, a biochemist and geneticist with four years experience at Hatcher Station, shook his head. “It always plays tricks with my brain. I mean, I know it’s a marsupial, but look at it. It practically screams rhino.”