"And the trustee learned something."
Arthur leaned against his truck.
"Everyone gets to learn something except me, apparently. I just get to be the fool in the newspaper story."
Teresa closed the folder in her hands.
"You volunteered for that role pretty loudly."
Arthur had no answer.
The event that changed Cole's future happened on September 3.
A black Lincoln Town Car with corporate plates turned onto County Road 7 shortly after nine in the morning. Cole was in the packing shed reviewing invoices when April called from outside.
"You expecting a funeral director?"
Cole stepped into the lane.
The man who emerged from the rear seat was Marcus Thorne, senior director of operations for Midwest Canning Corporation. Cole recognized him from a company newsletter Marisol had once shown him.
Marcus wore a charcoal suit despite the late-summer heat. He carried a leather portfolio and looked at the field for several seconds before approaching.
"Mr. Evans?"
"Cole."
"Marcus Thorne."
"I know."
Marcus glanced toward the packing shed.
"Do you have somewhere we can talk?"
Cole pointed to the picnic table beside the workshop.
Marcus looked at it, then at his suit, then sat anyway.
That earned him one point.
He opened the portfolio.
"I'm going to tell you something before legal tells me I should have phrased it differently," Marcus said. "Five months ago, your project saved us disposal cost. We considered that the full value of the arrangement. We were wrong."
Cole waited.
"The European consortium that supplied the specialty trial material maintained several reference accessions at a research storage site in France. There was a fire three weeks ago."
Cole's posture changed.
"How bad?"
"Bad enough that seven accession lots used in our April run lost their primary stored mother stock."
Cole frowned. "Those varieties still exist elsewhere."
"The varieties do. The exact accession lines, with documented selection history and reference chain, are less replaceable."
Cole understood immediately.
He thought about Elise's tags.
Marcus continued. "The consortium reviewed the processing trace. They know some of the cold-run residual came here. Dr. Marchand confirmed that you have candidate field descendants from all seven lots and verified material from at least five so far."
"Candidate descendants," Cole said. "Not a replacement seed bank."
"Correct."
Marcus seemed almost relieved by the caution.
"That is why they want a formal multiplication and preservation program rather than a purchase of whatever seed you happen to have in bags."
He removed a forty-page draft agreement.
Cole did not touch it.
"What are they offering?"