: Robert Maddison
: Cotton Trash Third in the Jack Miller Trilogy
: Vivid Publishing
: 9781923078321
: Cotton Trash
: 1
: CHF 6.20
:
: Erzählende Literatur
: English
: 200
: kein Kopierschutz
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
Cotton Trash is the gripping third installment in the eco-thriller series featuring investigative journalists Jack Miller and Sharon Davis. Set in rural Australia, the duo receives an anonymous tip about unusually high cancer rates in their community. Their relentless investigation uncovers a web of corruption involving politicians, bureaucrats, and a powerful multinational pharmaceutical corporation. At the heart of the scandal is a dangerous herbicide used in cotton farming, leading to a deadly cover-up that puts Jack and Sharon in grave danger. Inspired by the documentary 'The Monsanto Papers,' this thrilling tale of David versus Goliath echoes the spirit of 'Erin Brockovich,' as the journalists face increasing threats while fighting for the truth.

Robert Maddison is the pen name of Dr Bill Phillips, a former senior executive in the Federal environment bureaucracy, then, for three years, Deputy Secretary General of the Ramsar Convention on Wetlands based in Switzerland. For nearly 20 years he has been a freelance consultant and CEO of the not-for-profit organisation, RiverSmart Australia. In short, he's seen it all (or almost!) and is now using these real life experiences to help shape eco-thrillers: a sub-genre with a focus on corruption in the environmental arena-a seemingly untapped market. While these are works of fiction some of the background information on which the storylines are created is based on real life situations and scenarios. Born in Lake Cargelligo in western NSW, Bill Phillips now resides in Canberra although he spends lots of his time working in rural areas with landholders, government agencies and community groups with an interest in river and wetland management. Bill Phillips previously published scientific works and the popular science book Koalas: the little Australian's we'd all hate to lose in 1988. Since then he has progressively become a specialist science communicator, working as a workshop facilitator and editor/compiler of scientific reports and other documents-converting them to plain English. Today he uses these skills for working extensively with media contacts to promote the work of RiverSmart in both print and electronic media, in maintaining several web sites etc. Fiction writing is a way to entertain an audience while also passing on some insights into the realities that go on behind the scenes in the sometimes ugly politics of the environment.

Chapter 69

While Daryl couldn’t get out of work, Jack, Pip and Sharon all went to the meeting at ‘Darmody’ which was only about fifteen kilometres out of Dawson. It was one of the biggest properties in the region, with landholdings spread across an area of more than one hundred square kilometres. The property was famous for its sheep bloodlines, which had been brought into Australia back in the 1800s from mostly French, fine wool, stock.

The homestead was massive, with classic verandahs all round and sprawling gardens. They drove up the long gravel driveway, parking in behind two other vehicles in the circular drive and two quad bikes. Three sheep dogs – kelpies – came out to greet them, all curious to know who the guests were as they peered up into the car windows.

Felicity emerged from the front door, followed by two men, who could only be described as huge. They towered over Felicity. It was clear they were identical twins, each with snowy-coloured hair and very broad shoulders. All of them were wearing the farmers ‘uniform’ –riding boots, denims held up with a leather belt, and a blue long-sleeved shirt with pockets.

As Jack, Pip and Sharon got out of the car, one of the men called the dogs away, as Felicity came out to greet them. “Welcome to ‘Darmody’. Is this your first time here?” she asked, shaking hands all round.

“It certainly is for Pip and me. I’m not sure about Sharon?” replied Jack.

“I think I came out here as a kid, when your folks were still alive Felicity,” said Sharon. “It was a garden party, a fundraiser for the Rotary Club I think.”

“That would be right. Mum and Dad were big supporters of Rotary and used to have an annual fund-raiser here in the rose gardens,” responded Felicity.

The two men built like mountains had now assembled behind Felicity, so she turned to introduce them. “Pip, Sharon, Jack these are my little brothers, Ben and Gerry.” Everyone laughed for an obvious reason; little they were not!

Jack stepped forward to shake their hands. It was like being grabbed by a large leg of pork, but with firmness. His hand was lost in the enormity of their hands.

“Wow, you boys must have been popular when you played rugby,” said Jack. Again, they all laughed.

Ben spoke, “Yep, always the first ones picked for the scrum. Neither of us were built for speed,” he chuckled.

Formalities complete, Felicity said, “Come inside, or since it’s so nice we could sit out on