Glen Allen - The shadow war

"You see the poor fellow moving across the backs of its fellows?" They could see the wounded bee crawling across others in the hive, in great agitation. "This is much as any worker does when returning with the report of a find. And, just as in that dance of honey, this dance of, well, dismemberment includes pauses where, normally, the bee would stop and hum." Here, she emitted a quite cheery little hum. "You see?

"But of course this bee has nothing to hum with, which makes its dance quite exceptional… see there, now?" She pointed again into the chamber. She noticed their reluctance. "Come closer, gentlemen. I assure you there's no danger."

They moved closer to the shield and leaned in. The bee she'd placed in the hive was scrambling around now in awkward figure eights, and the other bees seemed to be taking notice of it. They formed an uneven circle around the wounded bee, a small space cleared of contact.

"Now, there certainly is no denying the vigor of the wounded bee's dance. I was looking for some indication of how the communal sense of bees would respond to a purely individual situation: a single, wounded bee, speaking energetically, if somewhat ungrammatically, of its own dire predicament."

She turned to face them, held up a finger in emphasis.

" But what I had failed to take into account was Mr. Mandeville's book and his idea that there is no individual among bees. A thing exists to them as something that either benefits the entire swarm or threatens it. There is no in between."

By now the circle around the wounded bee was growing smaller, tightening around the space in which it frantically gyrated.

"You see, gentlemen, how they first move away, then close in? Well, at first I was so taken by this response of the swarm, I forgot about my wounded bee. And when I remembered him again, he wasn't there. He had simply disappeared."

As she said this, the two men looked into the chamber-and indeed, the wingless bee was nowhere to be seen among the swarm.

She leaned toward them.

"Here," she said. "Have a look." She handed Wolfe a large magnifying glass. He placed it against the shield, put his eye close.

"I don't-," he said.

"Look carefully," she said.

Wolfe paused, then. "Is that-?"

"Yes, indeed," said Edith. "Mr. Wainwright, would you care to see?"

Wolfe backed away, handed Benjamin the magnifying lens. Benjamin placed it against the shield, as he'd seen Wolfe do.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the magnified bees, their compound eyes enormous, the thousands of hairs along their bodies and legs. Then he noticed something alien in the mandibles of one bee. He looked to Edith.

"What I saw then is what you see now," she said, looking into his eyes. "Bits and pieces of my wingless sacrifice in the mandibles of other bees: here a leg, there a section of stripped fuzz…"

Benjamin handed the glass back, not wishing to look again.

"You see, gentlemen? They've quite literally torn him limb from limb."

She crossed her hands against her white lab smock, waiting for their response.

They were both silent for a moment. Then Wolfe asked, "And you gave this same… demonstration to Dr. Fletcher?"

"Oh yes. He was intensely interested. Which is why later, when I thought of the Mandeville book, I decided to trot it over to him. And that's when I discovered the corpus delicti. "

"Well," began Wolfe. And then he seemed to have nothing to say, still shaken by the demonstration. "Well, Edith, thank you for this… enlightening session." They started to leave, then Wolfe stopped and turned to her.

"One other question." He flashed that charming smile. "What kinds of bees are you working with?"

"Why, Apis mellifera scutellata, of course. They're such an… energetic species. One tends to get results faster."

"Apis…?" said Wolfe vaguely.

" Mellifera scutellata, " completed Edith. "For Africanized bee. Of course they're popularly known as killer bees, but that name, as regards their dealings with human beings, is quite ridiculous. Of course, in this instance," and she motioned toward the chamber where they'd just witnessed the almost ritualistic cannibalization of the de-winged bee, "it seems appropriate, doesn't it?" She smiled.

"Doesn't that…," Benjamin began. "Well, aren't you a little… frightened to be working with them?"

"I've been working with these little fellows for quite some time, young man. And just in case-" She pointed to a large red button set into the wall next to the lab door.

"An alarm?" asked Wolfe.

"That button activates an alarm, yes, but it also causes a gas to be sprayed into the laboratory. From those." She pointed to the ceiling, to what looked like fire sprinklers.

"But wouldn't the gas-," began Wolfe.

"It's instantly fatal to the bees, but merely irritating to humans. A bit like tear gas, I understand." She saw the looks of doubt on their faces. "Don't worry about me, gentlemen. I respect my bees, but I don't fool myself that they respect me."

"Yes," said Wolfe. "Well, thank you, Edith. Thank you for your time."

"Not at all," she said, already turning back to her work.

Nodding good-bye, Benjamin followed Wolfe out the swinging doors of the laboratory.

A few moments after speaking with Edith, Wolfe and Benjamin were outside in the quad, sitting on a bench beneath a tremendous sycamore tree.

Benjamin looked farther out to the west, to the low, rolling hills, covered with similar trees in their fall splendor. The trimmed hedges, bright flowers, warm-colored leaves all seemed a world away from the metal and plastic and methodical cruelty they'd just left.

"Well, that was…," Benjamin began.

"Yes," agreed Wolfe. "It was indeed."

"But useful? She said Jeremy told her nothing about his work. Bees and nuclear war? Swarm intelligence? Despite what she said about the Pentagon's interest, I still don't see how they connect."

Wolfe frowned. "Apparently Fletcher did. If we could get at his computer files, perhaps we would, too."

Benjamin squinted over at Wolfe.

"Look, I'm certainly not telling you how to do your job, but it's just… well, you seem to be investigating this incident as though it was a murder, not a security leak."

Wolfe looked at him without reaction. "And?"

"And why do I get the feeling you don't really believe Jeremy leaked anything to anyone?"

Wolfe frowned at him. "Oh, but he did," he said. "Just not yet."

"Not yet?" The grotesque session with Mrs. Gadenhower had left him little patience for playing games. "What does that mean?"

"Ah," Wolfe observed, ignoring Benjamin's question and looking down the path. "Here's someone who probably agrees with me."

Benjamin turned, saw a figure approaching them on the path. The man was very tall, very solidly built, with closely cropped very blond hair. He was dressed in a dark suit and tie and wearing sunglasses. He strode purposefully but without hurry toward them.

"Samuel," he said, extending his hand. Wolfe stood and took it and they shook hands somewhat abruptly. "And this must be Benjamin." Benjamin rose and shook his hand also. "Eric Hauser," he said. His grip was strong, brief. "Campus security."

"Campus?" Benjamin asked.

"That's what we call our little community, the campus," said Hauser, smiling broadly.

"An ivy-covered retreat, far from the strife and worries of the civilian world," added Wolfe. "Out where a man can hear himself think."

Hauser looked at him. "That's what they're paid to do, Samuel."

"And paid very well," Wolfe answered. "And, I assume, they carry full life insurance?"

"Look, Samuel," Hauser glanced nervously at Benjamin, "I know we've had our differences in the past. But I'm sure you understand why Dr. Fletcher's… untimely death, as tragic as it was, can't be allowed to tarnish the reputation of the Foundation. Why we need this all settled as quickly as possible." Wolfe didn't respond. "If there's anything I can do to help your inquiry along-"