Glen Allen - The shadow war

"No," said Benjamin. "It's just that the whole 'trail of bread crumbs' theme comes from Hansel and Gretel."

"Yes," said Wolfe.

"Well," said Benjamin, "I was just thinking about what nearly happened to them."

When they returned to the Foundation, Wolfe suggested that he would talk with Arthur while Benjamin pursued his research in the library, and they should meet in the dining hall in an hour.

"About Arthur," Benjamin asked, "you'll tell him about the fake diary?"

Wolfe smiled. "Nothing quite so precipitous. No, I'm largely interested in the first question he'll ask me about our visit to the Morris Estate."

"And what will that be?"

"How should I know," Wolfe said impatiently, "until he asks it?"

With that rather cryptic comment, Wolfe patted his shoulder and headed off to Terrill's office.

Wolfe had told Benjamin that the Foundation library was back behind the laboratory building, so he walked through the manse's foyer and on out into the quad.

The rain had stopped as suddenly as it had begun, but the downpour had left puddles in the grass and on the cobblestone walkway. The copper gables of the dining hall and manse glistened faintly in the dim, gray light.

Benjamin felt a sudden sense of oppression, and realized that his deepest desire was to return to his room and get some sleep. He couldn't believe he'd been at the Foundation for only two days-not even that-and already his life before this seemed a distant memory.

As he crossed the quad, he saw Gudrun sitting on one of the benches. She smiled as he walked up to her. She was dressed in a tailored beige corduroy jacket, crisp white blouse, and tight black slacks, the toes of shiny black dress boots visible beneath the cuff of the pants. Her blond hair was fastened at the back in a ponytail. Benjamin thought she looked every inch the wealthy country gentlewoman out to stroll the grounds of her weekend estate.

"So," she said, rising, "you and Samuel visited the Morris digs?"

"Yes," said Benjamin, surprised. "But how did-"

"I told you, the campus is like a small town," Gudrun said. "So, what did you think?"

"Impressive," he said, keeping it simple.

Gudrun smiled at his understatement. "At the very least. There was a reception there some time ago for the Foundation fellows." She stopped, looked him in the eyes, smiling now as he'd seen her do at dinner the night before-but this time it seemed more genuine. "I imagine their book collection is like King Solomon's treasure for someone like you?"

"Well, we certainly didn't see all of it, but what we did see-"

"Benjamin," she interrupted him, "I know I came on rather strong last night. I just wanted you to know… I do like you, Benjamin. Under other circumstances… well, I just mean, with all this going on, this can't be the best impression of the Foundation for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just saying, Benjamin, you might… what we do here, we believe in it, all of us. Do you understand that?"

"Well, yes, I imagine you do." He hoped he didn't sound too critical.

Gudrun reached into the breast pocket of her jacket, extracted a pack of cigarettes and lighter. She pulled out a cigarette, offered one to Benjamin-he declined-and she lit up. She took a long drag on the cigarette and then turned to him.

"I mean it's easy to become cynical. When your whole life people have treated you as some sort of prodigy…" She took another drag on the cigarette. "Well, you must know that feeling of infallibility."

"Infallibility?" he asked. He shook his head. "Hardly. I'm good at memorizing names and dates, that's about it. That doesn't come close to what Dr. Fletcher did. His work, it's-"

"Benjamin, I lied to you," she said abruptly.

"What?"

Gudrun threw the cigarette to the ground and stamped it out.

"I did make an appointment to speak to Jeremy," she said. "I don't know exactly why I lied, I just…" She shook her head. "Anyway, I'm sorry. I just didn't want to be associated with anything… potentially embarrassing. My career is very important to me. This fellowship at the Foundation, it could mean… anyway, I am sorry." She smiled. "Do you believe me?"

"I… understand," Benjamin said.

"Do you?" she asked, sensing his hesitation. "Do you have some time now? We really didn't get a chance to talk last night."

Benjamin hesitated. "Well, I was just on my way to the library…"

"Then later perhaps? This evening, after dinner? We could take up where we left off?" Again she smiled a bright and what seemed to Benjamin an utterly sincere smile. And again he felt flattered by her attention. He nodded.

"All right then," she said. "I'll let you get off to your musty books." She leaned closer and kissed him briefly on the cheek. And she walked off slowly, as though deep in thought.

An hour later Benjamin was retracing his way across the quad, two books under one arm. His trip to the library had been successful, and he couldn't wait to show Wolfe what he'd discovered-which was that he'd been absolutely correct: Seaton Morris's "hoax" was itself a hoax.

As he passed the biology building he saw a light on in the window of Edith Gadenhower's laboratory. He thought Wolfe must have finished with Arthur sooner than he expected and come to Edith's lab to ask more about Jeremy's visit, and he figured he might as well join him there.

When he entered the building it was almost preternaturally quiet. The only sound was his shoes squeaking on the linoleum hallway. He came to Edith's laboratory, saw that indeed a light was on inside, and entered.

He expected to hear Wolfe and Edith speaking, but silence reigned here as well.

"Mrs. Gadenhower?" he called out. There was no response. "Sam?" he tried again. Still nothing.

He rounded the corner into the area where Edith kept her hives behind the Plexiglas shields. At first, he saw no one. One of the fluorescent lights over a workbench was on, which accounted for the light through the window. And then he did hear something.

It was a low, muffled hum-like someone had left some electrical equipment on.

He stepped forward to the large lab bench that divided the room. As he did so, his shoes crunched on something. He looked down and saw broken glass scattered across the floor.

"Edith?" he called again.

And then he saw them.

Moving across the cabinets on the other side of the room, drifting up to the ceiling and around in irregular spirals, clumped together here and there along a workbench… bees.

Hundreds of them.

He stood frozen.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that one of the trapdoors in a Plexiglas shield was open. And now he could make out bees in twos and threes exiting through the small open door, moving in lazy tangents across the room, to a spot on the floor hidden from his sight by the lab bench.

He realized this was the spot from where the hum was emanating.

His first impulse was to turn and flee for the door, but he felt instinctively that any abrupt motion would attract the bees' attention.

He rose on tiptoe, trying to peer over the bench, to where the bees were congregating.

What he saw made him gasp-and then immediately catch his breath.

It was Edith Gadenhower.

She was lying on the floor, in her white lab coat. She was utterly still. And across her coat, in her hair, along the one bare arm that lay awkwardly out across the black-and-white tile… bees. Crawling, hovering, alighting and flying off again, dozens of them. She was surrounded by an aura of bees.

Mellifera scutellata, he thought suddenly. Africanized bees.

Killer bees.

Reflexively, Benjamin took a step backward. His shoe landed on a shard of glass, cracking it.