"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.
CHAPTER 9
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-"
"Now that you mention it," Wolfe said, "there is. We'd like to get a list of all the computer registration numbers on the… campus. Who has what shiny toys, that sort of thing."
"Everyone?" asked Hauser. "I don't see how that's possibly relevant."
"Wouldn't you say a missing computer would be relevant? I know it would certainly worry other government beneficiaries."
Hauser looked dubious. "Dr. Fletcher's computer is missing?"
Wolfe smiled. "How do we know what's missing until we know what everyone's supposed to have?"
Hauser stared at Wolfe, his friendly manner of earlier evaporated.
"I'll have to check with Arthur about that," he said frostily.
"Fine," said Wolfe. "And tell him, every hour you're checking with him is an hour closer to our deadline. And his."
Hauser seemed about to say something to Wolfe, but stopped himself. He smiled at Benjamin and said, "Good to meet you, Mr. Wainwright," and continued on down the pathway.
After he'd left, Benjamin turned to Wolfe.
"You two have a history?"
"In a manner of speaking," Wolfe said, still looking after Hauser's retreating figure.
Benjamin lost his patience.
"Look, everyone we've met, everywhere you go here, there seems to be history. How can I help you sort something out when I don't even know what it is we're looking for? Or why they picked us to look for it."
Wolfe looked at him, suddenly very serious.
"Not why us, Benjamin. Why me. "
Benjamin looked slightly hurt. Wolfe patted his arm.
"I'm sorry. Don't take me too seriously. Not until I tell you to, anyway." He smiled that charming smile.
Benjamin suddenly felt quite fond of Samuel Wolfe; he also felt for the first time that he could trust Wolfe, completely.
"I need to check on a few things with Arthur," said Wolfe. "I'll meet you back in your room in, say, an hour?"
Benjamin nodded, and Wolfe walked off in the same direction Hauser had taken.
When he got back to his room, Benjamin was surprised to find a maid there. The bed was made, the room looked straightened up-but he wondered why the maid was there now, rather than in the morning. She had a vacuum cleaner out and was pushing the sweeper back and forth across the bare floor. She was just about to shove it under the bed when he entered.
"Excuse me," he said.
She turned, frightened and caught off guard.
"I'm sorry," he said, "but could you do that later? I'd really like to take a nap."
"Of course," she said. She switched off the vacuum, rolled the cord up, and, with a "Good afternoon, sir," she left.
Benjamin retrieved his briefcase from the dresser, opened it. Inside was a thick, leather-bound journal. Its neatly ruled pages were filled with notes in a small, precise handwriting, and the journal itself was stuffed with sheets of paper, Xerox copies, pictures… it looked just like what it was: a fanatically methodical academic's scrapbook. Or, as his father had called it, his "treasury."