Bee Conspiracy, page 27
Their pilot plotted his course for the LAX helo-pad and moved his cyclic forward. The nose pitched down and the aircraft gained airspeed as it moved westward towards the ocean. As they entered the helicopter corridor near LAX he lowered their altitude to the required height for final approach to the helicopter terminal. But Hester noticed something in the moonlight. In the distance, off the starboard side of their aircraft, it looked like a helicopter dogfight. One helicopter – an aerial sprayer – was being pursued by another chopper.
Hester tapped the pilot on the shoulder. “There’s something going on over there at your two o’clock.”
The pilot took a look. “They are in unauthorized airspace. That’s in the runway flight path,” he retorted.
Hester was oblivious, smelling another great scoop. “Something’s going on. Can you take us over there?” she asked.
“No! I told you! It’s illegal airspace!”
“I know but this is breaking news! Can’t you take us down to a lower altitude so we are out of any danger?”
The pilot bristled. “I’m already at a lower altitude!”
“Excuse me? I have to catch my flight,” the British passenger chimed in.
“We’ll get you there, honey!” she told him. “But we really need some B-roll of this...whatever it is...battle in the sky!”
The pilot responded. “I can’t do that. This is restricted airspace. I could lose my license.”
“Fine. Okay. Can you drop us right here and we’ll walk?”
The pilot looked below the aircraft. They were just south of Marina Del Rey. “You want me to drop you down right here?”
Hester looked down and saw a sandy beach followed by scrub brush. “Yeah! Right there on the sand.” She kicked off her high heels in preparation for disembarking the helo.
Jerry looked at her askance. “Me too?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“Of course you, Jerry! We need the footage! This is the way to get it!”
“I don’t like sand, Hester. It gets in all of the nooks and crannies of my camera equipment.”
“Yes, but if you get some amazing footage, it will help the brand. If my site goes viral, your photography goes viral. Your credit will be prominently displayed,” Hester reminded him.
All right,” Jerry replied.
The pilot lowered the Bell 206 onto the sand. Hester hopped out with gymnastic precision and once on the ground took Jerry’s camera. He lumbered out after her. She gave the thumbs up to the pilot. “Good luck!” she yelled to her Brit ride-sharer. “And thank you!”
“Not at all,” the Brit replied. “I hope you win an Emmy. Or an Oscar. Whatever they give for live news.”
Hester Lynne turned and trudged through the sand towards where the helicopters were hovering. Jerry followed.
***
Above the breaking waves, Kelso watched as Gordon Lund’s chopper continued to prime its sprayers before moving in on the target. Duke pulled out his FN-509 pistol and opened up the side door of the Hughes MD-530.
“What are you doing?” Kelso asked.
“We can shoot out his pesticide tanks before he reaches the sanctuary,” Duke replied.
“Tell me what I am aiming for.”
“The two tanks on either side of the spray assembly,” Kelso replied.
Duke squinted. The moonlight that permeated the night sky helped him locate the tanks. He trained his weapon on them. “Target acquired!” he said. “Can you get me any closer?”
Kelso nudged his cyclic lever forward and the aircraft surged closer to the Bell aerial sprayer. Beneath them, the shore was rapidly approaching. “You will have one chance to take out those tanks before he reaches the sanctuary. Otherwise, this will be for naught.”
“Copy that,” Duke replied.
Lund’s pilot glanced in his rear-view mirror. “Bogey on our six!” he called. Lund turned around and saw Kelso’s helo. He leaned out of the aircraft with his gun and aimed directly at Kelso’s windshield.
BAM!! Duke fired and one of the pesticide tanks imploded on Lund’s aircraft. The pesticide sprayed out over the ocean just off the beach. Lund’s pilot took evasive maneuvers, zig-zagging but it was no use. Kelso was right on them. Lund fired his Glock three times at the Hughes but Kelso dove, evading the bullets with aplomb. “You’ve got one more tank!” Kelso maintained as he flew back up and behind Lund’s craft.
Duke took aim again. “I don’t have a shot!” he yelled. Lund’s helo was now just at the waterline. His goal was to reach the sand dunes, where the Blues sustained themselves and laid eggs on the precious coastal buckwheat plants. Kelso maneuvered the Hughes up and over the aerial sprayer so Duke could fire downward.
Duke braced himself against the side of the aircraft door, took aim and pulled the trigger. SPLAT! The second pesticide tank imploded, spraying Tetrothion all over the beach.
Gordon Lund was apoplectic. “Turn this thing around!” The pilot readily complied and yawed the Bell 206 around so they faced the Hughes MD-530 at point blank range. Lund poked his head out of the side window and opened fire. Kelso took immediate evasive action and initiated a steep climb and a right-hand turn to get away from the gunfire.
Lund and his pilot had not taken into accounted the fact that below them, a flock of seagulls were happily eating the contents of an overflowing beach trash can. They were spooked by the gunfire. They immediately rose up as a flock and got sucked into the vortex of Lund’s Bell 206 updraft. Two birds hit the main rotor and one hit the tail rotor. The helo started to swerve. The pilot tried to pull the rpms back before he dropped his collective and the helo lost power. Then it started to pitch and roll wildly. The pilot did his best to keep the aircraft level as it plummeted towards the ground. But he did not win the battle. The chopper slammed hard onto the sand where its pesticide had dropped moments ago.
The helicopter burst into flames almost immediately. Once its fuel tank ignited, that was it. A giant fireball lit up the night sky.
Kelso landed the Hughes one hundred yards down the beach as Duke and Detective Peters called into the fire department to report the accident. Kelso hopped out and ran towards the flaming bonfire, but he was too late. It was quite obvious there were no survivors and no chance of pulling any bodies from the flaming wreckage. But he noticed one thing on the sand just downwind from the aerial sprayer.
Whether it was random serendipity or Providence or a little of both, was not terribly germane at this point. Kelso bent over and picked up a box containing the prototype for the robobee that Lund had so doggedly fought to get back. Kelso picked it up and put it in his pocket.
As he stood back upright Kelso was relieved to see Jerry and Hester Lynne at the top of a nearby sand dune. Jerry had his camera out. Kelso hoped they had captured the entire aerobatic ballet on camera.
***
The sun began to rise over Los Angeles. Chris Helingdock, Beryl, Professor Crosby and Hector Sanchez each took one of the four hive boxes, containing sixty thousand Africanized bees each, from the Houston Palms Suites apartments back to their van. The apartment manager who had arrived in the middle of the night, approached them. “You going to kill those?” he asked.
“No, we’re going to requeen them and relocate them. They can still be productive members of the agricultural community when they are not mistreated and abused.”
“Wow,” the manager said. “You guys are amazing. This could have been really bad. What do we owe you?”
“No charge,” Chris Helingdock said. He handed the manager a card. “Give me a call if you need our services again.”
The manager was doubly pleased to hear this news. “I will. Most certainly I will!”
They loaded up the van and Beryl went back for the rest of their gear, a bee smoker, their queen marker, queen catcher and hive tools. As she returned the front desk clerk approached. “I was wondering if I could text you sometime? Maybe we could meet for coffee and you could teach me more about the bees?” He handed her his phone, so she could punch in her digits.
“Thanks,” she said. “But I’m seeing someone.” She handed his phone back to him, untouched.
The desk clerk shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
She piled into the van and the gang took off.
Chapter Twenty-five
Kelso and Duke sat silently in Captain Brader’s office. Duke had spent quite a bit of time in this office the past few months. He had inventoried every single bronze plaque and family photo on the floating shelves behind the desk. There was a new plaque today. It wasn’t bronze, it was an oak block with a motivational quote etched into the wood. It read:
Nothing Will Work Unless You Do
Duke wondered where Brader got that. He knew he would not have bought it for himself. Maybe a gift? From a new girlfriend? No, he would be in a better mood if he had a new girlfriend.
The Captain burst into the room. He looked like he was going to have an aneurysm. “You hijacked a helicopter!”
“We were in pursuit of the suspect, sir,” Duke replied.
“And now he’s dead.”
Kelso raised his hand. “Through no fault of our own, sir. Duke merely took out the pesticide tanks. That’s all he did.”
“I’m so goddamned happy that Shoot ‘em Up Cassidy over here had another go at target practice with a suspect.”
“It was a mid-air collision with a flock of seagulls that brought down their helo, sir,” Kelso added.
“We’ll let the FAA decide what caused the crash!”
Detective Peters burst into the office. “What do you want?!” Brader asked.
“Sir, have you seen the latest scoop on NewsByHesterlynne.com?”
“No, I have not!”
“She’s the former anchor for Channel 12 News...”
“I know who she is.”
“She’s got footage of the helo crash sir. It’s streaming now.” He set his notebook computer down on Brader’s desk.
“Hester Lynne here with another exclusive story! We have incredible mind-blowing footage of the helicopter crash last night in which a rogue aerial-spraying helicopter refused to stand down according to the mayor’s orders. They were planning to spray pesticide over the LAX wildlife sanctuary which is home to the endangered butterfly the El Segundo Blue butterfly. In this remarkable footage you will see a team, made up of Detective Sergeant Wayne and Detective Peters of the LAPD and Kelso Bagley of the US Fish and Wildlife Service, pursue the rogue chopper and shoot out its pesticide tanks over the ocean, preventing them from annihilating this special butterfly. The rogue helo later crashed after a collision with a flock of seagulls. Its occupants were all killed, including Gordon Lund, the CEO of Sage Chemical, who was implicated as the perpetrator of several murders in connection with his employee, Albert Fossil.”
The infrared footage of the two aircraft played out and Captain Brader watched intently. When it ended, he was silent. He glared at Duke, Kelso and Detective Peters. “Get out of my office.” They didn’t have to be asked twice. The three of them rose up and turned towards the door. “By the way? Bagley? The FBI want a few words with you. They’re on their way down. Make sure you’re here when they arrive.”
“Yessir,” Kelso replied, as he fingered the prototype in his pocket. He knew why they were coming.
Kelso turned to Duke. “Can you give me a ride to UCLA?”
Duke smirked. “Yeah, sure. Enrolling in a class?”
“No, I left the RV there. I have to get something out of it.”
***
The midtown sun shone brightly over the Carthay neighborhood. Birds and squirrels frolicked in the front yards of the quaint 1920’s Spanish style homes that lined its streets. This was the neighborhood that had hosted Walt Disney’s first animated film, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, at its local theater in 1937. That theater had been torn down, but the artsy vibe of the neighborhood was still intact. Duke pulled up in front of his home in the LeMans.
Kelso followed in the RV. He parked in front of Duke’s house and went back to the counter where he had left the envelope that Howard Skulberry had sent to him at the Arizona field office. He opened it and took out all of the schematics. He lifted the prototype of the robobee out of his pocket and compared the two. The prototype mirrored the schematics exactly.
He placed the contents of the envelope back and hopped out with it in hand.
“I have to drop something at Fedex Kinko’s. You have one around here?” Kelso asked. Duke pointed towards San Vicente Boulevard. “Two blocks, hang a right.” He threw Kelso the keys to the LeMans.
“You want me to drive your car?”
Duke nodded toward the RV. “There’s no parking for that boat down there. Have fun. I’ve got to get some shuteye.”
Kelso grasped the keychain. “How’s Beryl?”
Duke smiled. “She rushed off to the school. Couldn’t wait to tell the kids all about last night.”
Kelso nodded and took the envelope to the LeMans. He gingerly sat down on the plush driver’s seat and fastened the seat belt. It felt good to be behind this wheel. He waved as Duke sauntered onto the front porch. Duke gave him a salute. Kelso drove off.
***
Duke went indoors and lay on his couch in the living room under the front picture window. He was awoken sometime later by a loud rapping. “You get lost already?” he yelled, thinking it was Kelso.
But a woman’s voice rang out. “Hello?! Hello! Are you in there?” She was rapping on a door, but it was not Duke’s door.
He lifted himself off the couch and peeked out the window. A woman wearing a scarf was outside Kelso’s RV. She had a shopping bag with her and placed it on the ground. Then she pulled on the doorknob to the RV.
Duke put on his shoes and slipped outside. He silently snuck up behind the woman. As she was about to yank on the door again he tapped her on the shoulder. “May I help you?” he asked.
She spun around and stared at him. It was Alora Maxwell. “Oh, it’s you,” she said.
“Yes, it’s me,” Duke said, tapping his eye. “My eye still feels numb.”
“Oh, pish posh, I doubt that. The cream would have worn off by now.”
“Well it hasn’t.”
She looked at his eye. “I must say we definitely took down your crow’s feet by at least half. You should really have another treatment. It would take ten years off your appearance.”
“Three words: No. Thank. You.”
“Very well. That’s not why I came anyway. I’m looking for your partner.”
“He had to go take care of some business at Fedex,” he replied, realizing that this was the first time he did not correct someone who called Kelso his partner.
“Oh. I just wanted to give him his bee smoker and a queen separator back.” She pointed to the shopping bag.
“You were out there taking care of some of those planted hives, weren’t you?”
“Yes, I was. Kelso was gracious enough to loan us some of his equipment.”
“I don’t know when he’ll be back but I can take these and make sure he gets them.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” She placed the shopping bag in Duke’s hands.
“You got it,” he said.
“Detective. I am truly sorry about your eye. Why don’t you come over to my salon next week and we’ll give you a full facial – no venom – on the house.”
Duke thought about that for a minute. Was she into him? Was this some kind of an indirect come-on? He wanted to find out. “Yes, I’ll be there.”
“You might need to buy me lunch afterward.”
“Right. No problem.”
“Good work on the case, Detective. You really proved your mettle on this one.” Alora blew a kiss, then walked back to her pink Thunderbird, swaying her hips as she walked.
***
At the Fedex Kinko’s Kelso carefully scanned each schematic. Then he used their 3D scanner to scan the prototype. He then took it apart and scanned each micro-circuit board.
He got on the computer and called up a website called:
OpenSourceElectronics.com
The site was used by educators and students alike, to upload designs and schematics for electronic inventions of their choosing. It was a resource for anyone anywhere to access new innovations and new concepts in electronics and to encourage DIY practitioners to take the step from physical prototype to an actual product.
He uploaded all of the files he had created to this open-source site and pressed send. Then he paid cash to the clerk for his time on the machines and walked out of the store. The robobee was now in the hands of the world. It could no longer be the property of one company, one country, one vested interest. By sharing these designs with the worldwide community, Kelso had just devalued the worth of the robobee considerably. There would no longer be any financial incentive for anyone to develop the technology on a mass production basis. Kelso hoped in this way, he had solidified the place of the biological bee in the world. He knew that this is what his former classmate, Howard Skulberry, would have wanted, too.
Chapter Twenty-six
The California flag in front of the LAPD Admin building flapped gently in the breeze. The streets downtown were starting to bustle again. People were becoming comfortable with the idea of living with Africanized bees. Hester Lynne’s independent news reporting had a hand in that. The mayor’s office was now downplaying the risk of future attacks. More and more evidence was coming out that the bee-pocalypse had been staged and planned, even on mainstream channels. The DA was building a firm case against Albert Fossil.
The protesters at Van Nuys airport formed an organization to safeguard the environment and the bees. They knew they would need to be vigilant to future threats to the bees and their ecosystem. But the silver lining of the bee attacks had been to solidify the movement of people who wanted to protect the flora and fauna from mass treatments with toxic pesticides.
Kelso walked back into the squad room at the Police Admin Building downtown. Special Agent Meadows was waiting for him with two other agents. Two men in black and the younger one wore a blue suit. They stepped inside the conference room. SA Meadows had a tie with purple stars on it.
