"Entomologist," Wurmlinger corrected tersely.
"-Helwig X. Wurmlinger of the USDA Bee Research Lab. Is that correct, Dr. Wurmlinger?"
"Yes, yes."
"If you work for the federal government, why do you have your own private laboratory here in the outback?"
"This is the backwoods. The outback is in Australia!"
"Answer the question, Doctor."
"This, my private laboratory, is where I do my work for the USDA. Here, I also conduct other experiments. None of them the business of the general public or yourself."
"I draw your attention to the strange buzzing coming from the boxes in back of your property, Dr. Wurmlinger."
"That is my apiary. It is where I keep my bees."
"Is that so? If ordinary bees are your business, why are they making such a strange sound?"
"What strange sound?"
"Are you denying your bees are abnormal?"
"These are perfectly normal Buckeye Superbees. I employ their products to sweeten my tea and maintain my health."
"Step this way."
Walking backward, Tammy and her cameraman worked their way to the rear of Wurmlinger's odd home. He walked after them, his thoughts confused. Why were these people here? What did they want? And why were they filming him walking around his hive?
When they reached the back, the cameraman swung around to capture the apiary on film.
From the bee boxes came a weird, doleful humming.
"My bees!" Wurmlinger bleated. He rushed toward them.
The sound was sinister and eerie. It wasn't a drone, nor was it a buzz. It was something unhappy and anguished.
Dropping to one knee, Wurmlinger unlatched one of the steel frames that contained honeycombs. He lifted it up and scrutinized the bees crawling along it with naked concern on his long face.
"Mites!" he groaned. "Mites have gotten to my poor bees."
Dropping the comb frame back, Wurmlinger went to another bee box. Another batch of bees was brought to light. They moved sluggishly among their waxy honeycomb cells.
"More mites!" he groaned.
A third box came up with honey and a gooey mass but no bees.
"Foulbrood! These bees are dead."
"What happened to them?" Tammy demanded, sticking her microphone into his bitter face.
Woodenly, Helwig X. Wurmlinger came to his feet. He steadied himself. "My bees are ruined," he said helplessly.
"Are these killer bees?"
"No, I breed only European honeybees and a few exotics."
"Are you aware, Dr. Wurmlinger, of the rash of killer-bee-related deaths in New York and Los Angeles, information that the U.S. government is withholding from the public?"
"I know nothing of New York-and you know as much as I do about the inexplicable events in Los Angeles!" Wurmlinger said in exasperation. "You were there."
"Answer the question," Tammy undertoned.
"Yes, yes, a new species of venomous feral bee has been introduced into the ecosystem of North America."
"Do you deny knowing the true origin of these killer bees?"
"Please do not use that unscientific term. The correct term is 'Bravo bee.'"
"You sound like a man sympathetic to bees?" Tammy prompted, all but scaling Wurmlinger's greenish teeth with her mike.
"Bees are the most beneficial insects known to man. They pollinate eighty percent of crops in the country. Without them, mankind would not eat."
"I'm not talking about friendly bees, but the death's-head bee that the United States government has unleashed upon the world."
"What are you talking about?"
"New, vicious kinds of bees created by the USDA for reasons still unknown. Bees that sting over and over again. Bees that inject a fatal poison to which modern medicine has no antidote. Bees that have so far inflicted horrible deaths on eight persons with no end in sight. Do you deny, Dr. Wurmlinger, that in Los Angeles three people alone have succumbed to the bite of the death's-head superbee?"
"Sting," Wurmlinger said testily. "Bees do not bite except for a few harmless species."
The insistent reporter stepped in and demanded in a stern voice, "Only a trained insect geneticist could create a race of superbees. Only someone with the scientific knowledge, the funding and a secluded laboratory away from curious eyes."
Tammy ducked behind the cameraman and pointed an accusing finger so that the camera captured it from its own point of view.
"Only you, Dr. Helwig X. Wurmlinger!"
"Nonsense."
"Nonsense? Do you deny conducting secret genetic experiments in this lab of yours? Do you deny unleashing unknown horrors on an unsuspecting world?"
"I do deny these insane allegations," Wurmlinger sputtered.
"Then how do you explain this!" Tammy crowed.
And turning to her cameraman, Tammy said, "Show America what Dr. Wurmlinger has been doing with their tax dollars."