The Beekeeper's Secret

by Sally Fernandez

“Spoken from someone who hasn’t moved on with her own life,” Allison rebuffed.

  “Well there’s the pot calling the kettle black! Max hated where the conversation was heading. “Let’s talk about the weather.”

  Allison gulped the rest of her wine and poured another glass. “How about you tell me what you found out about Jeff’s killer?”

  Max didn’t care for the direction of this conversation either. She took a sip of wine to give herself a moment to think, and decided to give Allison a few tidbits. She was careful, however, to leave an honorable light shining on Jeff, and provide only enough information to give her comfort that the investigation was moving forward.

  “I promise I’ll let you know if there are any changes. Now, how about I order in some macrobiotic food?” Max smirked. “There’s a great restaurant a few blocks away that delivers. It shouldn’t take long.”

  Chapter 27

  Demons in the Night

  Slogging through the details of the doctor’s deaths made the day gloomy. Girls’ night with Allison was strained and awkward. The wee hours of the night were dreadful. Max’s thoughts were discombobulated with visions of L sprawled out in the alley, Senator Spark lying on the park bench, a beekeeper with a swarm of bees hovering—and Jeff—and Noble. Daniel standing over the bodies took the limelight. Wrestling with these events left her numb; haunted by the sense of never being able to trust again. Even with Sam, she did not share every secret. Stanton, even less. It was all too byzantine.

  “This is ridiculous. I need to stay focused,” she admonished herself. The clock on her nightstand illuminated 3:00 a.m. She knew the case was slipping away. She grabbed her phone and texted: call me, and then laid back on her pillow and waited. Within seconds, her phone rang.

  “Stanton?” she said with trepidation.

  “Hi doll! It’s great to hear from you, but it’s my beddy time. Are you okay?”

  “I’m lonesome.”

  “I’ll be right over!”

  “No! I just want to talk.”

  “Okay, would you like a little sexy talk?”

  “Get serious, big boy. Have you ever heard of Solum?”

  “Wow, that’s quite a switch in conversation. Who are you messing with now?”

  “It’s just a name being tossed around. Curious, that’s all.”

  “Max.”

  “Stanton.”

  “Okay, okay. Rumor on the street years ago was that he was a hired assassin credited with a zillion kills.”

  “I need a favor. Will you find out what POTUS knows about Solum?”

  “Doll, I don’t understand. If the president were to know anything about this guy, it’s most certainly confidential. He won’t share it with me.”

  “Rumor also has it he’s CIA-trained.”

  “Then what about that new partner of yours? Wasn’t he ex-CIA? He should be able find out what you want.”

  “It’s a touchy subject with Sam. But I’m more interested in what the president knows. I think Solum bumped off Senator Spark and a fellow assassin named L. He may have killed Jeff as well.”

  “Max, you already seem to know an awful lot about this guy. Level with me; what have you really gotten yourself into?”

  “Just find out, please?—and keep my name out of it.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Stanton.”

  “Why do I think you’re not telling me everything?”

  “Stanton.”

  “All right!—I’ll see what I can find out. But please watch your back in the meantime.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “Go back to sleep. Try to have some pleasant dreams this time.”

  The phone went dead. Max felt wholly inanimate. The one man she allowed herself to trust betrayed her. And although she cared for Stanton, and cared for Sam too, she would never let them enter her private world entirely. She even rationalized that holding back some pieces of the puzzle was a necessary precaution to keep them both safe.

  Chapter 28

  Beyond the Scope

  Max was barely into her second energizing cup of coffee. And she was still plagued by her conversation with Stanton, fearful she had shared too much or too little. The annoying sound of the phone ringing only added more agitation to her self-inflicted mood.

  “Max Ford.”

  “Good morning. My name is Erin Elizabeth. I’m returning your call.”

  “Ah, yes, yes, thank you for getting back to me.”

  “Your message said you were working on an investigation involving practitioners of alternative medicine,” she said with heightened curiosity.

  “I’m investigating the death of a friend who had been in contact with several of the doctors, on whose deaths you’ve reported.”

  “Which doctors?”

  “I’m sorry; I can’t give you the details while the investigation is ongoing. But it would be helpful to know who you believe is behind these mysterious deaths.”

  “Deaths or assassinations? It has been a long road trying to get the authorities to make the distinction. In fact, a well-respected doctor by the name of Coleen Huber sent a letter to the FBI asking them to investigate the series of assassinations of these alternative medical providers. To date, she’s received no response. Since then, a total of eighty doctors have died, and many under suspicious circumstances. Now this epidemic to stifle alternative medicine has reached way beyond the medical community. In January of this year, Daniel Olmsted, a well known journalist and founder of Age of Autism, supposedly died of an overdose of prescription drugs. In November, less than a month ago, Jeana Beck, founder of Unlocking Autism, stepped out of her hotel room for a smoke and never returned to her child inside the hotel room. Her body was found in a canal behind the Rodeway Inn, in Lincoln City, Oregon, where they were staying. If you’ve been following my reports, then you know Dr. Bradstreet was a pioneer of reversing the effects of autism. And he was murdered days after being raided by the FDA. I’m sorry, but these events have deeply affected me. My partner is a holistic doctor and I’m afraid both of us are potential targets.”

  “It must be really scary.” Max allowed, hearing the quiver in her voice.

  “It breaks my heart each time I hear about another death. But I must keep reporting. Who will keep this message alive if I’m dead?”

  The serious note in Erin’s voice was telling. She not only invested her heart, but her soul into this quest that could jeopardize her life. But one word she said stood out.

  “Erin, you said assassinations. Who do you believe is orchestrating them? And why?” Max had her own theory, but needed confirmation—something to signal she and Sam were not so far off the mark.

  “I won’t speculate. I’m only reporting. I just don’t want other doctors to live in fear. Many practitioners closed their offices or hired bodyguards based on these reports. I understand it’s necessary to be aware and safe, but I hope those brave enough to work in the field of holistic medicine will carry the torch and continue to do great work in memory of those we’ve lost over the last two years.” Erin went silent for a moment, and then asked, “Who do you believe is killing these doctors?”

  Max was tongue-tied, not expecting the question to boomerang. “In all honesty—I don’t know right now—I’m only bouncing around theories. However, if I’m able to prove anything that may be helpful to you, I promise to be back in contact. I appreciate your time and for the valiant work you’re doing.”

  “Thank you, Miss Ford.”

  “Please call me Max. And let’s stay in touch” She ended the call.

  Sam blasted into Max’s office, scaring the living daylights out of her.

  “Sam!”

  “Hey, have you seen the morning paper?”

  “No!”

  “What’s the matter, princess?”

  “Aside f
rom your grand entrance—bad night. And I just got off the phone with Erin Elizabeth.”

  “Really! Did you get anything useful out of her?”

  “She said she’s only reporting the deaths, and will not speculate as to who may be orchestrating the killings.”

  “Believe her?”

  “Not sure. But she’s clearly spooked. So, what did I miss that prompted you to barge into my office?”

  “There was a reported plane crash in the Amazon jungle. The pilot was killed; no passengers. But our headline is that the pilot’s name was Brad Johansson.”

  “Amazon!”

  “Ring a bell?”

  “Not past the fog at this hour. Fill me in.”

  “Remember back about ten years ago, a group of scientists at the FDA’s Center for Devices and Radiological Health alleged safety problems with the colonoscopy and breast cancer devices. It had to do with the level of radiation exposure. As far as it was reported, the FDA ignored their warnings and approved the medical devices.”

  “Vaguely. Wasn’t it developed by General Electric’s Healthcare Division?”

  “Yes, and the same company that made over three billion dollars a year from its diagnostic products. But the huge scandal that developed quashed the initial complaint. The real hubbub was the discovery that the FDA was monitoring the scientist’s computers and leaking confidential information. In the end, the case was dismissed, and the scientists’ reputations were smeared. And GE’s profits were protected.”

  “I remember the name of one of the whistleblowers was Brad Johansson.”

  “You win the prize!”

  “For what?” Max was still puzzled.

  Sam turned the newspaper around and flashed a photo of the dead pilot.

  “You’re kidding. That guy fits Sorenson’s description.”

  “Thought the same thing. So I faxed a copy of the photo to the clerk at the Seringal Hotel to be sure. He got right back and confirmed it was the same man who met Jeff in the lobby. I also sent the photo to the Curry County Sheriff. He showed it to Miss Ellie who confirmed the man in the photo was the same fella that kept poppin’ up unannounced at the apiary.”

  “So, Brad Johansson and Sorenson are one and the same?”

  “From what I could dig up, Johansson was extremely dissatisfied with the outcome in the General Electric case and took on the FDA as his pet project. He was a busy boy becoming a whistleblower’s best friend. In one case, he worked with a sales rep named Kurt Kroening who sued Forest Laboratories and its subsidiary, Forest Pharmaceuticals, claiming they paid kickbacks to physicians, rewarding them based on the number of prescriptions they’d write for the firm’s drugs. The Kurt Kroening v. Forest Laboratories case settled for thirty-eight-million dollars. In another instance, in Peggy Ryan v. Endo Pharmaceuticals, Inc., Ryan received valuable information from our inside man that helped her prove the company was illegally marketing a pain-treatment patch called Lidoderm. That suit ended in a whopping one-hundred-ninety-three-million-dollar settlement.”

  “I’m surprised Johansson survived this long.”

  “His days were numbered. He eventually ran out the clock when he blew the lid off the FDA expediting the approval of orphan drugs.”

  “Our man caused quite a stir.”

  “So much so, Johannsson ended up on the FDA’s secret watchlist, which explains his low profile. What’s peculiar, is since these multiple incidents of whistleblowing, the FDA launched a public website for whistleblowers, supposedly to make it easier to report misconduct.”

  “Or perhaps provide them with advance warning,” Max concluded.

  “Isn’t that an oxymoron?”

  “Thank you, professor. But if Johansson was showing up in both Brazil and New Mexico, he must have used fake credentials under the name of Sorenson. They probably figured it out and were hot on his trail. Obviously, it led them to the beekeeper and then on to Brazil and then on to Jeff. Now—all three are dead.”

  “Max, I know we’re still theorizing, but when you said they, I don’t think you were using it in the generic sense. Who are they?”

  “You know I’ve been hesitant to pin these murders or even consider the alleged murders of holistic doctors on Big PhRMA.”

  “Yes, but Slater led us in that direction. I’m sure it wasn’t his intent, but with the Feds closing the Clovis Hill Apiary, and given what’s happened to Bradstreet, it makes for a powerful case.”

  “Even though my virtual dots are still flying all over the place, I can’t stop from connecting them back to a group—one even more powerful than the government.”

  “You mean the Deep State? The Consortium?” Every time Sam mentioned the name of the nefarious group, the hairs stood upright on the back of his neck. Not because of the untold havoc the group reportedly reaped, but the fact that he and Max may be tangling with them again.

  Max mentally deliberated before answering. “Absent my crystal ball, I’m ready to conclude that the Consortium is in the driver’s seat or at the helm of the pharmaceutical industry—and they’re using Slater as a middleman to carry out their global strategy.”

  “Well, princess, you let the cat out of the climate-change bag on your last case. Are you really prepared to challenge population control as well?”

  “What we know, without a doubt, is Big PhRMA has both unprecedented economic and political power. Their trillion-dollar war chest also made it possible to create a societal addiction to drugs that only mask symptoms—but does nothing to cure the diseases. On reflection, that would accomplish the Consortium’s goal of population control—in fact, do the trick.” Hearing her own words left her dismayed by the inhumanity of it all.

  “Speaking of cures, I had an engaging chat with Dr. Mizukami.”

  “You did? When?” Max was seeking a positive note in the conversation.

  “About four o’clock this morning. I came down with the Max syndrome and I couldn’t sleep. Anyway, he said he’s treated over four thousand advanced cancer patients in the last thirty-five years using an ethanol-extracted propolis from a Brazilian plant called Baccharis Dracunculifolia.”

  “Bravo, you said the jawbreaker!”

  “I had to roll it over my tongue a few times first.” Sam admitted. “The doctor explained that this particular plant contains a higher concentration of propolis including antioxidants—specifically, artepillin C, an ingredient that inhibits cancer-cell growth. He was adamant that he combines both conventional and alternative medicine. Like the senator, he believes in removing the cancer surgically, but he’s not completely against chemo and radiation therapy. However, he also believes his use of propolis, which possesses direct anti-cancer agents, increases the survival rate. In fact, he said it produces an antiangiogenic effect in the same way chemical anti-cancer agents function.”

  “Huh!”

  “In layman’s terms, it shuts off the blood supply to the tumor and inhibits it from growing. He also reported that it’s antiviral and antibacterial, which helps to regenerate healthy tissues faster. His list was endless about the positive effects of propolis. And with over five hundred of his patients on this protocol, he claimed amazing results. Hold on a second. Let me grab my notes.”

  Sam shuffled through the hen scratches he called handwriting and pulled up the notes he made during the call.

  “The doctor said the survival rate of his patients who took propolis tended to be disease-free, sometimes double, triple, or even ten times longer than expected. A few patients with cancer tumors, one centimeter or less in diameter, had them completely disappear without conventional treatment. He also mentioned that patients using propolis in combination with chemotherapy or radiation tend to exhibit better treatment results and less adverse reactions compared to only conventional therapy. Do you have time to listen to a few case studies?”

  “I’m all ears.”

 
“In 1998, he had a forty-six-year-old female with hepatitis C who subsequently developed hepato cell carcinoma. Her liver CT scan revealed three tumors of one centimeter in diameter. He recommended ten thousand milligrams of propolis be taken daily. Her liver tumors totally disappeared two months later.”

  “Wow.”

  “A year earlier, he had a fifty-two-year-old female diagnosed with scirrhous-type stomach cancer. It was stage III, and the doctors had given her a one-year survival rate of only ten percent. She had a stomach resection to remove the cancer that had metastasized. After the procedure, she also took a daily dose of ten thousand milligrams of propolis. She has had no recurrence these past years since the procedure.”

  “Now, one more story. In 2003, a forty-six-year-old male fractured his pelvic bone and was diagnosed with multiple myeloma at stage IV. His estimated five-year survival rate was twenty-five percent. That patient took forty-five thousand milligrams of propolis every day during treatment. He then underwent four cycles of chemotherapy, but exhibited no adverse reactions. His white blood count remained normal. He’s been in complete remission. I could go on, but you get the point.”

  “Impressive. So propolis even lessened the side effects of chemotherapy. Did you get anything else out of the dear doctor?”

  “Funny you should ask. The overall conversation was actually quite pleasant, and as you heard, informative—at least until I mentioned his visit to the Clovis Hill Apiary.”

  “And…?”

  “He clammed up. I tried prodding, but I think I pushed too hard. His last words before he hung up were to tell Max Ford to back away.”

  “What is it with these guys? The more they tell me to back off, the more I fire the jets full steam ahead! Little do they know, I hit the afterburners, not the brakes!”

  Max appeared to be overly touchy, but Sam left her reaction unchallenged. He still wanted to pry that other morsel of information he knew she was holding back. But he decided patience was paramount when trying to out spy another spy.

  Max looked at her watch. “Got to go; I’ll be late for my appointment.”