He turned back the way he'd come, wondering how Jill was making out. The sooner they could get away, the better. Barry had never disliked any place as much as he did this mansion. It was cold, it was dangerous, and it smelled like a meat locker that had been unplugged for a week. He generally wasn't the type to frighten easily or let his imagination get out of hand, but he half-expected to see some white-sheeted spook rattling chains every time he turned around.
There was a distant echoing clatter behind him.
Barry spun, a knot of dread in his gut as he pointed his weapon randomly at the empty air, his eyes wide and mouth dry. There was another metallic clatter, followed by a low, throbbing hum of machinery.
Barry took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, getting a hold of himself. Not a disembodied spirit, after all; someone was using the elevator.
Who? Chris and Wesker are missing and Jill's in the other wing…
He stayed where he was, lowering the Colt slightly as he waited. He didn't think the ghouls were smart enough to work the buttons, let alone open the gate, but he didn't want to take any chances. He was a good twenty feet from where the booth would open, assuming it stopped in the basement, and would have a clear shot at whoever stepped around the corner. A glimmer of hope sparked through his confusion; maybe it was one of the Bravos, or someone who lived here and could tell them what had happened.
With a dull dang, the elevator stopped in the kitchen. There was a squeal of dry metal hinges and footsteps and Captain Wesker stepped into view, his perpetual sunglasses propped on his tanned brow.
Barry lowered the revolver, grinning as cool relief swept over him. Wesker stopped in his tracks and grinned back at him.
Barry! Just the man I was looking for, he said lightly.
God, you gave me a scare! I heard the elevator start up and thought I was gonna have a heart attack… Barry trailed off, his grin faltering.
Captain, he said slowly, where did you go?
When we came back, you were gone.
Wesker's grin widened. Sorry about that. I had some business to attend to – you know, call of nature?
Barry smiled again, but was surprised by the confession; trapped in hostile territory, and the man had gone off to take a leak?
Wesker reached up and lowered his shades, breaking their eye contact, and Barry suddenly felt a little nervous. Wesker's grin, if anything, seemed to grow wider. It looked like every tooth was showing.
Barry, I need your help. Have you ever heard of White Umbrella?
Barry shook his head, feeling more uncomfortable by the second.
White Umbrella is a sector of Umbrella, Inc., a very important division. They specialize in… biological research, I guess you could say. The Spencer estate houses their research facilities, and recently, an accident occurred.
Wesker brushed off a section of the kitchen's center island and casually leaned against it, his tone almost conversational.
This division of Umbrella has a few ties to the S.T.A.R.S. organization, and not long ago, I was asked to… assist in their handling of this situation.
It's a very delicate situation, mind you, very hush-hush;
White Umbrella doesn't want a whisper of their involvement getting out.”
Now, what I'm supposed to do is get to the laboratories on the grounds here and put an end to some rather incriminating evidence-proof that White Umbrella is responsible for the accident that's caused so much trouble in Raccoon as of late. The problem is, I don't have the key to get to those labskeys, actually. And that's where you come in. I need for you to help me find those keys.
Barry stared at him for a moment, speechless, his mind churning. An accident, a secret lab doing biological research… … and murdering dogs and zombies loose in the tvoods…
He raised his revolver and pointed it at Wesker's smiling face, stunned and angry. Are you insane?
You think I'm going to help you destroy evidence?
You crazy son of a bitch!
Wesker shook his head slowly, acting as if Barry were a child. Ah, Barry, you don't understand; you don't have a choice in the matter. See, a few of my friends from White Umbrella are currently standing outside of your house, watching your wife and daughters sleep. If you don't help me, your family is going to die.
Barry could actually feel the blood drain from his face. He cocked the hammer back on the Colt, feeling a sudden, vicious hatred for Wesker infusing every fiber of his being.
Before you pull the trigger, I should mention that if I don't report back to my friends fairly soon, their orders are to go ahead and do the deed anyway.
The words cut through the red haze that had flooded Barry's mind, turning his hands clammy with terror.
Kathy, the babies – I…
You're bluffing, he whispered, and Wesker's grin finally disappeared, his expression slipping back into the unreadable mask that he usually wore.
I'm not, he said coldly. Try me. You can apologize to their headstones later.
For a moment, neither of them moved, the silence a palpable thing in the chill air. Then Barry slowly eased the hammer back down and lowered the weapon, his shoulders slumped. He couldn't, wouldn 't risk it; his family was everything.
Wesker nodded and reached into one of his pockets, producing a ring of keys, his manner suddenly brisk and business-like. There are four copper plates somewhere in this house. Each one is about the size of a teacup, and has a picture engraved on one side: sun, moon, stars, and wind. There's a back door on the other side of the mansion where the four of them belong.
He unhooked a key from the ring and set it on the table, sliding it across to Barry. This should open all of the doors in the other wing, or at least the important ones, first and second floor. Find those pieces for me and your wife and children will be fine.
Barry reached for the key with numb fingers, feeling weak and more afraid than he'd ever been in his life.
Chris and Jill… … will undoubtedly want to help you search. If you see either of them, tell them that the back door you've discovered could be the way out. I'm sure they'll be more than happy to work with their trusted friend, good ol' Barry. In fact, you should unlock every door you can in order to promote a more thorough job.
Wesker smiled again, a friendly half-grin that belied his words. Of course, you tell them you've seen me – that could complicate matters. If I run into trouble, say, get shot in the back… well, enough said. Let's just keep this to ourselves.
The key was etched with a little picture, a chest plate for a suit of armor. Barry slipped it into his pocket. Where will you be?
Oh, I'll be around, don't worry. I'll contact you when the time is right.
Barry looked at Wesker pleadingly, helpless to keep the wavering fear out of his voice. You'll tell them that I'm helping you, right? You won't forget to report?
Wesker turned and walked toward the elevator, calling out over his shoulder. Trust me, Barry. Do what I tell you, and there's nothing to worry about.
There was the rattle of the elevator's gate opening and closing, and Wesker was gone.
Barry stood a moment longer, staring into the empty space where Wesker had been, trying to find a way out of the threat. There wasn't one. There was no contest between his honor and his family; he could live without honor.
He set his jaw and walked back toward the stairs, determined to do what he had to do to save Kathy and the girls. Though when this was over, when he could be sure they were safe.
There won't be any place for you to hide, Captain.
Barry clenched his giant fists, knuckles whitening, and promised himself that Wesker would pay for what he was doing. With interest.
TEN
Jill slid the heavy copper crest with the engraved star into its position on the diagram, above the other three openings. It settled into place with a light click, flush against the metal plate.
One down… She stepped back from the puzzle lock, smiling triumphantly.
The crows had watched her walk through the hall of paintings without moving from their perch, crying out
