So it infects plants, too, he said. When we report this, we'll have to…
No, that's not it, she said. She handed him a photo, her expression grim.
It was a blurry snapshot of a middle-aged man wearing a lab coat. He was standing stiffly in front of a plain wooden door, and Chris realized that it was the very door they'd come through not ten minutes ago, the front entrance to the bunkhouse.
He flipped the picture over, squinting at the tiny script on the back. H. Sarton, January '98, Point 42.
He stared at Rebecca, finally understanding her fearful gaze. They were standing in Point 42. The carnivorous plant was here.
Wesker stood in the darkness of the unlit tunnel, his irritation growing as he listened to Barry stumble through the echoing corridors. Jill wouldn't wait forever, and the raging Mr. Burton couldn't seem to grasp that Enrico's killer had simply slid into the shadows just around the corner, the most obvious place there was.
Come on, come on…
Since they'd left the house, he'd finally started to feel like things were going in his favor. He'd remembered the underground room near the entrance to the labs, and was almost certain that the wolf medal would be there. And the tunnels were clear. He had expected the 121s to be out, but apparently no one had messed with the passage mechanisms since the accident. They'd split up to search for the lever that worked the passages and it had been in plain sight, propped up next to the very mechanism that it controlled.
Everything would have been perfect, except goddamned Enrico Marini had wandered along, happening across a very important paper that Wesker had accidentally dropped – his orders, straight from the head of White Umbrella. And then to complicate matters, Jill had blundered into the tunnels before Wesker could finish taking care of the problem.
Wesker sighed inwardly. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. In truth, this whole aifair had been a massive headache from the beginning. At least the underground security hadn't been activated – though he'd had no way of knowing that until they'd reached the tunnels, and having dragged Barry along as insurance, he now had to deal with the consequences. If the money wasn't so good.
He grinned. Who was he kidding? The money was great.
After what felt like years, Barry huffed into the dark room, blindly waving his revolver around. Wesker tensed, waiting for him to walk past the generator's alcove. This part could be tricky – Barry and Enrico had been close.
As Barry stormed past the small chamber, Wesker stepped out behind him and jammed the muzzle of his Beretta into Barry's lower back, hard. At the same time, he started talking, low and fast.
I know you want to kill me, Barry, but I want you to think about what you're doing. I die, your family dies. And right now, it looks like Jill may have to die, too, but you can stop it. You can put a stop to all the killing.
Barry had stopped moving as soon as the gun touched him, but Wesker could hear the barely contained rage in his voice, the pure, driving hatred.
You killed Enrico, he snarled.
Wesker pushed the gun deeper into his back. Yes.
But I didn't want to. Enrico found some information he shouldn't have, he knew too much. And if he'd told Jill what he knew about Umbrella, I'd have had to kill her, too.
You're going to kill her anyway. You're going to kill all of us.
Wesker sighed, allowing a pleading note to creep into his voice. That's not true! Don't you get it – – I just want to get to the laboratory and get rid of the evidence before anyone finds it! Once that material is destroyed, there's no reason for anyone else to get hurt. We can all just… walk away.
Barry was silent, and Wesker could tell that he wanted to believe him, wanted desperately to believe that things could be that simple. Wesker let him waver for a moment before pressing on.
All I want you to do is keep Jill busy, keep her and anyone else you run into away from the labs, at least for a little while. You'll be saving her life and I swear to you that as soon as I get what I need, you and your family will never hear from me again.
He waited. And when Barry finally spoke, Wesker knew he had him.
Where are the labs?
Good boy!
Wesker lowered the gun, keeping his expression blank just in case Barry had good night vision. He pulled a folded paper out of his vest and slipped it into Barry's hand, a map from the tunnels to the first basement level.
If for some reason you can't keep her away, at least go with her. There are a lot of doors with locks on the outside down there; worse comes to worst, you can lock her up until it's over. I mean it, Barry, no one else has to get hurt. It's all up to you.
Wesker stepped back quickly, reaching for the lever with the six-sided tip that he'd left next to the generator. He watched Barry for a few seconds longer, saw the sag in the big man's shoulders, the submissive hang of his head. Satisfied, Wesker turned and walked out of the room. On the very slight chance that any of the S.T.A.R.S. made it to the lab, Mr. Burton would ensure that there wouldn't be any more trouble.
He hurried back through the entrance tunnel, silently congratulating himself on getting things back under control as he headed toward the first passage mechanism. He'd have to move fast from here on out; there were a few things he'd neglected to mention to Barry – like the experimental security detachment that would be released into the tunnels once he turned that lever for the first time…
Sorry, Barry. Slipped my mind.
It would be interesting to see how his team fared with the 121s, the Hunters. Watching the S.T.A.R.S. pit their strength and agility against the creatures would be quite a show and sadly, one that he'd have to miss.
It was too bad, really. The Hunters had been caged for a long time; they'd be very, very hungry.
FIFTEEN
Barry had been gone for too long. Jill had no idea how extensive the tunnels were, but from what she'd seen they all looked alike. Barry could be lost, trying to find his way back. Or he could have found the murderer, and without any backup…
He might not come back at all.
In any case, staying put wasn't going to help anything. She stood up, taking a last look at the Bravo's pale face and silently wishing him peace before walking away.
What did he find out that got him killed? Who was it?
Enrico had only managed to get out that the traitor was a he, but that didn't exactly narrow things down; except for herself and the rookie, the Raccoon S.T.A.R.S. were all male. She could rule out Chris, since he'd been convinced from the start that there was something weird going on and now Barry, who'd been with her when Marini died. Brad Vickers simply wasn't the type to do anything dangerous, and Joseph and Kenneth were dead – which leaves Richard Aiken, Forest Speyer, and Albert Wesker.
None of them seemed likely, but she had to at least consider the possibility. Enrico was dead. And she no longer doubted that Umbrella had one of the S.T.A.R.S. in their pocket.
When she got to the door, she quickly leaned down and tightened her damp boot laces, preparing herself.
Whoever had shot the Bravo could have just as easily taken her and Barry out – and since he hadn't, she could only figure that he didn't want to kill anyone else, and wouldn't be looking for more targets. Assuming that he was still in the underground system, she'd have to be as quiet as possible if she wanted to find him; the tunnels were perfect sound conductors, amplifying even the tiniest sound.
She eased open the metal door, listening, and then edged out into the dim tunnel, staying close to the wall. In front of her, the corridor was unlit. She opted to head back the way she'd come instead; the darkness was a perfect spot for an ambush. She didn't want to find out she was wrong about the killer's intentions by taking a bullet.
A low, grinding rumble reverberated through the heavy stone walls, a sound like something big moving.
Jill instinctively used the sound as cover, taking several sliding steps forward and reaching the next metal door just as the rumbling stopped. She slipped back out into the tunnel where she'd run into Barry, gently closing the door behind her.
What the hell was that? It sounded like an entire wall moving!
She shuddered, remembering the descending ceiling of that room in the house. Maybe the tunnels were rigged, too; she needed to watch every step. The idea of being crunched to death by some bizarre mechanism
