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 occasionally as she solved the simple puzzle.
There had been six portraits in all, cradle to grave – – from a newborn baby to a rather stern-looking old man. She'd assumed they were all of Lord Spencer, though she'd never seen a photo.
The final painting had been a death scene, a pale man lying in state and surrounded by mourners.
When she'd flipped the switch on that one, the painting had actually fallen off the wall, pushed out by tiny metal pegs at each corner. Behind it had been a small, velvet-lined opening that held the copper crest. She'd left the hall without any more trouble; if the birds had been disappointed, she couldn't say.
She took a final deep breath of the pleasant night air before going back into the mansion, pulling Trent's computer from her pack as she went. Stepping carefully over the crumpled corpse in the dim hall, she studied the map, deciding where to try next.
Back the way she'd come, it looked like. She went back through the double doors that connected the corridors, into the winding, mild, gray-green hall with the landscape paintings. According to the map, the single door just across from her led to a small, squareshaped room which opened into a larger one.
Tensing, she grabbed the knob and pushed it open, crouching and pointing her Beretta at the same time.
The small room was indeed square-shaped, and totally empty.
Straightening, Jill stepped into the chamber, briefly appraising its simple elegance as she walked toward the door on her right. It had a high, light ceiling and the walls were creamy marble flecked with gold; beautiful. And expensive, to say the least. She felt a vague wistfulness for the old days with Dick, all their grand plans and hopes for each score. This was what real money could buy.