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S.D. Perry
Resident Evil – Caliban Cove
PROLOGUE
Raccoon Times, July 24, 1998
SPENCER MANSION DESTROYED IN EXPLOSIVE FIRE RACCOON CITY
–At approximately 2 A.M. Thursday morn– ing, Victory Lake district residents were awakened by an explosive blast that thundered through northwest Raccoon Forest, apparently caused by a fire that swept through the abandoned Spencer mansion and ignited chemicals stored in the basement. Due to delays from the police barricade set up at the forest perimeter (in connection with the recent string of murders in Raccoon City), local firefighters were unable to salvage any part of the estate's grounds. After a three– hour battle against the raging fire, the thirty one year old mansion and adjacent servant's quarters were deemed a complete loss. Built by Lord Oswell Spencer, European aristocrat and one of the founders of the worldwide pharmaceutical com– pany, Umbrella, Inc., the estate was designed by award– winning architect George Trevor as a guest house for Umbrella VIPs and was closed down shortly after completion for reasons unknown. According to Amanda Whitney, spokesperson for the Umbrella Corporation, parts of the estate were still being used to store a number of industrial cleaning agents and solvents used by Umbrella. Whitney said in a statement yesterday that the company would take full responsibility for the unfortunate incident, calling it
"A serious oversight on our part. Those chemicals should have been cleared out of the Spencer house a long time ago, and we're just thankful that no one was hurt."
At this point, the cause of the fire is undetermined, but Whitney went on to say that Umbrella will be bringing in their own investigators to sift through the ruins in hopes of determining the fire's point of origin…
Raccoon Weekly, July 29, 1998
S.T.A.R.S. TAKEN OFF MURDER INVESTIGATION RACCOON CITY
–In a surprising announcement by city officials at a press conference yesterday, the Raccoon City branch of the Special Tactics and Rescue Squad (S.T.A.R.S.) was officially removed from the investigation into the nine brutal murders and five disappearances of city residents that have occurred in the last ten weeks. City council member Edward Weist delivered the statement, citing gross incompe– tence as the primary reason for the S.T.A.R.S. removal. Readers may remember that the S.T.A.R.S.'s first action upon being assigned the cases last week was to search the northwest area of the forest for the alleged cannibal killers. Weist stated that it was because of their "blatantly unprofes– sional conduct" that their mission ended in disaster, re– suiting in the crash of a helicopter and the loss of six of their eleven team members, including the S.T.A.R.S. branch commander, Captain Albert Wesker.
"After [the S.T.A.R.S.'s] mishandling of the Raccoon Forest search," said Weist, "we've decided to let the RPD see this investigation through to its conclusion. We have reason to believe that the S.T.A.R.S. may have been ingesting drugs and/or alcohol prior to their search, and have suspended the use of their services indefinitely."
Weist was joined by Sarah Jacobsen (representing Mayor Harris) and Police Commissioner J.C. Washington to make the announcement and answer questions. Neither Police Chief Brian Irons nor any of the surviving S.T.A.R.S. could be reached for comment…
Cityside, August 3, 1998
SOURCE OF ESTATE FIRE DEEMED ACCIDENTAL RACCOON CITY
–After an exhaustive investigation by fire officials working with Umbrella, Inc.'s ISD (Industrial Services Division), the fire that ravaged the company-owned Spencer estate in Raccoon Forest late last month was determined to have been caused by carelessness on the part of person or persons unknown, as was announced in a press conference yesterday. Said ISD Team Leader David Bischoff,
"It looks like somebody tried to start a campfire in one of the mansion's rooms and things just got out of control. We've found nothing to suggest arson or foul play of any kind."He went on to say that while the destruction of the property was total, there's no evidence that anyone was caught in the fire or subsequent explosion. Chief Brian Irons of the Raccoon City Police Department was in attendance at the conference, and when asked whether he believed the fire to be connected to the unsolved murders and disappearances plaguing the city, Irons stated that there was no way to be sure. Said Irons, "At this point, anything I could say would only be speculation-though I will say that the fact that the murders have stopped since the night of the fire seems to imply that perhaps the killers were hiding there. We can only hope that they've now left the area and will soon be apprehended."
Chief Irons refused to comment on the allegations of gross misconduct by the S.T.A.R.S. in their brief assignment to the murder investigation, saying only that he agreed with the city council's decision and disciplinary actions are being considered…
SPENCER MANSION DESTROYED IN EXPLOSIVE FIRE RACCOON CITY
–At approximately 2 A.M. Thursday morn– ing, Victory Lake district residents were awakened by an explosive blast that thundered through northwest Raccoon Forest, apparently caused by a fire that swept through the abandoned Spencer mansion and ignited chemicals stored in the basement. Due to delays from the police barricade set up at the forest perimeter (in connection with the recent string of murders in Raccoon City), local firefighters were unable to salvage any part of the estate's grounds. After a three– hour battle against the raging fire, the thirty one year old mansion and adjacent servant's quarters were deemed a complete loss. Built by Lord Oswell Spencer, European aristocrat and one of the founders of the worldwide pharmaceutical com– pany, Umbrella, Inc., the estate was designed by award– winning architect George Trevor as a guest house for Umbrella VIPs and was closed down shortly after completion for reasons unknown. According to Amanda Whitney, spokesperson for the Umbrella Corporation, parts of the estate were still being used to store a number of industrial cleaning agents and solvents used by Umbrella. Whitney said in a statement yesterday that the company would take full responsibility for the unfortunate incident, calling it
"A serious oversight on our part. Those chemicals should have been cleared out of the Spencer house a long time ago, and we're just thankful that no one was hurt."
At this point, the cause of the fire is undetermined, but Whitney went on to say that Umbrella will be bringing in their own investigators to sift through the ruins in hopes of determining the fire's point of origin…
Raccoon Weekly, July 29, 1998
S.T.A.R.S. TAKEN OFF MURDER INVESTIGATION RACCOON CITY
–In a surprising announcement by city officials at a press conference yesterday, the Raccoon City branch of the Special Tactics and Rescue Squad (S.T.A.R.S.) was officially removed from the investigation into the nine brutal murders and five disappearances of city residents that have occurred in the last ten weeks. City council member Edward Weist delivered the statement, citing gross incompe– tence as the primary reason for the S.T.A.R.S. removal. Readers may remember that the S.T.A.R.S.'s first action upon being assigned the cases last week was to search the northwest area of the forest for the alleged cannibal killers. Weist stated that it was because of their "blatantly unprofes– sional conduct" that their mission ended in disaster, re– suiting in the crash of a helicopter and the loss of six of their eleven team members, including the S.T.A.R.S. branch commander, Captain Albert Wesker.
"After [the S.T.A.R.S.'s] mishandling of the Raccoon Forest search," said Weist, "we've decided to let the RPD see this investigation through to its conclusion. We have reason to believe that the S.T.A.R.S. may have been ingesting drugs and/or alcohol prior to their search, and have suspended the use of their services indefinitely."
Weist was joined by Sarah Jacobsen (representing Mayor Harris) and Police Commissioner J.C. Washington to make the announcement and answer questions. Neither Police Chief Brian Irons nor any of the surviving S.T.A.R.S. could be reached for comment…
Cityside, August 3, 1998
SOURCE OF ESTATE FIRE DEEMED ACCIDENTAL RACCOON CITY
–After an exhaustive investigation by fire officials working with Umbrella, Inc.'s ISD (Industrial Services Division), the fire that ravaged the company-owned Spencer estate in Raccoon Forest late last month was determined to have been caused by carelessness on the part of person or persons unknown, as was announced in a press conference yesterday. Said ISD Team Leader David Bischoff,
"It looks like somebody tried to start a campfire in one of the mansion's rooms and things just got out of control. We've found nothing to suggest arson or foul play of any kind."He went on to say that while the destruction of the property was total, there's no evidence that anyone was caught in the fire or subsequent explosion. Chief Brian Irons of the Raccoon City Police Department was in attendance at the conference, and when asked whether he believed the fire to be connected to the unsolved murders and disappearances plaguing the city, Irons stated that there was no way to be sure. Said Irons, "At this point, anything I could say would only be speculation-though I will say that the fact that the murders have stopped since the night of the fire seems to imply that perhaps the killers were hiding there. We can only hope that they've now left the area and will soon be apprehended."
Chief Irons refused to comment on the allegations of gross misconduct by the S.T.A.R.S. in their brief assignment to the murder investigation, saying only that he agreed with the city council's decision and disciplinary actions are being considered…
ONE
Rebecca chambers rode her mountain bike through the dark, winding streets of the Cider district, the late summer moon swelling in the warm, clear night sky overhead. Although it was relatively early, the suburban streets were deserted, the citywide curfew still in effect; no one under eighteen was supposed to be out after dusk until the murderers were caught and put safely behind bars. It had been a tense and quiet summer in Raccoon City, at least on the surface. She glided past silent houses, the faint glow of television sets spilling out across well-kept lawns, the distant drone of crickets and an occasional barking dog the only sounds in the air that whipped past her. The uneasy citizens of Raccoon dwelled behind those locked doors, waiting for the announcement that the killers had been apprehended and that their city was safe.
If they only knew…,
For just a moment, Rebecca envied them their ignorance. She'd come to the rather disheartening conclusion in the last couple of weeks that knowing the truth wasn't all it was cracked up to be-particu-larly when no one believed it. It had been a long, merciless thirteen days since the nightmare at the Spencer estate. The surviving
S.T.A.R.S. had escaped treachery and death just to run up against a massive brick wall of scornful disbelief when they'd tried to tell their tale. Jill, Chris, Barry, and herself had been labeled drug addicts and worse in the local papers, undoubtedly at Umbrella's urging-and after their suspension, even the RPD had refused to believe them. Now, with Umbrella taking over the investigation of the fire, undoubtedly getting rid of the last of the evidence… it was as if everywhere the S.T.A.R.S. turned, Umbrella had been there first, greasing palms and covering tracks, mak– ing it impossible to get anyone to listen to their story. Not that it would have been that simple anyway. One of the biggest, most respectable med research and pharmaceutical companies in the world-not to men– tion the primary source of income in Raccoon-con– ducting bio-weapons research in a secret lab, creating experimental monsters– If I didn't know better, I’d probably think I was crazy, too.
At least the absolute worst was over. With the lab destroyed, the attacks on Raccoon had stopped-and though the people responsible hadn't been held ac– countable yet, she figured it was only a matter of time. Umbrella was experimenting with dangerous stuff, and wouldn't be able to hide it from a S.T.A.R.S. investigation. She and the others just had to watch their backs until the home office sent backup.
Speaking of-ouch…
The pancake holster was poking into her ribcage. Rebecca adjusted it through the thin cotton of her shirt, hoping that after tonight she wouldn't have to carry the weapon anymore-a snub-nosed.38 revolv– er from Barry's collection. She couldn't speak for the others, but she hadn't had a decent night's sleep since they'd escaped the Spencer estate, and walking around armed all of the time wasn't her idea of safe. Sighing inwardly, she took a left on Foster and pedaled through the shadows toward Barry's house, reminding herself that he'd probably called the meet– ing because he'd heard from the home office with orders. He would only say that there had been a "development" and to show up ASAP-and though she was trying not to let her imagination run away with her, she couldn't help the steady pulse of excite– ment that had knotted her stomach since he'd called. Maybe they'll fly its to New York to brief the investi– gation team, or even to Europe for when they storm Umbrella's headquarters… Wherever they were sent, it had to be better than staying in Raccoon. The strain of looking over their shoulders had been getting to all of them. Chris seemed to think that Umbrella was waiting until the public eye was off the S.T.A.R.S. before making their move, though it was only a theory-and not exactly the most reassuring thought to fall asleep by. Chicken– heart Vickers had skipped out of town after only two days, unable to take the pressure-and although Jill, Chris, and Barry had condemned Brad's cowardice, Rebecca was starting to wonder if maybe the Alpha pilot didn't have the right idea. It wasn't that she wanted Umbrella to walk, there was no question that their experiments were morally reprehensible and certainly illegal-but until the S.T.A.R.S. sent help, staying in Raccoon City was dangerous. Not after tonight; just a little bit longer, and this will all be over. No more guns, no more locked doors-no more worrying about what Umbrella will do to us for knowing the truth. When they'd first made the report, their superiors in New York had told them to stay put. Assistant Director Kurtz himself had promised to do some investigating and get back to them-but it had been eleven days, and still no word. She had no intention of running away as Brad had done, but she'd come to hate the feeling of that holster, the weight of the deadly steel against her side every waking moment of every day. She was supposed to be a chemist, for chrissake…
And once the reinforcements come, maybe they'll move me to one of the labs, let me study the virus. Technically I'm still a Bravo; there's no way they'd want me on the front lines…
There was no question that it would be the best use of her talents. The others were experienced soldiers, but Rebecca had only been with the S.T.A.R.S. for five weeks. Her first mission had been the one to Raccoon Forest that had wiped out over half the team and clued the rest of them in to Umbrella's secret. Since then, she'd spent a lot of time brushing up on the molecular architecture of viruses, trying to deter– mine the T-Virus replication strategy. The S.T.A.R.S. didn't need field medics right now, they needed scientists… and if she'd learned anything from the Spencer estate disaster, it was that she belonged in a lab. She'd held her own that night, but she also knew that working with the T-Virus was the greatest contri-bution she could make toward stopping Umbrella. And you may as well face it, her mind whispered, you're fascinated by it. The chance to study an unclas– sified emerging mutagen, to find out what makes it tick-that's what makes you tick. Yeah, well, there was no shame in enjoying her work. She'd joined the S.T.A.R.S. in hopes of just such an opportunity-and with any luck, after to– night's meeting she would be packing a bag and getting the hell out of Raccoon City, heading into a new phase of her life as a S.T.A.R.S. biochemist. She pulled to a stop at the end of the block in front of a huge, two-story remodeled Victorian painted a pale yellow, checking all around for anything suspi– cious before getting off her bike. The Burtons lived next to a sprawling suburban park, heavy with trees. Even a few weeks ago, she might have wandered through the silent park, enjoying the balmy summer night, looking at the stars; now it was just one more dark place for someone to hide. Shivering slightly in spite of the warm, humid air, she hurried up the front walk. Dragging her bike onto the porch, she wiped sweat from the back of her neck and checked her watch. She'd made excellent time, only twenty minutes since Barry's call. Rebecca leaned the bicycle against the railing, praying that he had good news. Before she could knock, Barry opened the door, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, his heavily muscled body filling the door's frame. Barry lifted weights. With a vengeance. He smiled and stood back to let her inside, taking a quick look out at the quiet street before following her into the front hall. His Colt Python was tucked into a hip holster, making him look like an overgrown cowboy.
"You saw anybody?"he asked lightly. She shook her head. "No. I took back streets, too."Barry nodded, and though he was still smiling a little, she could see the haunted look in his eyes, the look he'd had ever since their narrow escape. She wished she could tell him that nobody blamed him, but knew it wouldn't make a difference; Barry still held himself responsible for a lot of what had hap– pened at the estate that night. He looked as though he was losing weight, too, though she figured that had more to do with him missing his wife and kids; he'd sent them out of town immediately following the incident, terrified for their safety.
Just one more way that Umbrella has damaged our lives…
He led her through the spacious hallway past the stairs, the walls decorated with framed drawings in crayon that his daughters had made. The Burton house was rambling and spacious, filled with the scuffed and well-worn furnishings that epitomized family.
"Chris and Jill should be here any time. You want some coffee?"
He seemed tense, scruffing nervously at his short red beard.
"No, thanks. Maybe some water." "Yeah, sure. Go ahead and introduce yourself, I'll be back in a minute."He hurried off to the kitchen before she could ask him if anything was wrong.
Introduce myself? What's going on?
She walked through the hall's arched opening into the cluttered, comfortable living room and stopped, a little startled to see a strange man sitting in one of the recliners. He stood up as she entered the room, smiling-but she could see by the way his dark gaze narrowed slightly that he was sizing her up. Even a few weeks ago, the careful scrutiny would have made her horribly self-conscious. She was the youngest S.T.A.R.S. member ever to be accepted for active duty, and knew that she looked it-but if anything positive had come from the incident at the Umbrella lab, it was that she no longer cared much about things like social embarrassment. Facing down a house full of monsters tended to put things in perspective that way. Besides which, being stared at had gotten pretty routine since then. She gazed back at him impassively, studying him in return. Jeans, a nice shirt, running shoes. He also wore a hip holster with a nine-millimeter Beretta, the
S.T.A.R.S. standard-issue sidearm. He was tall, may– be a full foot over her five-foot three-inch frame, but
slender, with a physique like a swimmer's. He was almost movie-star handsome, a high, weathered brow and finely chiseled features, short, dark hair and a piercing gaze that sparkled with intelligence. "You must be Rebecca Chambers," he said. He had a British accent, his words clipped and somehow polished. "You're the biochemist, is that right?"Rebecca nodded. "Working on it. And you are…" He smiled wider, shaking his head. "Forgive my manners, please. I hadn't expected… that is, I…"
He stepped around Barry's low coffee table and extended his hand, flushing slightly. "I'm David Trapp, with the S.T.A.R.S. Exeter branch in Maine,"
he said.
Rebecca felt cool relief wash over her, the
S.T.A.R.S. had sent help instead of calling, fine by her. She shook his hand, stifling a grin, knowing that her appearance had thrown him. Nobody expected an eighteen-year-old scientist, and while she'd gotten used to the surprised looks, she still took a kind of mischievous pleasure at catching people off guard. "So, are you like the scout or something?" she asked. Mr. Trapp frowned. "Sorry?" "For the investigation-are there other teams al-ready here, or did you come to check things out first, get the dirt on Umbrella…"
She trailed off as he shook his head slowly, almost sadly, his dark eyes glittering with an emotion she couldn't read. It came out in his voice, heavy with frustrated anger-and as the words sank in, Rebecca felt her knees go watery with a sudden anxious dread.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Ms. Chambers. I have reason to believe that Umbrella has gotten to key members of the S.T.A.R.S., either by bribery or blackmail. There is no investigation-and no one else is coming."
A look of confused terror passed through the girl's light brown eyes and just as quickly was gone. She took a deep breath and blew it out.
"Are you sure? I mean, did Umbrella try to get to you, or… are you positive?"David shook his head. "I'm not absolutely certain, no-but I wouldn't be here if I wasn't… concerned about it."
It was a bit of an understatement, but David still wasn't past the shock of seeing how young she was, and felt an almost instinctive desire not to alarm her any further. Barry had mentioned that she was some– thing of a child genius, but he hadn't really expected a child. The biochemist wore high tops and cut-off denim shorts rolled at the knee, topped by a shapeless black T-shirt.
Get past it; this child may be the only scientist we have left.
The thought rekindled the anger that had been burning in David's gut for the past few days. The story that had been unfolding since Barry's call wasn't a pretty one, filled with treachery and lies-and the fact that the S.T.A.R.S., his S.T.A.R.S., were in-volved… Barry walked into the room with a glass of water and Rebecca took it from him gratefully, swallowing half of it in one gulp. Barry shot him a glance and then turned his atten– tion to Rebecca. "He told you, huh?" The girl nodded. "Do Jill and Chris know?" "Not yet. That's why I called," Barry said. "Look, no point in going through this twice. We should wait for them to show up before we get into specifics." "Agreed," David said. He generally found that first impressions were the most telling, and if they were going to be working together, he wanted to get a feel for the girl's character. The three of them sat, and Barry started to tell Rebecca how he and David had met back in
S.T.A.R.S. training when they were both much young– er men. Barry told a good story, even if it was only to kill time. David listened with half an ear as Barry related an anecdote about their graduation night, involving a rather humorless drill sergeant and sever– al rubber snakes. The girl was relaxing, even enjoying the story of their childish prank– -seventeen years ago. She would have been cele– brating her first birthday. Still, she had put her questions on hold at Barry's request, even though David knew she had to be anxious about what he'd told her. The ability to retrain one's focus so quickly was an admirable trait, one that he'd never fully mastered. He'd been able to think of little else since his own call to the S.T.A.R.S. AD. David's devotion to the organization had made the apparent betrayal all the more bitter, like a bad taste in his mouth that wouldn't go away. The S.T.A.R.S. had been David's life for almost twenty years, had given him all the things he'd lacked growing up-a sense of self-worth, a sense of purpose and integrity.
And just like that, the lives of dedicated men and women, my life and life's work simply tossed aside as if it meant nothing. How much did that cost? How much did Umbrella have to pay to buy the S.T.A.R.S.'s honor?
David shook the anger, focusing his attention on Rebecca. If all he'd learned was true, time was short and their resources were now severely limited. His motivations weren't as important right now as hers. He could tell by the way she held herself that she wasn't the shy or submissive type, and she was obviously bright; her eyes fairly sparkled with it. From what Barry had told him, she'd acted profes– sionally throughout the Spencer facility operation. Her file suggested that she was more than qualified to work with a chemical virus, assuming that she was as good as the reports said-and assuming she has any desire to put her life in further danger. That was going to be the sticking point. She hadn't been with the S.T.A.R.S. for very long, and knowing that they'd sold their people out probably wasn't going to overwhelm her with feelings of confidence for the job ahead. It would be just as easy for her to step out of the game now. For that matter, it would be the intelligent choice for all of them. There was a knock at the door, presumably the other two Alphas. David's hand drifted down to the butt of his nine-millimeter as Barry went to answer. When he walked back in leading the S.T.A.R.S. team members, David relaxed, then stood up to be formally introduced.
"Jill Valentine, Chris Redfield-this is Captain David Trapp, military strategist for the Maine
S.T.A.R.S. Exeter branch."
Chris was the marksman, if David remembered correctly, and Jill something of a covert B amp;E special– ist. Barry said that the pilot, Brad Vickers, had skipped town shortly after the Spencer incident. No great loss, from what he could gather; the man sounded distinctly unreliable. He shook hands with both of them and they all sat down, Barry nodding toward him.
"David's an old comrade of mine. We worked together on the same team for about two years, right after boot camp. He showed up on my doorstep about an hour ago with news, and I didn't think it could wait. David?"
David cleared his throat, trying to focus on the significant facts. After a pause, he began at the begin-ning.
"As you already know, six days ago, Barry placed several calls to various S.T.A.R.S. branches to see if any word had come from the home office about the tragedy that occurred here. I received one of those calls. It was the first I'd heard about it, and I've since found out that the New York office hasn't contacted anyone about your discovery. No warnings or memos. Nothing has been issued to the S.T.A.R.S. regarding the Umbrella Corporation."
Chris and Jill exchanged looks of concern. "Maybe they're not done investigating," Chris said slowly. David shook his head. "I spoke to the assistant director myself the day after Barry called. I didn't tell him about the contact, only that I'd heard rumor of a problem in Raccoon, and wanted to know if it had any merit."
He looked at the assembled group and sighed inwardly, feeling like he'd already gone over it a thousand times.
Only in my mind, searching for another answer… and there isn 't one. "The AD wouldn't tell me anything outright," he continued, "and he told me that I should remain quiet about it until official word came down. What he would say was that there had been a helicopter crash in Raccoon City-and what he implied was that the surviving S.T.A.R.S. were trying to lay blame on Umbrella, angry over some sort of funding dispute." "But that's not true!" Jill said. "We were investigat-ing the murders, and found…" "Yes, Barry told me," David interrupted. "You found that the murders were the result of a laboratory accident. The T-Virus that Umbrella was experiment-ing with was released somehow and it transformed the researchers into mad killers." "That's exactly what happened," Chris said. "I know it sounds nuts, but we were there, we saw them." David nodded. "I believe you. I have to admit, I was skeptical after speaking with Barry. As you say, it sounds 'nuts'-but my call to New York and what's happened since has changed all that. I've known Barry for a long time, and I knew that he wouldn't be looking to place blame for such an unfortunate inci-dent unless Umbrella was, in fact, responsible. He even told me about his own unwilling involvement in the attempted cover up." "But if Tom Kurtz told you that there was no conspiracy…" Chris said. David sighed. "Yes. We have to assume that either our own organization has been misled-or that, like your Captain Wesker, members of the S.T.A.R.S. are now working for Umbrella."
There was a moment of shocked silence as they absorbed the information, and David could see anger and confusion play across their faces. He knew how they felt. It meant that the S.T.A.R.S. directors had either been manipulated by Umbrella or corrupted by them-and either way, the survivors of the Raccoon team had been hung out to dry, left vulnerable to whatever Umbrella might do.
God, if only I could believe that it was all a mis-take. "Three days ago, I picked up a tail on my way in to work," he said softly. "I wasn't able to make them, but I'm assuming that they're some of Umbrella's people and that my call to New York was respon-sible." "Have you tried to get hold of Palmieri?" Jill asked. David nodded. The S.T.A.R.S. national command– er was the one man he knew was above taking bribes; Marco Palmieri had been with the S.T.A.R.S. since the very beginning. "I was informed by his secretary that he's leading a classified operation in the Middle East and won't be available for months-and word has it that arrangements are being made for his retirement while he's away." "You think Umbrella's behind it?" Chris asked. David shrugged. "Umbrella has made substantial donations to the S.T.A.R.S. over the years, which means they have the contacts. If they're trying to turn the S.T.A.R.S. away from investigating them, getting rid of Dr. Palmieri would be to their advantage."
David glanced around the room, trying to assess their readiness for the rest of it. Barry's fists were clenched, and he stared at them as if he'd never seen them before. Jill and Rebecca both seemed lost in thought, though he could see that they had accepted his story as truth. It would save them time, at least… Chris stood up and started to pace, his youthful features flushed with anger. "So basically, we've got no credibility with the locals, no backup coming, and we've been branded as liars by our own people. The Umbrella investigation is dead and we're screwed, does that pretty much sum it up?"
David could see that the anger wasn't directed at him, just as the anger that he felt wasn't for the young Alpha. The thought of what Umbrella had done, what the S.T.A.R.S. were involved in-it made him sick with rage, with feelings of helplessness that he hadn't felt since his childhood.
Stop thinking of yourself. Tell them the rest.
David stood up and looked at Chris, though he addressed all of them. He hadn't even had time to tell Barry yet.
"Actually, there's more. It seems that there's anoth-er Umbrella facility on the Maine coast, conducting experiments with this virus of theirs-and just like what happened here, they've lost control."
David turned to Rebecca, taking in her wide, horri-fied gaze as he finished. "I'm taking a team in, without S.T.A.R.S. authorization-and I want you to come with us."
If they only knew…,
For just a moment, Rebecca envied them their ignorance. She'd come to the rather disheartening conclusion in the last couple of weeks that knowing the truth wasn't all it was cracked up to be-particu-larly when no one believed it. It had been a long, merciless thirteen days since the nightmare at the Spencer estate. The surviving
S.T.A.R.S. had escaped treachery and death just to run up against a massive brick wall of scornful disbelief when they'd tried to tell their tale. Jill, Chris, Barry, and herself had been labeled drug addicts and worse in the local papers, undoubtedly at Umbrella's urging-and after their suspension, even the RPD had refused to believe them. Now, with Umbrella taking over the investigation of the fire, undoubtedly getting rid of the last of the evidence… it was as if everywhere the S.T.A.R.S. turned, Umbrella had been there first, greasing palms and covering tracks, mak– ing it impossible to get anyone to listen to their story. Not that it would have been that simple anyway. One of the biggest, most respectable med research and pharmaceutical companies in the world-not to men– tion the primary source of income in Raccoon-con– ducting bio-weapons research in a secret lab, creating experimental monsters– If I didn't know better, I’d probably think I was crazy, too.
At least the absolute worst was over. With the lab destroyed, the attacks on Raccoon had stopped-and though the people responsible hadn't been held ac– countable yet, she figured it was only a matter of time. Umbrella was experimenting with dangerous stuff, and wouldn't be able to hide it from a S.T.A.R.S. investigation. She and the others just had to watch their backs until the home office sent backup.
Speaking of-ouch…
The pancake holster was poking into her ribcage. Rebecca adjusted it through the thin cotton of her shirt, hoping that after tonight she wouldn't have to carry the weapon anymore-a snub-nosed.38 revolv– er from Barry's collection. She couldn't speak for the others, but she hadn't had a decent night's sleep since they'd escaped the Spencer estate, and walking around armed all of the time wasn't her idea of safe. Sighing inwardly, she took a left on Foster and pedaled through the shadows toward Barry's house, reminding herself that he'd probably called the meet– ing because he'd heard from the home office with orders. He would only say that there had been a "development" and to show up ASAP-and though she was trying not to let her imagination run away with her, she couldn't help the steady pulse of excite– ment that had knotted her stomach since he'd called. Maybe they'll fly its to New York to brief the investi– gation team, or even to Europe for when they storm Umbrella's headquarters… Wherever they were sent, it had to be better than staying in Raccoon. The strain of looking over their shoulders had been getting to all of them. Chris seemed to think that Umbrella was waiting until the public eye was off the S.T.A.R.S. before making their move, though it was only a theory-and not exactly the most reassuring thought to fall asleep by. Chicken– heart Vickers had skipped out of town after only two days, unable to take the pressure-and although Jill, Chris, and Barry had condemned Brad's cowardice, Rebecca was starting to wonder if maybe the Alpha pilot didn't have the right idea. It wasn't that she wanted Umbrella to walk, there was no question that their experiments were morally reprehensible and certainly illegal-but until the S.T.A.R.S. sent help, staying in Raccoon City was dangerous. Not after tonight; just a little bit longer, and this will all be over. No more guns, no more locked doors-no more worrying about what Umbrella will do to us for knowing the truth. When they'd first made the report, their superiors in New York had told them to stay put. Assistant Director Kurtz himself had promised to do some investigating and get back to them-but it had been eleven days, and still no word. She had no intention of running away as Brad had done, but she'd come to hate the feeling of that holster, the weight of the deadly steel against her side every waking moment of every day. She was supposed to be a chemist, for chrissake…
And once the reinforcements come, maybe they'll move me to one of the labs, let me study the virus. Technically I'm still a Bravo; there's no way they'd want me on the front lines…
There was no question that it would be the best use of her talents. The others were experienced soldiers, but Rebecca had only been with the S.T.A.R.S. for five weeks. Her first mission had been the one to Raccoon Forest that had wiped out over half the team and clued the rest of them in to Umbrella's secret. Since then, she'd spent a lot of time brushing up on the molecular architecture of viruses, trying to deter– mine the T-Virus replication strategy. The S.T.A.R.S. didn't need field medics right now, they needed scientists… and if she'd learned anything from the Spencer estate disaster, it was that she belonged in a lab. She'd held her own that night, but she also knew that working with the T-Virus was the greatest contri-bution she could make toward stopping Umbrella. And you may as well face it, her mind whispered, you're fascinated by it. The chance to study an unclas– sified emerging mutagen, to find out what makes it tick-that's what makes you tick. Yeah, well, there was no shame in enjoying her work. She'd joined the S.T.A.R.S. in hopes of just such an opportunity-and with any luck, after to– night's meeting she would be packing a bag and getting the hell out of Raccoon City, heading into a new phase of her life as a S.T.A.R.S. biochemist. She pulled to a stop at the end of the block in front of a huge, two-story remodeled Victorian painted a pale yellow, checking all around for anything suspi– cious before getting off her bike. The Burtons lived next to a sprawling suburban park, heavy with trees. Even a few weeks ago, she might have wandered through the silent park, enjoying the balmy summer night, looking at the stars; now it was just one more dark place for someone to hide. Shivering slightly in spite of the warm, humid air, she hurried up the front walk. Dragging her bike onto the porch, she wiped sweat from the back of her neck and checked her watch. She'd made excellent time, only twenty minutes since Barry's call. Rebecca leaned the bicycle against the railing, praying that he had good news. Before she could knock, Barry opened the door, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, his heavily muscled body filling the door's frame. Barry lifted weights. With a vengeance. He smiled and stood back to let her inside, taking a quick look out at the quiet street before following her into the front hall. His Colt Python was tucked into a hip holster, making him look like an overgrown cowboy.
"You saw anybody?"he asked lightly. She shook her head. "No. I took back streets, too."Barry nodded, and though he was still smiling a little, she could see the haunted look in his eyes, the look he'd had ever since their narrow escape. She wished she could tell him that nobody blamed him, but knew it wouldn't make a difference; Barry still held himself responsible for a lot of what had hap– pened at the estate that night. He looked as though he was losing weight, too, though she figured that had more to do with him missing his wife and kids; he'd sent them out of town immediately following the incident, terrified for their safety.
Just one more way that Umbrella has damaged our lives…
He led her through the spacious hallway past the stairs, the walls decorated with framed drawings in crayon that his daughters had made. The Burton house was rambling and spacious, filled with the scuffed and well-worn furnishings that epitomized family.
"Chris and Jill should be here any time. You want some coffee?"
He seemed tense, scruffing nervously at his short red beard.
"No, thanks. Maybe some water." "Yeah, sure. Go ahead and introduce yourself, I'll be back in a minute."He hurried off to the kitchen before she could ask him if anything was wrong.
Introduce myself? What's going on?
She walked through the hall's arched opening into the cluttered, comfortable living room and stopped, a little startled to see a strange man sitting in one of the recliners. He stood up as she entered the room, smiling-but she could see by the way his dark gaze narrowed slightly that he was sizing her up. Even a few weeks ago, the careful scrutiny would have made her horribly self-conscious. She was the youngest S.T.A.R.S. member ever to be accepted for active duty, and knew that she looked it-but if anything positive had come from the incident at the Umbrella lab, it was that she no longer cared much about things like social embarrassment. Facing down a house full of monsters tended to put things in perspective that way. Besides which, being stared at had gotten pretty routine since then. She gazed back at him impassively, studying him in return. Jeans, a nice shirt, running shoes. He also wore a hip holster with a nine-millimeter Beretta, the
S.T.A.R.S. standard-issue sidearm. He was tall, may– be a full foot over her five-foot three-inch frame, but
slender, with a physique like a swimmer's. He was almost movie-star handsome, a high, weathered brow and finely chiseled features, short, dark hair and a piercing gaze that sparkled with intelligence. "You must be Rebecca Chambers," he said. He had a British accent, his words clipped and somehow polished. "You're the biochemist, is that right?"Rebecca nodded. "Working on it. And you are…" He smiled wider, shaking his head. "Forgive my manners, please. I hadn't expected… that is, I…"
He stepped around Barry's low coffee table and extended his hand, flushing slightly. "I'm David Trapp, with the S.T.A.R.S. Exeter branch in Maine,"
he said.
Rebecca felt cool relief wash over her, the
S.T.A.R.S. had sent help instead of calling, fine by her. She shook his hand, stifling a grin, knowing that her appearance had thrown him. Nobody expected an eighteen-year-old scientist, and while she'd gotten used to the surprised looks, she still took a kind of mischievous pleasure at catching people off guard. "So, are you like the scout or something?" she asked. Mr. Trapp frowned. "Sorry?" "For the investigation-are there other teams al-ready here, or did you come to check things out first, get the dirt on Umbrella…"
She trailed off as he shook his head slowly, almost sadly, his dark eyes glittering with an emotion she couldn't read. It came out in his voice, heavy with frustrated anger-and as the words sank in, Rebecca felt her knees go watery with a sudden anxious dread.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Ms. Chambers. I have reason to believe that Umbrella has gotten to key members of the S.T.A.R.S., either by bribery or blackmail. There is no investigation-and no one else is coming."
A look of confused terror passed through the girl's light brown eyes and just as quickly was gone. She took a deep breath and blew it out.
"Are you sure? I mean, did Umbrella try to get to you, or… are you positive?"David shook his head. "I'm not absolutely certain, no-but I wouldn't be here if I wasn't… concerned about it."
It was a bit of an understatement, but David still wasn't past the shock of seeing how young she was, and felt an almost instinctive desire not to alarm her any further. Barry had mentioned that she was some– thing of a child genius, but he hadn't really expected a child. The biochemist wore high tops and cut-off denim shorts rolled at the knee, topped by a shapeless black T-shirt.
Get past it; this child may be the only scientist we have left.
The thought rekindled the anger that had been burning in David's gut for the past few days. The story that had been unfolding since Barry's call wasn't a pretty one, filled with treachery and lies-and the fact that the S.T.A.R.S., his S.T.A.R.S., were in-volved… Barry walked into the room with a glass of water and Rebecca took it from him gratefully, swallowing half of it in one gulp. Barry shot him a glance and then turned his atten– tion to Rebecca. "He told you, huh?" The girl nodded. "Do Jill and Chris know?" "Not yet. That's why I called," Barry said. "Look, no point in going through this twice. We should wait for them to show up before we get into specifics." "Agreed," David said. He generally found that first impressions were the most telling, and if they were going to be working together, he wanted to get a feel for the girl's character. The three of them sat, and Barry started to tell Rebecca how he and David had met back in
S.T.A.R.S. training when they were both much young– er men. Barry told a good story, even if it was only to kill time. David listened with half an ear as Barry related an anecdote about their graduation night, involving a rather humorless drill sergeant and sever– al rubber snakes. The girl was relaxing, even enjoying the story of their childish prank– -seventeen years ago. She would have been cele– brating her first birthday. Still, she had put her questions on hold at Barry's request, even though David knew she had to be anxious about what he'd told her. The ability to retrain one's focus so quickly was an admirable trait, one that he'd never fully mastered. He'd been able to think of little else since his own call to the S.T.A.R.S. AD. David's devotion to the organization had made the apparent betrayal all the more bitter, like a bad taste in his mouth that wouldn't go away. The S.T.A.R.S. had been David's life for almost twenty years, had given him all the things he'd lacked growing up-a sense of self-worth, a sense of purpose and integrity.
And just like that, the lives of dedicated men and women, my life and life's work simply tossed aside as if it meant nothing. How much did that cost? How much did Umbrella have to pay to buy the S.T.A.R.S.'s honor?
David shook the anger, focusing his attention on Rebecca. If all he'd learned was true, time was short and their resources were now severely limited. His motivations weren't as important right now as hers. He could tell by the way she held herself that she wasn't the shy or submissive type, and she was obviously bright; her eyes fairly sparkled with it. From what Barry had told him, she'd acted profes– sionally throughout the Spencer facility operation. Her file suggested that she was more than qualified to work with a chemical virus, assuming that she was as good as the reports said-and assuming she has any desire to put her life in further danger. That was going to be the sticking point. She hadn't been with the S.T.A.R.S. for very long, and knowing that they'd sold their people out probably wasn't going to overwhelm her with feelings of confidence for the job ahead. It would be just as easy for her to step out of the game now. For that matter, it would be the intelligent choice for all of them. There was a knock at the door, presumably the other two Alphas. David's hand drifted down to the butt of his nine-millimeter as Barry went to answer. When he walked back in leading the S.T.A.R.S. team members, David relaxed, then stood up to be formally introduced.
"Jill Valentine, Chris Redfield-this is Captain David Trapp, military strategist for the Maine
S.T.A.R.S. Exeter branch."
Chris was the marksman, if David remembered correctly, and Jill something of a covert B amp;E special– ist. Barry said that the pilot, Brad Vickers, had skipped town shortly after the Spencer incident. No great loss, from what he could gather; the man sounded distinctly unreliable. He shook hands with both of them and they all sat down, Barry nodding toward him.
"David's an old comrade of mine. We worked together on the same team for about two years, right after boot camp. He showed up on my doorstep about an hour ago with news, and I didn't think it could wait. David?"
David cleared his throat, trying to focus on the significant facts. After a pause, he began at the begin-ning.
"As you already know, six days ago, Barry placed several calls to various S.T.A.R.S. branches to see if any word had come from the home office about the tragedy that occurred here. I received one of those calls. It was the first I'd heard about it, and I've since found out that the New York office hasn't contacted anyone about your discovery. No warnings or memos. Nothing has been issued to the S.T.A.R.S. regarding the Umbrella Corporation."
Chris and Jill exchanged looks of concern. "Maybe they're not done investigating," Chris said slowly. David shook his head. "I spoke to the assistant director myself the day after Barry called. I didn't tell him about the contact, only that I'd heard rumor of a problem in Raccoon, and wanted to know if it had any merit."
He looked at the assembled group and sighed inwardly, feeling like he'd already gone over it a thousand times.
Only in my mind, searching for another answer… and there isn 't one. "The AD wouldn't tell me anything outright," he continued, "and he told me that I should remain quiet about it until official word came down. What he would say was that there had been a helicopter crash in Raccoon City-and what he implied was that the surviving S.T.A.R.S. were trying to lay blame on Umbrella, angry over some sort of funding dispute." "But that's not true!" Jill said. "We were investigat-ing the murders, and found…" "Yes, Barry told me," David interrupted. "You found that the murders were the result of a laboratory accident. The T-Virus that Umbrella was experiment-ing with was released somehow and it transformed the researchers into mad killers." "That's exactly what happened," Chris said. "I know it sounds nuts, but we were there, we saw them." David nodded. "I believe you. I have to admit, I was skeptical after speaking with Barry. As you say, it sounds 'nuts'-but my call to New York and what's happened since has changed all that. I've known Barry for a long time, and I knew that he wouldn't be looking to place blame for such an unfortunate inci-dent unless Umbrella was, in fact, responsible. He even told me about his own unwilling involvement in the attempted cover up." "But if Tom Kurtz told you that there was no conspiracy…" Chris said. David sighed. "Yes. We have to assume that either our own organization has been misled-or that, like your Captain Wesker, members of the S.T.A.R.S. are now working for Umbrella."
There was a moment of shocked silence as they absorbed the information, and David could see anger and confusion play across their faces. He knew how they felt. It meant that the S.T.A.R.S. directors had either been manipulated by Umbrella or corrupted by them-and either way, the survivors of the Raccoon team had been hung out to dry, left vulnerable to whatever Umbrella might do.
God, if only I could believe that it was all a mis-take. "Three days ago, I picked up a tail on my way in to work," he said softly. "I wasn't able to make them, but I'm assuming that they're some of Umbrella's people and that my call to New York was respon-sible." "Have you tried to get hold of Palmieri?" Jill asked. David nodded. The S.T.A.R.S. national command– er was the one man he knew was above taking bribes; Marco Palmieri had been with the S.T.A.R.S. since the very beginning. "I was informed by his secretary that he's leading a classified operation in the Middle East and won't be available for months-and word has it that arrangements are being made for his retirement while he's away." "You think Umbrella's behind it?" Chris asked. David shrugged. "Umbrella has made substantial donations to the S.T.A.R.S. over the years, which means they have the contacts. If they're trying to turn the S.T.A.R.S. away from investigating them, getting rid of Dr. Palmieri would be to their advantage."
David glanced around the room, trying to assess their readiness for the rest of it. Barry's fists were clenched, and he stared at them as if he'd never seen them before. Jill and Rebecca both seemed lost in thought, though he could see that they had accepted his story as truth. It would save them time, at least… Chris stood up and started to pace, his youthful features flushed with anger. "So basically, we've got no credibility with the locals, no backup coming, and we've been branded as liars by our own people. The Umbrella investigation is dead and we're screwed, does that pretty much sum it up?"
David could see that the anger wasn't directed at him, just as the anger that he felt wasn't for the young Alpha. The thought of what Umbrella had done, what the S.T.A.R.S. were involved in-it made him sick with rage, with feelings of helplessness that he hadn't felt since his childhood.
Stop thinking of yourself. Tell them the rest.
David stood up and looked at Chris, though he addressed all of them. He hadn't even had time to tell Barry yet.
"Actually, there's more. It seems that there's anoth-er Umbrella facility on the Maine coast, conducting experiments with this virus of theirs-and just like what happened here, they've lost control."
David turned to Rebecca, taking in her wide, horri-fied gaze as he finished. "I'm taking a team in, without S.T.A.R.S. authorization-and I want you to come with us."
TWO
They all stared at david, chris feeling like he'd just been punched in the gut. He was still reeling from the information about the S.T.A.R.S., from the realization that they were on their own and now another lab?
And he wants to take Rebecca…
David went on, his dark gaze still fixed on the young Bravo. "I've talked to the people on my team I believe to be trustworthy, and three of them have agreed to go. I'm not going to lie to you-it will be dangerous, and without the S.T.A.R.S. to back us up, there's no guarantee we'll be able to close the lab down. We just want to go in, collect some solid evidence on this T-Virus, and get back out before anyone even knows we're…"
Before he could stop himself, Chris interrupted.
"I'm going, too." "We all go," Barry said firmly. Jill nodded, putting her arm around Rebecca. The teen seemed flustered, her cheeks red, and looking at her, Chris was once again reminded of Claire. It was more than just a physical resemblance; Rebecca had the same wit, the same spirited blend of courage and thoughtfulness that Chris's younger sister had. And since the Spencer estate disaster, Chris had come to feel just as protec– tive of Rebecca. Too many of his friends had died already. Joseph, Richard, Kenneth, Forest, and Enrico-not to mention Billy Rabbitson; his body had never been found, but Chris had no doubts that Umbrella had killed him to keep him from talking. It wasn't that Rebecca couldn't handle herself…
… but damn it, she's part of our team. No way she goes without us. David shook his head. "Look, this isn't a full-scale op; five people is already stretching it. Rebecca's got the background we need to find the data on the virus, and she already knows what symptoms to look for." "You've got your team right here," Chris said. "You can take us instead, let your guys look into the cover up."
David sat back down and looked at Chris, his face expressionless, "Tell me who's involved in Umbrella's conspiracy to hide their research," he said. Chris glanced at the others, then back at David, determined not to let his confusion show. "We sus-pect several people locally. Umbrella's office workers, of course. The police commissioner, Chief Irons, a couple of his men…" David nodded. "And now that it looks like the
S.T.A.R.S. are in on this, what do you propose to do?" Where the hell is he going with this? Chris sighed. "I don't know. I… we should con-tact the Feds, maybe an internal affairs division to look into the S.T.A.R.S. and the RPD." Barry cut in "…and we'll get in touch with some of the other S.T.A.R.S. branches. There are still good people working out there who ain't gonna be too happy that Umbrella's taking over." David nodded again. "So you agree that Umbrella has to be stopped, even though it will be dangerous?" "Well, no shit," Chris said, scowling angrily. "We can't just sit around and do nothing, there's no telling what could happen if the T-Virus gets out again!" "And what can you tell me about the classification of the virus?" David asked quietly. Chris opened his mouth to answer-and then closed it, staring at David thoughtfully. He was about to say, "You should ask Rebecca." And he knows it. David stood up and looked at all of them in turn as he spoke, his voice intense and determined. "I agree, Umbrella has to be stopped-but let's not kid our-selves. We're talking about breaking from the
S.T.A.R.S. and going up against a multi-billion dollar establishment on our own. Nowhere is going to be safe, and our only chance for success is if we each do what we can, what we're good at, to take Umbrella down."
He fixed his cool gaze on Chris, as if he realized that Chris was the one who had to be convinced. "You and Jill and Barry already know what to look for here, and you've been with the S.T.A.R.S. longer than Rebecca. You should stay here, out of sight, see if you can ferret out the connection between the local police and Umbrella-and reach out to the S.T.A.R.S. members that you think would help us." David turned to Rebecca again. "And if you agree, I think we should leave for Maine tonight. With the information I have, it looks as though things have already gotten out of hand. My team is standing by; we could go in tomorrow at dusk."
The room was silent for a moment, the only sound that of the ceiling fan whirring overhead. Chris still felt angry, but couldn't find a hole in the man's logic; he was right about their options, and whether Chris liked it or not, the choice to go to Maine was Rebecca's to make. "What information do you have?" Jill asked thoughtfully. "How did you find out about the lab?" David reached down to a battered briefcase propped next to his chair and dug through it, pulling out a file folder. "An interesting story in itself, if a strange one. I was hoping that one of you might be able to decipher some of this…"
He laid out three sheets of paper on the coffee table as he spoke, what looked like photocopies of newspa-per clippings, and a simple diagram. "Shortly after I talked to the home office, I received a visit from a stranger, a man who claimed to be a friend of the S.T.A.R.S… he told me his name was Trent, and gave me these." "Trent!" Jill broke in excitedly. She turned to Chris, her eyes wide, and Chris felt his heart skip a beat. He'd almost forgotten about their mysterious benefactor. The guy who told Jill to watch out for traitors, who told Brad where to pick us up… David stared at Jill, his expression puzzled. "You know him?" "Just before we went in to rescue the Bravos, a man named Trent gave me some information about the Spencer estate, and warned me about Wesker," Jill said. "He was quite a piece of work, real shady-he didn't give anything away, you know? But he knew what was going on with Umbrella, and what he did tell me all panned out." Barry nodded. "And Brad Vickers said that Trent called in the estate's coordinates right after Wesker activated the triggering system. If he hadn't radioed, we woulda blown up with the rest of the mansion."
Chris suddenly realized that he had a serious head– ache brewing as they all gathered around Barry's coffee table, staring down at the papers. The
S.T.A.R.S. were working for Umbrella, there was another T-Virus facility operating in Maine-and now Trent again, popping up like some cryptic fairy godmother, his motives impossible to guess at. It was like some kind of a game, the stakes all or nothing as they struggled to get to the bottom of Umbrella's conspiracy.
And we have no choice but to play-but whose game are we playing? And what do we risk losing if we fail?
Chris shot an unhappy glance at Rebecca, thinking again of his kid sister and wishing, not for the first time, that they'd never heard of Umbrella. David watched them study the information that Trent had given him, somehow not surprised that the enigmatic stranger had contacted the S.T.A.R.S. be– fore. The man had been a professional, though at what, precisely, David couldn't imagine.
Why would he want to help us fight Umbrella? What's in it for him?
David thought back to the brief encounter he'd had only five days ago, searching his memory for some additional clues, something he'd missed. He'd arrived home late from work, and it had been raining…… pouring, a thundering summer storm that beat at the windows and masked the sound of his gentle knocking… The Exeter S.T.A.R.S. had enjoyed an easy sum-mer, more paperwork than action. The Bravos had taken off for a criminal profiling seminar in New Hampshire, and David had been entertaining thoughts of packing a bag and attending the final days-until he'd received Barry's call, followed by his first hint from the home office that something was wrong. He'd spent the next day calling a few of his branch contacts with discreet questions and digging through files on Umbrella, not making it home until almost midnight. The driving rain had ushered him into his cold, dark house, the atmosphere matching his mood perfectly. He'd poured a scotch and collapsed on the couch, his head spinning from the implications of what he'd learned-that either his old friend Barry was lying or that the AD for the S.T.A.R.S. was. The rapping at his door was so soft that he missed it at first, the steady rain hammering on the roof cover– ing the sound. Then it grew louder. Frowning, David looked at his watch and walked slowly to the door, wondering who the hell came calling in the middle of the night. He lived alone and had no family; it had to be work, or maybe someone with car trouble… He cracked the door open-and saw a man in a black trench coat standing on his porch, streams of water running down his lined face. The stranger smiled, an open, friendly expression, his eyes glittering bright with humor. "David Trapp?" David took in the man at a glance. Tall and thin, maybe a few years past David's age, say forty-two or forty-three. His dark hair was plastered to his skull by the rain, and he held a large manila envelope in one gloved hand.
"Yes?" The man grinned wider. "My name is Trent, and this is for you."
He held out the damp envelope and David glanced at it warily, not sure if he should take it. Mr. Trent didn't seem dangerous, or at least not threatening, but he was still a stranger, and David preferred to know the people he accepted gifts from."Do I know you?" David asked. Trent shook his head, his smile unwavering. "No. But I know you, Mr. Trapp. And I also know what you're about to go up against. Believe me, you're going to need all the help you can get." "I don't know what you're talking about. Perhaps you have me confused with someone else."
Trent's smile faded as he extended the envelope, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. "Mr. Trapp, it's raining. And this is for you."
Confused and not a little irritated, David opened the door wider to accept the envelope. As soon as he grasped it, Trent turned and started to walk away. "Hold on a moment." Trent ignored him, disappearing into the rain– drenched shadows around the side of the house. David stood in the doorway uncertainly, holding the damp paper and staring into the pouring darkness for another minute before going back inside. Once he'd studied the contents, he wished he'd gone after Trent, but by then, of course, it was too late. Too late and only too obvious what he'd meant. He knew about Umbrella and the S.T.A.R.S., but who does he work for? And why did he choose to contact me?
Jill and Rebecca were studying the map while Barryand Chris worked through the copied newspaper articles. There were four of them, all recent, all centered around the tiny coastal town of Caliban Cove, Maine. Three of them concerned the disappear– ances of local fishermen, all presumed dead. The fourth was a rather humorous piece about the "ghosts" that haunted the cove; it seemed that several townspeople had heard strange sounds floating across the waters late at night, described as "the cries of the damned." The writer of the article had laughinglysuggested that the witnesses to the phenomena should probably stop drinking their mouthwash before bed. Funny. Unless you know what we know about Umbrella.
The map was of the stretch of coast just south of the small town, an aerial sketch of the cove itself. David had uncovered a few facts about the area on a visit to Exeter's library, uncomfortable using the S.T.A.R.S. computer after Barry's call. The rather isolated stretch had been privately owned for several years, bought up by an anonymous group. There was a defunct lighthouse on the northern rim of the inlet, sitting atop a cliff that was supposedly riddled with sea caves. Trent's map showed several structures behind and below the lighthouse, leading down to a small pier on the southern tip of the open crescent. There was a notched border that ran the length of the cove on the inland side, presumably a fence. CALIBAN COVE was written across the top in bold letters. In smaller type just beneath were the words UMB. RESEARCH AND TESTING. The third piece of paper that Trent had given him was the one that David didn't understand; there was a short list of names at the top, seven in all: LYLE AMMON, ALAN KINNESON, TOM ATHENS, LOUIS THURMAN, NICOLAS GRIFFITH, WILLIAM BIRKIN, TIFFANY CHIN. Just under it was a somewhat poetic list of sorts, set into the center of the page in curling font. Jill had picked it up again and was reading it carefully. She looked up at David, a half-smile on her face.
"No question that we've got the same Trent here. The guy's into riddles." "Any idea what it means?" David asked. Jill sighed heavily. "Well, one of the names here was in the material that Trent gave me-William Birkin. We figured out that at least some of the others were researchers at the Spencer facility, so I'm willing to bet these people also work for Umbrella. Birkin may not have been at the estate when it was de-stroyed. I don't recognize any of the others." David nodded. "I checked all of them with the
S.T.A.R.S. database and came up blank. The rest, though… Is it a riddle of some sort?"
Jill glanced back at the paper, frowning as she read it to herself again: Ammon's message received/blue series/enter answer for key/letters and numbers reverse/time rainbow/don't count/ blue to access. Rebecca took the paper from her as Jill looked back at David thoughtfully. "A lot of what Trent gave me seemed like pretty random stuff, but some of it related to the Spencer mansion's secrets; the whole place was
rigged with puzzle locks and traps. Maybe this is the same deal. It relates to something you'll find." "Oh, shit."
They all turned to Rebecca who was staring at the top of the page, her face drained of color. She looked at David with an expression of anxious despair.
"Nicolas Griffith is on this list." David nodded. "You know who he is?"She looked around at all of them, her young face openly distressed. "Yeah, except I thought he was dead. He was one of the greats, one of the most brilliant men ever to work in the biosciences."
She turned back to David, her gaze heavy with dread. "If he's with Umbrella, we've got a lot more to worry about than the T-Virus getting out. He's a genius in the field of molecular virology and if the stories are true, he's also totally insane."
Rebecca looked back at the list, her stomach a leaden knot.
Dr. Griffith, still alive… and involved with Umbrel-la. Could today possibly get any worse? "What can you tell us about him?" David asked. Rebecca's mouth felt dry. She reached for her glass of water and drained it before looking at David.
"How much do you know about the study of viruses?" she asked. He smiled a little. "Nothing. That's why I'm here."Rebecca nodded, trying to think of where to start.
"Okay. Viruses are classified by their replication strategy and by the type of nucleic acid in the virion-that's the specialized element in a virus that allows it to transfer its genome to another living cell. A genome is a single, simple set of chromosomes. According to the Baltimore Classification, there are seven distinct types of viruses, and each group infects certain organisms in a certain way. In the early sixties, a young scientist at a private university in California challenged the theory, insist-ing that there was an eighth group-one based loosely on dsDNA and ssDNA viruses-that could infect everything it contacted. It was Dr. Griffith. He pub-lished several papers, and while it turned out that he was wrong, his reasoning was brilliant. I know, I read them. The scientific community scoffed at his theory, but his research on virus-specified inclusion bodies in the cytoplasm without a linear genome…"
Rebecca trailed off, noticing the blank expressions on their faces. "Sorry. Anyway, Griffith stopped try-ing to prove the theory, but a lot of people were interested to see what he'd come up with next." Jill interrupted, frowning. "Where did you learn all this?" "In school. One of my professors was kind of a science-history buff. His specialty was defunct theo– ries… and scandals." "So what happened?" David asked. "The next time anyone heard from Griffith, it was because he'd gotten kicked out of the university. Dr. Vachss-that was my prof-told us that Griffith was officially fired for using drugs, methamphetamines, but the rumor was that he'd been experimenting with drug-induced behavior modification on a couple of his students. Neither of them would talk, but one of them ended up in an asylum and the other eventually committed suicide. Nothing was ever proved, but after that, no one would hire him and as far as the facts go, that's the last anyone heard of Nicolas Griffith." "But there's more to the story?" David asked. Rebecca nodded slowly. "In the mid-eighties, a private lab in Washington was broken into by cops and the bodies of three men were found, all dead of a filovirus infection-it was Marburg, one of the most lethal viruses there is. They'd been dead for weeks; neighbors had complained because of the smell. The papers the police found in the lab suggested that all three men were research assistants to a Dr. Nicolas Dunne, and that they had allowed themselves to be deliberately infected with what they understood to be a harmless cold virus. Dr. Dunne was going to see if he could cure it."
She stood up, crossing her arms tightly. The agonythose men must have endured; she'd seen pictures of Marburg victims. From the initial headache to extreme amplification in a matter of days. Fever, clotting, shock, brain damage, massive hemorrhaging from every orifice, they would've died in pools of their own blood. "And your professor thought it was Griffith?" Jill asked softly. Rebecca forced the images away and turned to Jill, finishing the story the way Dr. Vachss had. "Griffith's mother-her maiden name was Dunne."