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 con-tained 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, si-lently 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.
FlFfEEn
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 back-up ...
He might not come back at all.
In any case, staying put wasn’t going to help any-thing. She stood up, taking a last look at the Bravo’s pale face and silently wishing him peace before walk-ing 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. As-suming 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 ceil-ing 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 mecha-nism underground—
Like the one next to that pit, with the hexagonal hole?
She nodded slowly, deciding that she needed to go take another look at those doors she couldn’t get to before. Maybe the killer had the tool it required, and the noise she’d heard had come from him operating it. She could be wrong, but there was no harm in checking. . . .
And at least I won’t get lost.
She reached for the door that would lead her back and stopped, her head cocked to catch the strange sound coming from the tunnel behind her. It was—a rusty hinge? Some kind of a bird, maybe? It was loud, whatever it was. . . .
Thump. Thump. Thump.
That sound she knew. Footsteps, headed in her direction, and it was either Barry or someone built like him. They were heavy, plodding—but too far apart, too . . . deliberate.
Get out of here. Now!
Jill grabbed at the metal latch and ran into the next tunnel, no longer caring how much noise she made. Although she sometimes misread them, her instincts were never wrong—and they were telling her that whoever or whatever was making that sound, she didn’t want to be there when it showed up. She took several running steps down the stone corridor, away from the ladder that led back to the courtyard—and then forced herself to slow down, taking a deep breath. She couldn’t just go sprinting ahead, either; there were other dangers than the one she’d left behind—