He thought about what Trent had said, just before Reston had left for the Planet—that as long as they didn't lose their heads, there was no need for concern. Generic placating advice, but hearing it from Trent made it sound like the truth. It was funny; they'd brought Trent in to act as trouble shooter, and in less than six months he'd become one of the most respected members of their circle. Nothing rattled Trent, the man was ice; they were lucky to have him, particularly considering their recent run of misfortune.
The elevator came to a stop and Reston squared his shoulders, preparing himself to redirect Mr. Cole's efforts—and just the thought of making the man jump made him smile again, all other worries put aside for the moment.
Just a working-class Joe,he thought happily, and stepped out to take care of business.
SIX
THERE WAS A HALF-MOON IN THE CLEAR night sky, casting a pallid blue light across the vast,
open stretch of plain and making it seem even colder than it was.
Andthat's pretty goddamn cold,Claire thought, shivering in spite of the rental's blasting heater. It was another minivan, and even with the three of them moving around in the back, checking weapons and loading clips, they didn't seem to be generating nearly enough heat to ward off the icy air that seeped in through the thin metal shell.
"Do you have the 380s?" John asked Leon, who handed over the box of rounds before going back to loading up their hip packs. David was driving,
Rebecca checking their position on a GPS. If Trent's coordinates were correct, they'd be getting close.
Claire looked out at the pale landscape passing by the dirt track, the seemingly endless miles of nothing
beneath the wide open sky, and shivered again. It was a barren, forsaken place, the road they were on scarcely more that a dirt track leading in from nowhere; a perfect setting for Umbrella.
The plan was simple. Park the van a half mile or so from Trent's coordinates, load up with every weapon they had, and slip into the compound as quietly as they could manage . ..
".. . we'll find this entry keypad of Trent's, run the codes through, and go in strong," David had said,
"well after dark. With any luck, the majority of the workers will be asleep; just a matter of finding the staff quarters and rounding them up. We'll confine them and have a check around for this book of Mr. Reston's; John, you and Claire will keep watch over our captives, while the rest of us search. It would probably be in their operations room, or in Reston's private quarters. If we haven't found it within, say, twenty minutes, we'll have to ask Mr. Reston directly—a last resort, to avoid implicating Trent. Book in hand, we go back out the way we came in. Questions?"
Their planning session at the hotel had made it sound easy enough—and with as little information as they had, the questions had been few. Now, though, driving through an endless, freezing waste and trying to get psyched up for a confrontation—now it didn't seem so simple. It was a scary prospect, going into a
place none of them had ever been before and try to find an item no bigger than a paperback novel.
Plus it's Umbrella, plus we'll have to intimidate the crap out of a bunch of technicians and possibly end up having to strong-arm one of the big boys.
At least they were going in well armed; it seemed that they had learned something about dealing with Umbrella, after all—that taking in a shitload of firepower was a very good idea. In addition to the nine-millimeter handguns and multiple clips that each of them would carry, they had two M-16 A Is, automatic rifles—one for John, one for David—and a half-dozen fragmentation hand grenades. Just in case, David said.
In case everything falls apart. In case we have to blow up some bizarre, murderous creature—or a hundred of them. . . .
"Cold?" Leon asked.
Claire turned away from the window, looking at him. He'd finished with the packs, and was holding one out to her. She took it, nodding in response to his question. "Aren't you?"
He shook his head, grinning. "Thermal underwear. Could have used these in Raccoon. . . ."
Claire smiled. "K?w could have used them? I was running around in a pair of shorts, you at least had your uniform."
"Which was covered with lizard guts before I was halfway through the sewers," he said, and she was glad to hear him at least try to joke about it.
He's getting better; -we both are.
"Now, children," John said sternly. "If you don't stop, we're turning this car around—"
"Slow down," Rebecca said from the front, her quiet voice stilling them. David let up on the gas, the van slowing to a crawl.
"It looks like—it's about a half-mile southeast from our current position," Rebecca said.
Claire took a deep breath, saw John pick up one of the rifles, and saw Leon's mouth press into a thin line as David brought the van to a stop. It was time. John opened the side door and the air was ice, dry and bitterly cold.
"Hope they got the coffee on," John breathed, and hopped out into the darkness, reaching back in to grab his pack. Rebecca loaded up a few medical supplies, and as she and David climbed out, Leon put his hand on Claire's shoulder.
"You up for this?" he asked softly, and Claire smiled inwardly, thinking of how sweet he was; she'd been thinking of asking him the same thing. In the days since Raccoon, they'd gotten pretty close—and although she wasn't positive, she'd picked up on a few signals that suggested he wouldn't mind getting closer. She still wasn't sure if that was a good idea—
—and now's not the time to be deciding. The sooner we get this code book, the sooner we get to Europe. To Chris.
"As up as I'm gonna be," she said, and Leon nodded, and they climbed out into the freezing night to join the others.
David put John at the rear and took the lead himself, forcing all negative thoughts out of his mind as they struck out for where Trent said the test site would be. It wasn't easy; they were going in cold with less than a day's planning, no layout, no idea what Reston looked like or what kind of security they'd be facing—
—the list is endless, isn't it, and I'm still taking them in. Because if we're successful, I can step down.
Umbrella will be as good as dead and no one will have to look to me for anything, ever again.
That was a thought he could hold on to; a peaceful retirement. Once the monsters behind White Umbrella had been brought to justice, vigilante or otherwise, he'd have no greater responsibility than keeping himself fed and bathed. Perhaps he'd work up to a house-plant. . . .
"I think—veer left a few degrees," Rebecca said from behind him, startling him, bringing his focus
back around. She'd barely spoken above a whisper, but the night was so cold and crisp, the air so perfectly still that every step taken, every breath exhaled seemed to fill the world.
David led them through the darkness, wishing they could use their lights; they should be getting quite close. But even dressed all in black, he was worried they'd be spotted before they could get inside—what-ever that meant exactly; Trent had given them no idea of what the facility would look like. In any case, with barely a half moon they wouldn't see it until they were right on top—
There.
A thickening of shadow, straight ahead. David held up his hand, slowing the others as they moved closer, as he saw a dented metal roof reflecting moonlight. And then a fence, and then a handful of buildings, all of them dark and silent.
David dropped into a walking crouch, motioning for the rest to follow suit, holding the automatic rifle tight against his chest. They crept closer, close enough to see the lonely group of tall one-story structures behind a low fence.