"These operations fall into a division known as White Umbrella, and most have to do with bioweapons research. There are very few who know all of the ins and outs of White Umbrella's business, but the ones who do are extremely powerful. Powerful, and committed to creating all sorts of unpleasantness. Chemical weapons, fatal diseases .. . the T and G series viruses that have been so troublesome as of late."
That's anunderstatement,Claire thought nastily, but was intrigued in spite of herself. To finallyknow something about what they were up against. ...
"Why?" Leon asked. "Chemical warfare isn't all that profitable, anyone with a centrifuge and some gardening supplies can come up with a bioweapon."
Rebecca was nodding. "And the kind of work they're doing, applying rapid fuse virions to genetic redistribution—it's incredibly expensive, and as hazardous to work with as nuclear waste. Worse."
Trent shook his head. "They're doing it because they can. Because they want to." He smiled faintly. "Because when you're richer and more powerful than anyone else on the planet, you get bored."
"Who gets bored?" David asked.
Trent gazed at him for a moment, then started talking again, blatantly ignoring David's question.
"White Umbrella's current focus is on bio-organic soldiers, if you will—individual specimens, most genetically altered, all injected with some variation of virus intended to make them violent and strong and oblivious to pain. The manner in which these viruses amplify in humans, the 'zombie' reaction, is nothing more than an unexpected side effect; the viruses Umbrella creates are designed for nonhuman use, at least at this point."
Claire was interested, but she was also getting impatient. "So when do we get to the part about why you're here, why you don't want us going to Europe?" she asked, not bothering to keep the anger out of her voice.
Trent looked at her, his dark eyes suddenly sympathetic, and she realized that he knew why she was
angry, that he knew all about her reasons for wanting to go to Europe. She could see it in the way he gazed at her, his eyes telling her that he understood—and she suddenly felt deeply uneasy.
He knows everything, doesn't he? All about us. . . .
"Not all of the White Umbrella facilities are the same," he continued. "There are some that deal strictly with data, some only with the chemistry, some where specimens are grown or surgically pieced to-gether—and a very few where these specimens are tested. And that brings us to why I'm here, and why I'd rather you postponed your plans.
"There's an Umbrella testing facility about to go on line in Utah, just north of the salt flats. Right now, it's staffed by a very small crew of technicians and . . . specimen handlers, and is scheduled to become fully operational in about three weeks. The man overseeing the final preparations is one of White Umbrella's key players, a man named Reston. The job was supposed to have been handled by another fellow, a despicable little man by the name of Lewis, but Mr. Lewis had an unfortunate and not entirely unplanned accident. . . and now Reston is in charge. And because he is one of the very important men behind White Umbrella, he has, in his possession, a little black book. There are only three of these books, and the other two would be nearly impossible to get hold of. . . ."
"So what's in it?" John snapped. "Get to the point."
Trent smiled at John as if he had asked politely.
"Each book is a kind of master key; each has a complete directory of codes used to program every mainframe in every White Umbrella facility. With
that book, one could conceivably break into any lab or test site and access everything from personnel files to financial statements. They'll change the codes once the book is stolen, of course—but unless they want to lose everything they've stored, it will take them months."
No one spoke for a moment, the only sound that of the plane's insistent hum. Claire looked at each of them, saw the thoughtful expressions, saw that they were seriously considering Trent's implied propos-al—and realized that it had just become highly unlikely that they would be going to Europe after all.
"But what about Chris, and Jill and Barry? You said they were okay—how do you know that?" Claire asked, and David could just hear the barely hidden desperation.
"It would take a very long time to explain how I come by my information," Trent said smoothly. "And while I'm certain you don't want to hear this, I'm afraid you'll just have to trust me. Your brother and his companions are in no immediate danger, they don't need you at the moment—but the opportunity to get Reston's book, to get into that lab, will be gone in less than a week. There's no security detail right now, half the systems aren't even running—and as long as you stay away from the test program, there are no creatures to contend with."
David wasn't sure what to think. It sounded good, it sounded like exactly the opportunity they'd been hoping for ... but then, so had Caliban Cove. So had a lot of things.
And as for trusting Mr. Trent. . .
"What's your stake in this?" David asked. "Why do you want to hurt Umbrella?"
Trent shrugged. "Call it a hobby."
"I'm serious," David said.
"So am I." Trent smiled, his eyes still dancing with that twinkling humor. David had only seen him once before, hadn't exchanged more than a dozen words, but Trent seemed just as strangely happy now as he had then; whatever it was that made him tick, it was certainly bringing him a lot of pleasure.
"Why have you been so cryptic?" Rebecca asked, and David nodded, saw that the others were doing the same. "The stuff you gave to Jill, and to David, before—all riddles and clues. Why not just tell us what we need to know?"
"Because you needed to figure it out," Trent said.
"Or, rather, it was necessary that youappearedto figure it out, all by yourselves. As I said before, there are very few people who know what White Umbrella is doing; if you seemed to know too much, it might come back to me."
"Then why take the risk now?" David asked. "For that matter, why do you need us at all? You obviously
have some connection to White Umbrella; why not go public, or sabotage them from the inside?"
Trent smiled again. "I'm taking the risk because it's time to take a risk. And as to the rest... all I can say is that I have my reasons."
He talks and talks, and yet we still don't know what the hell he's doing, or why. . . how exactly does he manage that?
"Why don't you tell us a few of those reasons,
Trent?" None of it was sitting well with John, David
saw; he was scowling at their stowaway, looking as though he might have to be talked out of punching the man.
Trent didn't answer. Instead, he pushed himself off of the seat and picked up his coat, turning to look at David.
"I realize you'll want to discuss this before you make your decision," he said. "If you'll excuse me, I'll take this opportunity to visit our captain. If you decide against collecting Reston's book, I'll step aside.
I said before that you had no choice, but that was my dramatic side showing, I suppose; there's always a choice."
On that, Trent turned and walked to the front of the cabin and slipped behind the curtain without a backward glance.
FOUR
JOHN BROKE THE SILENCE ABOUT TWO SEConds after Trent left the cabin.
"To hell with this," he said, looking as pissed off as Rebecca had ever seen him. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not all that happy about being played like this—I'm not here to be Mr. Trent's boy, and I don't trust him. I say we get him to talk about Umbrella, tell us what he knows about our team in Europe—and if he gives us one more say-nothing answer, we should drop-kick his evasive ass out the damned door."
Rebecca knew he was royally ticked, but she couldn't help herself. "Yeah, John, but how do you
reallyfeel?"