It was a bitter cold night, the kind that freezes to the bone. White flurries fell to the ground to make an icy blanket over the ground. There was no wind, and it was something to be thankful for. Matthew rubbed his hands together and breathed warm, wet air into his fingers.
Where is he? He should have been here by now.
He pulled back the cloth of his fingerless gloves to look at his watch. 9:18. He was only three minutes late, but that was so uncharacteristic of him. Usually he was three to eight minutes early wherever he went. Matthew was just getting ready to reach for his cell phone when he saw the beams of a car's headlights in the distance. It made the snow glisten like diamonds in the otherwise moonlit street.
I thought I would get a break coming back home…this is worse than the weather in New York!
He heard the sound of snow crunching grumpily under the tires of the white Corolla as it inched its way alongside Matthew. He opened the door of his own Jeep to grab his laptop, shut it, clicked the lock button and opened the passenger door.
"Long time no see," he said, getting into the car. He placed his laptop bag on the floorboard as he looked over at his old friend.
"Five years," he agreed. He did not say anything else; he just put the car in drive and kept going. This was unusual. He was usually more talkative and jovial. Something must have really been bothering him. He sounded so distraught on the phone. It was certainly not a phone call that Matthew expected to get…especially from Caleb. He had been in touch with him via email, bouncing ideas and manuscripts back and forth.
"How have you been?" Matthew asked, genuinely concerned. Their emails had been shallow and superficial, exclusively professional as of late.
"Not so good," Caleb admitted with a sigh. He looked at Matthew and forced a smile. His face smiled, but there was obvious sorrow in his eyes.
"What's up?" Matthew asked.
"I need your help with something," Caleb replied. He did not say anything more. Matthew raised his eyebrows, impatient at the failure to explain and elaborate.
"It must be something really important for you to ask me to fly back here to Illinois," Matthew pointed out.
"You have no idea," Caleb said. Again, no elaboration, just quick, vague answers. Matthew was tired of beating around the bush.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
"I have a lead on a story…something that would be of great interest to you. I've got some inside information that could be very helpful," Caleb said.
"Well…out with it," Matthew urged.
"The Umbrella Corporation used a dummy corporation call Tri-Cell to buy the refineries…all three of them," Caleb answered, grimacing. Matthew's mouth fell open. He remembered his brother was talking about the refineries shutting down and being bought out by a company called Tri-Cell. He had done research on Tri-Cell, trying to find out what a pharmaceutical company would want with crude oil refineries.
"Tri-Cell is owned by Umbrella?" Matthew asked. He was in complete disbelief. This was easily the worse news that he had heard in a while. The Umbrella Corporation had a lot of flack over their experiments with viral weaponry going wrong in a few cities across the globe…the worst of them being Raccoon City. Caleb knew that Matthew would be particularly interested in it. He had been the designated investigative journalist covering the story for the New York Times. He was still working freelance, back then. It was a big writing break for him. He was nominated for a Pulitzer for his "Raccoon City's Aftermath" article. It featured testimonials of resident survivors of the tragic disaster, as well as his own theories about the government's decision to bomb the city.
"Apparently. There's no ties to it with stock, owners, employers or anything. As far as the outward eye can tell, Tri-Cell is a publicly traded company completely independent and separate from the Umbrella Corporation. Of course, this is a façade to hide what's really going on," Caleb added.
"So how do you know? Do you have proof?" Matthew asked. He reflexively reached for the tape recorder in his bag. He had been meaning to buy a digital recorder for years, but there was something about old school that tickled Matthew's fancy. He saw Caleb shoot an apprehensive glance at the tape recorder.
"I prefer to keep this off the record for now, if you don't mind," Caleb insisted. Matthew nodded, putting the recorder in his lap, ready to have it ready a moment's notice. Matthew waited for Caleb to explain himself.
"As you can imagine, when the facilities where purchased, the workers were all laid off…except for the chemists and engineers. They were given a huge severance…enough for most of them to retire on. My dad was included in that group of course," Caleb continued.
"I'm not following you," Matthew admitted.
"So the last time I was over at my dad's house I just happened to see his severance check sitting on the desk in his office. I was curious about the amount, so I had to snoop. Well, you'll never guess who's signature was on the check," Caleb said.
"Vincent McFadden," Matthew said, connecting the dots. Caleb nodded.
"This is huge! This is beyond scandal," Matthew said aloud. It also made sense why no one was figuring this out and taking it public. Only a few people knew that name, or the man behind the alias; Matthew and Caleb were among the few. He was one of the higher-ups on the corporate ladder, one of the only executives in the company that did not disappear or die by untimely natural causes.
"It's just a name on a piece of paper to everyone else, but when I saw it my heart stopped," Caleb iterated.
"I guess. Still, it's probably good that no one knows that Umbrella's in town. It'd be bad if radicals did what they did in Australia," Matthew pointed out.
"Agreed. Still, it needs to be made public in some fashion or another. The only person I knew with experience and expertise with Umbrella was you," Caleb said. "We need to do something soon. They'll be opening the medical testing facility in just a few weeks. They pay loads of money for participants, but we both know, and shudder to think, what kind of testing they'll be conducting."
"Surely they're not going to do viral testing straightaway," Matthew objected.
"I wouldn't be so sure. I think that they are trying to develop a vaccine for the T-virus."
"How brilliant! A vaccine for the deadliest and most dangerous virus known to man," Matthew exclaimed sarcastically.
"I think that they want to develop a vaccine so that they can get it back on the black market. It pays to be the only company with a vaccine to a doomsday virus," Caleb added.
"Yeah, but they've been there and done that. They're under new management now. To be honest…a vaccine is the best idea I've heard in a long time," Matthew admitted.
"We wouldn't need a vaccine if there was no virus in the first place. Anyway, the reason that I called you down here is so that you can work your magic and get some information," Caleb said. Matthew rolled his eyes. As usual, his friend overestimated his capabilities.
"You act like I can just march in there like any other journalist and they're going to tell me all their dirty little secrets. They'll give me the generic, cover-story, bullshit that they give every other reporter looking for a story," Matthew said, shaking his head.
"Quit being modest. You know what questions to ask," Caleb protested.
"Yeah, and if I go in there, guns blazing, stirring up trouble, they'll just put a tighter lock on whatever they're trying to hide," Matthew replied.
"Exactly," Caleb said with a mischievous smirk. What was he thinking? Obviously, by the coy look on his face, he had a plan, probably brilliant and dangerous.
"You're vagueness is killing me; throw me a bone. What do you have in mind?"
"If you put the pressure on them, they'll put extra security on whatever facility is housing their viral stuff. We'll know where to look," Caleb said with a grin.
"And then what?"
"You know what," Caleb replied grimly. Matthew returned the sentiment as he leaned his head on the car's headrest. What were the odds? An investigative journalist, and an up-and-coming novelist working together to expose a corrupt company's dangerous secrets. He had to admit, this was the opportunity of his writing career. His aftermath interview paper had been great, but a first-hand, exclusive expose on Umbrella's next conspiracy was too good to pass up.
"It's gonna make a hell of a paper," Matthew said, grinning ear-to-ear.
"It's gonna make a better book…and eventually a movie," Caleb countered, playfully elbowing Matthew in the ribs.
"When do we begin?" Matthew asked.
"Is tomorrow too early for you?"
"Tomorrow's fine with me," Matthew replied.
"Tomorrow it is," Caleb confirmed.