Chapter 7
A small bell tinkled, whether electronic or natural was unknown to Ada, as as pushed open the door. A young college girl dressed casually with a name tag clipped to her shirt greeted her pleasantly. Ada smiled back, then began to scout the room. The cafe had general seating, so Ada was allowed to seat herself. It was 11:59. She was right on time.
The cafe wasn't packed, but it wasn't deserted either. It was even during the lunch rush, and it still wasn't full. Tables were clustered throughout the majority of the room, with booths along the wall. A partial wall towards the back obscured most of the kitchen from public view. The front of the restaurant was a single glass window, giving view to the street and sidewalk outside, with a desk and counter next to the door. Several men and women were moving between the booths and tables, taking orders, setting tables, and busing others. All in all, it was an ordinary restaurant.
Which makes it perfect for a meeting. Even if this is some kind of trap or setup, they wouldn't dare to try anything in public.
The tables and booths that were occupied held a variety of people. Ada had no idea what the person she was seeking looked like, but thought that it would be fairly obvious.
Ada slowly began to walk through the table seating, unbuttoning the large buttons of her coat and checking out the people. Couple, couple, group of college girls, group of college boys and girls, flirting couple, single woman, single man-
The man struck Ada as the one. He seemed fairly business-like, and was even wearing a brown suit. The only other possibility was the single woman, who was also wearing some type of business-type blazer, and had a briefcase sitting near her legs. Unlike the man, however, she was reading a magazine. The man was simply waiting, with a cup of some beverage in front of him. No one just waited for a meal, rather, they would bring something to keep themselves occupied, like the woman.
Ada also noted his position. His table formed the focus of the semi-circle of young adults around him. Out of earshot if voices were kept low, and background noise would eliminate any other risks. His eyes drifted casually to hers where they stayed, definitely not a casual look given to a stranger.
Yep, that's him.
Ada changed course and approached his table, gave a quick glance to the chatting people around her, then sat down across from him, leaving her coat on. He looked mid-forties, his brown hair matching his suit, and clean shaven.
Be sweet and charming. Let him think he's in control and find out what he wants.
"Thank you for coming, Wong," he said, sounding sincere, yet not bothering to address her formally.
"How could I neglect a call from the organization?" Ada questioned lightly. "So, what is it you wanted to discuss Mr...?"
"Call me Grant," he said.
Ada wondered if there was anyone in the organization who had any fun in picking an alias. First Smith, then Grant.
A waitress approached the table, digging a notepad out of the smock she wore. Like the girl at the door, she greeted Ada politely.
"Can I get anything for you, ma'am?" she asked, clicking a ball point pen habitually.
"Just a coffee, cream and sugar," Ada replied.
The waitress thanked her and jotted the order down, then departed, leaving the two alone again.
"I wanted to talk about the recent, uh, problem we've encountered." Grant said. He looked directly at Ada. "We're all quite troubled by this."
Ada laughed lightly. "None of you are surprised that one of you suddenly dropped over? I'm not too surprised, what with all the enemies we have. I thought you men knew what you were doing when you signed your contract."
So much for being sweet and charming. Her reply was a little more sassy than she intended it to be. Ada was actually a little taken aback by Grant's statement. The organization held more power than a small nation. If they were indeed unsettled by Smith's death, then it had to be something big.
Grant's clean features remained stoic. "Rest assured, Wong, we know exactly how to handle our work. But it becomes increasingly difficult to do your work when someone is trying to kill you."
"I can relate," Ada said coolly.
"Secrecy is one of our greatest defenses," Grant said abruptly. "We keep our operatives in the dark for a reason. It's the best way to prevent leaks. There were a total of seven, seven people who knew Smith's real identity and what he did. You know three of them."
Wesker, Crow, and now Grant, Ada supposed. Members of the inner circle.
"Which means that if someone killed Smith because of his involvement in the organization, then this originates from within the organization itself," Grant concluded. "You saw it yourself. It isn't like his death was an accident. Shot five times in the chest, you said?"
Ada already saw where he was getting well before he made his conclusion.
"You think Wesker's behind this." It wasn't a question.
Grant nodded. "The only reason we let him have the sample is because Smith fell off the grid just before the Spain operation. That's when we think that he was killed. We may have lost one of our most important members, and we didn't want to risk alerting Wesker by not giving him the sample."
The waitress returned with Ada's coffee, just as the word "sample" fell from Grant's mouth. He fell silent and Ada thanked the girl for the mug, who departed once again.
"It would appear that giving it to him was a mistake," Grant continued.
"Hmmm..." Ada thought out loud. "You think he's already contacted S, and now he's working with them to eliminate competition?"
"I can see why the organization has yet to give you it's full trust, even after 6 years," Grant said through narrow eyes. "A smart one like you is exactly what gives us problems..."
"So what exactly are you going to do about it?" Ada asked, ignoring his look, then taking a sip of her coffee.
Grant leaned back in his chair. "Wesker's smart, he probably knows that we suspect him, but not to what extent. It's more than likely that we're dealing with a single hired assassin. He's not stupid enough to risk doing it himself. He's trying to do as much damage without getting his hands bloody. If he does anything more, he will only be casting more suspicion on himself."
So, eliminate the problem and Wesker will have to show his hand.
"But," Grant continued with a bitter smile. "Even a rat knows to desert a sinking ship." He leaned forward again, staring at Ada very carefully. "If Wesker knows as much as he does, then the organization is finished. We have no leads to the assassin, or any proof that Wesker is even involved. If they could kill Smith, then they know who we are. I'd rather not loose my life if I could avoid it. That's why I've decided to do business elsewhere."
Ada laughed. "You're leaving the organization? You know that I have grounds to kill you right now just for saying that?"
"More than aware," Grant replied, undeterred by her threat. "And I'm sure that you are armed. But I'm sure you wouldn't want to risk exposing yourself here just to kill me, and I certainly don't want to be your enemy. I'd much rather have you join me. You're a very popular woman, and I'm sure my new employers would have a great use for your talents."
So that's why he picked a public spot. He can't do anything to me, and I can't to jack to him either. He's pretty clever...but still stupid. If he thinks he can tempt me into this and get away with it, his head is further up his ass than I thought.
"Sorry," Ada said sweetly. "I've got my own business to take care of in the organization."
Grant sighed. "Very well then. Disappointing, but I can't force you now can I?" He pulled a few bills from his pocket, along with a cell phone. "At the very least I can pick up your tab." He punched a a number on the phone, then pressed it to his ear. "We're finished."
Ada took another drink of her coffee as he finished his brief phone conversation. Through the front window of the cafe, she saw a black limousine pull onto the side of the street. Grant got up, buttoning his suit coat as he did, then tossed the money on the table. It was more than enough to cover her drink.
"Good-bye, Ada Wong. It was a nice chat, but I have to leave. I'm afraid we won't meet in the future." With that, he simply left.
Ada scoffed into coffee as he passed by her. It royally pissed her that she couldn't drop his coward ass right there. Well, she could, but not without ending up in prison, and she wasn't about to give up her freedom for one man. She'd take a verbal spanking from Crow, but in the end, the organization would find Grant. If she was lucky, Crow might let her track him down herself, and she'd make him eat those words as well as a bullet.
Outside, Grant climb into his limo. The driver began to pull the long black car slowly into traffic. Ada took another drink.
I should call Crow and see if-
- the front window of the cafe exploded inward with a deadly rain of crystal as a thunderous concussive blast erupted outside. The coffee mug flew from Ada's hand, and she raised her arms instinctively, covering her face. She was flung from her chair and onto the ground, hard. Something landed on top of her, either the table or her chair, then rolled off of her.
A wave of heat washed over Ada almost instantly, hitting her like a solid wall. The air turned acrid and bits of hot rubble showered her. There was a barrage of loud crashes, and she vaguely recalled hearing screaming, but only in one ear.
The chaotic destruction was over as fast as it had started. Ada's head was swimming. Colors were blending together, sounds weren't making sense. Slowly, lines began to form around objects, and things began to clear. She was distinctly aware of the high pitched ringing in her left ear. Pieces of hot rubble dotted her face and body, which she hazily brushed off before they could sear her. Something heavy was lying on half on top of her. Ada pushed it off with some effort. It was a shapeless piece of debris, a mix of metal and plaster.
Ada propped herself up, letting out a soft gasp of pain. Her right shoulder was aching from when she landed on it. There was a hot sensation on her left forearm. She looked and saw that the sleeve of her coat had caught fire from the burning debris strewn about. The flames were beginning to crawl up her arm with frightening speed. Quickly, as fast as her aching body would allow, she stripped the garment off before the rest of her went up in flames. Concrete, wood, and metal pattered to the ground as it rained from the sky and fell from the crumbling surroundings.
Outside, what was left of Grant's limo was strewn about the street in flaming hunks-
-must of been a hell of a lot of C4, some kind of detpack-
Ada struggled to get to her feet. The cafe's occupants were lucky. They were all in the same condition: shell-shocked, but alive. Pushing the confused, hurt cries of the once gossiping students out of her head, she staggered to the front of the cafe, which was now completely gone. As she stepped, she gasped again. A rip in the side of her halterneck stained the red fabric a deeper shade; a shallow cut from some flying object.
The explosion had caused a pile up on the street. Numerous alarms and horns were wailing, adding to the pain in Ada's already throbbing head. She scanned the street, feeling a little confused and unsure. The sirens of the emergency units were drawing closer.
A flaming car down the street erupted in another explosion sending more metal and glass into the road; the fuel tank had caught fire and exploded. All around, people were lying either injured or dead. Ada didn't have to guess the reason of the explosion. This was no accident. Cars didn't just vaporize from a fender bender. Grant had been eliminated, just like Smith was. It had to be the work of the assassin that now may or may not be working for Wesker.
At least I won't have to worry about going after Grant, he's already dead.
A flash of movement caught Ada's eye. Of course, there was movement all around, panicked, chaotic movement. But this was different. It was controlled and calm. It was a person in a black coat at the far end of the street, well outside the range of the blast radius, walking away calmly. Too calmly. Ada's eyes were still a little blurry, unable to see a face. She took a few steps in the direction of the figure, then staggered. Shaking her head, she managed to regain enough focus to begin pursuit.
The figure turned the corner, Ada following distantly. She had to weave in between the throngs of nearby people crowding to see the accident. Every so often, she would be thrown off balance from jostling into an onlooker. As she walked, she tried to wipe some of the grime from her face, praying that no one would play the good Samaritan and ask if she was alright. She looked like hell, cut up and every inch of her stained with dirt and ash. The last thing she needed was a commotion that would attract her target's attention.
Eventually the crowd thinned out. Ada had a clear view of the figure. To Ada's surprise, it was a woman. She was indeed wearing a coat, a short black leather one. She had deep red hair, pulled into a tight ponytail. As the crowd grew sparse, her head turned to the side and Ada caught a brief glimpse of a dark eye locking onto her.
Shit!
In a flash, the woman darted into a nearby ally. Ada bolted after her, now barely feeling the effects of the explosion. With a surge of adrenaline, she was herself again. The woman was already halfway down the ally, splashing through a shallow puddle of filth. The alley turned again, and as Ada rounded the corner, the woman hopped down from a chain link fence blocking the way.
Ada launched herself on the links of the fence and pulled herself up and over with liquid grace, landing smoothly on the dirty concrete on the other side, then resumed her chase. The alley turned once more.
Several quiet popping noises sounded and the bricks on the side of the building near Ada shattered. She rolled to the right, her shoulder protesting in pain, then bladed herself against a dumpster. A few metallic pangs resonated through the metal as the woman fired her silenced weapon, followed by a smaller metallic sound of spent casing's clattering to the ground.
Ada wrenched the right cuff of her jeans up and pulled her Beretta free. As soon as the gunfire stop, she leaned out with the gun trained where the woman was. She had vanished. Keeping her gun level, Ada quickly rounded the next corner. It led back to the street.
She stuck her gun behind her back before anyone noticed, then turned and quickly replaced it in her holster, flipping the cuff of her jeans over it. She jogged into the crowd of moving people on the sidewalk, looking for the assassin's black coat. Ada looked up and down the walk, but didn't see the woman anywhere, not even across the street.
A few people jostled her as they went about their way. It amazed Ada that they were oblivious to the explosion that occurred a few blocks away. She picked a direction and began to weave through the people. After a few seconds, Ada gave up. At the pace she was moving, surrounded by this many people, she had no chance of catching up with the assassin, let alone eliminating her without drawing attention to herself.
"Shit," Ada swore again, this time through her teeth, giving one final glance up and down the street. She sighed, suddenly feeling strangely old and very tired.
Must be the adrenaline wearing off.
Almost swooning, Ada stumbled back into the alley. She collapsed next to a wall, letting her head tip back against the cold brick. The aches and pains kicked back into awareness. Her shoulder throbbed from when she landed on it in the explosion and when she rolled to avoid the gunfire. The cut on her torso stung and hadn't stopped bleeding.
With one hand pressed to the cut still spreading blood on her top, Ada dug into her pocket with the other, pulling out her PDA. Miraculously, it had been in the pocket on the side of her she hadn't fell on. She cycled through the commands and found the one she wanted: Wesker's page.
Knowing Wesker more than anyone else, Ada was sure that he was behind this attack on the organization. It didn't fit his style, but that didn't mean much. The only reason she was calling him was to get to Crow. Right now, she had to play dumb, pretend that she had no idea what could be going on. The only problem was if Wesker was going to believe her.
She activated the page, then set the device in her lap. Her hand left her cut, stained with blood. She wiped it on her dirty jeans, then gasped as a sharp pain lanced through her right shoulder again. It was her "bad" one. It didn't hurt or impede her in anyway, but Ada always felt different about it. Probably due to the months of surgical reconstruction and therapy.
It was that in the underground Raccoon lab that Annette Birkin scored a lucky shot. The bullet passed through her shoulder, shattering her scapula and nearly taking the edge of the humerus with it. The pain had been incredible. Normally, it would have been a thousand years before someone like Annette could have gotten the drop on her. The reason Ada left herself open was because of Leon. The seconds had been ticking away, the self-destruct already counting down. Leon had the G-virus.
Despite her resolve to complete her mission, Ada found her hand trembling as she tried to load her weapon with her last magazine. All she could think of was how Leon was going to react when she showed her true colors. Her eyes grew watery, and suddenly growing both angry and confused, she pitched her last magazine down the laboratory hall, then stormed off to confront him. She couldn't bring herself to hurt him, but she could probably scare him into give her the virus.
Her new plan failed. Leon had been a stone wall. Frustrated at her stupidity for not having a loaded weapon, frustrated from the feelings she shouldn't be having, and above all frustrated at the guilt that washed over her, Ada lowered her gun. Then the shot rang out.
The PDA buzzed in Ada's lap, jerking her from her memories. Wesker was calling back. She raised the device so the built in camera faced her, but hesitated briefly before switching it on. Wesker appeared from the waist up. His blank expression paused before speaking.
"You seem a bit...disheveled, Ada," Wesker said lightly. Ada swore he was mocking her. "Did something happen?"
Ada squeezed a few more ounces of fatigue into herself, making her look more beaten than she really was. Her voice was saturated with weariness, and her eyes displayed a sense of helplessness.
"It's just as we thought. Someone's taking out the organization."
"And you know this how?"
"Grant...called me. We met and...and someone rigged his car with explosives... Lot of it, too. I saw it go up."
Wesker's features remained blank behind his sunglasses, of course.
"Why did Grant contact you?"
"He said he wanted to talk about what was going on...about Smith's death," Ad said tiredly. "He said he was leaving the organization, because they're backed into a corner," she added. If she could convince Wesker that the organization was clueless, she'd have an easier time working behind his back.
"Was there anyone suspicious at the scene? Did you see the assassin?" Wesker's voice hinted just the slightest amount of anxiety.
Ada hesitated, then spoke. "Yes, but they got away before I could get a look at their face. They took a couple shots at me. A silenced gun, and with that much explosive material, it's gotta be a professional."
There was no point in lying. The assassin would be sure to report to Wesker. Ada needed to keep as much suspicion off of herself as possible.
"And you're alright?"
Ada genuinely grinned. "I didn't know you worried about me, Wesker. But I'm fine, thanks. Just a little shaken up."
"Good. I'll report this to the rest of the organization. I think it's best that you leave New York and relocate for the time being."
Wesker cut the connection. Ada dropped her act and stuffed the PDA back into her pocket. She got to her feet, wincing at the pain coursing through her body. Once back out in the crowds of people on the sidewalk, she noticed a few peculiar stares coming from several people. Why they were noticing her beaten state now instead of 15 minutes ago was beyond her. Still, none of them asked if she needed help.
The Asian woman began her trek back to her hotel, looking forward to getting out of the city.
