Chapter 20: Three Stones
Heavy banging on a door is never a nice way to wake someone up at 8:24 in the morning. Not after a night of heavy drinking, that is.
"Housekeeping!"
A groan, escaping the blonde, exhaustion wafted over his senses once more. Buried under a warm comforter, the occupant had no intentions of answering the door.
Another knock, much louder than before. "Housekeeping?"
"It's not funny!"
"Housekeeping! Want me to fluff your pillow?"
"It wasn't funny ten years ago, it's not funny today! Go away!"
Knock, knock, knock! "Housekeeping! Want me jerk you-"
The door swung open, and one very naked Albert Wesker opened the door. He seemed very displeased.
"Off?" William Birkin with eyes the size of dinner saucers stood there, mouth gaping open.
"Sure William!" Albert's face lit up as he extended a hand to invite the scientist in.
"I gotta go." William was quick to retreat down the hallway back to his room.
"Okay, if you really have to..."
The feeling of someone watching overtook, stare shot over his shoulder to a very shocked elderly woman poking her head out of her room.
Flushed cheeks and wide eyed, the woman with curlers in her hair couldn't help but chuckle, managing to wave with a few of her digits.
A deep breath and he acknowledged her. "Good Morning, Madam." As calm as a pond he stepped back into his room and shut the door.
"Fucking William."
Tuesday, Jill Valentine was sitting in the jailhouse once more. Dick sat across from her, idle chatter on his part. Jill only listened, glad to see her father in better spirits than before. His sentence was being reduced dramatically. Arvada's corpse had been found in the Colombian jungle. A wild animal had gotten ahold of him, or at least that is what the police report from Bogotá said.
Dick might be a free man before his daughter took a husband.
She told him that wasn't happening anytime soon.
He laughed at that. It was always good to hear him laugh. It made her feel alive again. Alive, the way she was before Raccoon City.
It eventually came up in conversation, Dick's voice lowering to a whisper. "One of the inmates told me that you need to look out for Brian Irons. He has…secrets. Watch your back around him, Jilly Bean."
"I have been, Dad. I've evaporated into S.T.A.R.S. and he doesn't even know I exist."
"That's good. How's Albert? I haven't seen him since I transferred here."
"He's fine… He's really busy these days."
"As smitten as you were with him when you were 18, I'm surprised you haven't tried… you know." He grinned as she made a face. "Don't try to fool your old man, I remember how much you adored him."
"I was a teenager, Dad."
He looked like he had more to say, but their time was up for the day. A gentle embrace and a simple goodbye followed.
She broke down in her car outside with the engine running. The crest on her beret glinted harshly in the sunlight. Marlboro between her fingers, she just let the tears run until the death stick was hot between the digits. Too much to digest in one day.
Friday, just another late night at the RPD. Jill aimlessly wandered down the halls of the first floor; flashlight's rays flicked over the darkness that previous encompassed one of the doors. She gave the doorknob of the mahogany access to the clerk's office a twist, finding it locked. Checking locks was part of the 0230 patrol, as the captain had informed her when she returned early.
"I know it's as boring as watching paint dry, but we're the only two here tonight. Just get it done."
She sighed heavily. Another door checked and she was rewarded with the usual clatter of a secured entryway.
'Why did Dick warn me about Irons? It's no well-kept secret that he's a disgusting moron.'
It was something in her father's voice…
Jiggling the knob of another door, she found it locked as well. Footfalls echoing down the hallway, she flicked her flashlight across the empty passage ahead of her. The building was old, holding all of the characteristics and charms of once being an art gallery. Yet, this charm came with a price of being equally haunting to one roaming it alone in the dead of night.
The wind clapped a tree branch against a nearby window, and howled its wordless voice against the night.
'Spooky ghosts and monsters that go bump in the night. Yeah, right. Grow up, girl.'
Last door checked. Locked, like all the others.
'Alright, enough playing around… It's time to get a few answers.'
"Oh, come on you old lock…" Three tumblers in a row. 'Just call me Brian' Irons' door was about as much of a joke to the seasoned thief as the man himself. "Just like that..." She cooed, slipping into the office. Door carefully closed and locked from the inside, her blue doe eyes peered at the room in the dimmed light. Stowing the lock pick and tension wire in a cargo pocket, Miss Valentine began to survey her surroundings.
The room was quite lavish for police work, stone and antique wood lining all of the walls. Books, hunting trophies, the official colors of the police department next to an American flag, and an assortment of taxidermy victims all caught her attention. The raccoon stood out most to her, his banded eyes staring at her. The ring tailed thief of the animal kingdom: a trophy in the office of a police chief. Was he trying to warn her away or was she just being paranoid?
'I shouldn't be here…'
Gaze lifted to the rest of the room, she hadn't noticed anything as far as alarms. Perhaps the chief felt safe nestled so far in the police station...
Approaching the desk, her eyes narrowed at the sight of three square stones. Each was a distinct color: one blue, one red, one yellow. Lifting the red one in her hand, she examined the serpent stenciled on its surface. Well-crafted item, though it was so out of place. Who was she kidding? The entire room was out of place for a cop shop. She set it back on the desk gently.
'What on earth could that go to?'
She picked up the yellow stone; an eagle was stenciled on it. Peering at the stuffed eagle on the shelf across the room, her gaze turned to follow its own dead one.
Chair gently pushed aside, Jill examined the painting that sat behind it: a swirl of reds, yellows, whites, green and what appeared to be a woman. Abstract art was never really her strong suit. Fingers gently ran over the canvas and along the bottom of the painting. She felt the outline of an old switch near the center of the bottom. Flicking it, the brunette gave a small jump as the painting jerked and slid to the left.
"Shit, that scared me." She softly muttered. Brows knitting, she finally fished out her flashlight. Three holes embedded in what looked like an Aztec style depiction of a sun, a plain, and a jungle. A glance cast back to the three stones on the desk and she frowned.
'He has…secrets.'
"What were you trying to tell me, Dad?" Snatching up the yellow stone, she carefully inspected the three holes. "Well… eagles fly." The stone slid easily into the crevice.
"And…snakes are usually captured by eagles…" The red stone slipped right into the second hole.
The distant sound of voices caught her attention.
'Oh fuck.'
Jill quickly yanked the two stones from the holes. Dropping them on the desk, the blue stone tumbled helplessly to the floor. It split into two on impact.
"Oh no," was all she could manage to choke out. One voice outside the door, someone was fumbling with a key.
"And that's when I told him, 'Bertolucci, you will print what I tell you to or you'll never get a quote from me again!' And then he says to me—"Door swinging wide open, Brian Irons stepped in. Not far behind, both William and Wesker strode in after.
"Could you just spare us this ridiculous story? I really don't give a fuck about your feud with that idiot editor." William's sour tone was rather loud.
Loud enough to be heard by a woman taking cover in the shadow of a very large stuffed feline in the adjacent hallway.
Brian drilled his stare at the scruffy and shorter blonde man. "What is your problem, Birkin? Every time I see you these days you seem to be constipated."
Wesker let off a snort.
"My problem? Well, let's start with this." Striding across the room to the police chief's desk, William scooped up two pieces of the blue jaguar stone. "Broken. Irreplaceable and it's part of the key that opens the door to the only convenient way to the sewers without getting shit all over my shoes."
Irons paled as he laid his eyes on the broken stone. "That was on my desk when I left. I gathered them all up because I knew you needed the passageway tonight. Someone must have dropped it."
One of Albert's lightly colored brows lifted. "Who could have done it, Brian? Nobody comes into your office without you here."
As Wesker approached and took the two pieces from him, Birkin's rant continued. "You probably dropped it while shitfaced, like you always are. Why the hell Spencer keeps you around makes no sense."
"Keeps me around? Hah! I've played my role for years… Long before either one of you were doing more than wiping down lab tables." Pointing a finger at Birkin, he continued. "If anyone should be exterminated it's Valentine."
William's face hardened at that.
Jill's eyes widened from her hiding place behind the stuffed tiger in the hallway connected to the office.
Wesker ignored it… because he was Wesker. Getting to the sewer far outweighed the importance of arguing with a sack of lard that wasted oxygen.
Irons reached over his desk, fishing out a bottle of bourbon from the drawer most of the RPD referred to as the 'mini bar'. A long pull and the overweight man wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. "I did some checking up on Mr. Valentine. You know what I found? He knew about Arvada's feud with Spencer. He was seeking refuge from Umbrella for himself and that little bitch daughter of his. He tricked Captain Wesker here and Spencer into taking her in."
Sliding the broken halves of the stone into place, Wesker reached for the sanguine colored serpent stone. He had nothing to contribute to the conversation.
"He provided them with the…what's it called? The Flower of Heaven?"
Behind the portly man, Albert gave a roll of his eyes.
William was nearly floored. "'Flower of Heaven'? You mean pot? That's a slang name for pot. You're accusing him of giving them marijuana?" Birkin was beyond irritated at this point. "Irons, you're a fucking idiot. Umbrella doesn't even harvest hemp for raw materials. Why would Dick Valentine give them weed? Was he stealing Spencer's personal stash of 'slammin' and crunk' weed and giving to Arvada to get 'blazed'? Did he do all of this while wearing 'ice'?" William even did little air quotes.
The blonde, sporting a pair of shades on top of his head, chuckled softly behind the pair, sliding the eagle stone into place. "If he really was stealing weed, why weren't you on the case? You still have the power of arrest. You could have swiped one of the dogs from the K-9 unit, and Dick Tracy'd all over Denver."
William flipped through a few papers he had on his clipboard "Arvada was Colombian too; he probably was already graduated to cocaine like a real man."
"Irons are you mentally handicapped or do you just try to piss us off for fun?" The secret passage revealed, Wesker slid towards the corridor. "Either way is fine, I'm just vaguely curious. It's like watching someone trying to cure cancer with a potato every time you talk." He disappeared into the darkness of the hallway.
Sliding the painting back in place, Brian's red face could not contain his rage. The pair of blondes always treated him like he was lower than dirt. "He was up to something. When I find the evidence, you both will eat crow. I'll be sure to take that slime ball's hands for a trophy while I'm at it."
William about gave himself a hernia from laughing. "Yeah, we'll be waiting with bells on for all of that to happen." Following after Irons through the passage way, he ducked under the door sliding down to shut.
Jill let out a sigh of relief, head resting against the tiger's neck.
"Speaking of Valentine… Isn't his daughter on shift tonight?" Brian asked. Penlight clicked on as he led the way, he cast a glance to the tallest of the trio.
"She is." Wesker's normal monotone voice returned at the question. "She's converting all of the reports to digits by now. I sent her to patrol a couple hours ago."
At that statement, all three stopped in their tracks at the entryway to the sewer.
"You sent a thief's daughter to inspect the doors…"William began.
"…and the jaguar stone was found broken." Irons finished with. He darted his gaze to Birkin. "I told you that I didn't break it!"
Radio unclipped from his belt, the tallest blonde sighed. "I'm still putting money on you being a careless nitwit." Clicking the transmission button, he sighed. "Valentine, report in." Static filled the air as the captain waited.
Skeptical looks appeared on the other men's faces.
'No, don't do this to me…'
"Valentine, report now or—"
A voice cut in on the radio. "Valentine, reporting in. I read you loud and clear, Captain."
A deep sigh escaped William. "See? She's not sneaking around: just busy as hell and ignorant like everyone else."
Snatching the radio right out of Wesker's hand, Irons was not ready to let go of this. "Officer Valentine, this is Chief Irons. Where have you been? Why didn't you check in with your Captain as soon as you were finished patrolling, over?"
There was a long silence on the other end, only the sound of static filling the air.
A smug looking Brian Irons peered at the S.T.A.R.S. captain, so certain that he'd caught the woman.
Wesker just looked bored.
She finally replied. "Chief… I was having lady issues. I've been in the women's restroom. Over."
The look on Brian Irons' face: absolutely priceless.
William barely was able to keep it all in from behind his clipboard.
Taking the radio back, Wesker just shook his head. "At ease, Valentine. Take care of what you need to. There is no rush, we're here until 0800. Wesker, over and out."
"Thank you, sir. Valentine, over and out."
Radio returned to his webbed belt, Albert looked to Brian for an explanation. He was coming up empty for that it seemed.
"I just… Maybe I did drop it." Feeling like a heel, the aged man scratched at the top of his head.
Birkin's tired blue eyes watched the two from behind his clipboard. He stole a glance at his watch for a time check.
Deadpan in expression, Albert's voice was nothing short of furious. "I think you're watching too much fucking 'Who Framed Roger Rabbit' before you go to bed, you colossal imbecile." Wesker cut between the two to head into the sewer. "And we're fifteen minutes late now. Just terrific work, chief."
Irons didn't go any further; he wasn't welcome beyond guarding an entrance to the underground labyrinth Umbrella reigned over.
William was quick to catch up and spoke as softly as he could muster over the sound of rushing water. "Do you think she…?"
"I don't know, but we'd better not take a chance…" Wesker uttered in return. "We do this your way, William… Starting now."
On the other side of the RPD, Jill crouched next to the door to the S.T.A.R.S. office. Gasping for breath heavily, she wiped away the line of sweat from her forehead.
'What the hell is going on?'