38: Ruled By Secrecy
It wasn't what had been under the sheet that had surprised her, but the state it was in. She'd expected a dead woman, pale and still, with some scarring on her face from the chemicals that killed her.
Not this.
The body under the sheet was Dr Redmond's. It had the distinctive flame-red hair that she remembered from the photograph of the L-Project researchers. Were it not for this distinguishing feature, however, it would have been very difficult to identify the body by sight. Her face had been burned so badly that she was virtually unrecognisable as the attractive woman from the photograph. Much of the skin had simply been eaten away by the corrosive chemicals, revealing raw flesh and the dull white gleam of the skull beneath. The rest was covered in purplish-red burns that contrasted sharply with the paleness of the rest of her body.
And that wasn't the worst of it.
As if being horribly mutilated wasn't bad enough, the woman's face was set in an expression of agony and suffering that would last for all eternity. Her mouth was half-open in a silent cry of pain, and her wide eyes were staring up at the ceiling in an almost accusatory fashion, as if she was saying "Why me?" There were some marks on her neck that could have been bruises, and as she had already been dead for five days, her body was beginning to show signs of decomposition. On the whole, it made for a pretty gruesome spectacle.
Lisa's stomach heaved. She rushed over to one of the emptier sinks and made it there just in time to be violently sick.
Shaking all over, she put the diary to one side for a moment and ran the faucets in the sink until it was clean again. She turned the faucets off, and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.
Adrian had been right; this was no accident. Dr Redmond had been murdered. She'd been grabbed by the neck by person or persons unknown, and she'd been forced face-down into toxic chemicals until she'd stopped struggling. And then - what? Surely Adrian would have heard the commotion? Surely he would have noticed her killers enter and leave the room?
Maybe not. All they would have had to do was wait until Adrian went to the bathroom or something, and then kill her. She would have died within seconds, or a minute or two at the very most.
But how to leave the scene without being noticed? It couldn't be possible that nobody in the entire complex had heard Janice Redmond scream, and that nobody would have noticed the murderers entering or leaving the room beforehand.
Then again, screams probably weren't uncommon in this underground hell. There had been live human experiments, and there would almost certainly have been screams issuing from those rooms too. Nobody would have noticed - or would have admitted to noticing, anyway. But that was it, wasn't it? Even if someone had known what had happened, they wouldn't dare to talk about it for fear of what might happen if they did. Talking about "accidents" meant that you would probably end up having an "accident" yourself, especially if you'd implied that the "accident" was no accident at all.
Lisa gripped Dr Redmond's diary so tightly that her fingernails left marks in the leather binding.
Damn you, Umbrella. You've ruined so many lives, and you've ended so many more. Even the people you spare live in constant fear. But I'm not afraid of you. And I'm not going to let you take Jack away from me.
With another glance at the body lying on the table, Lisa opened the book again and searched the pages a second time, just to make sure that she hadn't missed some sort of secret code, or a clue as to where the late Dr Redmond could have concealed the vaccines.
When she reached Dr Redmond's penultimate entry, she sighed.
I've kept some vaccine samples hidden in a safe place in my lab, and I keep a dose on my person at all times.
At all times? Even when she was dead?
Lisa slammed the book shut, balanced it on the edge of the table, and proceeded to search the dead scientist's pockets. She felt slightly uncomfortable about doing so at first, but then brushed her concerns aside. Dr Redmond probably wouldn't have minded anyway, she decided. Even if she had, she was well past caring, and was certainly in no position to complain. Jack had been quite correct on that account.
The clean white pockets of Dr Redmond's lab coat yielded nothing but a pair of rubber gloves, a spare handkerchief and a fountain pen. Lisa discarded the first two, but placed the pen on top of the diary. It looked quite expensive, and a spare pen always came in handy.
There were no pockets in Dr Redmond's sensible grey skirt. Lisa checked inside the scientist's plain black shoes, just in case, but found nothing. There were no pockets in the white blouse she was wearing, either.
So much for that, she thought bitterly.
But as her hand brushed against Dr Redmond's collar, she felt something cold and hard beneath it.
"What…?"
She twitched the collar aside and saw Amber's necklace, fastened loosely around the dead woman's throat. Except that it wasn't Amber's necklace. It was identical to the one Amber had found in every respect, except for the colour; Amber's had been a dark, smoky colour, but this heart pendant was utterly colourless.
Once again she had the strange, unshakable feeling that this necklace was important too. Naturally, they were important because the two pendants were the keys to the laboratory, but there was something else about them, something that she couldn't quite fathom…
Not really knowing why, Lisa picked the silver chain up off Dr Redmond's skin. She found the clasp, undid it, and picked it up carefully, placing it around her own neck and fastening it again.
Feeling a tiny bit guilty, Lisa decided to pay her respects to the dead. She reached over and, very gingerly, closed the dead woman's eyes and mouth. Dr Redmond's life may not have ended peacefully, she said to herself, but at least this way she could look more at peace now that she had gone to her eternal rest. She pulled the sheet back over Dr Redmond's body.
"Right," she said to herself. "Now for the vaccines…"
Lisa looked around. There were some cupboards set in the workbench; she checked these quickly, but found nothing except equipment. It wasn't terribly surprising, because anyone could have easily found the vaccine samples. It was hardly a "safe" place to keep them.
"Where would a safe place be?" she wondered aloud.
She'd once seen a movie in which something important had been hidden inside a hollowed-out book, but she ignored the bookcase. Again, it would be a stupid place to hide something. All someone would have to do would be to knock a book off the shelf by mistake, and they'd find what was hidden inside as it fell open on the floor. No use looking there.
There didn't seem to be any safe places to hide something here, or at least none that could be easily accessed in case of an emergency.
An emergency!
There was a fire blanket in a glass-fronted box near the door, and a First Aid kit in a slightly smaller box right above it. Both of those things were for use in emergencies, so perhaps what she was looking for would be hidden amongst them.
Lisa grabbed the nearest heavy-looking small object - a paperweight pinning down a stack of papers, adorned with the legend "Greetings From Minnesota" - and walked quickly over to the two boxes.
She brought the paperweight sharply against each one, smashing the glass. Discarding the paperweight, she pulled the fire blanket roughly out of the box and shook it vigorously. Life-saving vaccines inexplicably failed to fall from the folds of the blanket and land on the floor. There was nothing in the case where the blanket had been, either.
Lisa threw down the blanket and pulled out the First Aid kit, deciding that this would be a better place to look for the vaccines, as they probably counted as "emergency medical supplies" too. She rifled through the objects inside the dark green box, but found only what one would expect to find in a First Aid kit. There was nothing unusual inside it at all.
Damn! She'd been so sure the vaccines would be in there. Where else could they be that counted as a safe place?
Something squeaked. Lisa jumped, turning her head quickly in the direction of the noise, but breathed out with relief when she saw what the noise was. In the corner of the lab, half-hidden behind drifts of papers, was a wire cage. Inside it were two hamsters, one black-and-white and the other a sandy colour. These were probably the infected experimental hamsters that Dr Redmond had rescued and cured with her vaccine.
Lisa smiled. She never could resist anything cute and fluffy. She went over to the cage and peered in through the bars at the hamsters living inside it. They peered back out at her with beady little oil-drop eyes.
"Aww…" cooed Lisa. "Hey, little guys. I guess you must have been part of the resistance too, huh? Never thought I'd meet a pair of revolutionary hamsters. Looks like Dr Redmond took real good care of you both, too. You're not even sick. Well, at least you're both safe in here - "
The sentence ended in a shocked gasp. There was something hidden beneath the rather dirty shredded newspapers at the bottom of the hamster cage.
In a safe place… of course!
Lisa opened the cage door, and the hamsters went wild, scurrying madly around the cage as she reached inside. They had obviously been startled by the sudden appearance of the first live human being that they'd seen in days.
"Sorry, guys," she said apologetically, brushing aside the old bits of newspaper and picking up the small black box that had been carefully concealed beneath it. She withdrew her hand quickly and closed the cage door, and instantly the hamsters settled down again.
Eagerly, Lisa opened the black box and found exactly what she was looking for - five little phials of clear liquid, covered by a piece of paper. On the paper was more of Janice's neat handwriting.
These L-Virus vaccines are to be used only in case of accidental infection. Each phial contains one dose of L-Virus vaccine and can either be taken orally or injected directly into the bloodstream. The vaccine will counteract the virus and is effective even during the final stages of initial infection, as the mutations caused by the L-Virus only begin after the death of the victim. The vaccine takes effect almost immediately and the patient will return to full health within minutes. The vaccine can still counteract the virus posthumously, but this will not revive the patient and will only prevent them from turning into a monster after their death.
Lisa grinned with relief. Here in her hand was the power to make Jack well again. She tucked the paper back inside the box and closed it gently. She took off her backpack and opened it up.
There wasn't much inside it; just the few clothes and the bracelet that she'd taken from her room before she left home. She picked up one of the t-shirts that she'd taken with her and wrapped it carefully around the box before putting it in. She also took the lighter that she'd found earlier and put it in the backpack.
Oh yes, her gun was empty too. She reloaded her handgun, put the safety catch back on, and tucked it into her pocket with the rest of the bullets and her spare AK clip.
Time to go.
Lisa scooped up Dr Redmond's diary and the fountain pen, and put them in her backpack. Swinging the backpack onto her shoulder again, she was about to leave the laboratory when she heard a plaintive squeak behind her.
She glanced back at the hamsters, and her heart melted. Those two little hamsters were all alone in a scary lab complex full of monsters, and there was nobody left alive to look after them. She couldn't just leave the poor little creatures here to die.
"All right, little friends, you're coming with me," she told them. "I'm going to get you out of here."
Lisa grasped the handle on top of the hamster cage, and picked it up slowly, trying not to scare the hamsters again.
She'd once stayed up late to watch Alien, and the main character had earned herself a great deal of kudos in Lisa's eyes by rescuing the ship's cat on her way out. Lisa felt a bit like that now, saving the hamsters from an uncertain fate in a zombie-infested laboratory complex.
Lisa Hartley, the Hamsters' Friend, saviour of small and fluffy creatures everywhere. Especially the ones in creepy Umbrella labs. Go me!
She smiled to herself as she headed for the laboratory door. Now her quest was at an end, and she could finally hurry back to the underground shelter and save the boy she loved. The question was, was she too late to save him?
xxxxxxxxxx
Dr Harlech already knew the answer, but at times like these, some questions just had to be asked.
"Why?" she said, trying to sound suitably bewildered. "Why kill me?"
"Because you're a security risk, Dr Harlech," said Renée. "You discovered the truth about the L-Project. You can't be allowed to wander around loose, knowing what you know. The company wanted you silenced, so they sent me here to take you out."
"I know too much," murmured Dr Harlech. "Just like Janice. That was why she had to die. That's what happens when you defy the company, isn't it?"
"Nobody defies Umbrella," said Renée in a monotone, as if reading from some sort of internal script.
Wait a minute. Something's not right here, thought Dr Harlech. Well, obviously something's not right, she added mentally, I've got a gun pointed at my head, for crying out loud, but there's something else here that isn't right. If only I knew what it was…
"If you were sent to kill me, then why didn't you do it earlier?" said Dr Harlech slowly, stalling for time so she could try and figure out the small nagging feeling in the back of her mind. "You had plenty of opportunities to shoot me dead."
"Don't be absurd," said Renée curtly. "I would never have shot you dead in front of two children and a police officer."
And then it hit Dr Harlech. She still wasn't entirely sure whether the "nice" Renée had been real or not, but she knew for a fact that this new persona of Renée's was lying through its teeth.
"Don't be absurd"? That certainly wasn't one of Renée's pet phrases. If anything, that dismissive phrase sounded like a Christina original. And that cold, aloof manner was Christina all over. It was obvious now; Renée was trying to act just like Christina, and failing miserably. Unlike her superior officer, Renée didn't have the icy edge of contempt in her voice that told you she really didn't care if you lived or died.
Furthermore, Christina would have had no qualms about shooting someone dead in front of two kids and a cop. She was the kind of person who would quite calmly blow someone's head off with a .44 Magnum in front of the Pope, the Dalai Lama, the Queen of England and the President of the United States, and not even think twice about how it might have looked.
But Renée - the Renée that she'd been talking to for the past half hour - wasn't like that. Renée cared. She was pretending not to, but she couldn't hide her true nature, any more than Christina could pretend to be a "people" person. If she was going to walk out of this place alive, then she'd have to appeal to Renée's true and, presumably, better nature.
"Renee, you don't have to do this," she told the mercenary. "You may be a mercenary, but that doesn't mean you can't be a good person too. You know in your heart that this isn't right."
"Shut up or I'll shoot," snapped Renée.
"If you were really going to do it, you would have done it by now," Dr Harlech pointed out. "Come on, Renée, you and I both know perfectly well that you aren't going to pull that trigger. Now put the gun down."
"No."
"Renée, I know you've been ordered to shoot me, but why are you really doing this?" said Dr Harlech, changing tack. "You're not interested in money, or promotion - so what are you interested in?"
"Carrying out my orders," Renée replied automatically.
"Why?" said Dr Harlech.
For the first time since raising the gun, Renée faltered.
"Because - because I have to, dammit, that's why!" she retorted.
"No, you don't have to," said Dr Harlech. "You don't have to do what they tell you to, just because they told you to do it."
"Yes, I do!" Renée burst out.
"If you were a real mercenary, you would either be in it for the money or the pride and satisfaction of a job well done," the scientist pointed out. "You're not interested in either. So why do you really care about this job?"
Renée hesitated again; Dr Harlech could tell that the cold-blooded professional façade was definitely starting to weaken.
"I - "
"You don't care about this job at all, do you?" said Dr Harlech simply. "You pretend to, sure, but I can tell that you'd be a lot happier helping people than butchering them."
"I - I - "
"What do you really care about, Renée?"
It had been a brave effort, but Renée finally cracked.
"My sister!" she shrieked. "That's what!"
"Your sister?" said Dr Harlech, startled. She hadn't been expecting that answer.
"Yes," said Renée, in a quieter voice. "My sister."
Underlying family problems, hmm? Well, I'm no psychiatrist, but you don't become a doctor without some understanding of human nature, Dr Harlech thought. This is something I can work with.
Aloud she said:
"Tell me about your sister…"
xxxxxxxxxx
In higher spirits, but with the same sense of urgency keeping her going, Lisa stepped back out into the corridor. She began to hurry along again, gripping the hamster cage in one hand and toting the assault rifle with the other.
It would all be uphill from here, she knew it. She'd already killed the monsters in this stretch of the corridor, so all she had to do was get back to Jack and cure him. After that, they'd wait for Amber to come back and then they would finally be able to leave this terrible place.
And then she could go to sleep. She couldn't wait.
Lisa's pace slowed as she let her thoughts slide into the subject of sleep. She'd always taken it for granted before now, even complained about having to go to sleep, but oh, what she'd give now to be able to rest her heavy head on a soft pillow and let her aching eyes close. To fall into a deep and blessedly dreamless sleep, undisturbed by danger…
Her eyes snapped open again. She couldn't fall asleep yet! Falling asleep would be just about the worst thing she could do right now, especially when she was this close to accomplishing her mission. She had to stay awake.
She had to focus on something. Anything would do. It could be a fire extinguisher on the wall, or the sound of the hamster cage banging against her legs as she walked, or even one of the doors that she was about to walk past. Anything to help her to concentrate and to stay awake.
She stopped in front of the door and stared at it, trying to take in every detail of it. The dull grey colour. The slight scratch two-thirds of the way down. The control panel on the wall, with a little flashing red light that was making the keypad buttons glow bright pink. The nameplate, which bore a pair of familiar names. The -
Lisa shook herself. Had she just been imagining that, or had she really seen her parents' names next to the door? She blinked a couple of times, rubbed her face, and looked again.
DR J. R. HARTLEY & DR E. D. HARTLEY
Seeing the names was like having a jolt of electricity sent through every nerve in her body. Suddenly Lisa was wide awake again. She looked at the door control panel, hoping that the door wasn't locked.
ERROR - DOOR LOCKING MECHANISM FAILED
It was just the kind of response she'd been hoping for. Lisa suppressed the urge to shriek with joy and rush in, and tried to think logically about the situation. Her parents could very well be in there, alive and well and delighted to see their little girl. On the other hand, there was a strong possibility that they might be dead. She didn't know which it was going to be, but she decided that it was better for her to assume the worst and be pleasantly surprised, than to get her hopes up too high and be devastated to find her mother and father gnawing on the bones of a former colleague.
So it came as quite a surprise to Lisa's rational brain to find her irrational body slamming its free hand down on the control panel, squeezing in through the half-open door and stumbling into the room.
"Mom? Dad?" she found herself calling out. "Mom, Dad - it's me, Lisa. I - "
Lisa saw the room for the first time, and cursed. It was utterly devoid of life or even of human presence. It was just an ordinary-looking office with a bookcase, a pot-plant and two desks that were entirely free of work, but only because it was stacked in piles around the desks instead. As in Janice and Adrian's office, there was a door leading to a laboratory, which was hanging open at a funny angle. It looked broken, and probably was.
Stepping cautiously forward into the weak blue-white light of the laboratory, Lisa heard a squeaky sound that scraped invisible fingernails right down her soul. Wincing, she looked down and saw water and broken glass squeaking beneath her sneakers.
"Could have been worse, I guess," she said to herself.
The glass had come from the ruins of an enormous tank in the middle of the far wall. It had been at least ten feet high, if not eleven or twelve, and when intact it would have been far too wide to put her arms around. Now just the base remained, along with some loose wires trailing in the water. Broken glass had flown all over the room, but curiously, there were no shards inside the tank. This meant that the tank had been broken from the inside. The question was… by what?
Lisa decided not to go there. If she speculated too long about that, then she might find her question answered in the most undesirable way. She didn't want to have to fight off yet another of Umbrella's creations if she could possibly help it.
One more look around the room confirmed that her parents definitely weren't in here either. Still, it couldn't hurt to give the place a quick once-over and look for clues that might lead her to them later.
She carefully ignored the tank and headed instead for the battered dark green locker sitting next to it. Her parents had probably kept their spare lab coats and things in here, shunning the upstairs locker room in favour of a more convenient place to store their work clothes. But when she opened the door, she was astonished to find things that her parents couldn't possibly have owned.
At the bottom of the locker was some black body armour and a pair of army boots. Hanging up on a plain wire coathanger was a pair of dark blue combat pants, accompanied by a pale blue short-sleeved shirt with the RPD's STARS emblem sewn onto one sleeve. The shirt was torn and bloodstained. On a shelf at the top of the locker was a red bandanna, and a handgun which turned out to be empty.
"Now I know my parents weren't in the STARS unit," she said aloud. "So what are these doing here?"
There was something sticking out of the shirt's breast pocket. Lisa pulled it out, and a piece of slightly yellowing paper unfolded in her hands.
Jonathan,
I'm sure you're familiar with what happened in the Arklay mountains recently. Either way, I'm not going to waste paper by explaining it to you in detail. However, following the clean-up operation which took place immediately after the Spencer mansion's destruction, our team came across the body of a STARS member in the woods, just on the edge of the mansion grounds.
His name is - or rather, was - Joseph Frost. He was fatally wounded some way outside the mansion by one or more "Cerberus" type bioweapons, and as his body was untouched by the explosion, we can only conclude that he was just outside the blast radius when the mansion self-destructed.
If the surviving STARS members had recovered Frost's body, it could have meant awkward questions and a lot of inconvenience for the company. Therefore, we have brought him here to ensure that his body will never be found - and this is where you and your charming wife come in.
Dr Lampeter and I have decided that Frost's body is a prime candidate for the final testing of the completed L-Virus. We want you to test the virus on Frost and monitor his progress as the infection takes hold, then deliver the results to us. If the virus is successful, you will both be handsomely rewarded. If not, well, if at first you don't succeed, yes? And there is a certain delightful irony in turning one of the oh-so-virtuous STARS members into Umbrella's most deadly bioweapon, don't you think?
I am greatly looking forward to hearing the results of the test. Keep me informed.
Wilfred Hazlitt.
Lisa bit down on a squeal of horror. Her parents had been ordered to experiment on Amber's boyfriend? Bad enough that Umbrella had killed Joseph Frost, but to have experimented on him even after his horrible death was far worse, adding unforgivable insult to mortal injury. If Amber ever found out -
If Amber ever found out, then Lisa knew that she'd refuse to rescue her parents. She'd kill them for sure, unless they were already dead - in which case, the Hartleys' daughter would probably be an acceptable substitute. No, better that Amber didn't know, at least not until after they'd left the city. Her thirst for vengeance was strong enough as it was, and this would only make things worse.
Lisa folded the paper and put it in the back pocket of her jeans, then snatched the red bandanna from the locker as an afterthought and tied it around the handle of the hamster cage. The metal was beginning to dig into her hand quite unpleasantly; at least having some fabric wrapped around it would make it more comfortable to hold.
"Okay… any more dark secrets being hidden around here?"
A quick search of the rest of the room revealed nothing untoward, so Lisa went back out into the office. On her way out, she noticed a photograph propped up on one of the desks. She knew who would be in it, of course, but all the same she couldn't help stopping to look.
It had been taken some years ago in the back yard of her house, on a day bright with sunshine and blooming flowers. There was a dark-haired man in jeans and an open-necked shirt sitting on the grass, grinning at the camera. A pair of glasses was perched at a rakish angle on the end of his nose, and his dark eyes were bright and sparkling in the sunlight.
Sitting next to him was a smiling woman with dark hair, and blue-grey eyes that shone with warmth and love. She was wearing a pretty floral skirt and a cardigan, and in her arms was a little girl wearing a yellow dress. The girl was a pretty little thing, about seven or eight years old, with a rounded face, bright brown eyes, a beaming smile and dark hair in two neat plaits tied with ribbons. She had her arms thrown round her mother's neck and her head resting on her shoulder, and her embrace had apparently knocked her mother's spectacles askew.
Lisa stared.
Those had been happy times. Her mother and father had always been busy, but in those days they'd still found enough time to be a family. They'd loved her, and she'd loved them, and they'd been perfectly content with their lives. Even jobs at Umbrella, years later, hadn't changed that.
At least, not at first. But it had crept deeper and deeper into her parents' lives, constantly dragging them away from her and off to work until the small hours of the morning, and turning them into solemn, unsmiling creatures who constantly resided in a place called "work" and had no time for their daughter any more. They'd drifted away from her, and she from them. The family home had become a lonely place, empty and sad, echoing with arguments and tears and resentful silences.
Umbrella had poisoned her family. It had taken her parents away and turned a happy home into a place of misery, pain and loneliness. It was because of this company that her life had changed forever. She now understood why Amber hated Umbrella so much. Umbrella had taken away Amber's loved ones too.
"Mommy, Daddy, where are you?" said Lisa, gazing at the photograph and the smiling, happy family. "Where did you go?"
Clues - she was meant to be looking for clues. She'd probably need them to find her parents now. This was the last room in the complex, and they weren't here either. Either they were elsewhere in the Umbrella building, or they'd escaped into the city. She had to find clues if there was going to be any chance of finding them again.
She put down the photograph with great care, and opened up the desk drawers. Her searching uncovered masses of crumpled paperwork, a forgotten candy bar wrapper, and a diary. It seemed as though all Umbrella employees kept their own diaries. Maybe Dr Harlech had one too, somewhere.
Lisa opened it at random and read an entry. She recognised her father's handwriting, which was illegible to almost everyone who wasn't immediate family and didn't have to interpret birthday cards and Christmas present labels on a regular basis.
July 12th, 1997
Today Liz and I were transferred to the Viral Research Department. I was quite pleased about this until I found out that we were being sent to work on the T-Virus. Apparently the company wants us to improve and refine it. I didn't tell Liz because I know how she felt about Dr Marcus' research; instead I told her that it was a new treatment to arrest the growth of cancerous cells. Fortunately she knew very little about the actual research, so she won't suspect anything. I feel terrible about lying to my own wife, but she would never understand the importance of this research. Dr Marcus was clearly a fool and a madman with an odd leech fixation, but nevertheless I think he was onto something. Umbrella think it's just another disease, but I believe that the T-Virus could one day be the key to human immortality. It just needs more work…
February 21st, 1998
Liz and I have been collaborating with Alistair Morton for some time now, and together we've made significant breakthroughs. By removing the unwanted aspects of the T-Virus, we've greatly enhanced it, so much so that it's completely unrecognisable. In fact, it isn't even the T-Virus any more - it's something else, something completely different. I've named it the L-Virus after my daughter Lisa, because just like my only child, this is something truly special. I have no doubts that it will change human civilisation forever.
February 22nd, 1998
The fools! They're corrupting our creation and destroying everything that it stands for! They want to use the new virus as part of their accursed bioweapons programme! Despite our objections, they wouldn't listen to me, or Liz, or even Alistair. They're going ahead with this new project of theirs anyway, and they want the three of us to be at the head of the project. Liz doesn't want to do it, and neither does Alistair, but I know that we can't refuse to do the company's bidding. Dr Marcus defied Umbrella too, and much good did it do him…
March 5th, 1998
They've completed the new underground laboratory complex now. They designed it specifically for the "L-Project", which they have insisted must be kept top secret. They've also put together a team of researchers, most of whom Liz and I are unfamiliar with. Work on the L-Project starts tomorrow morning.
July 4th, 1998
Liz has been begging me to stop the project, but I told her no. We have to do as the company tells us. Our only choice is to continue with the L-Project and hope that everything turns out all right.
July 27th, 1998
The mansion incident has been weighing heavily on my mind. The T-Virus was even more dangerous than anyone suspected, and now the STARS members know about it. But now this means the virus must have leaked out into the forest and the surrounding area. God only knows what will happen next. I don't even know if there is a vaccine for the T-Virus.
August 16th, 1998
Final testing began today, using a subject brought into us by the higher-ups themselves. They picked up a dead STARS member from the forest near the Spencer mansion after the incident and brought him in to us, saying that he was perfect for the testing. It seems to have worked, and Dr Hazlitt is more than pleased with the results. He wants to start training the creature immediately.
September 13th, 1998
There are cases of the T-Virus in the city now, and nobody knows what to do. Beatrice Wrigley is dead. Liz wants us to get out of town before it's too late, but she knows just as well as I do that we can't leave. Not until this project is finally over.
September 24th, 1998
All hell's breaking loose. My former colleague, Will Birkin, was assassinated by the company for his G-Virus samples, and in doing so, those fools accidentally spread the T-Virus into the sewers. People all through the city are dropping like flies now. We tried to get out of the city this morning, but it's no use - they've declared martial law and nobody can leave town. Liz was right, we should have left when we had the chance. Now it's too late. We're stuck here in the laboratory, waiting for a rescue which will probably never come. All we can do now is wait and hope for survival.
That was it. Lisa felt numb as she closed her father's diary. Her mother and father had made the virus that had spawned that terrible monster. The same virus that was killing Jack. And they'd named it after her…
She couldn't believe that her parents had been involved in something so evil. Her own mother and father, the people who had brought her into the world, the people who had fed her and clothed her and taken care of her, had gone off to work every day and created these instruments of death.
I must be crazy, wanting to find them, after what they've done! They've always hated Jack, ever since I first brought him back home, and now they're killing him with their virus and their monster… I should leave them here to rot!
Simmering with fury, Lisa stormed over to the other desk, which she assumed was her mother's. There was a hamster cage on this desk, and the sight of six fluffy little hamsters sitting inside was enough to make her anger and disgust subside.
"Aww…" she said, leaning forward and extending a finger to pet one through the bars of the cage.
Spang!
The hamsters started hurling themselves at the metal bars of the cage with bared teeth and odd little cries that could have been snarls. Lisa yelped and withdrew her hand sharply. Only now did she notice that the hamsters' eyes were mutant-white and bloodshot around the edges. Her jaw dropped.
"Uh, okay, never mind," she said hastily, backing away from the cage. "I think you guys can stay right where you are."
Zombie hamsters? Now she'd seen everything - or, if she hadn't, then she really didn't want to see anything else. Zombie hamsters and giant monsters were quite enough for her.
Blood-red wrath returned with a vengeance. Who could be heartless enough to infect these sweet little hamsters with the T-Virus? Surely it couldn't have been the people whose office she was standing in now? She had never believed that her parents could have been capable of such cruelty and barbarism. Obviously she had been wrong.
"Well, let's see what darling Mommy has to say about this, shall we?" growled Lisa, storming over to the desk again and ripping open drawers until she pulled out an identical-looking diary, filled with her mother's tiny handwriting. "You monsters! I can't believe you did this!"
However, her anger dissolved into shock when she started to read her mother's diary entries.
July 12th, 1997
We've been transferred to the Viral Research Department. I'm not thrilled about it, not having much of an interest in virology, but Jon seems quite interested in the new assignment we've been given - we're working on some kind of treatment that kills cancer cells. He was a little vague on the details but it sounds interesting and worthwhile. Why he thinks it's the "key to immortality", though, I don't know. Curing cancer won't stop people from dying - after all, everybody has to die from something.
February 21st, 1998
We've finished developing the treatment - except it's not at all what we were expecting to have produced. Jon and Alistair are saying that it's a sort of new virus that will cure all ills and make people live forever. Jon's so excited about it, and he's naming it after our daughter. I'm very proud of what I've helped to create - the possibilities for advancing the human race are so incredible that I can hardly believe what we've done. Immortality could finally be within our grasp! What I'm most delighted about is the fact that this will help to build a better future for Lisa. To let our little girl live forever, to never see her sicken or age or die… what greater gift could a mother and father give to their child?
February 22nd, 1998
That idiot Hazlitt wants to use our "L-Virus" in a new bioweapons project! Jon is fuming, and Alistair looks like he's ready to go and jump out of the office window. I can't believe they want to corrupt and abuse this wondrous creation by turning it into a deadly disease, instead of using it for the greater good of humanity… how could anybody be so callous and stupid? Either way, I don't want any part in this dreadful scheme of theirs, but Jon seems resigned to it. Why won't he do something?
March 5th, 1998
They've finished building the new laboratory and the research team has been set up. There's no turning back now. Work starts tomorrow. I'm dreading the moment I step in through those doors…
Lisa flicked through page after page of her mother's despair. Sadness and regret seemed to have soaked right into the very paper the words were written on, as if the ink were tears.
June 20th, 1998
Oh, God. They've been bringing live human subjects into the complex for experimentation - and one of them is our daughter's best friend. I told them to let her go but I fear that it's already too late. Now Charlotte Lascelles is probably just another lab specimen floating in a tank. How can we go home and look our daughter in the eye, knowing that our work has murdered her best friend? Sooner or later she's going to comment on Charlotte's disappearance, and I don't know how I'll be able to keep this from her. But I have to. I just have to.
June 28th, 1998
People have been complaining about the workload, so they've brought in a whole bunch of lab assistants to help with the work. Few, if any, know the truth about what they're doing here. I pity them, working so hard and unwittingly helping to commit atrocities far beyond the bounds of normal imaginations. If only they knew the truth about the L-Project…
June 30th, 1998
As if I didn't have enough to worry about, Lisa's found herself a new best friend - a scruffy-looking downtown boy called Jack. He's totally obliterated a whole bed full of my prize yellow tulips after some foolish skating trick, and I've banned him from ever coming to the house again. He's a bad influence and I don't want him hanging round my daughter. I don't want Lisa to fall into bad company and be led astray - I love her too much to let that happen.
July 4th, 1998
I've seen enough horror down here in this hell of a laboratory. I begged Jon to stop the L-Project but he says he won't. In desperation, I went to Dr Hazlitt and told him I was resigning, but then - I can hardly bring myself to write this - he told me that if I left the L-Project, then he will see to it that "something happens" to my daughter. I'm terrified. I don't want any part in this evil project, but if I leave, then they'll kill Lisa. I don't have any choice - I have to stay here and continue the project, for the sake of my precious little girl. If anything happened to her, I would never forgive think that I should find myself trapped in this nightmare, on Independence Day of all days… oh, the irony of it. However, I know I have to stop this project, even if it's the last thing I do…
Lisa felt sick again. Her life had been in grave danger, and she'd never even realised it. No wonder her parents had been so serious, so irritable and fraught. How could you be anything else, when you were being blackmailed into committing crimes against humanity, and you knew that your only daughter would be murdered if you didn't do as you were told? Suddenly she felt deeply sorry for her parents. Their anguish must have been unbearable.
July 5th, 1998
I talked to Janice Redmond today and she was very sympathetic. I like Janice; she's a very kind woman, and probably the only other member of the research team with any trace of human kindness in her heart. I can't help but wonder why she agreed to join this project. Perhaps they threatened her, too? Janice also mentioned her desire to create a cure for the L-Virus but said sadly that it would be difficult or even impossible to do so, considering that we're being ordered to make it incurable. I told her to go ahead and try anyway. Once I'm done, she'll soon find out that it won't be as "incurable" as it seems… yes. I'm going to sabotage the L-Project. In little ways, of course. Some deliberate mistakes here, some incorrect results there, some "accidentally" contaminated material… nobody will ever know it was me.
July 27th, 1998
Jon seems very depressed. I think the Spencer mansion incident has really bothered him, especially after his own involvement in the original T-Virus research. Dr Marcus may be missing, presumed dead, but that bitter and twisted old man still haunts my poor husband to this very day.
July 30th, 1998
Well, that's it. They've finished the so-called "incurable" L-Virus. Hah. Incurable, my left buttock. It's not incurable at all - I saw to that. I have a feeling that Janice will be starting work on a cure any day now, if she hasn't done so already. I sincerely hope that she succeeds. I'd help her myself if I wasn't so afraid of being caught.
July 31st, 1998
Blast. I've lost my necklace… now I have to wait until Janice arrives before we can get into the lab in the mornings, and she's always late. God only knows where it's gone. I've searched the house, the car and the entire lab complex, but there's no sign of it - I guess it must have fallen off when I went upstairs to the Bacteriology Department the other day to borrow some equipment. I just hope nobody's found it. If Hazlitt and Lampeter found out that I've lost the key to the lab… well, I don't even want to think about it. I'd better go and look for it again tomorrow.
August 16th, 1998
Oh, the folly. The horror. Why did we ever create the L-Virus in the first place? It's horrible. God, it's so horrible. We've created a monster… Of course, Dr Hazlitt is praising us to the high heavens, and he's christened the monstrosity "Lucifer". So much for naming this project after our beloved daughter. They've taken this whole thing and twisted it to their own evil ends. How ironic that the thing should be called Lucifer - once the greatest of God's angels, and now the most evil thing in all of God's creation, an abomination unto the world. We never meant for this to happen. We never meant for people to get hurt. All we wanted was to make the world a better place. Instead we ended up creating our own personal vision of hell. What have we done?
So their intentions had been noble after all. They'd tried to create something good, only to see it taken away and turned into something unspeakably evil - and they were all but powerless to stop it. She could only guess at how that must have felt.
September 7th, 1998
Lisa's grounded. She told me last night that she was going over to a friend's house, but she ended up coming home well after midnight - and she'd been at a party with that downtown boy. Why doesn't she understand how worried I am about her? It's not safe to walk around the city at night, especially now that the T-Virus is starting to infect people here too. I know she hates me for it, but I just want her to be safe. Every day I wake up knowing that she's in just as much danger as Jon and I, and the pain is almost too much to bear. I love her so much… and the tragic thing is that I barely even see her any more because of the work we're used to be so close - Lisa was my little princess, my little angel, but she's like a complete stranger to me now. I don't even know my own daughter any more… I'm miserable. Miserable and ashamed. Lisa deserves better than this. No wonder she hates me. I hate myself even more for not being a better mother.
September 12th, 1998
This is like some kind of terrible dream. Lisa called Jon at work yesterday and told him to come home because Beatrice was sick. We came home straight away and found out that Beatrice was infected. She's in hospital now. Finding out that your daughter's babysitter is slowly turning into a zombie probably isn't every parent's worst nightmare, but it was certainly mine. I'm still out of my mind with worry - I want to stay at home and keep an eye on Lisa to make sure that she's okay, but I have to stay here and worry myself sick instead.
September 13th, 1998
It's Sunday but we had to rush into work today - again. We found out that Beatrice had died and realised that we had to go into work. The virus is slowly spreading through town, which means we'll probably have a full-scale outbreak in a matter of weeks. Our emergency file transfer procedures have to be carried out before that happens. Yet another Sunday spent at work that was meant to be spent at home with Lisa…Of course, Lisa didn't understand, and she was furious that we had to leave her on her own again. My poor baby. I hate leaving her like this, because I know how little time we spend together. But once this thrice-damned project is over, I'll make it up to her. I'll give up work and spend all my time at home again, trying to get to know my daughter again before it's too late.
A teardrop fell onto the page, smudging the last few unbearably poignant words of the entry. She'd behaved abominably, never knowing the agony that her mother had been going through. If only she'd known…
September 23rd, 1998
We have an emergency on our hands. There's been a T-Virus spill in the sewers, and more and more people are contracting the virus. Soon everybody in the town will be infected. Since the first cases were reported in the papers, I've told Jon over and over that we have to leave town - and now is our last chance to get out of Raccoon City.
September 24th, 1998
Too late. It's too late for us to get out now. We tried for hours this morning to leave town, but they've put up barricades and roadblocks. Nobody's getting out of Raccoon City now. I feel like I've failed my daughter. She's in real danger now, and it's all our fault. If only I could have persuaded Jon that we needed to leave town sooner, or at the very least, got Lisa out of the city and found somewhere safe for her to stay… I don't know what's going to happen next. I'm writing this at my desk in work, knowing that we won't be allowed to leave this laboratory until the outbreak has been contained. All I can think of is my little girl, all alone in an empty house, with zombies walking in the streets outside. My little girl… she's all grown up now. I just pray that she's grown up enough to be able to take care of herself for a little while.
Lisa closed the diary slowly, then sobbed until she thought her heart would snap in two. She'd never known, never understood her parents, especially her mother - until she'd read these two diaries. And if they were dead now, then they were lost to her forever, and she'd never be able to apologise, or tell them that she loved them.
"Mom, Dad, I'm so sorry!" she sobbed. "I'm sorry… I love you both… oh, please don't be dead, please, please, please, God, please don't let them be dead, I treated them like dirt and I never told them how much I loved them, and I'm so sorry…!"
When she finally ran out of tears, she took a deep breath. Everything was clear now. Her parents hadn't been evil people. They'd been caught up in something that was far, far bigger than they were, and they were too scared of what might happen if they defied the company that had threatened to kill their daughter. This hadn't been their fault. This was Umbrella's doing.
She had to find them. Find them, and hug them tightly, and seek their love and forgiveness. But first -
"Jack!"
She'd been so wrapped up in her own misery that she'd almost forgotten that Jack still needed her help. She had to get back to the shelter quickly!
The diaries and the family photograph went into her backpack. If she'd been too late to save her parents, then those would be her only reminders of them, and she had to keep them safe. She was pretty sure she had everything now.
Her grip tightened on the hamster cage, and she headed for the door. But just as she was about to open it, the hamsters went wild again, scurrying madly around their cage as if competing in a Formula 1 Hamster Grand Prix.
"What's the matter, guys?" she said.
Then she heard the footsteps from outside, and felt the floor shake beneath her feet.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
She held her breath, and waited for what she knew would happen next, hoping desperately that there was a chance she might be wrong.
There wasn't. Outside, something drew a rasping breath, then growled:
"Kill…"
xxxxxxxxxx
"Her name's Thérèse," said Renée shakily. "She's older than me. My big sister. She was the bright one; the one my parents expected to do really well in life. She was their favourite."
Dr Harlech made a point of listening very carefully, and waited for Renée to carry on.
"Don't get me wrong, I wasn't jealous of her. I didn't mind that Thérèse was their favourite. I knew they loved me too," Renée continued. "It wasn't like they hated me or anything. Thérèse was just… special. Very talented, and incredibly bright. Always did well at school, played the violin beautifully, wrote wonderful stories and painted pictures so gorgeous they could make you cry."
She sighed.
"And then, just before she was due to leave for university, she got sick. They didn't know what was wrong with her, so they took her to the hospital. They found out she was dying."
"I'm sorry," said Dr Harlech solemnly. "That must have been very hard for you. What was wrong with her?"
"She was diagnosed with some sort of rare disease," said Renée. "It was curable, but it was in an advanced stage and it was life-threatening. It had to be treated at once. The treatment was very, very expensive, but needless to say, my parents paid up for the first treatment right away. Anything for Thé, because she was special. I know they wouldn't have done it for me."
"So what happened next?" said Dr Harlech, who felt it was important to show that she was taking an interest in what Renée was saying. Her very life probably depended on it.
"My parents kept paying for the treatments until they ran out of money," said Renée. "After that, they started selling everything we had so they could keep paying for it. Things were okay for a while, and she was starting to get better, but then we ran out of things to sell. We couldn't afford to keep paying for Thé's treatment any more, and she started getting worse again."
"What happened after that?" said Dr Harlech, her morbid curiosity getting the better of tact.
"Well, she kept getting worse and worse, until my parents thought she was about to die," said Renée. "And then one day a bunch of guys in suits came knocking at the door. They told us that they were from the local branch of Umbrella Incorporated, and that they'd heard about Thé's illness. They told us that they were willing to help us out, and they agreed to pay for Thé's treatments until she got better."
"Nice of them," said Dr Harlech. "So what was the catch? Umbrella's like the Mafia - it never helps anybody out without expecting something in return."
"You're quite right," said Renée. "They did want something back from us."
"What did they want?" said Dr Harlech.
Renée smiled weakly.
"Me," she said. "They wanted me."
"Why you?" said Dr Harlech, confused.
"Well, what they actually said was that in return for paying for my sister's medical treatment, they wanted somebody from our family to come and work for them for a certain amount of time, until they decided that the debt had been paid off," Renée explained. "My dad already had a job at the local factory, and my mother had to stay at home and take care of my sister. No prizes for guessing who was sent to work for Umbrella."
"You," said Dr Harlech instantly.
Renée grinned, and now she looked more like the Renée that Dr Harlech had first got to know.
"Yep," she said. "But you still don't get a prize. So, since I was hopeless at science, they enlisted me in the UBCS and sent me off to the nearest training camp. I spent six months learning how to be a soldier, and I paid my wages straight back to Umbrella to pay off my family's debts. They let me keep a small amount so I could buy essential kit, but that was it. As soon as my training finished, they sent me on a couple of easy assignments - and then they sent me here. My first real mission."
Dr Harlech let this sink in for a moment.
"You said your sister was about to go to university?" she said. "So she must be about twenty-one, there or thereabouts. And she's the older one, right?"
Renée nodded.
"Then… how old are you, Renée?" said Dr Harlech, frowning. "I figured you were about twenty-two or twenty-three, twenty-four at the outside."
"Not even close," said Renée, shaking her head. "I'm nineteen. Nineteen years old."
Dr Harlech almost choked.
"You're only nineteen?" she said, gawping. "And they sent you into this hellhole to kill me?"
"Well… not exactly," Renée admitted. "They told our unit that we were being sent in to rescue uninfected civilians from the zombies and evacuate them from the city. Sounded simple enough. Nice first mission for a young mercenary, with some handsome rewards if I did good. But of course it turned out to be anything but simple."
"I don't get it," said Dr Harlech cautiously. "Not to encourage you or anything, but I thought you were being sent here to kill me like the mangy, treacherous twenty-seven-year-old dog that I am?"
"You're twenty-seven?" said Renée, eyebrows arching in surprise.
"Yes."
"Really? You don't look it," Renée commented.
"Thank you," said Dr Harlech, smiling despite the fact that there was still a gun being pointed directly at her head. "That's very kind."
"Yeah, you look a lot older."
Dr Harlech's smile promptly disappeared.
"Now that wasn't nice," she chided the young mercenary. "Where are your manners?"
Renée looked around theatrically.
"Manners are like yoghurts, they go bad if you don't use them," said Dr Harlech. "My mother always used to say that."
"Yoghurt gives me a rash."
"And I'll give you a slap if you don't start respecting your elders and betters," warned Dr Harlech, then remembered who was pointing the gun at whom. Which reminded her…
"Speaking of your elders and betters, let's get back to the whole "being ordered to kill me" thing," she said. "You said your first mission wasn't as simple as just rescuing civilians from zombies. Why not?"
"Because I found out that our mission was all a lie. We hadn't been sent in to rescue civilians - they just wanted us to collect combat data from the monsters roaming the city. They were using us as guinea pigs all along, and we'd never even suspected a thing. After that, and learning that they weren't even going to promote me to Corporal like they'd promised, I decided that I'd had enough. No job is worth having to fight giant zombie cockroaches."
"So you meant what you said about wanting to take Umbrella down?" said Dr Harlech.
"Every word," said Renée firmly. "I didn't want their money. I was going to get a real job and pay for Thé's medical treatment myself."
"Then why…?" began Dr Harlech.
"Why do this?" said Renée, finishing the sentence. "Simple answer. Christina."
"Christina?" said Dr Harlech, now beginning to look utterly baffled. "What's she got to do with all this?"
"It was Christina who told me the truth about our so-called "mercy mission"," said Renée. "She knew because she hadn't been given the same orders as us, even though she was brought in with the rest of our units. She's here on a special assignment. And shortly before Jack and Lisa found me and brought me back to save you and Amber from the Tyrant, I ran into her again, and we had a little chat about our mission objectives."
"I doubt she had anything good to say about what you had in mind," said Dr Harlech.
"Well, put it like this. She was not a happy bunny. But she was kind enough to offer me a new alternative to my original lousy orders."
"Which were?"
"Kill you."
"That doesn't sound too kind to me."
"That's the problem," said Renée wretchedly. "Those orders sucked even more. But she told me that if I didn't help her out, then she'd tell Umbrella that I'd refused to obey orders and abandoned the rest of my unit. She told me that if they found out I'd deserted, they'd shoot me and let my sister die. I can't let Thé down! I can't let them kill her! She's my sister, and I love her, even if my parents did like her better than me! I can't let her die!"
To Dr Harlech's intense discomfort, Renée started to cry. This was a problem. If Renée didn't kill her, then she would die and so would her sister. But if she did, then she, Dr Harlech, would be dead. The outcome wasn't good, no matter which way you looked at it. Worse, she had absolutely no idea what to do with a distressed but armed woman with some severe personal conflicts.
Aaargh. What to do? Sympathy might get me shot. Not showing sympathy might get me shot. Talking her out of this will get her shot. Oh, hell… why does the universe hate me?
After much deliberation, Dr Harlech decided on empathy.
"If it helps," she ventured, "I actually have the same problem as you. Umbrella threatened to make me homeless if I didn't work on this project for them. Did I tell you that?"
Renée, wiping her eyes, shook her head.
"Yes, it's true. When I tried to resign, they had a little chat with me, and they, ahem, gently reminded me that if I left the company, then I'd lose everything. My home, my car, my pension and my free healthcare, and a lot more besides. The words "severely dealt with" were mentioned a couple of times, which is a slightly less menacing way of saying "you'll be repeatedly run over by a company car in the parking lot, pour décourager les autres". Now I'm not married, don't have any kids, and my sister's too important for them to get rid of, so I didn't really have to worry about my family getting hurt, but I did value my own life rather highly, so I kept working. And you know, now I wish I hadn't. I wish I'd let them run me over instead. The guilt wasn't worth it. It really wasn't."
Dr Harlech was aware that Renée was watching her intently, hanging on her every word. The sheer intensity of the girl's stare was frightening her even more than the battle with the Tyrant had. She knew only too well that what she said next could either save her life or end it. It was possibly the single most nerve-wracking moment of her life.
She licked her dry lips nervously and said:
"I made my choice, Renée. Now it's your turn to do the same. You know in your heart what's right and what's wrong, and if you believe that it's right to kill me, then… I won't stop you. Just don't make my mistake and let fear get in the way of your principles, because it'll haunt you for the rest of your life. Trust me. I learned that the hard way."
Renée stared at her, her arm still outstretched, the gun still pointing exactly the same way. She was quivering all over. Dr Harlech watched her finger slowly curling around the trigger.
This is it, she thought. I'm going to die. Funny, I never thought it would end this way… but then I never really thought it would end at all. I was wrong, that's for certain. It's going to end, right here and now, and I deserve it. I never should have done what I did.
She closed her eyes tightly, screwing up her face as she braced herself for the shot, and waited for the end. She was prepared for death, but she wasn't prepared for the scream.
"No! I won't do it! I can't!"
Her eyes shot open again, just in time to see Renée throw the gun aside.
"You helped me," said Renée, starting to cry again. "You were there for me when I was hurt and I needed help, and you fixed me up. You were kind to me even though I didn't deserve it. You - you even played dumb games with me to pass the time and didn't call me a moron. You're probably the best friend I've ever had. And Lisa's right, you can't just shoot your best friend dead. I can't believe I even thought - I'm so sorry!"
Dr Harlech suddenly found herself being hugged by a bawling mercenary, and wondered why the world seemed to single her out for weird situations. Nevertheless, she hugged Renée back. She obviously needed it.
"There, there," she said feebly. "It's okay. I'm still your friend. Amber's tried to kill me several times, and she's still my friend. I don't see why I should make an exception for you. Quite odd how all my friends want to kill me, really. I wonder what I'm doing wrong?"
She heard muffled laughter from her shoulder.
"There. Are we friends now? The not-trying-to-kill-each-other variety?" she said.
Renée looked up, and nodded.
"Glad to hear it. But do satisfy my curiosity. What exactly is Christina's "special assignment"?" said Dr Harlech.
"Christina's from a different part of the UBCS," said Renée, drying her eyes. "It deals with assassinating people who make life difficult for Umbrella, and it also serves as bodyguards for important Umbrella employees, picking off would-be assassins and protecting the VIPs. It's chock-full of the most ruthless and efficient mercenaries, every one a cold-blooded killer. We call it the Death Squad. Christina was originally sent here for you and one other person, but after our little discussion she sent me after you."
"Who's the other person?" said Dr Harlech.
"Take a guess," said Renée.
Dr Harlech thought for a moment.
"Uh-oh," she concluded.
"Uh-oh is correct," agreed Renée. "Right now she's probably hiding somewhere downstairs and waiting for Amber to walk right into the crosshairs."
"We can't let her do that! Amber mustn't die!" said Dr Harlech.
"I know she's our friend, but we can't leave Jack alone - we promised Lisa we'd stay here and take care of him," said Renée.
"Yes, that too," concluded Dr Harlech. "But Christina mustn't get hold of that briefcase Amber's carrying. And if she finds out what else Amber's carrying - well, I don't even want to think about the consequences."
"Huh? What do you mean? What else is Amber carrying?" said Renée, puzzled.
"The necklace that Amber's wearing is vitally important," said Dr Harlech. "Christina can't be allowed to get it."
"I know it's the laboratory key and everything, but why is it so important?" said Renée. "What is it, the elixir of life or something?"
"If only," said Dr Harlech. "Then it wouldn't be so bad if she got hold of it, even if it did mean the Earth had to put up with an immortal Christina for the rest of eternity."
"I really don't get it. What's so important about it?" said Renée, frowning.
Dr Harlech winced.
"I was hoping I wouldn't have to tell anybody," she said. "I thought if nobody else knew what the necklace was, then it wouldn't matter if I destroyed the sample."
"Sample?" said Renée. "The sample of what?"
Dr Harlech wrestled with her conscience for a moment, but her conscience won, and reminded her that telling the truth was the right thing to do. At a time like this, she wasn't about to argue with her conscience.
"The L-Virus," she said, giving in. "Inside the pendant of that necklace is the last remaining sample of the completed L-Virus. Christina mustn't be allowed to take it from Amber. If Umbrella gets hold of the L-Virus, then we're all as good as dead."