Genesis (7 page)

As the pair of them passed by a winged statue, Alice said, “I didn't forget to change my password, Lisa.”

Lisa stopped walking. In addition to the statue, which looked like it belonged in a museum's Ancient Greece section, they were surrounded by broken Doric columns, giving the area a Hellenic feel. The wind blew more strongly, and she pulled her coat tightly around her, the chill from more than the weather.

“What's going on, Alice?”

“I actually didn't put it together until last week. Something about you has bugged me since you started, but you'd already been checked out, and there wasn't anything amiss in your file. Your story as to why you turned us down six years ago but came to us looking for work now checked out, too. It certainly tracked with the ups and downs of the job market in your field. But something was nagging me.”

Alice's blue eyes grew as cold as the wind that continued to keep the brown leaves swirling.

“I got where I am now by paying attention to things that nag me. So I just kept an eye on you. Then I noticed something.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, silver device. About the size of a PDA, Lisa recognized it as something Umbrella's techs had been working on: a mini-DVD player that their employer would introduce onto the market as soon as the mini-DVDs they'd pioneered—about a third of the size of the common disc—became commonplace.

Alice activated the device, and the screen lit up first with the stylized logo of the corporation: a rotating U with an umbrella resting atop it, the umbrella's handle between the two prongs of the letter. Then the image switched to that of Lisa sitting at her desk.

Lisa closed her eyes and sighed. The ubiquitous security cameras. She herself performed regular checks of the cameras to make sure they were functioning properly.

The recording from the camera played out: Lisa on the phone, talking with someone. Alice had left the volume turned down, so it wasn't until Lisa was able to make out the image on her monitor that she remembered that she had been talking to Dr. Rosamonte down in Pharmaceuticals about a month or two earlier. She recognized the code that applied to the doctor's account. As she had with Alice the other day, Lisa had walked Rosamonte through the process of trying the password again, realizing that she hadn't updated it in the requisite eight days, and so she reset it.

As with Alice, for a brief instant, she saw what Rosamonte had on her monitor before the security kicked in.

And only then did Lisa realize her mistake: she peered intently at the monitor. Anybody watching her on the security camera would know just from the expression on her face that she was studying every pixel on that monitor during that all-too-fleeting moment.

She remembered a disparaging comment Matt had made once about her lack of a poker face—in fact, it was right after he cleaned her out during a friendly family game Christmas night when they were both home from college.

“Once I realized that your little password-change rule had an ulterior motive, I looked at your file again.” Again that odd smile. “I have to give you credit for that—it's the perfect cover. It's a good security procedure, well within your job description. Hell, it shows initiative and brains. But you were also using it to try to find something. Once I knew you were looking for something, I knew what to look for in your file.”

Alice leaned against the winged statue. Lisa asked hoarsely, “What'd you find?”

“Your brother, for one. A former Federal Marshal, but one who retired under odd circumstances a few years ago. But that wasn't what really got my attention. After all, that was in your initial background check, and if there was anything weird about your brother, it probably would've come up then. But then there was Mahmoud al-Rashan.”

The hand of ice became a tightly clenched fist.

Alice's odd smile became a full-fledged grin. She
straightened up and walked toward Lisa, putting an encouraging hand on her shoulder.

“Don't panic too much, I only found the connection between you and al-Rashan after a month of computer searches that I did in my spare time. It gets
very
boring on mansion duty some days, and even Spence has his endurance limits.”

Despite herself, Lisa actually returned the grin.

But it didn't last. She couldn't stop thinking about who this woman was, and what she could to do Lisa—and to Matt.

And to Matt's organization.

“Once I realized that you and al-Rashan were coworkers and friends, it all came together. Pursuing a job with the same corporation that was all but responsible for your friend's death, to the point where you relocated from the city you'd lived in all your life, a relocation you'd rejected six years earlier. Sure, there were circumstances to explain all of that—but not why you were so aggressively trying to get peeks at stuff you aren't cleared for.”

Lisa's breaths started coming more shallowly. As Alice reached into her pocket, Lisa feared that a gun with a silencer would come out of it. Or would she even bother with a silencer? They were in the middle of nowhere, and the only person likely to hear the gunshot was Spence, and he was on Alice's side.

But all Alice did was put the mini-DVD player away.

“What did you think of what you saw?”

Lisa blinked. “What?”

“On my monitor. What did you think of it?”

Honestly, Lisa said, “I don't know what to think. That creature was—it was a nightmare. And that virus—it looked like something we were developing, not studying. Not something natural. And certainly that—that
thing
wasn't natural.”

“It's a T-virus, and you're right, it's not at all natural. Believe it or not, it came about from a study into something that would retard the aging process—an ointment that would keep the skin cells from aging.”

“A glorified wrinkle cream, you mean?”

Alice raised an eyebrow. “A bit more than that, but yes. However, the virus does more—a lot more. Inhaling it is fatal. It has a one hundred percent kill rate—”

Again, Lisa shivered.

“—and it keeps the body animated after death.”

“What?” Lisa asked incredulously. They had just veered into bad science fiction territory. Or maybe back to those godawful monster comics of Matt's.

But the creature with no eyes on Alice's computer screen wasn't the flight of fancy of a 1950s-era comic-book artist. That was real.

“The body still generates electrical impulses for some time after it dies,” Alice said. “The T-virus works by stimulating cells.”

“So they've created a killer that turns you into a zombie?”

Alice nodded. “It could be a brutal biological weapon,” she said, understating the case somewhat, “and there are certain people in the U.S. government—and
other governments—who'd pay top dollar for it. Developing it is in violation of half a dozen domestic laws and half a dozen more international ones.”

“Why—why are you telling me this?” Lisa swallowed. “Are you just telling me because you're going to kill me?”

The weird smile came back. “I may look like a Bond girl, Lisa, but I'm not a Bond villain. I didn't bring you here to kill you. I brought you here to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“I thought that was obvious. After all, Mahmoud al-Rashan was your friend—and I can't imagine that the settlement Umbrella gave his wife did much to alleviate her grief. It took a lot of guts to do what you did.” Alice took a long breath. “You want the virus?”

Lisa didn't let herself say anything for several seconds. This was the dangerous part. She had no idea if she could trust Alice or not. But then, she
could
very easily have killed Lisa by now, and without ever telling her why.

On the other hand, if this was legitimate, it was the ticket she and Matt needed.

Alice knew about Mahmoud. But there was no indication that she knew about Matt's organization. There was no need to let her know that she wasn't working entirely on her own.

Struggling to keep her voice neutral, she said, “I might.”

“I can help you
get
the virus. I have access to security plans, surveillance codes, the works.”

Alice hesitated.

“But—?” Lisa prompted.

“But there's going to be a price.”

That, to Lisa's mind, was a given. “Name it.”

Speaking very slowly, Alice said, “You have to guarantee me that you'll bring this corporation down.”

Lisa came within a hairsbreadth of laughing in Alice's face. That wasn't a price, that was a gift.

But she didn't. Instead, she forced herself to keep focused on the mission, and most importantly not to expose Matt and his people.

“What makes you think I want to bring anyone down? Maybe I just want to use the virus to kill the people who killed Mahmoud.”

Again, that damned smile of hers. At this point, Lisa just wanted to smack it off the other woman's face.

“You're not that type, Lisa. Trust me, I know killers. I've spent all my adult life surrounded by them, on both sides of the law. You don't have it in you. What you do have is outrage, and that's what I need.”

Something else occurred to Lisa. “Why can't you do this yourself?”

“I'm too far inside. There are ways they can shut me down. You're still pretty clean, though. You've only been here a couple of months; they haven't been able to sink their claws all the way into you yet.” Alice's voice had taken on an almost melancholy tone. “If I try it won't work. To be honest, it may not work for you, either. These people are good.”

Lisa took in a deep breath through her nose and let it
out through her mouth. “And if I screw it up, you're still clear.”

Alice smiled. “You're not nearly as stupid as Spence looks.” The smile fell. “This is a dangerous game, Lisa. You sure you want to play it?”

“Completely sure.” Lisa had already had this conversation with Matt a dozen times and herself about a million times. And in the end, it always came down to the same thing.

She thought about Fadwa.

After that, it was easy.

THE ONLY THING THE RED QUEEN'S SECURITY cameras picked up was the human figure in the Hazmat suit.

Somehow, someone had found a way to get into the suit without the ubiquitous cameras recording the action.

However, the Red Queen, despite her artificial intelligence, was still at heart a literal-minded machine. The person in the Hazmat suit entered the proper security codes to get through the titanium-reinforced door to the temperature-regulated room that housed the T-virus. Therefore, the computer did not question the identity of the individual, even though the suit's reflective faceplate sufficiently hid the person's identity from the cameras.

The first thing the figure did was walk over to one of
the utility closets and remove a hypo-gun and a metal case. While not as well reinforced as the door—that was impossible to achieve without sacrificing portability—the case was impenetrable by most standards when sealed. As for the gun, it fit neatly into one of the case's slots. All the other slots were intended to house small cylindrical tubes.

The figure walked over to the far wall. That wall included a window of PlastiGlas, a stronger version of Plexiglas that Umbrella had patented the year before. Under the window sat a horizontal slot, which the figure opened by activating a control. It slid downward, allowing the case to be placed into the small chamber on the other side of the window and slot.

Smoky condensation puffed out through the slot, as the temperature inside the chamber was quite low, and only the Hazmat suit kept the figure from feeling the overwhelming cold that issued forth.

The slot closed once the case was ensconced within. The activating of several other controls brought about two more actions: two waldoes unfurled from sides of the PlastiGlas window and the bottom of the chamber slid open to reveal fourteen vials. The latter action was only possible when the slot below the window was shut.

Manipulating the waldoes, the figure systematically placed each of the vials into the slots. Each vial contained corkscrew-shaped tubes that looked like a cross between a DNA double helix and a Silly Straw. Half were filled with a deep blue liquid, the other half with a liquid in a kind of sick green.

The T-virus and the anti-virus.

Worth millions to Pharmaceuticals as the basis of a revolutionary product that would allow vain middle-aged people to look more like vain younger people.

Worth billions on the open market in its raw form as a biological weapon.

Behind the reflective faceplate, the figure smiled. This was a weapon of mass destruction beyond any world leader's wildest dreams—or nightmares.

Once all fourteen vials were in place, the case shut automatically, and sealed itself. Four circular dials on the four corners of the case lid rotated ninety degrees, indicating that the case was sealed tighter than a proverbial drum. Only someone with the key code could open it now.

With the tray cleared of the vials and the case sealed, the computer—literal-minded as ever—would allow the slot to open once again. When it did, the figure grabbed the case and brought it out of the temperature-controlled room and into the adjacent laboratory.

Like all the office spaces in the Hive, the lab was utilitarian, favoring cold metal and hard plastics, not only in the furnishings, but everything from the moulding to the computer desktops. It had no warmth to it at all. Like a tomb.

Soon enough, it would be a tomb in reality as well as imagery.

The figure removed the Hazmat suit, put on a pair of rubber gloves, and entered the keycode. The case obligingly opened, an action that served two functions: to
verify that the keycode worked and to allow the figure access to one of the vials containing the blue liquid.

Pulling out the vial with a protected hand, the figure sealed the case once again, placed it in a duffel bag, zipped the bag up, and hoisted it onto one shoulder.