The Arklay Outbreak

Chapter Forty-Seven

Irons was already at his desk when Wesker came to the police department and made his way unopposed to the Chief’s office. The secretaries were so used to Wesker’s presence that they barely even looked up as he walked through the reception area. Wesker wondered if Irons ever left his office, since he’d never actually seen the man anywhere else.

When Wesker entered the office, not bothering to knock on the door, he found Irons sitting in his chair, facing one of the walls, which was covered in expensive framed paintings. He remembered the first time he entered Irons’ office, years before. It was much more cramped now. Over the years, Irons acquired more and more pieces of art and sculpture, and when he didn’t have room in his office or home, he distributed them randomly throughout the police station. In his small office was probably two dozen paintings, an antique mahogany end table with plush victorian chairs, several stuffed animal heads hanging on the walls, a display case with rare butterflies, and at least twenty pieces of sculpture, ranging from small figurines to statues three feet tall that served to guard his massive desk.

He didn’t even acknowledge that Wesker had entered the office. To his credit, Irons hadn’t changed a bit in all these years. He was still burly and gruff, his hair and thick beard not yet betraying a hint of the gray that was surely due. He was still broad without being fat, and still quietly contained incredible strength in his muscular chest and arms. As huge as his desk was, Wesker did not doubt that if he wanted to, Irons could have flipped it upside down like a regular person might flip up a card table.

Irons’ personality, however, rarely matched his appearance. Irons was calm and patient, and while not exactly soft-spoken, his voice was steady and direct. He never had to resort to yelling to get his point across.

He studied his wall for a few moments before he finally turned his head to see Wesker sitting there. And then he grunted and swiveled in his own chair to face him. Placing his hands on his generous stomach, he cleared his throat.

“Morning, Wesker. What do I owe the honor?” he said.

Wesker smiled. “I have some good news for you.”

“I doubt that. You never bring good news.”

“You’re too kind. But you’re going to like this, I promise.”

Over the years, Irons had become more and more gruff and rude during their little private meetings, but with good reason. Wesker either came to his office to pay him off, or to tell him of some horrible crime that the police department, through Wesker, was going to cover up. Irons was boiling over with regret and guilt over the years of bribery and corruption, but like a good puppet, he kept accepting the envelopes full of money and then turning his head to let Wesker do what he wanted. Wesker paid him good money to do nothing all day.

“So what is it?” Irons grumbled.

Wesker leaned forward, as if telling a secret. “After today, you will never see me again.”

At first, Irons just stared at him as if he hadn’t spoken. And then his face softened as his eyes opened wider, and Wesker watched in amusement as Irons swallowed and let out a trembling breath. He was waiting in terror for the other half of the newsflash to come.

“My work with Umbrella is finished,” Wesker continued, drawing out the tension. “And so I’m leaving Raccoon City as of this evening. As much as I have enjoyed your friendship over the years, it’s time for me to move on.”

“What do you want, Wesker?” Irons said. “Just tell me and get out of my office.”

Wesker pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. But instead of just tossing on the desk like he usually did, he held it out politely, forcing Irons to reach out and take it from his hand. It was substantially thicker than usual.

“This is your final payment,” Wesker said. “I hope you like it.”

Irons felt the weight of the envelope in his hands. “How much is there?”

“Fifty-thousand.”

Irons opened a desk drawer and dropped the envelope inside without ceremony, then leveled his dark eyes back at Wesker. “I take it there’s one last thing I have to do to earn it?”

“Just the usual. Keep your mouth shut and do nothing.”

“And then you’re gone forever?”

“Forever. I’ll be out of this city before midnight, never to return.”

“Where are you going?”

“I was thinking of seeing Europe. Maybe Asia, maybe South America. I haven’t decided yet.” It was Wesker’s way of saying, “None of your business.”

“So that’s it?”

“Pretty much,” Wesker said. He started to stand up, but then sat back down, as if suddenly remembering one last thing. “Oh yes, there was something else I wanted to ask you. After today, I’d appreciate it greatly if you could manage to keep my name out of any investigations that might arise once I’m gone.”

“That might be kind of hard. You’ve been working here for over ten years. If anyone asks me about you, I can’t say I don’t know who you are. Besides, all the other S.T.A.R.S. members know you better than me.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about them after today,” Wesker said cryptically, but moved on before Irons could ask what he meant. “After I leave, certain facts may arise that I’d rather not have widely known. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes,” Irons said.

“If it’s in your power to keep those facts wrapped up, please do so. But I’m not asking you to do the impossible. If federal agents descend on Raccoon City and start an investigation without your permission, I won’t hold it against you. But if such a thing happens, it might be in your interest to give them an abridged version of my history here.”

For just a split-second, Irons’ eyes darted to the drawer where he had deposited the envelope. Wesker knew that Irons understood the unspoken threat. Irons had knowledge of Umbrella’s workings in the Arklay Mountains, limited as that knowledge might be. But Wesker also had detailed records of the money that he had been paying Irons over the years. If Irons exposed Wesker, even by accident, Wesker could release information about his bribery. Keeping Wesker’s secrets would keep him out of jail as well, or so he hoped. If anyone learned about the bribery, Irons would spend the rest of life in jail. He would lose everything.

“What do you want me to do if something does happen?” Irons asked.

“Use your best judgment,” Wesker said with a smile. “Within a few weeks it won’t matter, but in the next two weeks, just to be safe, do your best to avoid any kind of investigation about me or the company. I trust that you’ll do just fine.”

“Sure you do.”

“I’ve always trusted you,” Wesker said. “And you’ve never let me down.”

With that, Wesker stood up and made his way for the door. Just as he was reaching for the knob, Irons said his name, and he turned around to see what he wanted.

“Do you know what I was thinking about when you came in?” Irons asked.

“No,” Wesker said, not taken off guard by the question, as Irons surely wanted him to be. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“I was thinking about Bravo team. They never came back last night. I have a dozen messages on my voice mail about it.”

“I think you can delete those messages. I wouldn’t worry about Bravo team.”

“Why not?”

“Because you should worry about Alpha team instead,” Wesker said, and went out the door.

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