Welcome To The Umbrella Corporation

Chapter Four

James Marcus sat in the comfortable, expensive leather chair with his hands in his lap, not saying anything. Across the wide mahogany desk in front of him sat Dr. Ozwell Spencer, who at the moment was engaged in a thin pile of neatly stacked papers. Marcus marveled at the pristine neatness of the desktop; not a single item was out of place, not a single pencil, not a stray paperclip, not even a speck of dust intruded upon the spotless, organized surface. The order of the desk was indicative of the person. Ozwell Spencer was a supremely ordered man.

At the moment, he was immersed in the progress reports of the newest group of trainees at the training facility. Thin, wire-rimmed glasses were perched at the edge of his long nose as his steely eyes scanned the information. His hands were like talons, gripping the edge of the paper. His mouth was small and tightly closed, his lips pursed.

“So, James,” he said slowly, “How well are the new ones doing this year, do you think?” His voice was cultured and easy to listen to, in contrast to his harsh appearance, and made Marcus think of some well-educated British butler. The clipped accent was silky and deceiving.

“We have a few promising candidates,” he replied. After so many years of experience dealing with Spencer, he knew to give short answers.

“Yes, you’ve singled out Albert Wesker for rapid promotion. He has the characteristics we desire, that is certain.”

“William Birkin as well.”

Spencer glanced at the papers on the desk. “I haven’t gotten to his report yet.”

Since Spencer hadn’t asked a question, Marcus said nothing more. It was wise only to speak when spoken to. Despite the generally-accepted knowledge in the labs that Marcus and Spencer were old friends, the two of them had never shared a friendly moment in thirty years of working together. They were fellow scientists at best, but most of the time their relationship was purely employer/employee. Spencer was the boss, and Marcus was just another underling. The fact that Marcus was now in charge of the training facility, and technically Spencer’s administrative equal, did nothing to alter their relationship.

“When are you going to promote them?” Spencer asked, not taking his attention off the paper in his hand.

“Soon. A month from now, at the latest.”

“No one has completed training that quickly.”

“They’ve already completed training,” Marcus said. “Both of them are already working in the preliminary labs.”

“Did they act independently?”

“I don’t think so. I suspect Wesker was anxious to move on, and convinced Birkin to join him. Wesker is the more ambitious one.”

Spencer nodded and started reading the next sheet.

This was how most of their meetings went, Marcus thought. He had work to do down in the labs – important work – and Spencer was keeping him here like a student in the principal’s office. Was the old man trying to sweat him? Marcus wondered often at Spencer’s motives, but always came to the decision that Spencer simply had no understanding of anyone else’s needs but his own. He wanted Marcus there to ask him the occasional question regarding the reports, and so Marcus had to be there. What Marcus wanted or needed was inconsequential.

Part of the problem, and the most basic reason Marcus and Spencer could never truly see eye to eye, was that Spencer abandoned his once-promising career as a scientist to embrace his new role as an administrator. When the Umbrella Corporation grew to the point where a large upper-management class became a necessity, Spencer allowed himself to be named the new Research Director and became assimilated into the bureaucracy. Marcus, even when he could no longer prevent his promotion into upper-management, still retained his primary interest in science and spent most of his time working in the labs. Spencer, on the other hand, had not done any real science since before the Arklay facility had even been built, almost two decades before. And now, Spencer was purely an administrator, not even a scientist in name any more.

At one time, the two of them followed almost identical career paths. How had Spencer strayed so badly? Why would a man with such a dedicated and profound attachment to science throw it all away for the promise of management? Marcus, in this way, had no real respect for Spencer. He viewed the man as a traitor to the cause.

“Are they mentally prepared for the level of work done in the main labs?” Spencer asked.

“Wesker is, definitely. Birkin might be a touch naive, but he should adapt quickly enough. I don’t anticipate any problems.”

“Good. Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

“Do you think I should proceed?”

Spencer eyed him over the top of the paper he was holding. His eyes were narrowed and sharp, his voice coldly neutral, as if he was offended by the question. “Determining their acceptability is your responsibility, James. I’ve never met the candidates, so I cannot judge them.”

Marcus nodded. “I was just asking because they are so young.”

The response seemed to satisfy Spencer. “Ah, yes. Both of them still in their teens. If they are as talented as their files indicate, and as ambitious as you claim, then by all means go ahead and bring them in.”

“Am I excused? I have work to get to.”

Spencer didn’t respond for a few moments, and then sighed. “Yes, go if you must. Are you making much progress with your new lines of research?”

“Yes, quite a lot. That’s why I’m anxious to return.”

“When will we be given the details of your new work?” Sometimes, to Marcus’ constant irritation, Spencer used the plural “we” to mean the company as a whole.

Marcus shrugged lightly. “Give me six months.”

“Keep me informed.”

Marcus nodded and got up from the chair. He closed the door to the office when he left, leaving Spencer in cold silence. For some minutes, Spencer continued reading the progress reports, adjusting his glasses every now and then. When he was finished, he restacked the papers and set them neatly on the edge of his desk, for his secretary to shred later that day.

He pressed a button on the intercom, a silver speaker resting on the desk top. His secretary’s voice came forth. “Yes, Dr. Spencer?”

Spencer leaned back in his chair and turned it around to look out the large windows at the Arklay Mountains surrounding the estate. “Has Dr. Marcus left the building?”

“Yes, he left a few minutes ago.”

“Notify the security personnel at the training facility. I want them to keep a close eye on Dr. Marcus from now on. I want detailed reports as to his movements and activities. But they’re not to let Dr. Marcus know about this.”

“Yes, Dr. Spencer. Will that be all?”

“One more thing, Madeleine. When Mr. Warren arrives, call me and send him right to my office.”

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