Belize

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Chapter One

Dr. Ricardo Diego Garcia walked down the long, white hallway at a casual pace, not in any great hurry to reach his destination. He had a slight limp, favoring his left leg, supposedly the result of a horse riding accident when he was a teenager, although none of the other scientists in the lab could verify the story. Garcia was certainly no longer a teenager, his face lined and wrinkled, his hair a steely gray, his eyesight fading with age. At sixty-one, he was the oldest scientist in the entire lab. He had worked for the Umbrella Corporation for nearly twenty-five years, but despite his seniority, he was not a Research Director. He was a Lab Manager, which was a middle-management position. The reasons for Garcia’s lack of further advancement were frequently rumored among the younger employees.

Garcia checked his watch. It was 9:05 in the morning, and his meeting with the Research Director was to have started at nine. It would take him a few more minutes to walk to the Director’s office, but Garcia didn’t really care about being late. They would wait for him.

He had joined the company in his thirties after working for several smaller medical companies and getting his doctorate in biology. Most of his time at Umbrella had been spent working in a very specialized, very specific field of research related to the virus known to some of the staff as the “father virus.” Its true name was the Progenitor.

Garcia understood enough about the virus to know that they were only studying a tiny part of the whole. But he had diligently studied that tiny part for almost two decades now, examining and researching ways to interrupt the virus’ biological processes and hopefully stop its incredible lethality. He had made progress, although not as much as he would have expected after so many years of study. Perhaps his lack of results was the real reason he had not been promoted higher up the corporate ladder by now. He felt that he could have achieved a higher position if he had asserted himself more.

He did not dwell on his failures, instead choosing to focus on his successes. The Progenitor was very potent and difficult to study, especially given the restraints he was forced to work under. And he had managed to discover some effective ways of killing the virus itself in its natural form. Of course, he had not learned a method to kill the virus once it had infected a host, but that failure was soothed by the fact that to his knowledge, no one else in the world had managed to figure it out either.

Two young female scientists passed him in the hallway and he smiled pleasantly at them, and they nodded in return. Almost all of the other employees were in their late twenties or early thirties. Only Garcia and a handful of other old-timers were over the age of fifty. He wondered why this was the case. It seemed that most of the scientists who worked at the lab were eventually transferred to different departments or new facilities, or simply had their employment end. Garcia sometimes wondered why he had stayed so long.

He made his way to the office of the Research Director and casually adjusted the collar of his gray dress shirt. He wore no tie, as some of his peers still did, and he had left his lab coat back in his office. He entered the waiting room, where another young woman sat behind the assistant’s desk, typing away at a computer.

She glanced up at him and pointed to the side door. “They’re waiting for you in the conference room, Dr. Garcia.”

“Thank you,” he said.

The conference room was decorated in indistinguishable modern art paintings, with light gray walls and a dark gray carpet. The long rectangular conference table took up most of the room, its black marble top shining under the overhead lights. Seated at one end of the table were three men, two of which Garcia did not recognize.

The third was the facility’s Research Director, a man named Edgar Saldivar. He was fifteen years Garcia’s junior, but he had worked for Umbrella for more than twenty years, so Garcia did not resent him for being younger. He was a stocky man with a dark mustache and thinning hair.

“Ricardo,” Saldivar said, his voice sounding tired. “It’s good to see you. Come in, please. Have a seat here.”

Garcia sat down in a chair a few spaces down from the other two men, who wore nearly identical black business suits. They were both Caucasian, which was no cause for concern since many other locals were Caucasian as well, but their body language gave them away as foreigners almost immediately. They were almost certainly American, which again was no surprise since Umbrella was largely an American company, but their presence in the conference room did raise Garcia’s defenses.

“Do you know why I asked you to come here?” Saldivar asked.

Garcia pursed his lips and nodded shortly. “Yes, I think so. I’ve heard rumors that they may be closing us down.”

Saldivar sighed. “Where did you hear these rumors?”

Garcia waved his hand vaguely. “Oh, you know. I just overheard people talking. I don’t remember exactly who it was.”

There were folders and papers scattered on the table, and Garcia glanced down to see if there was anything there worth reading. He looked back up to see the two other men in suits watching him intently, studying him. Neither they nor Saldivar had bothered with introductions, so Garcia just ignored them. They were probably just advisers sent in by Umbrella to assist Saldivar during these meetings.

Garcia had actually heard from one of his colleagues over a month ago that they might try to close down the lab. Public opinion had soured against Umbrella all over the world, and it was inevitable that some of their facilities would shut their doors. Garcia hadn’t really believed that this lab would close down, but it had been a possibility. And now, it seemed it was true.

“Yes,” Saldivar was saying, as if to himself, “Umbrella has decided to shut down all research at this lab, unfortunately. Right now, only a few others know about this. I hope I can trust you to keep this secret? I don’t want the others to find out yet.”

“Of course,” Garcia said.

“We’ve been directed to finish all work here by the end of next week.”

That got Garcia’s attention. “Next week? Why so soon?”

“I know, I know,” Saldivar said apologetically. “It’s not my decision. They don’t want the information to be made public yet. You know how important Umbrella is for the local economy here, how many people they employ. Not just here at the lab, I mean.”

“Yes, quite a few I would imagine.”

“So that means that all work must be finished by Friday of next week. We have to cancel all long-term projects and discard any specimens we have. All samples have to be logged and inventoried precisely. We’re going to be incredibly busy, even more so once the other employees are informed.”

“Can I ask why they’re shutting us down?”

“The incident in America, of course,” Saldivar said.

Garcia had known that already, since the incident had been world news for several months, and was the main reason for Umbrella’s troubles of late. One of their laboratories, a much more advanced one, had somehow allowed infected specimens to escape, or allowed the Progenitor itself to escape into the surrounding wilderness. The news had never been specific about that, which made Garcia wonder exactly what had happened. But the fact was that the Progenitor spread to a nearby city and infected thousands of people.

In the end, the American government had little choice but to destroy the entire city with a nuclear missile, to wipe out any trace of the infection, to prevent it from spreading even further. Hundreds of thousands of people died from the infection and the destruction of the city, and it became worldwide news. Umbrella took full responsibility and invested millions, probably even billions, into the cleanup and investigation of the incident in an effort to minimize the damage and protect their public image. It had worked somewhat, but the company was still suffering from the bad press.

“Yes, of course,” he said, shaking his head. “Such a terrible shame. We’re not responsible for the outbreak in America, and yet we’re going to suffer for it as well.”

Saldivar nodded uncomfortably. “Yes, well, as I said, all long-term projects are to be ended as soon as possible. Any short-term projects as well, and their results scrapped.” He leaned forward to scan one of the sheets before him. “All samples inventoried, all research vials and other infected equipment are to be incinerated.”

“Incinerated?” Garcia asked.

“Yes, anything that came into contact with infected samples is to be destroyed,” Saldivar said. “All paperwork will be filed and packed for shipping to another Umbrella department, although we don’t know exactly which one.”

Garcia nodded, seeing that he would indeed be very busy in the coming week. Although he was sure he could push most of that work onto his underlings and deal with the easier tasks himself. “I can see we have a lot to do then,” he said with a sympathetic smile.

“Yes,” Saldivar said. His forehead was dotted with sweat, even though it was not that warm in the room. Garcia supposed he was merely nervous because of the presence of the Americans, although Saldivar had never acted this way before.

“And then,” Saldivar continued, “of course, there is the matter of personnel. The entire lab is being closed, so that includes everyone from the research assistants to the janitorial staff. All of them will have to be informed that their employment is … that they are being terminated.”

“Yes,” Garcia nodded sagely. It was a shame to lose so many talented people, and Garcia in particular would miss some of his experienced assistants. In better times, they would have been promoted rapidly up the ranks, but unfortunately, these were not better times. But they would be able to find other work, surely.

“We need to figure out an appropriate time to inform them,” Saldivar said. “It would not be wise to inform them today. But I would prefer not to wait until the last minute.”

“We could have a meeting and let them know at the end of this week,” Garcia suggested. “It would be better to inform them all at the same time.”

Saldivar nodded. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”

Garcia grinned and leaned back a bit in his chair. Some of the employees would react very badly to the news, and some would surely walk out in protest. But this way, they could all get started on the work closing the lab, getting the samples and the paperwork in order, before the meeting. Although Garcia was very glad he would not be the one giving them the bad news.

“And after we are finished closing the lab,” he said, “what happens then?”

Saldivar shrugged awkwardly and spread his hands. “Well, we shut everything down, seal the labs, and perform a decontamination –”

“Yes, I know about that,” Garcia said, wondering why Saldivar was stalling. “But what about the senior staff? What about you and I, and Marcelo and the others? There must be some kind of process for transferring us to other facilities, some kind of meeting to discuss where we are going.”

“Transfers?” Saldivar said stupidly, looking at Garcia with a bewildered expression. He shook his head as if to clear it, and said in a serious tone, “Ricardo, they are shutting the entire facility down. All of the labs.”

“I know,” Garcia said again, starting to get annoyed. “But what about the senior staff, the managers and the supervisors? What is going to happen to us? Surely they aren’t going to ...”

His voice trailed off when he saw the helpless look on Saldivar’s face. The Research Director’s hands trembled slightly, and he turned to the two Americans, silently pleading with them for help. Garcia’s heart began to race and suddenly the room felt too hot after all, and he began to sweat.

One of the Americans leaned forward calmly and folded his hands on the conference table. He had short black hair in a crew cut and foreboding gray eyes.

“Dr. Garcia,” he said in a clipped New England accent, “What Dr. Saldivar is trying to say is that all employees of this facility are being terminated. Everyone, that includes all supervisory and senior management personnel, such as yourself and Dr. Saldivar. I’m very sorry, but no one is being transferred or moved to a new facility.”

“Terminated?” Garcia whispered dumbly. He found himself shaking his head in denial, rising out of his chair. “You … you can’t do this ...” he muttered, and then suddenly he was on his feet, his chair falling over with a thump.

“You’re firing me?” he cried in disbelief. “You can’t … you can’t do this!” he sputtered, pointing an accusing finger at the American. “I’ve worked here for twenty-five years! You can’t just fire me!”

The American jumped to his feet, and Garcia could not help but back away with the force of the man’s intensity. Garcia had met men like him before, and the power of the man’s personality made him almost cower in fear. Accustomed to being obeyed, impossible to deal with, the American had the power of absolute authority. His voice was like an ice pick jamming into Garcia’s spine.

“Two things, Dr. Garcia,” the man intoned, his voice brutal and unyielding. “First, you’ve only been with Umbrella for twenty-three years. You don’t qualify for senior status, so you’re not eligible for a transfer in this case. And second, Umbrella most certainly can do this and they are doing this. As far as Umbrella is concerned, the facility is already closed, and all we’re doing is cleaning up. If you don’t like it, feel free to quit right now, and lose your severance package in the process.”

Garcia trembled with rage and the feeling of betrayal. He glared down at Saldivar, who could only stare at him helplessly, his posture signifying his weakness and cowardice.

“I have no choice,” Saldivar whined. “I’m in the same position you are, Ricardo. At least you don’t have a family, but how am I going to tell my wife and my daughters that I’m out of a job?”

Garcia didn’t give a damn about Saldivar’s family. His wife was a pig and his daughters were a pair of spoiled brats. Just looking at Saldivar made Garcia furious. The whimpering fool had just rolled over and let these arrogant Americans take control without a fight, and now everyone was going to pay the price. If Garcia had been in charge, he would demand transfers and even promotions for the senior staff. Saldivar was too much of a coward to even do that.

“You can’t terminate everyone here,” he snapped, daring to step up to the American so they were almost face to face. “The work we do here is top secret, and you need people who have our skills and our knowledge to continue this research.”

“Umbrella has dozens of facilities just like this one,” the American replied with an dismissive shrug. “The research you did here was not of the highest importance, and we have more than enough scientists in our other facilities who can handle the work that used to be done here.”

Not of the highest importance? Garcia almost reeled in shock, feeling as if the floor has been removed underneath his feet. He’d spent twenty years working with the virus, and they were saying his work wasn’t even important? Twenty years of dedicated and meticulous research, and they were just going to casually toss it away like it was nothing?

“You … you ...” he sputtered impotently. “You are going to regret this! You cannot come here and just kick us out and tell us we cannot do anything about it!”

“Ricardo, please,” Saldivar begged. “You must understand ...”

“Shut up!” Garcia spat at him.

The American stared at him with eyes like daggers. “I’m sorry that you feel that way, Dr. Garcia. But this lab is going to shut down next week, you and the others will be terminated, and there is nothing that you or Mr. Saldivar here can do about it. And I don’t have to remind you of the ironclad non-disclosure agreements that you have signed each year, that bar you from ever revealing the intellectual property of the Umbrella Corporation. If you were to attempt to reveal or share any of the research you have done here, Umbrella will do everything in its power to destroy you.”

“So I get nothing? All my hard work means nothing to you? Is that how Umbrella treats its employees after all these years?”

“You will receive a generous severance package,” the man said coolly. “You’re old enough to retire, Dr. Garcia. I suggest you do so.”

“To Hell with you,” Garcia sneered.

He stormed out of the conference room without another word, slamming the door behind him with such force that it rattled the wall. The secretary out in the waiting room shrieked in surprise and almost jumped out of her seat, staring at Garcia with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open.

Garcia had nothing to say to her, he didn’t even know her name, so he just stomped out of the waiting area, fists clenched in rage, and stalked the hallways on the way back to his own office. Those who encountered him in the hall immediately shied away, giving him plenty of room. No cute smiles or greetings for his coworkers now. His face was red, eyes blazing with hatred, and he was no longer limping.

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