Belize

Chapter Three

Dr. Ricardo Diego Garcia stormed into the lab, so angry that his hands were shaking. He brushed off questions and comments from the junior employees that worked under him, waving them out of his way without a word. They scattered like mice and quickly returned to their stations, sharing nervous glances as he went into his office and slammed the door behind him.

His office had windows that looked out into the lab, allowing him to supervise the other scientists from his desk. He fumbled with the switch on the wall to opaque the windows and they turned a cloudy gray. He didn’t want anyone looking in on him now.

He leaned against his desk and breathed heavily, clenching his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut. His heart was pounding and he tried to calm himself, but it was no use. He was too worked up, adrenaline in his veins and seething fury boiling in his mind.

They were firing him! Firing everyone! He couldn’t accept it, couldn’t believe it. More than twenty years at the company, and they were just going to kick him out the door like he was nothing. They’d give him a severance as a meaningless gesture, but he didn’t care about that. He was sixty-one years old! What was he going to do, wander down to the unemployment office and try to find a new job? They couldn’t just fire him like that!

Those stupid, arrogant Americans thought they could just waltz into his lab and send them all packing. They should have kept a closer eye on their own people. It was a lab in America that lost control of the Progenitor in the first place and caused the deaths of so many innocent civilians. They were the ones responsible for the tragedy, so why did Garcia and his coworkers have to suffer this punishment? They were going to lose their jobs because some lazy, careless scientists in another country had make a huge mistake. Garcia had nothing to do with the tragedy in America, so why was he going to lose his job because of it?

And the Americans had the gall to tell him to his face that his work was not important! He gripped the edge of his desk, resisting the urge to flip it upside down in anger. More than twenty years dedicating his life to study of the Progenitor, and they said his research was not important! How could they say that to him?

He slammed his fist down on the desk. Damn them! They had no right! Garcia vowed to take this to the highest court. He wasn’t going to roll over and let them just destroy his entire career without a fight! He would appeal to the government, make his case to the media! After the disaster in America, the world was already biased against Umbrella. The courts would surely see that they were violating his rights as an employee and decide in his favor.

Umbrella would try to enforce their non-disclosure agreement, of course. Garcia chuckled bitterly at that. As if a stupid piece of paper could stop him from telling the truth! It was just like those corporate zombies to think that some silly document had any hold on him now. They were trying to take away his career! Did they really think that he was just going to let them get away with it? If so, they didn’t know a single thing about Ricardo Diego Garcia.

He stood up straight and took a deep breath. He ran a trembling hand through his hair and once again tried to calm down, to little effect. Now that he had a plan in mind, he felt better. He’d given twenty years to the company, but if Umbrella didn’t appreciate all he had done for them, then so be it. They would rue the day they treated him with such blatant disrespect. He would make sure they remembered his name.

Garcia took a seat at his desk. He still felt flushed from the excitement and exertion of walking down the hallway so fast. He wasn’t a young man anymore, and even that brief period of activity raised his heart rate and made him feel winded. Breathing so heavily made his chest feel tight and constricted.

Idly, he glanced at the dimmed windows and thought about making them transparent again so he could look into the lab. When this was all over, he would never see this place again. Even if he successfully petitioned the courts to save his job, he couldn’t stop the lab from being shuttered. The others here would have their employment terminated, but they were young and could find other jobs, perhaps with one of Umbrella’s competitors like WilPharma or Tricell.

Garcia leaned back in his chair and absentmindedly rubbed his arm. He was still furious, but it was just a simmering anger now. Maybe he could get a job with one of those companies. The job market would be limited, of course, with so many unemployed scientists all trying to find new jobs at the same time. Granted, Garcia was older, and companies didn’t like hiring old employees, but maybe they would appreciate his years of experience in the field.

And his knowledge of the Progenitor virus, of course. Again, the non-disclosure agreement raised its head, but Garcia thought the whole idea was absurd. Besides, Umbrella was firing the entire lab. If Garcia revealed some secrets about Umbrella’s work to a rival company, how would they know he was the one responsible? It might well be anyone.

Slowly, an idea swirled around his head and began to take shape. It was an idea that never would have occurred to him before today. He had always prided himself on being a model employee, because that’s how he was raised. Back when he was a young man, people were loyal to the companies they worked for and companies returned the favor. But the modern business world wasn’t what it used to be. Employees were replaceable and disposable, and there was no loyalty at all anymore. Umbrella had just proved that he was nothing but a name to them. If they didn’t treat him with the respect and loyalty that he deserved, why should he do so for them?

Rival companies would surely pay him well for his knowledge of the Progenitor, but how much would they pay for an actual sample of the virus?

Garcia leaned back and allowed himself to imagine such a scenario. The Progenitor itself was held in a secure central vault accessible only by a handful of scientists here at the lab. Garcia, as a Lab Manager, had clearance to enter the vault. Under normal circumstances, anyone entering the vault was signed in by a security guard, and any biological samples removed from the vault were logged and numbered. The system was not terribly secure, Garcia realized, but it had served for as long as he had worked there. Really, all he needed to do was enter the vault, sign out some other samples, and put a sample of the Progenitor in his pocket before he left. There was a camera outside the vault, but not in the vault itself.

By the time anyone noticed that a numbered sample was missing, weeks or even months might have gone by. There would be a rush of activity once news of the lab’s closure reached the other employees, and in the confusion it was entirely possible that the missing sample might not be noticed at all. By the time Umbrella did a thorough review of all the material here at the lab, it would be impossible for them to determine if the sample was lost or stolen or simply mislabeled. Even if they were certain that it was stolen, they would never be able to pinpoint a suspect.

Garcia felt guilty even entertaining such an idea. He had always treated his work with Umbrella as a serious – even sacred – responsibility. The Progenitor was incredibly dangerous, as the events in America had shown. For him to attempt to steal a sample was not only illegal, but it was unethical and quite possibly immoral.

But it was also very tempting.

He put his elbows on his desk and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He had intended to continue working for Umbrella well into his seventies. In truth, he had to keep working, because his retirement savings were practically nonexistent. Whatever paltry severance package they offered him would not be enough to see him through retirement.

Thinking about it just made him angrier, and he clenched his fists and pressed them against the desktop. An entire career gone and almost nothing to show for it! Garcia seethed at the thought of being an unemployed man at his age, but the fact that he wasn’t financially secure threatened to eat him from the inside. He had never thought it necessary to save a vast sum for his retirement, since he planned to keep working long past retirement age. But now his plans for the future were all thrown to the winds.

He’d given the best years of his life to Umbrella. He’d done their work and kept their secrets and in return, they were just throwing him out into the street. No grand farewell, no fancy retirement party, just a short meeting and an insulting dismissal. Garcia raged at the indignity of it all. He deserved more than that. He deserved far more, and he was going to get it.

He stood up and grabbed his lab coat, which was hanging over a chair. He pulled it on and tucked his hands into the pockets. They still trembled just a little bit, but he had to appear calm. His anger was like a lump in his throat, making his chest ache, but he had to swallow it down and put on a brave face. For the moment, at least, he had to pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary.

He made up his mind then and there. He was going to steal the Progenitor.

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