Chapter 16- trust
These mutants' sense of smell was way too sharp.
Feeling awkward, Albert took half a step back, trying discreetly to hide behind Hayes. Unfortunately, at 1.87 meters, he was a bit taller than Hayes—there was absolutely no hiding.
And whatever Albert could think of, Hayes picked up on almost instantly.
Tsk.
The corner of Hayes's mouth twitched as he cut off Jameson's inquisitive stare with icy impatience. "He's my closest subordinate, not a beast-type mutant. Mr. Yves, you're not scared, are you? If you're worried we'll ambush you, you can call one of your people over."
There was a sting hidden in Hayes's words.
But his deliberate provocation did manage to pull Jameson's attention back. The man gave a short laugh and beckoned with a curl of his fingers.
A few seconds later, the woman who'd delivered the earlier message stepped forward and handed Jameson a folded sheet of paper.
Jameson held it in his hand without opening it. Instead, he said, "Since things have progressed to this point, let's speak openly. For the Military Affairs Department's bunker, I'll send thirty mutants. Your numbers can't be less than mine. After the job is done, I want sixty percent of the supplies inside. You can split the remaining forty—twenty each. Fair enough, isn't it?"
As he spoke, Jameson narrowed his eyes slightly, a glint of shrewdness flashing through them. To Albert, this man really shouldn't have been a puma mutant—something like a jackal or hyena would have suited him far better.
Hayes's expression didn't shift. "You say sixty, so it's sixty?"
"The ones I'm sending," Jameson said, lifting a brow, "are my most capable men—every one of them a high-tier mutant. If you can send a force equal to mine, then we can talk more about distribution. Those who contribute more get more. Commander Hayes, Miguel—surely you have no objections?"
"Bold appetite you've got." A smile that wasn't a smile tugged at Hayes's lips. "Mr. Yves, I'm curious. The supplies in that underground bunker weigh in the hundreds of tons. What do you need so much for?"
"Who would complain about having more weapons and resources?" Jameson said coolly. "I value my life. And besides, Commander Hayes, I know you people want to leave this place. Even if you take a huge share, can you carry it all? How about this—out of respect for your military background, I'll concede a little. You can have thirty percent of the military-grade supplies. As for the three of us—five, three, two."
He raised his fingers to show the numbers.
Miguel's expression shifted; he spoke up quickly: "Weapons and gear—we can keep the original split. But food and medicine, the consumables, I need at least forty percent. The city's resources have basically been cleaned out by your people, Jameson. You aren't short on any of that. Your men hunt outside every day. They don't even like eating canned rations. But for us, this stuff is crucial."
Jameson said nothing.
Hayes added, "Give it to him. Otherwise, I won't join this operation."
Jameson laughed. "Oh? So you're teaming up to pressure me? Already discussed it behind my back, haven't you? If I don't agree, you'll threaten to back out."
"Mr. Yves, you're joking," Miguel said calmly. "This operation is for a common goal—to eliminate the threat underground. Otherwise, none of us will escape unscathed. From that perspective, we're all grasshoppers on the same rope."
"So all we're doing right now is having a peaceful negotiation with you."
Jameson snorted, digging in his pocket—clearly wanting to pull out a cigarette but stopping himself at the last moment.
A moment later, something crossed his mind. He gave a cold grunt and said in a low, steady voice, "Fine."
A hard edge tinted his voice. "But I have one condition. When the time comes, your people follow my command."
"Based on what?"
"Because the map of the underground shelter is with me."
Jameson finished speaking and finally unfolded the sheet of paper in his hand, giving it a shake in front of the three of them.
On the slightly worn surface lay a complete floor plan of the underground complex.
Everyone present showed a subtle shift in expression.
Hayes reached out to grab it, but Jameson had clearly anticipated the move. He swiftly pulled his hand back and passed the map to his subordinate instead.
A smile played on Jameson's lips. "Well?"
Miguel asked in a low voice, "How did you get that map?"
"That's none of your concern. I have my ways." Jameson straightened up, that familiar look of absolute control returning to his face. "Since that's settled, I'll give you two days to prepare. Two days from now, we meet at the entrance to the shelter."
With that, he jerked his chin at the man beside him and walked away.
Hayes watched his back coldly. After a few seconds, he too turned and left, muttering as he walked, "You're right. He's definitely not a likable guy."
Miguel's expression tightened. "I knew it. Jameson wouldn't show up unprepared. Now that he has the map, the upper hand is still his. And I don't have many mutants on my side—maybe twenty or thirty if I push it. With that kind of strength, going down there is as good as a death sentence."
Hayes let out a cold laugh. "What 'capable people should do more'? He just wants to use the map to control us, to make us clear the way for him. The more people he sends to die, the better. Maybe once the monsters underground are full, they'll stop attacking humans."
"Then what do we do?" Miguel frowned. "This is too passive. White Air Officer, you're from the military. Have you ever seen similar blueprints before?"
Hayes shook his head. "It's useless. Each city's military government builds its shelters differently, precisely for secrecy. And the maps are kept by specially assigned personnel—we never get to see them."
"Then is it possible he forged it?" Miguel said. "Jameson already has a large power generator—computers, printers... everything works perfectly. If he wants to control us with a fake map—"
[The map is real.]
The voice suddenly burst into Albert's mind, tinged with a faint excitement. [I can smell the energy from underground on it. Rich, dense—though only a trace of it.]
"…"
Albert decided to trust it.