Chapter 15: G-Virus Secured
In the flat white light of the lab, William Birkin stood with the case in his hand and his eyes fixed on Annette and Sherry across the room, where armed team members held them at gunpoint.
His life's work was in that case.
His wife and his daughter were over there.
Even William Birkin found this a difficult choice to make.
He looked at Matthew.
From where he was standing, he could also see the muzzles in the corridor behind Matthew, trained on him through the doorway.
"Talk," Birkin said finally. "What does talking look like?"
Matthew pulled a chair from nearby and set it in front of Sherry, who was still on the floor. He lifted the scared girl and sat her in it.
Then he looked at Birkin.
"William. Do you know who sent me?"
"Spencer." The name came out through clenched teeth. If Spencer had been in the room, the way Birkin said it suggested the conversation would have ended with someone's throat.
"That's right."
Matthew exhaled, with the tired quality of someone explaining a problem they hadn't created. "Spencer controls the Corporation in practice. That means he can assign me tasks regardless of what I think of them. And this particular task—" he looked at Birkin "— do you know exactly what he told me to do?"
"Recover the G-Virus. And if you resisted, I was authorized to put you down on the spot." He let that sit. "That's who your employer is."
Birkin said nothing.
"William," Matthew said, "you're a brilliant man. Genuinely. So I have to ask, when your employer is treating you like this, does it not occur to you to look for a better one?"
Birkin went still. He looked at Matthew differently. "You're saying..."
"Exactly. Spencer values results and nothing else. Whatever resources he's been providing, I can match them. More, actually." Matthew's voice stayed even. "And on top of that, I can guarantee your safety. And your family's."
"All I ask in return is that you share the G-Virus research with me."
"Absolutely not." No hesitation. No deliberation. "The G-Virus is mine. Only mine."
Matthew exhaled again.
"That's a shame. Really." He let the silence run for a moment. "William, there's something you keep not understanding."
"If I kill you right now, the G-Virus still ends up in my hands."
He pulled the pistol from its holster and held it at a neutral angle, not quite aimed, not quite not.
"The only reason you're standing here negotiating with me instead of already being dead is that I recognize what you are. I don't want to be the person who ends a talent like yours over something like this." He looked at Birkin steadily.
"But here's the reality. A person needs to be alive first. Alive is the only state where you can negotiate, protect your family, do your research, or experience anything at all. Dead is none of those things."
Sherry's voice came from the chair.
"Daddy."
It was barely a word. Just that, with tears behind it.
Birkin's eyes went to his daughter. Then to Annette, who stood quietly beside her, expression complicated, not speaking.
Something shifted in him. Matthew's argument, or the look on Sherry's face, or both, whatever it was, the fight in his posture slowly gave way to something that cost him visibly.
"...I'll agree." His voice had gone rough. Then he raised his head, and the hatred in his eyes was specific and directed. "But I have one condition."
"Go ahead."
"Spencer pays for what he's done."
"He will." Matthew holstered the pistol and took the case from Birkin's hand. "Not today. But he will."
He turned to the door and gave a hand signal to the team waiting outside. Alpha Team filed in with practiced efficiency, working through the lab in an ordered sweep, research data, sample backups, everything of value, packed and staged for transport.
Matthew looked at Birkin.
"Doctor, I want to be clear about what you're agreeing to. I'll build you a lab that makes this one look like a supply closet. Salary doubled from what you're currently getting. Your family under full protection. And Sherry—" he glanced at the girl in the chair "— the best education available." He made a brief, open gesture toward the door. "After you, Dr. Birkin."
Before they left, Matthew triggered the facility's self-destruct.
The helicopter was airborne and moving by the time the sequence completed. Below and behind them, the underground research facility went up in a single massive detonation, a column of fire rising into the dark, visible for miles.
Birkin sat in the helicopter and watched the fire until it was a glow on the horizon. He didn't say anything. The light reflecting in his eyes had nothing to do with the explosion and everything to do with Spencer.
The news of William Birkin's death spread quickly. Spencer reached out to Matthew directly within the day.
Matthew's account: by the time his team reached the G-Virus lab, Birkin had already destroyed all the viable samples. What they recovered was limited to partial research documentation and some intermediate-stage compounds. The full G-Virus itself was gone.
As supporting evidence, Matthew sent video footage from his team's recording equipment.
The footage was, in its entirety, fabricated.
After returning to base, Matthew had ordered a replica of the underground lab built to exact dimensions and had Birkin perform a staged reenactment. The resulting footage showed Birkin reaching for a weapon, followed by Matthew firing in response. Clean, plausible, exactly what Spencer would expect from Birkin in that situation.
Spencer raised no significant objections. The footage matched his mental model of how Birkin would have behaved. And the research documentation, even incomplete, gave his scientists enough material to work from. The G-Virus could be reconstructed in time.
Matthew, meanwhile, kept his word. He arranged a dedicated lab for Birkin within the Corporation, an entire floor allocated to his work and quietly brought in a team of biologists and genetics researchers to assist with the G-Virus program. He followed through on every specific promise he had made in that lab.
Birkin's opinion of Matthew moved, slightly, in a different direction.
The explosion had made things complicated for Raccoon City's local government. They were already managing the unexplained illness reports coming out of the Arklay Mountain region, and now they had a large, visible detonation to explain to the general public.
The city's approach was practical. They settled on a culprit, the local gas company and issued a statement to close the matter.
Several days later, the regional news ran the following item:
[Investigation has determined that the explosion was caused by inadequate internal management at a gas distribution facility. Aging, improperly maintained pipelines operating under excessive pressure resulted in a catastrophic failure. Following thorough verification by multiple agencies, the incident produced no casualties. Structural damage to nearby property was limited.]