Quickly catching up to Claire, I felt tired of repeating the monotonous actions associated with the unconscious Alexia. My brain was screaming "stop," but my free hand kept on slapping. The meeting finally took place in the hangar when I already felt exhausted.
— Who is that? — Claire asked with shock in her voice, intently examining the figure of the girl dangling from my shoulder. The conspiracy didn't last long; she soon recognized her as someone who was surprisingly similar to Alfred Ashford, allegedly killed by my sinister twin brother. At least, that was the official version, which I myself approved. — She's that lunatic's sister? Why did you bring her? She's connected to Umbrella!
Selfish thoughts, strangely enough for such a charming girl who hates Umbrella so much. What did the company do to her personally? The conclusions were sad. Claire was a typical Redfield — acting out of pure altruism, without visible motivation.
— I just picked up something that was poorly placed, — I announced, pointing to my burden. — Alexia Ashford was poorly placed.
— Another girl… — Claire whispered, giving me an ambiguous look. I hope she doesn't think she has any rights to me, just because we spent time together in a cargo plane, romantically speaking, flying in the clouds.
— Time to go, — I nodded toward the open hatch in the hangar ceiling, and then to the latest generation fighter jet, modified for stealthy penetration into a foreign country. If I remember correctly, it was used for the secret transport of important persons across borders to remain invisible to radar.
Good news, as I didn't want to encounter anti-aircraft defense systems.
— I was just thinking, — she whispered nervously, as the self-destruct system began to remind itself more insistently. — Do you, um, know how to fly?
— Of course, I even graduated from the 'San Andreas' flight school with gold," — I answered proudly, and Claire sighed in relief.
— 'San Andreas' must be a prestigious place, — she nodded, expressing admiration.
— More like exhausting, — I recalled my training. But seriously, in addition to the dubious school from the video game about car thieves, I went through real training. Special S.T.A.R.S. training included mastering all the necessary skills. For example, flying a fighter jet.
I took my place in the front cockpit seat, while Claire settled in the back. The unconscious Alexia slightly obstructed the view through the transparent glass, but I paid no attention to it, concentrating on the instrument panel and inhaling the mixed aroma of fuel and oil.
The next moment, my hands were already on the controls, as if they had always been there. With the engine starting, the new generation fighter jet came to life, its engine howled, and powerful thrust began to lift it into the air, slowly exiting the roof of the hangar.
Honestly, I hadn't yet experienced flying this model, which didn't require standard runway acceleration. The Umbrella fighter jet ran on a chain of reactors, allowing it to take off and land from any point. This caused me slight concern and distrust — wouldn't it blow up? Fortunately, we safely ascended into the sky and headed toward…
— Where are we flying? — Claire asked, straining her vocal cords. A helmet wasn't needed here, and the noise reduction system allowed us to hear everything happening in the cockpit.
— South America, — I estimated, trying to maintain a serious tone, carefully studying the instrument panel. — We'll visit a good acquaintance of mine. I'm sure he'll help us with the relocation to the States.
— Great, — she sighed with relief, and we continued the flight toward a landing strip in the jungle, controlled by Javier Hidalgo. He was a decent guy, though a bit of an eccentric drug lord, owner of a cartel, a criminal wanted in thirty countries, and a psychopath known for his passion for cruelty and violence. And his ability to elude justice and organize criminals spoke of his extraordinary charisma, backed by an iron fist. But, as they say, such things didn't make a person entirely bad. As is known: justice is powerless only against truly noble people… Since he hasn't been caught, he is clearly noble.
Of interest: Javier has a daughter, Manuela, who might repeat the tragic fate of her mother, afflicted with an incurable disease. A genetic disease, as I informed him when he turned to Umbrella for a cure. In response to his generous donations, the company provided Javier with the T-Virus. As expected, the story ended sadly: if he didn't kill his wife out of mercy, she turned into a monster.
A loving father would never allow his daughter to repeat such a terrible fate. And the only way to save her is the introduction of an advanced virus strain, whose mutations are under complete control and proceed gently during cryogenic sleep. I still have the second ampoule of T-Veronica. I am generously ready to share. I'm a good guy — I'm supposed to help those in need.
My ruthlessly kind heart cannot work calmly knowing that the drug lord's daughter might die a tragic death. Let my kindness be absurd, but on the other hand, I have a chance to get a battleship and generous bonuses. This is an excellent opportunity to become a millionaire while engaging in charity. I will rest like a playboy who values comfort and leisure. Besides, I will need this ship for some things, but that's another story.
Flying over the jungle, I contacted Javier's headquarters, informing them of the intermediary's arrival. The Sacred Snakes — the criminal organization under his command — recognized my voice and allowed us to land.
The rest is simple…
I only had to explain to Claire why we were surrounded by a group of thirty armed mercenaries. And they were armed not with primitive stones for knocking down coconuts, but with something much more serious. Not far away, there was even an anti-aircraft complex in case we wanted to fly away unfriendly.
— Who are they? — the girl inquired.
— Nowadays, even avocado traders cannot feel safe. The main exporter is Mexico, with several million tons per year, valued at half a billion dollars. That's a lot, so cartels strive for a monopoly on this product, which sells like fresh donuts. To protect his interests, my acquaintance arms his people in case of clashes with private cartel armies, — I calmly explained, omitting many details. After all, what are a couple of hundred details in the grand scheme of cartel management business?
Leaving the fighter jet, we noticed that the soldiers had already lowered their weapons, and the drug lord approached us with an important demeanor. He was true to his style: brown shoes, dark trousers, a white shirt with an embroidered golden dragon, and an alligator leather jacket. Can a man dressed like an authoritative sociopath be bad? Absolutely not. And most importantly, he is my ally. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Javier never forgave Umbrella for the imperfect T-Virus.
— Albert, — he extended, coming closer and holding out his hand.
I shook it with an impassive face, hinting at a problem:
— Long time no see. As you can see, I didn't arrive alone. My companion is unaware of our acquaintance, so please forgive her if she starts asking about the prices of avocados and other goods you are trying to protect from our mutual enemies, — I greeted him in a veiled tone, and he immediately understood that there was someone very suspicious next to me: an imposter.
— The last losers who tried to disrupt my supplies bitterterly regretted their decision. But it is not customary to talk about cruelty in front of ladies, — he smiled at Claire and nodded, after which he addressed his men: — Escort this lady to the rest area, treat her and entertain her, if necessary. Albert's friends are my friends.
— Likewise, — I supported, glancing at Alexia, who remained in the cockpit. — The second companion wouldn't mind the shade either.
— The tropical sun is cruel to delicate female skin, — he declared decisively with a smirk and gave a signal to the mercenaries, after which we headed to his office together. There was more luxury there than in the house of a billionaire who is forced to buy everything, and not just take what he likes.
Seating ourselves opposite each other, he leaned forward and, with a slight creak of the leather cover, took out a bottle of whiskey. Pouring it into glasses, he handed me one, not rushing the first sip. Like a true drug lord, he drank first, demonstrating that the drink was safe.
— Old friend, how did you let a mole tag along? — he asked.
— She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, — I convinced him, evaluating the taste of the whiskey and enjoying its rich aroma. — But more importantly is what I found thanks to her. Did you see the girl in the cockpit?
— The Sleeping Beauty? How could one not notice, — he smirked.
— She has been infected with the virus for fifteen years. At the same time, she is sane, with no visible damage to her body or organs, although she is battered after a skirmish with me. In short, she is healthy, — I got down to business, noticing how my interlocutor's eyes filled with a predatory gleam.
— A new virus?
— Secret. An Ashford family development, straight from the Antarctic base, — I revealed part of the secret, engaging him. — And now the sample is in my hands.
— But…
— There are conditions: cryogenic sleep for fifteen years. The virus does not tolerate cold well, but it has adaptive functions and a strong regenerative factor. Your daughter's disease, if it does not manifest now, will definitely make itself known later, and then it will be too late. What are her test results?
— The results are disappointing, and doctors predict the growth of the pathogen, — he sighed. — Umbrella already deceived me, but I know that you won't. I am ready to trust you if you name your price.
I took out a vial with the virus from my pocket and placed it on the table.
— A warship and financial support to create a new company engaged in medical research, but in reality, immortality. You understand the risks and features, but it's worth it, — I assured him, placing my hands on the table. — And to make the decision easier, before you is the perfect sample of the future.
I raised my hand, and it became covered with black slime, which then disappeared, as if it had never been there. The drug lord had seen a lot, and such tricks did not impress him, but it was quite possible to convince him.
— Not without flaws, since development is required, — he frowned. — High mortality, I suppose? However, the prospect of being the first client of a safer product is very enticing.
He knows how to bargain.
— Precisely noted, — I replied, maintaining an emotionless tone during the conversation — a battleground where we hid attempts to test for weaknesses. — As for the T-Veronica that I passed on to you, I will begin to supervise the process in two months, when I am free.
— Always busy, — he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. — What is it this time?
— Umbrella violated not only your interests, but mine as well, — I continued. — Their key complex, one might say, a strategic one, is located in the Caucasus Mountains. Many of my acquaintances, the latest developments, and new generations of Tyrants are there. All this must "disappear" in the next two months.
— Strike before you are struck. Cut before the enemy draws his knife. A correct strategy. Wise. And yet I'm curious, why me? You could have sold the virus to anyone, — he frowned, tapping his fingers menacingly on the table.
— Two reasons: you have connections in the cartels, which will allow the reallocation of resources from other illegal structures to accelerate the creation of a new virus strain within my company, and you hate Umbrella no less than I do. I don't need their underlings; I need allies. Those who value not only profit but also the opportunity to become immortal, a new life form on Earth, where genes mutate under our control.
— Ha-ha, — he laughed. — No offense, but stupid Americans are not suitable for the role of allies. They only want to be the center of the universe and get fat from their inability to control their appetites. There is not a single one among them who could truly appreciate the prospects of the future. I'm glad you are not one of them. And note. I am the same.
Javier gestured to himself with his hands.
— I am not a patriot and not an American, — I shrugged. — But the one who leads the future, the one who will change it. With your help, everything will happen faster. And remember, you can always count on me. As can your daughter…
— Manuela.
— The virus is now with you. Leave your contact details, and Alexia will contact you soon — a genius scientist; she is the one who brought the virus to perfection. At least, that was the case fifteen years ago.
Javier, listening to the voice of reason, gave me the communication frequency, and then asked:
— Maybe you'll leave her here? — his offer sounded like a threat.
— Before flying out of Antarctica, she tried to kill me, and she did it quite persistently. Do you think you and your army can withstand a real monster? — I asked with irony. — She needs to be re-educated, have a few conversations, and be properly trained. She will contact you within a week, two at the most, and inform you about the preparation of everything necessary.
— The ship will stay with me until that moment. On the other issues, I will start digging the soil for your seeds, — he replied, pointing at me with a finger wearing a signet ring.
— Then we have an agreement, — I summarized dryly. — You can keep the fighter jet. In return, deliver me and the two girls to the States, to Los Angeles.
— Finally, something simple, — he grimaced. — But remember, whoever you are, if anything happens to my daughter… Or if I even think something will happen… I will turn you into dust, so no games, Albert Wesker.
I merely smirked to myself. An authoritative tone and an impassive face are the guarantee of a successful cooperation, which I am counting on in the long term.
— Don't confuse profitable business with games, — I countered coldly, adding after a moment: — And remind me, when was the last time I harmed business?
His laughter diffused the situation, and he escorted me to the rest hall, where we waited for the helicopter for transfer.