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.She'd come in on a job, and itwasn't her fault that Raccoon had gone nova.Maybe it's not guilt, some part of her whispered.Maybe you're just sorry she didn't make it.She was aperson, after all, and now she's as dead as her parentsand kid brother probably are."Snap out of it," she said, softly but with an edge ofirritation.She tore her gaze from the woman's pathet-ic form, fixing it instead on a broken ashtray at theend of the hall.Feeling bad about things she couldn'tcontrol wasn't her style, it wasn't how she'd gotten tothe top of her trade - and considering how much Mr.Trent was putting up to retain her services, nowwasn't the best time to be analyzing her empathyskills.People died, it was the way of the world, and ifshe'd learned anything in the course of her life it wasthat agonizing over that particular truth was point-less.Mission objectives: talk to Bertolucci and get theG-Virus sample.That was all she needed to worry about.There was a mechanism that Ada still had to checka few twisted passages away from where she stood, inthe press conference room.Trent's notes on the archi-tect's latest additions to the station had been sketchy,but she knew it had to do with the ornate, sculpted gaslamps and an oil painting.Whoever had commis-sioned all of the work had one serious secret life goingon; there were actual hidden passages upstairs, behindthe wall of what had once been a storage room.Shehadn't gone through them yet, although a quick glancehad told her that the room itself had been remodeledas an office.Judging from the overstuffed and neuroti-cally macho decor, it was probably Irons's.Even fromthe short time she'd been in his company, she'dascertained that he wasn't the most stable man whohad ever walked; there was no question that he was onUmbrella's payroll, but there was also somethingabout him that just screamed dysfunctional.Ada started down the hall, her dress flats clickingloudly on the scuffed blue tiles; she was alreadydreading yet another time-consuming mechanicalpuzzle.Not that there was any help for it; she hadassumed from the beginning that the virus was still inthe lab, but she couldn't afford to take any chances onpassing up an earlier retrieval.The files indicated thatthere were between eight and twelve one-ounce vialsof the stuff, information from a two-week-old videofeed - and Birkin's lab was far from impenetrable.With the underground lab connected to the stationthrough the sewer mains, she had to entertain thepossibility that the samples had been moved.Besides,Bertolucci could be tucked away in the researchlibrary or in the S.T.A.R.S.office on the west side,maybe the darkroom; dead or not, he had to be found.And it would also give her a chance to collect a fewmore nine-millimeter clips from the fallen RPD.She followed the passage as it led her past a smallwaiting area, complete with vending machines thathad already been pried open and ransacked.As withthe rest of the station, the corridor was cold and badlyin need of air freshener; she'd grown used to thesmell, but the chill was murder.For the hundredthtime since abandoning her table at the Arklay, Ada wished that she'd dressed more casually for dinner.The sleeveless tight red tunic dress and clattery shoeswere fine for cover, as mission gear, however, theoutfit was somewhat less than practical.She reached the end of the hall and carefullyopened the door to her left, weapon half-raised.Asbefore, the corridor was clear, yet another testamentto the faded elegance of the building - dusky sand-colored walls and symmetrically patterned tiles in thisone.The station must have been magnificent once,but years of serving as an institutional facility hadleeched away its grandeur; the tattered grand movie-house look and the cold, hopeless atmosphere createda distinctly sinister feel - as if at any moment a coldhand could fall across your shoulder, a soft gust ofdiseased breath whisper across the back of yourneck.Ada frowned again; after this job, she was going totake a very long vacation.Either that, or it was time tofind a new career.Her concentration - her ability tofocus - wasn't what it used to be.And in her businessa slip at the wrong time could literally mean death.Big bonus.Trent smells like money.I'll ask sevendigits, high six minimum.In her attempts to let her thoughts go, to let animalawareness take over, she found that she couldn't keepout the persistent image that crept into her mind.Amemory of young Stacy Kelso, anxiously pushing herhair behind her ears as she talked about her babybrother.After what felt like a very long time, Ada shook thetroublesome vision and continued down the hall,promising herself that there would be no more lapsesof concentration and wondering why she couldn'tmake herself believe it.SEVENLEON'S BOOTS SCUFFED SHARDS OF BROKENglass across the floor of the Kendo gun shop as hesnapped open drawers, ash-stained sweat tricklingdown his face.If he couldn't find.50s pretty quick, hewas screwed; the few weapons still remaining in theravaged shop were inaccessible, strung with steelcable, and the front picture window was completelysmashed.It wouldn't take long for the creatures tofind him, he was down to his last round, and he stillhad a couple of blocks to go.Come on, fifty cal action express, somebody inRaccoon must've ordered 'em. "Yes!"Fourth drawer, under the deer-rifle case; a half-dozen empty clips and as many boxes of ammo.Leongrabbed a box and turned, slapping it on the counteras he glanced hurriedly at the front of the small shop.Still clear, if you didn't include the dead guy on thefloor.He wasn't moving, but from the freshness of thewounds that oozed from his considerable gut, staininghis strappy white T, Leon wouldn't have long tolinger; he didn't know how long it took for the freshlydead to stand up - and didn't really want to find out.Gotta do it fast anyway, it's like I'm a beacon forthose things and this place is easy access.Gaze darting between the crashed front wall andhis skittering hands, Leon started to load up.He'd lucked across the gun dealer's, having forgot-ten entirely about it in the dizzying, nightmarish runfrom the wreck.When the fastest route to the stationhad turned out to be blocked by a pile-up, the bestdetour was through Kendo's.It was a coincidence thathad undoubtedly saved his life.Even killing two ofthe ex-living on his way, he'd nearly been over-whelmed by the sheer number of them."Uuunh."A ghastly, skeletal form staggered out of the street'sshadows, drunkenly aimed at the front of the shop."Hell," Leon muttered, his fingers somehow man-aging to go faster.One clip down, one more and hecould take the rest.If he bolted now, he'd be deadbefore he could make it to the station.Another leprous figure was suddenly standing at themostly empty frame of the shop's glass entrance, thedecay so bad on its legs that Leon could see maggotssquirming through the fibrous muscle.four.five.done!He snatched up the Magnum and ejected the clip,reloading even as the mostly-empty hit the floor.Themaggoty creature was shouldering its way through thejagged corners of glass still attached to the frame,something liquid in its throat gurgling softly [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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