Chapter Twenty-One: The Captain

No matter how fervently a nation, an ethnic group, or a people might love themselves, nor how inevitable they believe the emergence of heroes to be, in truth, heroes are never born as a matter of course (for specific examples, refer to India and Latin America).

Generally speaking, places where a great number of hero movies are shown have a higher chance of producing heroes. This is because some people will instinctively imitate heroes (as humans in groups often unconsciously imitate figures that leave a deep impression on them)—and if the environment gives these imitators the opportunity to succeed, it is possible they may become heroes themselves.

—Wang Luo

August 16, 1993, 11:03 PM
Umbrella Underground Laboratory Entrance

He inserted his key card; after a short “beep,” the electronic door slowly opened.

Then, pushing the meal cart as usual, he walked down the closed corridor. Yet tonight, what was usually an ordinary hallway felt as if many eyes were secretly watching him, sending beads of sweat trickling down his back.

He had an excuse. Several of the doctors liked to have a late-night snack after eleven. He had delivered meals at this hour before—as long as he wasn’t stopped for a thorough check, he could get away with it.

Thirty meters ahead was a blind spot for the security cameras. There was a small room there—John’s broom closet. He would leave the meal cart there, climb into the closet’s ventilation duct, and crawl thirty meters east; that should bring him to the laboratory.

Or perhaps to the gold storage room.

Tom’s whole body began to tremble.

Even after seeing yesterday’s broadcast, he had only half believed any of this. The laboratory’s rules were strict, and his meal cart was only ever allowed to travel along secure routes, straight into the cafeteria—even if he needed the restroom, the stern security guards would scold him for daring to stray. In his two years at Umbrella, he had never seen anything remotely related to gold.

Until this morning, when he saw Jack—a colleague—sneak away with a package, his suspicions began to grow.

Later, news overheard in the smoking room set his present plan in motion.

“They say Jack found a package in the basement—dozens of gold bars inside?”

“Shh! Not so loud. What happened, exactly?”

“Seems someone, after seeing yesterday’s news, found it in the company warehouse. Then they hid it in the basement, where Jack discovered it…”

Such rumors spread throughout the day, whispered in every corner. There was envy for the lucky soul who’d found gold, wild conjectures about the gold’s location based on company secrecy protocols, and resentment toward the executives supposedly hoarding piles of gold.

Tom lifted the vent cover and crawled in. It was dark, but he dared not use his flashlight; he could only inch forward as best he could.

Five meters, four, three… Nearing the next vent cover, Tom quickened his pace. He paused to listen—no sound. Only then did he carefully lift the cover.

“Don’t try anything. Come down on your own.”

Outside the duct, a handgun was aimed squarely at his forehead.

Tom crawled out, face ashen, and under the threat of the gun, squatted down with four or five others. He tried to explain, but the butt of a pistol slammed into the back of his head as soon as he opened his mouth.

“There are more every time, Captain. These little bastards just keep coming.”

“Yes, this can’t go on.”

That steady, weighty voice was the last thing Tom heard before losing consciousness.

Essentially, Umbrella’s situation was unfolding just as Wang Luo had hoped: fermenting rapidly. The company’s purpose was secret research—for security, most employees received generous benefits, long vacations, and relatively light workloads; also for security, many areas required high clearance and were off-limits to most staff.

But under the agitation of the “large-scale gold mine” rumor, these policies, once seen as providing comfort and ease, now seemed to employees an insidious scheme to raise them like livestock for gold extraction. Over the last twenty-some hours, as company executives endured slander rather than exposure, they paid little mind to the situation and took no substantial action.

The result: many, like Tom, driven by curiosity, suspicion, or other motives, set out to probe Umbrella’s hidden corners.

Until, like Tom, they were apprehended by the now-reinforced security.

But doubts and cracks were appearing among the guards as well, and the strain was becoming evident.

August 17, 1993, 1:20 AM
Umbrella Underground Laboratory Central Conference Room

“From yesterday afternoon until now, my team has apprehended twenty-three people. All our own employees.”

“It’s a thorny matter. Some of them are neighbors, friends, even relatives of our security staff—even fathers and sons. All stirred by rumor. If we handle this too harshly, it might spark greater backlash; if we don’t contain it, they could very well get close to company research data.”

Manager A glanced at the report, sizing up the bearer of bad news: Deputy Captain of Security Team Four, Johnson Barth.

According to his file, Barth was a veteran in his thirties, who’d joined the company about a year prior and, thanks to his exemplary conduct, had swiftly risen to deputy captain. Outwardly, he had brown hair, dark eyes, regular features, a ramrod-straight posture, a resolute expression, and a commanding voice.

“How did it come to this?” Manager B’s voice carried a note of sorrow. “We’ve treated them so well!”

The question seemed awkward. No one replied at first. After a pause, Manager C finally spoke. “What do you think we should do?”

“We need to take this adversary seriously.” This was what Johnson struggled most to understand: that in over twenty hours since the news aired, upper management had done almost nothing. “He’s spreading outright lies. If we try to argue, it’ll only make things more chaotic. But issuing a few announcements within the company and asking everyone to trust us won’t work. If the rumor isn’t stopped, it’ll keep spreading—more and more of our own people, even security, will become curious about company secrets.”

“After all, our benefits have been too generous, and the secrecy too strict—there’s reason for suspicion…”

He left the rest unsaid. Johnson knew what was in the laboratory—though he neither understood nor wished to. Just equipment, computers, chemicals… nothing at all related to gold. This whole incident was pure slander, but highly skilled slander.

Johnson understood this kind of manipulation, at least as an observer. He could sense the greed ignited in the employees—even his own subordinates. Though they still obeyed orders to arrest intruders, each new arrest only made them more convinced that something was amiss.

Such greed could burn through the entire company. The lower ranks would search and probe out of curiosity, while the expensive security teams, over time, might abandon the company for greater gain—they would have every reason, since nearly everyone in town now believed the company had deceived and betrayed them first.

Of course, none of this was fit to say to the managers. He waited in silence for their decision. After some discussion, Manager A spoke.

“If you were to… resolve this matter, what would you do?”

“We need to clarify the truth. They say there’s gold in the underground lab—then open the lab to journalists, to city council members. Transfer any sensitive data elsewhere ahead of time, and nothing will be leaked.”

Only then could he command his men effectively.

“What if the mastermind behind this only wants access to our underground lab?” Manager C asked.

What difference does it make? You fool! Johnson cursed inwardly, but kept his expression calm.

“We have more than one lab, sir. This puppeteer exploited television, radio, newspapers—a broad array of channels. Secrecy is impossible; there will always be traces. If you permit, I’ll catch this rat.”

Manager A and Manager B looked at Manager C, who nodded. Manager A turned back to Johnson. “What do you need to accomplish this?”

“I’ll need Teams Three, Four, and Five for personnel, along with appropriate weapons and bonuses; when dealing with certain people in the city, I need the authority to act in the company’s name, and if they contact upper management, I want their cooperation; sometimes our actions may cause a stir—we’ll need the police to assist and handle any aftermath; finally, regarding the laboratory, I recommend arranging for citizen representatives to tour the lab, thereby thoroughly dispelling the rumor.”

“And if the enemy has left something in the lab, or discovers something…”

“What does it matter? All the better,” Johnson smiled. “If the enemy walks into our net, it saves us a lot of effort.”

“Very well. Remember what you’ve promised.” Manager A waved his hand. “Your requests are reasonable—authorization and personnel will be granted, and the funds will be available by tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t let us down,” Manager B added, his tone full of implication. “It would be best if everything is resolved smoothly.”