I've accomplished. It's a gift, my cre- ation, a gift to the world. A chance for man to become strong again, a peaceful death for all the Louis Thur- mans in existence, better than they deserve...
He'd been working too hard, tiring himself, and the strain was getting to him. He was only human, after all... but he couldn't afford to let the stress of his body affect his mind again. There would be no more tests. He'd spend the day getting ready instead, pre- paring himself for the cleansing. Tomorrow at sunrise Dr. Griffith would give his gift to the wind.
Chapter Six
Karen driver was a tall, lanky woman in her early thirties, with short blond hair and a serious, businesslike demeanor. Her small home was spotlessly kept and almost antiseptically clean. The clothes she'd picked out for Rebecca were utilitarian and perfectly folded: a dark green T-shirt and crisp matching pants, black cotton socks and underwear. Even her bathroom seemed to reflect her personality; the white walls were lined with shelves, each neatly organized according to purpose.
Scratch a forensics scientist, find an obsessive-compulsive...
Rebecca immediately felt guilty for thinking it. Karen had been welcoming enough, even friendly in a brusque way. Maybe she just hated clutter. Rebecca sat on the edge of the toilet and cuffed the overlong pants around her ankles, relieved to be out of her old clothes and feeling surprisingly clear- headed after a night of broken sleep. David had rented a car at the airport, and in the early hours of the morning, they'd found a cheap motel and stag- gered into their separate rooms, Rebecca too ex- hausted to do more than take off her shoes before crawling into bed. She woke just before ten, took a shower and had been waiting nervously when David knocked at her door. Rebecca heard the front door open and close, new voices floating through the living room. She slipped on her high tops and laced them quickly, feeling her anxiety level jump a notch. The team was assembled. They were that much closer to going in, and though she'd thought of little else since waking up, the realization continued to come as a kind of shock. Umbrella's surprise attack on Barry's house already seemed like it had happened in another lifetime, though it had been only hours ago... ... and hours from now, this will all be over. It's what's gonna happen in between that worries me. David and his team weren't there, they didn't see the dogs, the snakes, those unnatural creatures in the tunnels... or Tyrant.
Rebecca shook the images away as she stood up, scooping her dirty clothes off the floor and stufling them into the empty bag that she'd carried on the plane. There was no reason to assume that the Cali- ban Cove facility would be the same, and worrying about it wouldn't change anything. She paused in front of the mirror, studying the tense features of the young woman she saw there, and then walked to the door. She headed for the living room, past the sparkling kitchen and around a corner in the hall. She heard David's lilting voice, apparently summing up the events of the night before.
"... said he'd ring some of the others first thing this morning. Another of the team has a contact in the FBI to use as a go-between and to initiate an investi-gation when we have proof. They'll be waiting to hear from us when we've completed today's operation..."
He broke off as Rebecca walked into the room, and all eyes turned to her. Karen had pulled a few extra chairs into the room and sat in one of them next to a low, glass topped coffee table. There were two men sitting on the couch, across from where David stood. David smiled at her as both men got up, stepping forward to be introduced.
"Rebecca, this is Steve Lopez. Steve is our resident computer genius and our best marksman..."
Steve grinned, an aw-shucks smile that suited his boyish features perfectly as he shook her hand, his teeth white against his natural deep-tan coloring. He had dark, quick eyes and black hair, and was only a few inches taller than her.
Not much older, either...
His gaze was friendly and direct, and in spite of the circumstances, Rebecca found herself wishing that she'd at least run a brush through her hair before coming out of the bathroom. Simply put, he was hot.
"... and this is John Andrews, our communications specialist and field