September 16th, 1998, 10:30 PM
Three hours. Three hours in which Jill's small, tidy apartment had become a battlefield of lust and surrender. When Eddie finally left, leaving her asleep, exhausted, and thoroughly fucked, he felt like the architect of a new world. He whistled a random tune as he walked the dark streets of Raccoon City, the scent of her still on his skin.
His destination was the underground lab, but he never made it. A sleek black sedan pulled up to the curb, and a man in an impeccable suit stepped out.
"Mr. Cai," the man said, his voice polite but devoid of warmth. "Mayor Michael Warren requests your presence. It concerns a personal matter."
Eddie stopped. Warren. Umbrella's puppet, the king of this small, corrupt kingdom. Interesting. "I don't know him," Eddie replied with a shrug. "But I'm always curious. Lead the way."
The mayor's office was on the top floor of City Hall, a vast room with a panoramic window that lorded over the city like a cyclops's eye. Michael Warren, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a smile that was too white, stood before the window, admiring his fiefdom.
"Doctor Cai," he said, turning with practiced warmth. "Welcome. Tea?"
As a secretary served tea in fine china, Warren got straight to the point with the false sincerity of a used car salesman. "I had a great deal of respect for your uncle, Marcus. You might say we're practically family."
Eddie smiled internally. Fucking liar.
"The reason I've summoned you," Warren continued, "is for a favor. It concerns my daughter, Katherine. There's a young man, a journalist named Benjamin, who has attached himself to her. I have reason to believe his intentions are not... honorable."
"And why should that be my concern?" Eddie asked, his tone polite but sharp. "Don't you have the police at your disposal, Uncle Michael?"
Warren let out an oily laugh. "You work for Spencer. You have a certain… discretion the police lack. I don't want the media turning this into a scandal." His smile vanished. "This Benjamin has a camera. Inside is something that belongs to me. I want it back. And I want him out of my daughter's life."
Eddie understood instantly. This wasn't about the daughter. This was about blackmail. Police Chief Brian Irons was a depraved lunatic, and Warren was in it up to his neck. The camera held the proof.
"I already have a girlfriend," Eddie said, feigning disinterest. "I'm not the type to chase after mayors' daughters."
"I know," Warren said, his eyes narrowing. "How about a pay rise for a Miss Valentine of S.T.A.R.S.? A substantial bonus."
Eddie laughed. "Do you really think I care about money?"
Warren's face hardened. "What do you want, then?"
"A helicopter," Eddie said without hesitation. "A Bell 206. Brand new. Registered in my name, clean title. You can make it happen. The taxpayers of this city will be happy to contribute."
Warren stared at him for a long moment. Then, a slow smile spread across his face. "Done. Get that camera. I don't care how."
"I have no curiosity about what's on it," Eddie said, standing up. "I'm not interested in your filth. I just want my helicopter."
September 17th, 1998, 2:00 PM, Raccoon City Park
The next day, Eddie met Katherine Warren in the park. She was a pretty blonde with the brittle innocence of the wealthy. Two bodyguards provided by the mayor followed at a distance.
"Miss Warren," he said, approaching. "My name is Eddie Cai. Do you know a man named Benjamin?"
She stiffened. "What do you want with him?"
"I'm a researcher," Eddie lied, his voice laced with a false desperation. "Benjamin was my assistant. He stole months of my work—revolutionary research—and published it under his own name. He won an award that was meant for me." His performance was flawless, a mixture of anger and betrayal.
"That's not true!" she exclaimed, shaken. "Ben is a good person! He would never do something like that!"
"That's what everyone says," Eddie said with a heavy sigh. "Listen, I don't want to accuse him. I just want the truth. If he's as innocent as you say, help me prove it. Help me retrieve my original data, which is on his personal camera. If there's nothing on it, I will apologize and leave. But if he stole my work… then he's a thief."
He looked at her, his eyes filled with a counterfeit sincerity. The seed of doubt had been planted. And he knew, with absolute certainty, that it would take root.