Alcántara Pharma Facilities, Madrid – Spain, Friday, November 13, 2009
Leon S. Kennedy quickly concluded that Diego Vargas knew the Alcántara Pharma facilities inside out after listening to him for several minutes.
- …she's brilliant and difficult… - Diego was saying beside him in fluent English as they kept walking. - She doesn't like surprises or people who don't understand her work.
‹‹Perfect.››
Leon didn't add anything—just nodded. He spoke Spanish, but for now, it hadn't been necessary.
Diego Vargas was his liaison between the CIA and the DSO in Spain. A CNI agent, Madrilenian, forty-one years old. He wore a fairly discreet civilian suit—gray, with no visible insignia. It made Leon wonder whether he should have presented himself in a more… appropriate way at Alcántara Pharma. His functional attire—a fitted black thermal shirt, cargo pants with side pockets, and tactical boots—clashed completely with the scientific environment around him. Still, he was grateful for the black jacket. Even though it was nearly noon, the air was still cold.
- They're going to check your backpack. - Diego warned as they stopped in front of the access controls.
Leon nodded and shifted it to the front.
- Hey, Gustavo. - Diego shook the guard's hand. - This is the American colleague I told you about.
Gustavo gave Leon a quick look and let out a laugh.
- Damn… no need to introduce him. - he said in Spanish. - You can tell he's American from a mile away. It's written all over his face.
- Good morning. - Leon replied, dragging the words slightly with a deliberately clumsy accent.
- Good morning, Mr… - the guard took the documents. -…Kennedy. - He laughed again and looked at Diego. - And his last name is Kennedy…
- He understands the language, my friend. - Diego clarified casually.
Gustavo's smile tightened immediately. He regained his composure and lowered his gaze to the papers. As he read them, his expression changed completely. Without another word, he handed them back.
- Thank you. - Leon said, slipping away his DSO credentials—validated by the CNI, justifying his presence in the facility.
Then he looked up and assessed what lay before him. He had already confirmed that vehicle access was separate from pedestrian entry, and that the visible security cameras were well distributed… enough to confirm there were hidden ones as well. There always were. But where?
While Diego and Gustavo exchanged meaningless chatter, Leon shifted slightly.
And there it was. A discreet camera, camouflaged within the structure, with a perfect line of sight over the entrance's blind spot.
Good. He had already identified the architectural pattern they used to conceal them from untrained eyes.
He turned his attention back to the access control. RFID card doors, scanners checking his backpack, digital personnel logs. He narrowed his eyes.
Yes… it was solid. But not for a civilian lab. Why so much surveillance? Wasn't it excessive?
Then he noticed another guard placing a finger on the screen in front of him, nodding silently. Discreetly, Leon shifted position to improve his angle.
The system showed everything was in order… and when he looked back at the guard, he saw someone calm, almost obedient to what the screen dictated. Too many protocols. Too few human decisions. Cutting-edge technology. If the system said yes, the human said yes. Which meant the system decided who got in—and, by extension… who got out. If things went to hell, that would be one of the problems he'd have to deal with.
But considering his luck, nothing would go to hell…
He smirked.
- Leon…
Diego gestured with his head. Leon gave Gustavo a brief wave before heading toward the central elevator, retrieving his backpack along the way.
- Alcántara Pharma isn't a conventional pharmaceutical company. - Diego said as they stepped inside and pressed the seventh floor. - It's a highly complex research facility, but also a corporate headquarters. - Leon nodded. - It has twelve floors and two underground levels.
That number alone could become a problem if things got out of control. Twelve floors and two basements would be a nightmare in a disaster—especially with that kind of security system.
- Does Sebastian Harrington have an office here?
- Yes. - Diego confirmed. - When he's in Madrid, he usually spends a few days here. You might get lucky and see him. There's an important corporate event in a few days.
Leon wasn't sure he'd call that luck.
- The card you gave me… - Leon reached into the back pocket of his pants and showed it to him. - Level 1 and 2 access. Which areas does that cover?
- The first three. That is, the first three floors and the offices above the fifth. - Diego explained. - Administration, meeting rooms, basic research labs. The fourth is level three, where controlled clinical trials take place. - He paused. - That's also where cohort data is stored—results that don't leave that floor. The fifth… - the elevator display showed six. -…the fifth is level five. We don't get access there.
- What's on the fifth? - Leon asked.
- That's exactly what we want to find out.
That—and whatever was in the two underground levels.
Leon nodded again.
- And Dr. Alonso?
Diego exhaled.
- Seventh floor. Where we're headed.
- So above the fifth floor are the offices?
Diego nodded.
- Dr. Alonso has level three and four access. Full access to clinical trials.
- And level five?
- The CEO.
- Let me guess… Harrington.
Diego shook his head slightly.
- Julien Carpentier.
The name meant nothing to Leon. Benfield, his superior, had been clear about the purpose of his presence here—but not the details.
Leon nodded and committed the name to memory.
- European Good Manufacturing Practices - Diego continued - require each area to have scientific leads with documented, traceable access… Alonso signs off on the sleep research protocols. If something's going wrong in there—it goes through her.
- Does she know?
- That… . Diego said - is the million-euro question.
The elevator doors opened on the seventh floor.
- Then let's go find out... - Leon said.
Diego stepped out of the main area and made his way toward an office at the end of the hallway. Leon noticed a welcome sign that read: "You are being recorded, smile. Surveillance cameras with audio in common areas."
He then shifted his attention back to his colleague and observed that the front walls of the office were made of glass, though treated with frosted panels that made it impossible to clearly see what was happening inside.
Controlled privacy, Leon thought.
He glanced at the door, made of the same material. It read: "Dr. Alonso, Lucrecia." No visible lock—just an RFID card reader integrated into the access. Good. Restricted access. He could only get in if she allowed it… or if someone managed to replicate her credentials.
Diego approached the office, adjusting his suit and tie before knocking twice, firmly. No immediate response. Leon stepped forward, wondering with mild irony whether he should fix his hair too—considering he wasn't wearing a tie. A few seconds passed. Nothing.
- You sure she's here?
- She should be… - Diego replied, adjusting his sleeves again, almost unconsciously. He even gave a couple of small, nervous bounces. Was he really that tense just from seeing the doctor?
Then Leon noticed it. The silence... No keyboards. No footsteps. No voices behind the glass.
Adrenaline shot through his body instantly. In less than a second, he became aware of the weight of his service weapon beneath his jacket. Memories of biological disasters flooded his muscles, and he had to make an effort to contain himself.
- Shouldn't they be working?
Without waiting for an answer, he stepped forward, pushed Diego aside firmly, and knocked harder on the door. He slowed his breathing to a minimum and listened carefully.
Nothing.
Too much silence for a functioning lab. And that didn't match anything that was alive.
His jaw tightened.
He remembered the mission directive. The details Benfield had emphasized.
And something deep inside him knew... this wasn't right.
In one sharp motion, he drew his pistol and chambered a round.
- Hey, American… aren't you overreacting?
No.... He was prepared.