Chapter 151: Spencer: After I'm Gone, You'll Still Have Plenty of Enemies.
The street's chaos was over.
Spencer and the Ten Rings had played every card they had. None of it had been enough.
When the satellite feed confirmed what had happened at the scene, Spencer closed his eyes slowly in his wheelchair.
"It's done."
"Yes. It's done."
Between the two of them at that moment, there was no particular fear about the failure. Only the stillness of people who had made their bet and were prepared to accept the result.
The communication closed.
Spencer was alone in the conference room.
In the dark, he turned to look at the seven chairs arranged around the table. A faint movement at the corner of his mouth.
He thought back. Ambitions in his youth to change the world. A middle age consumed by the pursuit of a superior humanity. And now, old, in a wheelchair, his old friends from the company's founding years quietly removed one by one over the decades through methods he preferred not to name plainly.
"How thoroughly ironic," Spencer murmured to himself.
"Theodore Lawrence. I don't imagine you expected this either. That bastard son of yours, the one nobody ever thought would amount to anything, ended up removing every one of us."
He finished the sentence.
The conference room door was knocked, evenly and without urgency.
"Mr. Oswell Edward Spencer. May we come in? Or would you prefer a few more minutes alone?"
Spencer could hear from the density of footsteps outside the door that there were several of them. He said clearly: "Come in."
The door opened.
A security team entered, armed and fully equipped. Their gear showed smoke residue and some damage to the body armor. They had clearly been in contact with something before coming here.
The lead man indicated to the others to lower their weapons, then looked at Spencer in front of the display screen. "Mr. Spencer. Sorry to disturb you."
"My employer is requesting your presence."
Spencer looked up at the lead man. No fear in his expression. "Wilson. The employer you're referring to is Matthew Lawrence."
"That's right." Wilson nodded.
Spencer received this with the nod of someone who had expected exactly that answer.
"Wilson. Before I go, can I ask you one question?"
"Please." Wilson's reply was neutral.
"I believe you joined the company at eighteen. You were one of the security staff I trained personally. You worked my personal protection detail for years."
He looked at him. "So when exactly did you become Lawrence's man?"
Wilson answered without any attempt to avoid it. "Three months ago."
Before Spencer could follow up, he continued. "Mr. Spencer, I know what you're going to ask next."
"You want to know why I turned."
"Because you're old. The ambition is gone. You can't see where things are going anymore."
"A pride doesn't follow an aging lion. They always find a new one to follow."
"And I'm one of the ones who followed the new lion."
He placed both hands on the handles of the wheelchair. "That answers your question. Can I take you now?"
Spencer had asked what he wanted to know. He said nothing more, nodded, and let Wilson push him out.
Elsewhere. The Ten Rings.
The Ten Rings shareholder received considerably less consideration than Spencer had.
A group of specially enhanced werewolves arrived at the Ten Rings' location.
By morning, that shareholder had ceased to exist in any practical sense.
A helicopter set down at a property on the outskirts of the city.
Wilson pushed Spencer into a plain wooden cabin.
The light inside was low. The air carried the smell of pine resin and old timber. Small windows with dusty glass. A stone fireplace directly across from the door, a few pieces of half-burned charcoal left in the grate. An oak table in the center of the room that looked like it had been there for a long time, two plain benches set alongside it without particular arrangement. Coils of rope stacked in one corner, a kerosene lamp beside them. A narrow camp bed against the opposite wall.
A standard hunter's cabin, as such things went.
"Wilson. You can wait outside." Matthew spoke from inside the cabin, even and unhurried.
Wilson acknowledged this, pushed Spencer into the room, and withdrew respectfully.
"Spencer. Tea?" Matthew lifted the kettle from the small stove and poured two cups.
Spencer's face showed no unease whatsoever. His pulse, if you could have measured it, would have been the same as it always was.
"If it's not too much trouble, I'd prefer coffee."
Matthew's mouth moved slightly. "Fine."
He set down the tea he'd been about to hand across and made coffee instead.
Once that was done, he sat back down on the bench.
Spencer held the cup, felt its warmth, took a small sip, and set it down.
He looked at the man across from him. A long silence. Then: "Matthew Lawrence. Tell me what you want."
Matthew didn't hedge. "Everything you have."
"Everything I have." Spencer repeated it quietly, as though turning it over. Then a small smile came to his face.
"All right." No hesitation this time. He agreed directly.
"I'll give you everything. Assets, equity, research files, intelligence and contacts from every part of the world."
"All of it." Spencer's eyes were fixed on Matthew. "So. You're planning to use all of that to buy your life?"
Spencer shook his head. "You're wrong."
"My life isn't what concerns me."
"Oh?" Matthew looked at him with genuine curiosity now. "What does?"
"Honestly, I'm not trying to buy anything." Spencer settled back against the wheelchair. His voice was even. "Umbrella Corporation is something I built from nothing. It's like a child of mine."
"But I understand. Today, that child is going to a new father."
"And the only thing I want to say to this new father is one thing."
"Take care of it."
"Don't let it end up forgotten somewhere. Don't let it fall to nothing." Spencer's eyes were entirely serious.
"Beyond that. There are things the new father needs to know."
"Internally, you've cleared the field. But externally, you still have plenty of enemies."
He gave examples. "The Tri-Corporation, the Alliance, the Family. They're your primary competition now that you hold the company. The moment I'm gone, they'll move like hyenas that have smelled blood. They'll come at you wanting a piece of Umbrella, looking to break it apart."
"That said, I believe you have the ability to deal with them."
"After all, if I could handle them in my reduced state, there's no reason you can't."
He looked across the table.
"Don't you think so, Matthew Lawrence?"