He set the old fashioned wall mounted phone down on its cradle. A shiver running down his spine as he remembered the voice on the other end.

A dead man's voice.

He'd been told this moment would come. That he should expect it after all the work he'd done. Reanimation had been a dead end. But copying an organic mind?

I did it Wesker, you son of a bitch. You told me I could and honestly, I didn't believe you. But I did it.

It was strange to think that Albert Wesker, his sponsor, was dead while he, Malcolm, was very much alive.

Through the myriad of projects Wesker had been involved in, Malcolm's had been one of the most secretive, one of the most covert

His latest sponsor Derek Simmons was also dead. Simmons had provided the legitimate cover, provided the samples from the young Sherry Birkin. His one mistake had been to set her loose as an asset. The girl should have stayed in the lab. She was a B.O.W. and a remarkable one at that, the next step in their plans, even if she was a happy accident. They should have figured out how to keep her under control before putting her into the field. It could be done, but Simmons had assured them that Sherry knew nothing, that she was obedient. He had been disgusted by her "goody goody" persona. Sending her out into the real world was supposed to teach her a thing or two about life.

Simmons had sent her off chasing a rumor. Your rumor, Wesker. You'd always wondered about Anja, why she just left. Too bad you never checked up on her. What would you have done if you knew?

He now had Wesker's son to deal with.

He was getting older, the ache in his bones as arthritis set in was becoming a bother. But Wesker had promised much if this little experiment worked. He was dead but he had made sure the experiment would go on. They had planned for the inevitable.

And if the voice on the phone had proved anything it was that death was but a minor inconvenience.