Umbrella currently had eight core members.
Each was exceptional in their own way.
One served as a consultant to one of the world’s largest intelligence organizations.
Another lived quietly among ordinary people, avoiding fame entirely.
One ruled the criminal underworld of an entire district through sheer force.
And one, despite looking harmless, lazy, and slightly dimwitted, had secretly become the undisputed king of the neighborhood’s stray dogs.
An impressive lineup.
Unfortunately...
Even if you tied all eight of them together and sold them by weight, they still wouldn’t come close to sixty billion dollars.
That money came courtesy of an old friend.
The ever-generous, endlessly charitable Justin Hammer.
A man with an almost supernatural talent for volunteering his face to be slapped, getting conned, helping count the money afterward, and somehow smiling through the entire experience.
Naturally, the sixty billion hadn’t belonged to Justin alone.
It represented virtually all of Hammer Industries’ liquid assets.
Shareholder investments.
Operating capital.
Customer prepayments.
Corporate reserves.
Everything.
Following Justin’s downfall, those funds had been headed toward one of two destinations.
Either the government would seize them as part of the investigation...
...or they would eventually be returned through an endless maze of legal proceedings.
When Evenson learned about that mountain of money, he came to one simple conclusion.
Absolutely not.
Why should a fortune like that end up enriching government bureaucracies, opportunistic investors, or Wall Street accountants?
Wouldn’t it be better if someone used it to make the world a safer place?
And so, acting entirely for the benefit of humanity...
...Evenson quietly stole it.
Under normal circumstances, someone with Evenson’s personality would have skimmed off a healthy personal bonus before anyone noticed.
This time...
He didn’t keep a single dollar.
Every cent became Umbrella’s startup capital.
He even had a lofty justification prepared.
Money earned through bloodshed and war should be returned to protecting the world.
A noble cause.
A righteous act.
Someone as handsome, brilliant, selfless, and deeply concerned for all mankind as myself could hardly do otherwise...
...
Nope.
Can’t even finish that sentence with a straight face.
The real reason was much simpler.
The money was radioactive.
Touch it, and sooner or later someone would notice.
As both a registered superhuman and a consultant for S.H.I.E.L.D., Evenson remained under quiet observation.
Nick Fury had recently withdrawn the dedicated surveillance team, but that didn’t mean S.H.I.E.L.D. had stopped paying attention.
His finances were certainly still being watched.
If ten thousand dollars suddenly appeared in his account, Fury probably wouldn’t care.
Twenty thousand?
Still not worth the paperwork.
A hundred million?
Different story.
Evenson could claim that his twice-removed uncle had been a billionaire sheikh who’d recently passed away, leaving him an unexpected inheritance.
Fury wouldn’t believe a single word.
He’d probably show up personally, grab Evenson by the collar, and demand answers.
"Where did this money come from?"
"Who’s paying you?"
"What do they want?"
"Assassinate the President?"
"Topple the government?"
There was another problem.
Hammer Industries had already been linked to Umbrella through recent events.
If every dollar the company possessed suddenly vanished...
Guess who S.H.I.E.L.D. would investigate first.
Anyone who touched that money would become a suspect.
Because of that, Evenson had never allowed the funds to pass through any account connected to himself or his associates.
Instead, Ivan Vanko routed the money through fifteen hundred anonymous shell accounts, bouncing it from one to another until the trail became nearly impossible to follow.
Still, money wasn’t meant to drift endlessly through cyberspace.
Eventually it had to come to rest somewhere.
That was why Evenson had sent Aurecess and Saloras to negotiate with Ross.
Once the funds entered a classified military account, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s interest would largely disappear.
After all, S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t the IRS.
Nor was it a financial auditing agency.
They didn’t care about the money itself.
They cared about finding Umbrella.
If the money ended up inside the military’s own accounts, the most likely conclusion would be simple.
The Pentagon had quietly reclaimed Hammer Industries’ assets.
Given the long history between Justin Hammer and the military, both official and unofficial, that explanation would make perfect sense.
As for whatever financial skeletons the Pentagon preferred to keep buried...
Nick Fury would happily leave that mess alone.
"We’ll be in touch, General."
Aurecess and Saloras stood, straightened their coats, and prepared to leave.
Ross quickly followed them toward the door.
"When will your company be established?"
"I’d like time to prepare."
"It’ll take a while," Aurecess replied.
"Setting up a corporation properly isn’t something that happens overnight."
She glanced back over her shoulder with a faint smile.
"And we’re waiting for the right opportunity."
Ross nodded.
"Then I’ll wait for your message."
Just before reaching the exit, Saloras stopped as though she’d remembered something.
"Oh."
"One more thing."
"The company won’t need that money immediately."
"You may use whatever interest it earns in the meantime."
Ross understood instantly.
Government and business.
Mutual support.
Everyone benefited.
"I understand."
He escorted them outside.
A waiting car sat at the curb.
That wasn’t surprising.
Executives capable of casually producing sixty billion dollars in startup capital naturally traveled with chauffeurs.
What was surprising...
...was the vehicle itself.
It was an outrageously pink, vintage boat-tail sedan.
Standing beside it was a bald Black man wearing sunglasses, a leather vest, and enough tattoos to frighten respectable neighborhoods.
It was Luther.
The second-in-command of the Void Legacy nightclub.
Ross frowned.
The entire scene looked less like corporate executives...
...and more like organized crime.
Then he remembered their warning.
S.H.I.E.L.D. was watching them.
Of course.
This had to be a cover identity.
Ross felt a flicker of sympathy.
What kind of pressure must such a powerful company be under if its executives had to hide behind a criminal organization?
S.H.I.E.L.D. really was relentless.
If only he knew the truth.
Among Umbrella’s eight core members, Aurecess and Saloras were practically the only ones with company cars.
Meanwhile, the company’s CEO and Head of Security still insisted on walking everywhere in the name of "environmental responsibility."
Luther respectfully opened the rear door.
After the two women climbed inside, he hurried to the driver’s seat and pulled away from the curb.
The moment the car merged into traffic, Saloras stubbed out the elegant cigarette she’d been pretending to enjoy throughout the meeting.
She immediately replaced it with something far stronger.
Drawing in a deep breath, she leaned back in obvious satisfaction.
"Now that’s the good stuff."
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