HUNK may have been Spencer's personal lapdog, but he'd been given a very long leash. A shame, really, that a man of HUNK's practical nature and capability should be an enemy. Perhaps when Spencer was finally put down, HUNK would consider remaining in Umbrella's employ under the new management. Assuming he survived, of course. Wesker had the utmost faith, however, that he would do just that.
"I expected as much. How am I to make contact?" Wesker was still holding the information about his method of transport in check. There were, of course, only two practical methods - boat or helicopter. He preferred to wait on his final decision unitl reviewing information on the island, but if pressed to decide, the most convenient and practical answer was chopper.
Wesker knew that mention of Birkin had been a trump card, held until HUNK had no other way of testing Wesker's mental and emotional state. He also knew that he was minutely betraying himself to HUNK's trained observation. The feeling of being bated stung and the heat in his veins seemed to increase. The virus had such an inconvenient way of making irritation metamorphose into anger. Anger, for a Tyrant, even one of his specialized distinction, was a dangerous emotion if not held in check. It was one of the things he truly missed about his humanity - in his transformation, he had lost the tiniest measure f his coveted control. But, he had traded it for power, and every gain hid its price. Wesker had never for a moment felt that he hadn't gotten a fair trade, all things considered.
So, he mused, Spencer was providing lodgings. How quaint, but expected. He may have been a cunning man who sought nothing more than his own personal gain, but Ozwell E. Spencer had old-world manners still bred into him alongside his old-world contempt. Naturally, he would play the benevolent host for his "guests" for a time before attempting to dispose of them.