“How can I find them?” Charlie asked, intensely.
“You can start by looking out the window,” she offered, nodding her head toward the glass.
Sure enough, across the street, leaning against a pillar outside Casey’s Corner, stood Leroy, AKA Jeremy O’Neill. Charlie watched him intently as he looked down at a phone screen in his hand and then across at the ice cream parlor. Charlie was sure Jeremy couldn’t see them through the crowds, but he still felt uncomfortable.
“He’s got you tracked,” Victoria informed him. “The bug is in that phone you’ve got. About an hour and a half ago, one of my guys got close enough to the big dummy to run a scanner. The device scans for the SIM card in a phone, transmits the information to the Company’s nerds and gives us the information we need to tap the line. We listened in to a conversation earlier between Jeremy and my Dad. Something’s got the old man spooked and he’s ready to cut and run—I’m thinking that you’ve got him worried. Whatever he originally had planned for you has been eighty-sixed and he sent that big idiot out there something new in an email.
“We’ve got a shiny, new spy satellite floating overhead sporting one of those fancy super-cameras that all the conspiracy-theory nuts freak out about on internet forums. It’s currently watching old Jeremy and recording every move he makes. Not long ago, it watched as he deleted my Dad’s email without even opening it. Yeah, the camera is
that
good,” she said, noting Charlie’s bewildered expression.
“I can guarantee you that hothead Jeremy has decided to take matters into his own hands and eliminate you himself,” she stated. “Right now, he’s wiping his ass with hundred-dollar bills and never wearing the same pair of boxers twice. If you take out my Dad, Jeremy’s out of a job—and I can assure you that high-class hitboys do not qualify for unemployment or student aid for trade schools.” She let that hang in the air while Charlie thought the matter over.
“I’ve got to get him first,” Charlie deduced.
“Bingo,” she said with a snap of her fingers. “And we’re here to help you. This is what my boys and I do best and I’ve got an idea that just might work.”
In as few words as possible, Victoria laid out her idea. She told Charlie that the assassin would most likely follow him until he made his way to a relatively secluded area. This being a ridiculously busy day in the parks, Jeremy may never have gotten the chance to find an opportune area—and that was, as far as Victoria’s plan was concerned,
not
a good thing. Victoria explained that her team was already at work clearing the area in and around the restrooms near the Carousel of Progress. They would be able to confidently keep the area clear for a half-hour in conjunction with trusted park management and maintenance personnel. The plan, as it stood, was to have Charlie use himself as bait and enter the area with Jeremy hot on his heels. Once inside the restroom, Charlie would get the drop on Jeremy, overpower him and apprehend him. He would then have just over twenty minutes to extract the information he needed from Jeremy and make his exit to meet with Victoria and her team to formulate the next stage of their plan based on the information he was able to gather.
“Do you think you’ll be capable of handling Jeremy alone?” Victoria asked, visibly concerned for Charlie’s wellbeing.
“There’s no doubt in my mind,” Charlie reassured her confidently. While not the biggest man in the world, Charlie was in excellent shape. He was fit, athletic and highly trained. Alongside his hand-to-hand training in the academy, he was an eight-year veteran of Krav Maga training: a visceral, brutal and extremely effective form of tactical-defense street-fighting originally used by the Israeli Defense Forces. This hybrid style of martial arts is the polar opposite of honorable combat and would never be considered fair. There was only one object: to disable and obliterate your opponent quickly and efficiently before they found an opportunity to do the same to you. Krav Maga awards the deciding advantage to anyone who practices it, rather than the biggest and the strongest. With this knowledge at hand, and the rage he felt toward this man for abducting his family, Charlie knew there was no possible way he could lose.
“Good,” she said, handing him a set of nylon riot cuffs and a small syringe, both of which he pocketed. “Because, unfortunately, none of my team can be with you. They need to remain anonymous to him. If Jeremy gets away, he can’t see their faces or my Dad will execute your family. He has
to believe that you are still working alone and that you don’t know what he’s up to. He’s smart, so there’s no way in hell he will kill your family unless he’s absolutely sure that you’re dead.
“That being said, once you’ve learned all you can, stick this syringe in his neck and give him the full dose. It’s a fast-acting but short-lasting tranquilizer. Once you’ve got Jeremy knocked out, step outside for exactly four seconds and dry your hands with a paper towel. Do
not
forget the paper towel—that is the go-code. If you do anything other than come out with a paper towel, we’ll know something is wrong and will take appropriate measures. Got it?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good. Charlie, you’ll see your girls again. My guys are the best and I’m even better. We’re here for no other reason than to make sure that you and your ladies get back to Detroit safe and happy. I give you my word as an agent of the United States government and—more importantly—my word as a human being, and one of the good guys, that we’ll get your family back.”
“Thank you, Victoria,” Charlie said, nearly at a loss for words. He was stunned that the daughter of his enemy was so passionate about helping him. It was almost overwhelming.
“This is the part where I’m supposed to tell you that I’m just doing my job,” she said, eyes downcast. “But I can’t. It’s personal. The fact that the country is safer because we take out the bad guy is just a bonus.”
“I understand,” Charlie told her. “Listen, Victoria. Even though your Dad and your brother are straight out of hell, you’ve got a lot of good in you—and I trust you.”
Her glossy eyes stared into his as if what he’d said had meant more than he ever could have known. She was clearly haunted and damaged by her birth family being full of monsters.
“I’m a hell of a judge of character,” Charlie stated. “And I give you
my
word that you’ve got my trust, no matter what your last name is. Actions are a result of choices, not a result of heritage.”
Then, a tear appeared in the corner of one of her eyes, but she wiped it away quickly and regained her composure, masking her emotions.
“Thank you, Charlie,” she said, offering her hand. Charlie shook it firmly and without hesitation. For better or worse, they were a team.
With a few more words of encouragement, Victoria and Charlie started for the door, each prepared to head their separate ways.
Charlie exited the building first. He held the door for Victoria and she turned to face him.
“Good luck, Charlie. I know it’s weird, me being the daughter of the bad guy, but you’re right to trust me—and it means a lot to me that you do. I meant what I said—we will win this,” she stated warmly and with a bright smile.
Charlie nodded and headed off back toward Tomorrowland.
•••
Having mopped up all of Jeremy’s blood, Charlie returned to the stall, noticing the unconscious man finally starting to wake up. Charlie stepped over to him and lifted his torso up onto the toilet, positioning him facedown so that his bleeding face dripped into the bowl and his shoulders rested on the seat. Quickly, Charlie secured Jeremy’s hands around the back of the toilet with the riot cuffs, tightening them
far
too much—perhaps even cutting off circulation—and not giving a damn about it.
“How…?” Jeremy mumbled as Charlie heard more blood dribble into the toilet.
Charlie drew the silenced pistol and ground the cold chrome suppressor into the back of Jeremy’s head.
“Alright, motherfucker. Let’s talk,” he snarled.
The overwhelming smell of delicious food filled the entire suite, pulling Meghan from her wonderfully deep slumber. Hearing the high-pitched
ting
of metal clanking against porcelain and even higher-pitched devilish giggles coming from the other side of her door, Meghan stood with a yawn and a stretch and went to investigate. She didn’t even bother herself with the knowledge that her girls were no longer in the room with her. Those diabolical laughs could only mean that her girls had started their schemes early. This came as no surprise.
What did surprise Meghan was the time. It wasn’t early
at all—it was nearly noon. Had she really slept so long? She checked the bedside clock again, just to make sure she’d seen correctly. Yawning once again, Meghan padded into the massive living room to see what the girls had gotten themselves into this time.
Upon entering the cavernous living space, Meghan was unable to prevent her sudden outburst of laughter. The girls were sitting at the large dining table, flanked by not one, but
four
wheeled carts that were piled high with every manner of edible delicacy imaginable. Her girls had truly outdone themselves this time. They had plates full of a variety of different foods in front of them and they were digging in with reckless abandon.
The smell of all of this food, coupled with daughters shoveling bite after bite into their mouths, reminded Meghan of how hungry she was. She hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous afternoon. They’d had dinner at Epcot’s Le Cellier, but she had been too distraught to touch her food.
“What have you girls done this time?” Meghan asked.
“Oh,” Violet said innocently, swallowing her current mouthful and looking up at her mother. “We got some food. Have some.”
“It’s good food,” Katie assured her, not bothering to look up. “Except for the shrimp. There’s like three different kinds of shrimp here.” Katie hated shrimp.
“I see that. Thank you for clearing everything up, ladies,” she stated, sarcastically. “I suppose I should have asked:
how
did you girls manage this one?”
“Um, remember last year when we were all sick and we had to order room service because we couldn’t go out?” Violet asked.
“Yes…”
“Well, I heard Daddy tell them to charge it to the room. I charged this to the room,” Violet stated, casually and plainly.
Meghan seated herself at the lead of the table, near her two brilliant, villainous daughters, and grabbed herself a plate.
“They let a seven-year-old charge this much food to the room?” Meghan asked, not believing that it was possible.
“They weren’t going
to,” said Violet.
“Then?” Meghan prodded.
Violet grinned the wicked, lopsided grin that meant she’d recently experienced a stroke of genius. “I told them that my name was Violet Holloway. Then I told them that my Dad said I could order whatever I wanted for my birthday party and charge it to the room. Oh—and I said he couldn’t talk because he was in a business meeting.”
All Meghan could do was stare at her daughter for several long moments. The girl was an evil genius. This was easily her daughter’s grandest plan to date.
“I’m going to let this one slide,” she said, shaking her head and smiling, reaching for a Cuban sandwich.
“We figured you would,” offered Violet with a little wink. “That old guy paid for the room, so he can pay for this too.”
Meghan laughed at the hilariously vindictive nature of her daughters. She’d never seen this side of them before.
“I have never loved you guys more than I do right this moment. I’m
starving
,” she stated, and dug into what turned out to be an absolutely amazing Cuban sandwich.
For the next little while, the three Walker women ate in silence, enjoying more food than they’d ever even seen
in one place before. Meghan truly felt blessed to have been given the priceless gift of these two little angels—or demons. The situation was unthinkable and the outcome was still uncertain, but—even so—the girls were unafraid. They were still Violet and Katie Walker, scheming masterminds of the highest order, and they were still able to enjoy themselves—even at the expense of their captor. The deep fear that Meghan had been feeling all night started to dull to a more manageable level. She could not remain so terrified in the presence of such genuine courage.
Violet spoke up, “When Daddy comes and gets us and the bad guys go to jail, I want to ride Splash Mountain first.”
“Are you sure?” Meghan asked. The entire time they’d been in captivity, Meghan had believed that, once this ordeal was over with, they would return home. “You want to
stay
here?”
“Yeah. I mean, all last night and this morning I’ve been staring out the window, looking at the Magic Kingdom. I really want to ride Splash Mountain. We never got the chance last night.”
“You don’t want to go home?” Meghan asked, still not certain why Violet would want to remain here after everything that had happened.
“No, this is our vacation,” Violet stated, defiantly. “Disney World didn’t kidnap us—that old guy and that other big jerk did. It’s not Disney World’s fault we’re here. I’ve been thinking all morning about how excited I was to go on more rides and how annoyed I am that I have to sit in this room instead—even though it’s a
really
cool room.”
“Yeah, Mommy. I want to go on the Haunted Mansion. We didn’t get to do that yet, either,” Katie added.
“Or the new
Little Mermaid
ride; we’ve never
been on that,” Violet supplied. “It’s brand spankin’.”
“And I haven’t even had a turkey leg yet,” stated Katie, matter-of-factly. “
And
we haven’t even been to Animal Kingdom this year.”
Meghan was speechless. Her daughters were, quite possibly, the strongest people she’d ever known. After all the terrible things that had occurred—that may
still
occur—Violet and Katie were only frustrated that their vacation had been interrupted. It was almost supernaturally mature of Violet to dissociate the events that had happened with the place. This told Meghan two things: that her girls were stronger than she’d given them credit for and that their faith in Charlie’s ability to rescue them was absolute.
She thought about her husband and the situation that they were in. It was a live-action Disney story for the ages. If ever there were a hero capable of saving the day, it was Charlie Walker. Meghan and the girls were in a real-life damsels-in-distress scenario, complete with an actual villain and an honest-to-God tower in which they were held captive. Charlie was the valiant prince, fighting against all odds to rescue the princesses. Meghan knew, in her heart-of-hearts, that Charlie would stop at nothing to save them.
“You girls have a deal,” Meghan announced, her strength bolstered for the second time in as many minutes. “When we get out of here, Splash Mountain it is. Then the Haunted Mansion and the Little Mermaid. And—if we’re not still stuffed from this feast—it’ll be turkey leg time and then off to Animal Kingdom. You have Mom’s solemn promise.”
The girls cheered enthusiastically between bites of food and sips of Dr Pepper.
“Well, I definitely need a shower,” Meghan said, finishing her sandwich. “Will you girls be okay by yourselves for a few minutes?”
Violet stopped chewing and made an overly dramatic show of looking around at all of the carts of food. “Oh, I think we can handle it,” she stated. Meghan laughed and stood. Now came the tough decision.
Which of the four bathrooms should she choose?