Mike watched as the checker on Booth Four, an elderly woman who had a vaguely Jewish look, lifted a green spray can out of the bag then set it back in as she pawed through the contents. She had an expression that told him she was clearly pissed at the stupidity of the intense search.
“Fisher,” Mike said, gesturing with his chin.
“What?” the man said. He’d been examining the lines and trying to figure out how to move the people through faster. There were two reasons it was on his mind. One was simple customer service. People had come to Disney to have fun, not stand in line waiting to get in. There were going to be massive complaints. The second was security related; he wasn’t happy with that many people packed in together.
“Booth Four. Spray can. Didn’t get checked.”
The man had completed his check and nodded at the checker with a smile as he started to walk away.
“Booth Four,” Fisher said into his radio. “Stop him.”
Mike and Fisher walked forward as the security guard backing up the checker put his hand on the man’s arm.
“Excuse me, sir,” the guard said. “We’d like your cooperation…”
“You are stop me because I am Arab!” the man said, raising his voice. “This is prejudice against Arabs! I insist that you treat me as human! You kill Arabs in Iraq and you don’t care…”
“Sir, if you’ll just calm down,” Fisher said, stepping over to the irate customer.
“Sir, if you’ll just look at your chest,” Mike said, much more quietly.
“What?” the Arab said angrily. Or at least he appeared angry on the surface. But his eyes weren’t.
“Look down,” Mike said in Arabic. “And stay still.”
The man looked down and his dark face went gray at the sight of a spot of red light wavering over his heart.
“Now,” Mike said, still in Arabic, “if you’ll just accompany us I’m sure that this can all be resolved quite quickly. And if you continue to present a problem to me, innocent or not, I’m going to splatter you all over the ground. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” the man said, his jaw working.
“Slowly hand the bag to the security guard,” Mike said. “Then step towards that door, slowly,” he continued, pointing to a door marked “Cast Only.” Two of the Keldara, wearing much the same clothes as Mike, including the extra bulkiness, were walking over. They flanked the man as, followed by the security guard, he was marched over to the door.
Fisher had gotten a new security guard for Booth Four and went over to the checker.
“Mrs. Meier,” Fisher said as the entry supervisor hurried over. “You didn’t check a spray can.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Fisher,” the woman said angrily. “But this is all so stupid! Nobody is going to put anything in a can of OFF.”
“Let the security guard do the checking on this one,” Mike said. “I think that Mrs. Meier could do with a little demonstration.”
“Okay,” Fisher said. “Mrs. Meier, if you could accompany us?”
The threesome walked over to the door and went through. On the other side was a section sealed off with plastic sheeting. Inside the plastic sheeting, two of the Keldara were fitted with poison gas gear.
The Middle Easterner was standing by nervously as the security guard, gingerly, removed the spray can. The two large Keldara still flanked the potential terrorist. The security guard put the can on a tray and slid it into the sealed area through an air lock.
“Sir, if you would step in there,” Mike said, politely. “And demonstrate that that is normal OFF in the can, I’d be very grateful.”
“I will not!” the man shouted. “You are picking on me because I am Arab! You will stop this now! I will protest to CAIR!”
“Fine,” Mike said with a sigh. He drew the Desert Eagle and pointed it at the man’s head. “Once upon a time the .44 Magnum was the largest and most powerful handgun in the world. It was subsequently replaced by this one, the Desert Eagle .50 caliber, which can kill an elephant at short range. Admittedly, subsequent to that other more powerful handguns such as the Casull .454 have been developed but that is not entirely germane to our discussion since I am not currently pointing one of those at your head. I will, however, add that I’m having a very bad day. I’ve gotten shot at, gassed and done a rather nasty swim. My harem manager has been kidnapped and is being tortured at the moment. I’m tired and cranky and I haven’t gotten laid recently. So. You can demonstrate that there is not VX in that can or you can be shot by a gun normally used to kill elephants. Your choice. I’m good either way.”
“You wouldn’t shoot me,” the man said, shaking his head. “Not in cold blood. Not with everyone watching.”
“Bets?” Mike asked, cocking the pistol. “This is a hollow point round. When it hits your head this entire room will be covered in blood and brains, but I’ve got spare clothes and I’ve been covered in blood and brains before.”
“I will not spray that on myself,” the man said, shaking his head. He was clearly terrified, but it could have just been the massive gun sitting on his occipital bone. “No.”
“Georgi,” Mike said, raising his voice. “Try it on one of the gerbils.”
The Keldara reached into a cage and removed a gerbil, then placed it in a different cage. First he sealed the cage, then inserted the can and his hand through a rubber seal. He shook the can and sprayed a very small quantity into the cage. The gerbil began spasming immediately.
The Middle Easterner tried to run but the two Keldara wrestled him easily to the floor and slid cuffs on his hands and feet and a hood over his head.
“Now, Mrs. Meier,” Mike said, decocking the weapon and putting it away. “You just let VX gas into the Magic Kingdom and that really pisses me off. How many other cans did you fail to check?”
“I… I don’t know,” the woman said, her eyes wide and fixed on the dead gerbil that could be seen through the clear plastic. “A… a few.”
“Any carried by men of Middle Eastern extraction?” Mike asked.
“I try not to look,” the woman said, angrily. “That’s profiling. I refuse to treat people differently just because of the color of their skin. If you were from my people you would understand that.”
“This asshole wants to wipe every Jew off the face of the earth,” Mike said, kicking the terrorist in the side. “Jews are, after all, descendants of apes and pigs. So I don’t find you noble or honest or good or anything. I find you to be a fucking idiot. The sort of fucking idiot that thought that Hitler couldn’t possibly be ‘serious.’ But, congratulations, you’ve probably killed quite a few people today, no matter what I fucking do. Because we can’t weed them all out, now. Congratu-fucking-lations. I hope you enjoy your moral superiority.”
He stalked out of the room and looked up at the sky, shaking his head.
“Teams,” he said, turning the communicator back on. “We have a live one. There may have been leakers. And some of them might have noticed this. So be on your toes. Who has the crowd?”
“Braon,” Braon said. “I’m scanning but there’s a bunch of people. Manos has over twenty potentials.”
“Where’s Lasko?” Mike asked.
“Cinderella’s Castle,” Oleg replied. “Main Street position.”
“Get him up here,” Mike said, looking over at Fisher. “I need a sniper transferred from Cinderella to here, fast.”
“I’m on it,” Fisher said. “What about the crowd out front?”
“That’s why I need the sniper.”
Will had Allison up on his shoulders since the six-year-old had nearly been trampled by the crowds. They were finally down to the mouse-maze but it was apparent that, for whatever reason, the checkers were really taking their time. The lines were moving slower than for any ride he’d ever been on.