“It’ll be okay,” Dafney said, rubbing his arm. “We’re almost to the front.”
“Yeah,” Will said, shifting the six-year-old around. “I’m good.”
He’d have been better if the guy behind him hadn’t smelled like a goat. The guy, Middle Eastern or Hispanic, Will wasn’t sure, clearly had never heard of a shower.
“Target Nine,” Lasko said. “Middle Eastern male. Backpack. He’s watching the security and he’s really unhappy.”
“If he dips in the backpack and comes up with anything, take him down,” the Kildar replied.
Lasko flexed his jaw and touched his communicator.
“Target is blocked. Girl on her father’s shoulder. Line Fourteen.”
Mike looked past the booths, where the checkers were taking much more care, and spotted the target. Sure enough, some guy had his kid up on his shoulder. Cute little kid, too. Five or six with dark brown hair and clearly looking forward to a day at the Magic Kingdom.
“Take two shots.”
“Honey, you’re getting to be too big of a girl! I got to set you down,” Will said, bending forward and sliding Allison to the ground. As he did the guy behind him turned and bumped into him, spilling both of them to the ground.
“God damnit!” Will cursed, turning and starting to stand up just as the man, who had a can of bug spray in his hand, stumbled backwards. There was a red hole in his chest and blood exploded upwards from his mouth. The can hit the ground and rolled into the crowd.
Dafney had turned to look when he stumbled and she was the first to scream…
“Everyone down!” Fisher screamed over the announcement system. “EVERYONE HIT THE GROUND, NOW! THERE ARE TERRORISTS IN THE CROWD! DOWN, DOWN, DOWN…”
“Target,” Braon said as Target Seven pulled his bag around to the front. Some people were running but most were following orders and dropping to the ground. Gunfire helped with that. The suspect pulled out a can and flew backwards as blood and brains covered the crowd around him.
“Left,” Manos said. “Target Fifteen. On the ground, fumbling in his backpack.”
“Target,” Braon said as the man slumped.
“Right…”
“You know,” Mike said, as paramedics with stretchers moved into the still-crouched crowd, “this is actually a great way to filter for terrorists. When you tell civilians to get down, especially when bullets are flying, they generally do. The terrorists keep trying to do their mission and turn themselves into targets. The Israelis use it sometimes. I’m just glad none of them were wearing explosive vests.”
“One hell of a PR nightmare,” Fisher said, watching the dead bodies being loaded.
“Why?” Mike asked. “I mean, assuming all the tangos were for real. You just stopped, pretty much butt-cold, a terrorist attack. There’s nine dead terrorists and, as far as I can see, zero dead guests. You should come out smelling like a rose. That is, assuming no more got into the park. You shutting down?”
“That’s my next call,” Fisher said. “I want to. God I want to shut down. But that’s up to park operations. What’s your call?”
“This was a back-up attack,” Mike said. “The main attack is still to come. I’m actually of two minds. One says that to save lives, you shut down. The other says that we want to find the other VX. If they’re aiming for Disney, and I’m pretty sure they are, now, then if you shut down they just lay low and either hit another day or hit another target.”
“So you’re saying you want sixty thousand people to act as bait?” Fisher asked. “Jesus Christ. That’s cold.”
“I keep repeating myself and nobody listens,” Mike replied. “I am not a nice guy. Want a suggestion?”
“Right now my brain’s sort of shut down,” Fisher admitted. “So, sure.”
“Ask them,” Mike said.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” Fisher said over the announcement system. “I’ll explain what just happened. Disney was informed that there might be an attack using disguised poison gas. But we weren’t sure that would occur until just a moment ago, when the first can was discovered. When that happened, terrorists in the crowd attempted to use their cans to attack, well, you people.”
He paused as the crowd, which was back on its feet, sorted through that.
“By checking the contents of their bags, we can now definitely state that all the men just shot by snipers were terrorists. And that should be most of them. But I cannot, and Disney cannot, guarantee that another attack will not take place. I have spoken to the head of park operations and we are trying to decide whether or not to shut down. If we do, all of you will be given a voucher for another day at the park. But I also know that some of you are here on tight schedules and this may be the only day you have this trip. So I have been authorized to ask you what you think Disney should do. I’d like a show of hands of everyone who is still willing to risk going to Disney today.”
At first none of the multicolored throng reacted, then a little girl down front raised her hand. After a brief discussion, her brother, sister and then parents raised theirs.
Before long just about everyone in the slightly diminished crowd had their hands up. The few that didn’t were headed for the exits anyway.
“Okay, folks, we’re still running the security check, but… Welcome to Disney World.”
When Will and his family reached the security station, the checker waved them through.
“You’re not going to check our bags?” Will asked, holding out his backpack.
“If you’re terrorists, I’m a Nazi,” the old woman who looked vaguely Jewish said, holding out a sheaf of tickets. “Everybody gets a three-day pass, by the way. They’re useable any time in the future. Please stay alert, though. We really are expecting another attack. The terrorists had the gas in those orange OFF cans. So if you have one, I’d suggest getting rid of it to prevent getting mistaken for terrorists by the men with guns. Other than that, have a good time.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mike was not having a good time. Honestly, picking out people who were of “Middle Eastern” extraction was more art than science. For various historical reasons, many Hispanics had similar facial features. And there were huge numbers of groups in the Middle East that didn’t support Islamic terrorism, Lebanese Christians being the first that came to mind and descending through a list that included Druze and actual “moderate” Islamics. The guy at Wet and Wild had been one of those, pretty obviously. Mike made a mental note to ensure he wasn’t thrown in jail; he’d acted damned decently, all things considered.
But there were various cultural clues. Mostly they were the way that a person walked and body language. Most terrorists had not been in Western societies enough to have those clues completely erased. The 9/11 attackers had been smart in that they had worked, very hard, to eliminate all trace of such cultural clues. Mohammed Atta had been one smart SOB.
So far, however, every one of the tangos they’d taken down had been pretty clearly right off the boat. They still had the Islamic Shuffle that came from always using slippers or pushing down the backs of their shoes. It just made sense when you were taking them off five times a day to pray. It was one of the things that Mike was looking for, pushed-down shoes. Such a person was not, definitively, a terrorist. It just meant they were ardent Islamics and the second did not equal the first. But it was more than worthwhile to watch any such person.