80
With a mechanical crank, the turnstile somersaulted as Joey rushed through the main entrance of the Magic Kingdom. This late in the day, the lines were shorter than usual, but there were still plenty of tourists to get in the way.
“How’s it look?” Noreen asked through the earpiece.
“Like a haystack,” Joey said as she thrust herself into the center of the slowly meandering crowd. Surrounded by a group of overtalkative high school kids on one side, and crying baby twins on the other, Joey pushed her way through the insanity, ran under the overpass that housed the railroad station, and found herself face-to-face with the sixty-foot Christmas tree and colorful storefronts of Main Street, U.S.A. “Are you sure it’s here?” she asked Noreen.
“I’m looking at their online map right now,” Noreen answered. “It should be directly on your l-”
“Got it,” Joey said, pulling a sharp left and running upstream against the exiting crowd. Straight ahead, next to the bright red firehouse, was the main entrance for City Hall. With a quick check of the surrounding area, Joey hit the brakes, tucked away her earpiece, and forced her best panicked look onto her face. “Oh, no…” she began, starting out soft. “Please don’t tell me… Help!” she shouted. “Please, someone… help me!” Within seconds, she heard the rumbling of footsteps from inside City Hall, which was not only the home for Guest Relations, but also happened to be one of the closest places patrolled by Walt Disney World Security. “Why go to them,” Joey had asked Noreen, “when they’ll come right to you?”
Joey counted to herself. Three… two… one…
“What is it, ma’am? What’s wrong?” a tall guard with a crewcut and a silver badge quickly asked.
“Are you okay?” a black man in a matching blue shirt followed.
“My wallet!” Joey shouted to both men. “I opened my purse and my wallet was gone! It had all my money… my three-day pass…!”
“Don’t worry – it’s okay,” the tall guard said, putting his hand on her wrist.
“Do you know where you had it last?” the second one followed. As the two guards calmed her down, Joey noticed the way they watched the gawking crowd. The show, clearly, must go on.
“She’s fine, folks,” the tall guard announced to the onlookers. “Just misplaced her wallet.”
As the crowd broke up and continued on its way, the guards huddled around Joey and helped her to a nearby wooden bench.
“Did it fall out on a ride?” the black guard asked.
“Or maybe in one of the restaurants?” the other added.
“Are you sure this isn’t it right here?” the first one asked, pointing to the wallet that stuck out from Joey’s purse.
Joey stopped and looked down. “Oh, God,” she said, forcing a laugh. “I’m so embarrassed… I could’ve sworn it wasn’t there when I-”
“No worries,” the tall guard said. “I do the same thing with my keys all the time.”
Standing from the bench, Joey thanked the two men and once again apologized. “I really am sorry – next time I’ll be sure to… uh… to check my purse.”
“Have a nice night, ma’am,” the tall guard said.
Stumbling backwards up the block, Joey stepped into the crowd and let the guards disappear. The instant they were gone, she spun around, shoved her earpiece back in place, and plowed with a determined gait directly up Main Street.
“Well?” Noreen asked.
“It’s like I always tell you…” Joey began. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a black police radio with the word Security written on it. “Whenever you’re on vacation, you gotta watch out for those pickpockets.”
She turned up the volume and held the radio up to her ear. All she had to do was listen.
81
“We can get you out of here, Oliver – all you have to do is have a little faith,” Gallo says, his raspy voice scraping from the back corner of the silent warehouse.
Tucked down behind the bow of the pirate ship, I shut my eyes and replay the last two days: from the moment we met Gillian… to our night diving… to everything in between.
“It’s the truth,” Gallo calls out. “Even if you’re afraid to believe it.”
Once again, I listen for Gillian to argue. Once again, she’s nowhere to be found.
“C’mon, Oliver, are you really that surprised? You know what’s at stake – you found the worm…” The way his shoes grind against the concrete, it sounds like he’s turning down one of the back aisles. “It’s pretty amazing, don’t you think? All from a bit of computer code. Cut it in half and it just keeps growing back.” Gallo laughs to himself. “When you think about it, that program is Duckworth’s real baby.”
Wherever she is, Gillian doesn’t say a word.
“So what’s with the silence, Oliver? You got your feelings hurt? You’ve never had a knife in your back? Please, son – I met your bosses at the bank – you’re paid to grab your toes and take it from behind every day. And with all those rich clients who pretend they like you? You should be an Old Master at being lied to. From that alone, Gillian’s stuff should roll right off. You had to know her whole background seemed fishy – or did you never bother to wonder where she got a New York accent? Besides, you’ve only known the girl two days – how upset could you possib-”
Gallo cuts himself off. And once again lets out a deep, throaty laugh.
“Oh, Oliver…”
I shut my eyes, but it won’t go away.
“… you really thought she liked you, didn’t you?” Gallo asks.
Sinking down to the ground, I scrape my back against the ship.
In the corner, Gallo stops short and turns around. He knows I’m there. Like the best predators, he can smell the despair.
Within seconds, he heads my way. “So how’d she get you to bite the hook?” he asks, taking way too much joy in the question. “Was it the bullshit story, or something more physical?”
From the sound of his footsteps, he’s back toward the front of the aisles.
“Let me guess – she fed you the whole orphan thing, then served up the chance-to-date-the-pretty-girl-you-were-afraid-to-ask-to-the-prom thing for dessert. Add that to all the running around, and suddenly you felt like your whole miserable life was coming alive. How’m I doing, Oliver? Starting to sound familiar?”
Still stuck on the floor, I trace the volume of his voice. He’s now one aisle over. I should run. But I don’t.
“What about her age?” Gallo adds. “What’d she tell you? Wait… let me guess… Twenty-six? Twenty-seven?” He pauses just enough to rub it in. “She’s thirty-four, Oliver. Does that break your heart, or just make you feel like a bigger sucker?”
Knowing the answer, I slowly climb back to my feet. I’m not sure where Gallo is. And I’m not even sure I care.
“And let’s not forget the name – Gillian… Gillian Duckworth – pretty good when you consider how quick they had to paste it all together. Of course, if she used Sherry, no one would’ve known the difference.”
Sherry?
At the front of the aisle, two cheap black shoes turn the corner and slow to a halt. I look down the row. Gallo stares straight at me. His gun’s up; mine sags at my side. Wearing his typical rat-faced grin, he shakes his head in one last machismo tease. But the whole time, he’s studying my face.
“You really never even had an inkling, did you, Oliver?”
I don’t answer.
“All this time, you thought you were flying first-class, and then the stewardess slaps you awake and tells you you’re strapped in with a kamikaze…”
As he reads my reaction, I stare down at the floor. It’s caked in dust. Just like her end table. Charlie said it all along.