“Excuse me, sir. Are you Detective Walker?” asked a disembodied voice.
Slowly, Charlie opened his eyes to see two burly men in brightly colored pastel polo shirts and pressed khakis standing before him, hands clasped behind their backs. They had close-cropped hair and ramrod-straight postures. Ex-military, Charlie guessed. On their chests, they wore Disney Cast Member name tags. Straining, Charlie read their names: Brody from Aurora, Illinois and Brent from Las Cruces, New Mexico. Instinctively, Charlie straightened up in his seat. If these two characters didn’t scream ‘Disney Security,’ nothing did. This was not good.
“Yes, I am. Call me Charlie. What can I do for you gentlemen?” he asked, trying to act as casual as his fried nerves would allow.
“We just have a few routine questions to ask about a recent incident involving a bus,” said Brody, evidently the man who had spoken first. “There are some liability issues, and we’d just like to clear everything up and make sure your stay here is as safe and enjoyable as possible.”
“No worries, guys. Everything was fine. It was just a popped tire. Not a big deal,” Charlie tried to explain, hoping to get rid of these two but knowing he wouldn’t.
“If you’ll just come with us, detective, we’ll handle everything. I promise we won’t take up too much of your time,” said Brent with an ice-cold smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Charlie had no choice but to comply. Maybe he could talk his way out of the situation quickly. It seemed like they just wanted him to sign some papers releasing the company from any liability. He was sure that this was standard operating procedure for situations like this and Cathy must have told the men where Charlie was headed, along with his physical description.
Reluctantly, Charlie nodded and stood, prepared to follow the men to whatever office they had secreted away in the massive resort. To his confusion, the men on either side of him didn’t make their way deeper into the building; they walked him toward the exit, heading for the parking lot.
“Don’t you guys have some sort of office in the building itself?” Charlie asked, not having much knowledge of the inner workings of Disney Security past knowing they were always nearby, but often never spotted.
“The resort has its own security,” Brody informed him. “Unfortunately, the incident occurred on the roads, which fall under the jurisdiction of the transportation authority. In cases like these, we have to handle everything at the main security hub. Don’t worry detective, after we sign a few papers and ask a few questions, we’ll take you back to your room at the Caribbean Beach.”
Main security hub? Charlie thought. Does Disney even have one of those? That sounds like something from a bad sci-fi movie.
As false as it sounded, Charlie had no choice but to follow the men. Any noncompliance on his part would only make finding the girls much harder. With a resigned sigh, Charlie allowed himself to be led into the parking lot where he was ushered into a late-model black Cadillac. Again, this didn’t seem on the level. Charlie was not convinced that Disney would give two run-of-the-mill security people a sixty-thousand-dollar car with which to carry out their daily operations.
Charlie had a chance to look around the vehicle during the drive. He was seated next to Kinney in the back of the sedan, with the other security agent in the driver’s seat. From his seat, Charlie could spy no paraphernalia relevant to those in the security profession. There was no on-board radio or computer. No clipboard with the day’s routine. Not even the stereotypical items were present: flashlights, medical kits, handcuffs, pens—nothing at all. If Charlie hadn’t known better, he would swear that he was in a civilian vehicle. The situation grew even more suspicious when neither man acknowledged him a single time throughout the drive. He decided to break the bizarre silence.
“So where’s this main security hub?” he asked. “I didn’t know there was such a place on property.”
“Oh, it’s just up here a’ ways,” replied Brent with an air of nonchalance.
Brent shifted in his seat and revealed a previously unseen bulge underneath his shirt, on his right hip. Charlie mentally kicked himself for not spotting it earlier. The agent clearly carried a concealed firearm, which seemed peculiar to Charlie. He had always assumed Disney had a top-notch security force, armed and ready to handle any emergency scenarios, but this man’s dress, civilian vehicle and lack of information on their destination all culminated in Charlie completely distrusting these two men. These were not Disney Security agents; logic and reason told Charlie that these men were, without a doubt, agents of his anonymous adversary.
Deciding he had no choice but to see where this took him, he leaned back in silence for the next few minutes. His thoughts involuntarily turned to Meghan and the girls. Meghan was tough; she always had been—and so were the girls—but no amount of bravado can prepare a person for something as terrible as this. He could only hope that they weren’t being mistreated and that this mystery man would keep his end of the deal and release them unharmed, if and when Charlie succeeded. Charlie cared very little for his own wellbeing. He would sacrifice himself for his family without hesitation—and he was fully prepared to do so now, if it meant that they would be safe. Knowing this, he could no longer hold in his suspicions.
“We’re not going to any security hub, are we?” Charlie asked.
Hesitating, the two men glanced at each other in the mirror to see if the other had any idea of how to reply to this astute detective.
“Come on, guys,” he continued, having noticed the silent exchange. “Do you think you fooled me? You don’t work for Disney. Name tags like those can be bought on eBay for under ten bucks. I’m not an idiot. I do this for living. What the hell is really going on?”
“Uh...we...” stammered Masters, at a loss for how to handle this situation. He had clearly not expected the tables to be turned. The two men visibly struggled to find a way to bail themselves out.
“Listen,” Charlie firmly commanded. “I know you’re working for the man who has my family. Let me tell you this: I’m not going to get you in trouble with your boss—you can still do whatever the hell it was he sent you to do—but you’re all complete idiots if you think you can fool me with such a ridiculously thin cover. Now tell me: why am I in this car?”
“Fine,” said Kinney. “I’ll level with you, Walker, since you’re so goddamned smart. I currently have in my possession a syringe that’s meant for you. We’re not here to hurt you: we’re just supposed to drug you and leave you in your hotel room until the boss is ready for you. Honestly.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Charlie asked, with more bravery than he truly felt. “Get this over with and we can call it a night early. I’m not going to fight you. I just want my family back as soon as possible.”
Brody and Brent, the alliterative duo, exchanged glances again and shrugged. Finally, Masters casually executed a U-turn and began following the road signs pointing toward the Caribbean Beach Resort. Kinney held up the syringe and the glare from the headlights of the oncoming traffic glinted off the dark amber liquid within the barrel.
“We were supposed to do this at a temporary office the boss set up off-property, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter now, does it?” Brody asked, more to himself than to anyone else.
Charlie sighed and waited for the needle to pierce his skin. When it finally did, he barely felt the prick. Within seconds, his vision became a haze before failing him completely. As he lost consciousness, he heard his two captors laughing—congratulating each other on a job well done.