The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [148]
“Suddenly you’re worried about our safety?” Charlie asks her.
Gillian doesn’t answer. She’s locked on me. “Oliver, this isn’t something we should just rush into,” she adds as I step forward.
I’m not listening. I just drove three hours on the promise I’d get my life back. It’s all on the tapes. I’m not leaving here without them. I grab the door and check behind us. The crowd’s on Pooh. It’s now or never…
I pull open the door and turn to Charlie and Gillian. Both of them hesitate, but they also know there’s not much of an alternative. As soon as Gillian moves, Charlie follows. I’m not sure if he’s suspicious or just scared. Either way, all three of us slide inside.
Barely lit by a fluorescent light, the concrete landing is dark and empty. No one’s here—no guards and no sign of Snow White. I check the ceiling and walls. No videocameras either. It makes sense when you think about it—it’s Disney World, not Fort Knox.
“Check this out,” Charlie whispers, staring over the metal railing on our left.
I squeeze between him and Gillian to see it for myself: paved stairs that wind down four levels. The entrance to the underground.
“If I were six years old, you know what kinda bad dreams this would cause?” Charlie asks.
Without a word, I head down the stairs. It can’t be much further.
“Just take it slow,” Gillian warns as we spiral down into the depths.
At the bottom, we hit another door, but unlike the one up top, this one doesn’t match the medieval feel of Tinker Bell’s Treasures. It’s just a standard, industrial utility door. I open it and peek my head into a short corridor. On my right, perpendicular to us, dozens of people crisscross back and forth in an even bigger hallway. Bright costumes rush by in a flash. Echoed voices ricochet off the concrete. There’s the action. Time to jump in.
Slipping out of the stairwell, I march down our corridor and make a sharp left into the main hallway, where I nearly collide with a skinny girl in a Pinocchio costume, minus the Pinocchio head.
“Watch it,” she warns as I step on her oversized foam Pinocchio shoes.
“S-Sorry…” Catching my balance and cutting around her, I notice Snow White on her right—a different one, with brown hair pinned back, a black wig in her hand, and chewing gum in her mouth.
“Kristen, you doing the parade tonight?” Snow White asks, poorly masking a Chicago accent.
“No, I’m done,” Pinocchio answers.
I turn around as they pass, but quickly catch the eye of Charlie and Gillian, both of whom are staring me down.
Take it easy… please, Charlie glares, clearly unnerved.
I nod and continue up the hallway. They’re a few steps behind me, but they know what it takes to stay invisible. Keep it fast and keep it moving. It’s the same as when I used to sneak Charlie into R-rated movies. The moment you look like you don’t belong, that’s the moment you don’t belong.
Back on track in what looks like a pedestrian subway tunnel, I glance up the concrete hallway, which is about the width of two cars. All around us, we’re swallowed by the colorful back-and-forth rush of Disney employees who’re dressed in everything from the cowboy boots and hats of Frontierland, to the silvery, futuristic shirts of Tomorrowland, to the simple unmarked collared shirts of the janitorial staff. I pull off my tie, stuff it in my pocket, and undo the top button of my shirt. Just another Disney employee on his way to a costume change.
“Narc… ten o’clock,” Charlie warns.
Following the dial, I look up to my left and spot two cops patrolling the tunnel. Damn. Instinctively reaching toward the back of my pants, I tap my waistband and check to make sure Gallo’s gun is still there. Just in case.
“They’re not armed,” Charlie adds, knowing what I’m thinking.
As the Disney police get close, I realize he’s right. They have silver badges and blue shirts, but that’s where it ends. I glance at their holsters. Neither of them has a gun. Still, that doesn’t mean we can afford a confrontation. As one of them looks my way, I lower my gaze to the ground.