The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [157]
“Whoa,” Gillian says as she spots it for herself.
We couldn’t see it from the front gate—the angle was all wrong. But as we clear the highest part of the incline, it’s obvious that what looks like a single wall is actually two walls that overlap, but never meet up. Charlie steps forward, makes a sharp right, and disappears. It’s not a dead-end—just another optical illusion.
Following behind Charlie, I zigzag through the gap and run down a long, paved driveway. It’s like being on a back lot—the park fades behind us and all its colors and music are replaced by concrete grays and a creaky silence. Next to us, a compact, green building reeks something fierce, making it blatantly obvious where Disney tucks its garbage. At first, Charlie runs toward it—if we plan on walking away from this, he knows we have to get out of sight—but the stench keeps him on the driveway, racing down toward the back of the lot.
Up ahead, it doesn’t get much better. The closest buildings are a few scattered construction trailers, and an old warehouse with a faded blue sign that says “Magic Kingdom Decorating.”
“The trailers…” Gillian says.
Charlie goes right for the warehouse. A few steps ahead of me, he spins around to check if Gallo’s made it through the gate. That’s when I see the pain on his face. He’s as gray as the concrete, completely drained. Gillian and I start catching up. Even with his medication, he can’t keep up this pace.
Just a few more feet, bro—almost there.
Outside the warehouse, fifteen parade floats are parked in three neat rows under a rusted, metal awning. The smell of fresh paint surrounds us, and next to the glittering, shiny floats, dozens of empty paint cans tell us where everyone is. It’s drying time. No one’s around.
Rushing past the floats, we duck into the gaping mouth of the warehouse’s enormous garage door. Inside it’s like a giant airplane hangar—skyscraper ceiling, arched roof, and plenty of dark, dusty space—but instead of planes, it’s packed with more floats. Five rows of them fill the entire righthand side of the hangar, but unlike the painted ones out front, these are all covered with tightly strung Christmas lights. Disney’s Electric Light Parade. At night, it’s all lit up. In the shadows of the warehouse—alone in the dark—it’s dead and lifeless. I already don’t like this place.
On the left, cluttered along the floor, it’s a mess of leftover storage: giant rocking horses, an oversized treasure chest from Aladdin, two rolling popcorn carts, chandeliers, and even a few disco balls that’re stacked up in the corner.
Wasting no time, all three of us scout for hiding spots and—
There’s a muffled running in the distance.
Charlie and I lock eyes. He scrambles to the left; Gillian tugs me to the right. I go to fight, but Gallo’s too close. Time to get out of sight. Stumbling behind Gillian, I hide behind a huge float that’s shaped like Cinderella’s coach; Charlie ducks into a storage closet against the wall. He shuts the door behind himself. And right there, my brother’s gone.
Don’t ever pull me like that again! I glare at Gillian.
She doesn’t care. She’s still focused on Gallo. “Did he see us?” she whispers, crouched down behind the float.
Quiet! I motion with a finger in front of my lips. Outside, the rumbling gets louder. Bent down and peeking diagonally between the wheels of the coach, I see Gallo’s and DeSanctis’s tall shadows stretch out across the floor of the entrance. Gallo’s arm slithers into his jacket and he pulls his gun.
As DeSanctis follows him inside, neither of them makes a noise. They may be killers, but they’re still Secret Service. Gallo motions toward his partner and they slowly pick apart the room. They’re slow, methodical. They go for the hiding spots first: the treasure chest from Aladdin. A giant teapot that looks like it’s on wheels. Gallo flips open the chest. DeSanctis flings open the door on the side of the teapot. Both are empty. Like alley cats stalking dinner, they move deeper into the warehouse, circling around and slowly