I wrote the following in October of 2004 during an Orlando trip and never posted it for various reasons. I am posting it now:
Day 1
Some people think they know the reason I remained (and still remain, to a degree) anonymous for some time. The real reason is far more insidious.
Ladies and Gentleman, I am an Agent of the Free World.
I am a member of a global organization that fights groups that would try to use terrorism and chaos to disrupt the social order and promote fear. I used to work for them full-time. Now, I work as a free agent on a case-by-case basis. Usually, I’m called when situations of embarrassment or public risk are in question and the people involved don’t want to get mixed up with the authorities. This way, they can use plausible deniability.
Why bring this up now? Because I’ve been called to duty. It has been determined that some political group has planted a small nuclear bomb somewhere around Disneyworld and it will go off in five days.
I am off to Orlando. I will try to report in as events develop.
Day 2
I met with my contact and received my highly-classified, top-secret briefing that I am restricted from telling anybody. Here it is:
A person or persons inside the Disney complex managed to smuggle in a prototype nuclear device about the size of small desk and capable of vaporizing a 40-square mile area (which is about the acreage that Disney owns in Orlando). The person’s motivations and goals are unknown. It is only known that he/she has hired outside help to accomplish his/her nefarious scheme.
Most of my first day here has been getting my usual equipment ready and questioning some old contacts. Through that, I got the names of some of the help that the insider has hired.
The names? Glitter and Gigli. Femme-fatale assassins for hire.
Uh-oh.
Day 3
I managed to sneak an invitation to a black-tie affair in the Disney complex while searching for the nuclear device. As I anticipated, Glitter and Gigli were there, both wearing their usual Japanese-style dress. I tried to remain hidden; for fear that they’d recognize me.
I’ve run into them before, on a previous mission. They nearly finished me. They don’t prefer any particular gender in their work, but they’ve been trained to torture and kill men. I suspect my involvement in the case may have leaked, and they’re here to kill me.
Within their trademark Japanese attire, they hide their weapons. Glitter prefers the throwing dagger, which is good for burying in the male chest and just the right length to puncture the heart. Gigli uses a machete, which is good for attacking organs located lower on the male torso.
Somewhere on them may be the name of the insider who seeks to destroy Disneyworld. Or even possibly the location of the bomb. I had to get closer to them.
Fortunately, that was easy.
“Shall I kill you here,” whispered Gigli, in my ear as she held her machete to my back, “or shall we go into a side room where it can be done more quietly?”
I simply nodded, and Gigli reached around and removed the firearm from the holster at my side. She nodded to Glitter, who joined the two of us in a side room.
“How shall we kill you?” Glitter smiled, “Slowly, or more slowly?”
“How do you want to die?” asked Gigli.
“Old age!” I yelled and leapt forward at Glitter. Gigli took a swipe at my back with her machete and barely cut the cloth on the back of my jacket. Glitter tried to reach to her side for a throwing dagger, but I was already too close and grabbed her shoulders, placing her between myself and the machete. I quickly grabbed the other gun from my ankle holster and aimed it at Glitter’s head.
“Who hired you?” I asked.
“None of your business,” said Glitter as she elbowed me in the midsection and did a forward roll. I was careful not to shoot. I never shoot prematurely.
Gigli got out the gun she took from me (both women prefer blades, but don’t use them exclusively) and aimed it at my head. Glitter followed suit with a throwing dagger aimed at my chest.
“Ladies,” I said with a smile, brandishing my gun between the two of them, “we appear to be at an impasse. What do you propose we do about it?”
Some hours later, they nearly killed me for the second time. But, like the last time, I managed to get through it with everything intact.
As they lay sleeping on the king-sized bed in the hotel room with a tiny smile pursing both of their lips, I snuck out from between them and quietly got dressed. Checking both of their discarded dresses on the floor, I found a piece of paper with two words written on it that spoke volumes. I took the paper, and took $20 from each of their purses for cab fare before I snuck out the window.
The two words were THE LISTENER.
Day 4
It took a day to find the Listener. I had never met her, but her reputation is well-known throughout the intelligence community. She usually hides herself in places that are quiet and unpopular. It wasn’t easy finding such a place in Orlando.
The Listener is an independent agent who acts as intelligence, intermediary, and barter for anybody willing to pay her price. Whoever hired Glitter and Gigli probably did it through her. Glitter and Gigli would only torture and kill you, but the Listener’s tactics were far more sinister. Another interesting piece of trivia regarding the Listener: she is blind.
In a motel called The Square, I walked into Room 2, and found my target. She was not alone. On either side of her sat a man and a woman, each brawny in their own right and either could probably beat me at arm wrestling. Or just beat me in general.
The Listener smiled. She wore her usual mirrored sunglasses to hide her blindness. “Nice to see you,” she said.
“I’ll bet.” I didn’t laugh at the feeble joke. “Who are your friends?”
“My bodyguards. They operate in unison and only require a single name. Together they are called Valjean.”
“Like the Victor Hugo novel.”
“What? I’m sorry I didn’t hear you. I’m a little deaf.”
I paused. “How can you be deaf if you’re known as the Listener?”
“Because you hear with your ears, but you listen with your brain. What is your name, sir?”
I gave a false name. “Victor Hugo.”
“Mr. Hugo, I see that the girl assassins did their job admirably.”
“What? They failed. I’m still alive.”
“I wanted them to lead you to me. They did that quite well. They’ve already been compensated.”
“I’ll say.”
“That was a bonus.”
“Pretty big bonus.”
“Enough! What do you want?”
“Where is the bomb? And who’s behind all this?”
“I don’t know that. But I do know when and where it will be detonated. I’ll give you that information for a price.”
“Fine. What do you want in exchange?”
She told me. My mouth hung in shock.
Day 5
As mentioned before, the Listener deals with barter. She usually has hundreds of deals going at once and uses one to get an item for another. My guess is that my deal was one of her less important; otherwise she wouldn’t have been so ready to give up the information regarding the bomb. Also, nukes are probably bad for business for her, so she might have given me the information anyway. I’ll probably never know the whole answer.
I wheeled in the item she requested yesterday. It wasn’t easy to get, but my employers pulled some strings. It looked somewhat like a coffin, but had a great deal of electronic equipment on it as well as some Freon coils.
“Here you go,” I said, “Disney on ice.”
“Ah, Uncle Walt,” said the Listener, stroking the side of the casket, “You’ll fetch a pretty penny.” She took a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to me. Valjean remained at her sides.
“The time and location of the detonation,” she said. I took the paper and left. Outside the Square, I opened it up and read it. Once again, I was shocked.
The time was tomorrow at noon. The location was Cinderella’s Castle in the center of Disneyworld.
Day 6
As mentioned before, one of the reasons I get involved with cases such as this is because someone doesn’t want the authorities involved. In this case, I can understand why. If the people who ran Disneyworld let it become public that a bomb was loose in the park, there would be a riot. That was why I entered through a park teeming with tourists on my way to diffuse a nuclear device that would easily vaporize the lot of them in a heartbeat.
I didn’t get there until 11:40 because I had overslept (hey, I had a busy week!). It was time, once again, for a shock.
In the middle of Cinderella’s Castle, surrounded by happy families, Mickey, Donald, Goofy, Pluto, and Minnie, were assembling a nuclear weapon.
This wasn’t actors in costume, either. These were the genuine articles. Suddenly, their motives became clear. With all the recent arguments on the Disney Board of Directors, the resignation of Roy Disney, and termination of Michael Eisner, they probably felt directionless. I planned to ask them why after I kicked their cartoon asses.
“Okay folks,” I said, stepping between the crowd and the bomb. “Show’s over.”
“Hey, what are you doing?” asked Mickey in his usual deep baritone. The high-pitched voice was just for the cameras.
“Why, Mickey? Why are you destroying Disneyworld?”
“You couldn’t possibly understand…the pressure…Walt is gone.” I didn’t bother mentioning the casket I delivered to the Listener. “It’s just all gone rotten. It’s better this way. We have to protect our precious bodily fluids!”
I overlooked the obvious motive: they’re nuts. I nodded, and then I socked Mickey in the snout.
Through his indented snout, Mickey shouted. “YOU HID ME IN THE DOSE, YOU MUTHERFUGGER. GEDDIM!” The crowd got really excited. Now this was a show!
Mickey, Donald, Goofy, and Pluto surrounded me. Minnie stayed behind, working on the bomb. A quick crane-kick to Donald’s beak sent him down. Mickey tried to attack me from the front simultaneously while Pluto attacked from behind. I ducked and they both collided into each other.
I turned and faced Goofy. Contrary to public opinion, Goofy is probably the smartest one in the group. He’s also inherently evil. He’s the closest thing Disney has to Hannibal Lecter. And, like the good doctor, it’s rumored he also enjoys the taste of human flesh.
A three-fingered fist sailed by my face. I ducked it in time and gave a rabbit punch to his stomach. A “duh-hoh” was heard as I landed an uppercut to his chin. He may be smart, but he’s crap when it comes to fighting.
That left Minnie. She closed the lid of the bomb and I saw the numbers starting to tick down from 60 seconds. She turned to me and blinked sweetly. She shouldn’t have bothered. I already saw the knife behind her back. As she stepped forward, she lunged. I grabbed her wrist and wrapped her arm behind her back.
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” she yelped. “You’re hurting me.”
“It was you, wasn’t it? You talked Mickey and the others into this insane scheme.”
“Yes, it was me! It was always Mickey or Walt, but I deserved the fame! I’m so cute! If I can’t be the star, then none of them can!”
“Typical!” I yelled, and hit her across the jaw. All five characters were unconscious. I turned to the bomb. Ten seconds remained on the timer. I quickly looked around, saw what I was searching for, and unplugged the electrical outlet. All the electricity for the nuke stopped and the timer went dark.
“Dad,” said one of the surrounding children, “that was the best Disney show EVER.”
There was applause as I left the crowd and the park.
That night, I reported in for debriefing, caught a show of “Team America: World Police”, and slept. The next morning, I went home.
And that’s what I did on my Orlando vacation.
