Terminal Justice (41 page)

“At last we have a few moments to ourselves,” Mahli said coolly as he looked around. Several Secret Service agents were nearby as were Mahli’s personal guards. One agent spoke into the small mike he held in his palm. Two other agents were at the door to the men’s room, politely turning away patrons.

“Our time is short, so I’ll get to the point. I want you to approve my plan.”

“My approval is not necessary,” A.J. replied coldly.

“No, it’s not. I can and will go on with or without your endorsement. It’s a good plan, and everyone gets what they want. Your president gets a good image, I get solidified power, and you get to continue feeding hungry people. What could be better?”

“You floating facedown in a sewer comes to mind.” A.J. was stone-faced, but Mahli was taken aback.

“What would Secretary DeWitt say if he heard you speak that way?” Mahli let his grin return.

“I could care less. You are nothing more than a murderer.”

Mahli actually laughed out loud. “I’m a murderer? So are you, Mr. Barringston, so are you. I know you killed my brother. Not directly. Not with your own hands, but I know you’re behind it. It took me a while to put the pieces together, but I did. My brother, Mukatu, was a violent man, a sadist, actually, but he was my brother.”

“And Dr. Judith Rhodes was one of my people. You killed her, you little scum.”

“She attacked me,” Mahli protested. “I have a right to defend myself.”

“If she attacked you, she did so with good cause. I only regret she didn’t do a better job of it.”

Mahli’s grin dissolved into a grimace. “Since we’re being so blunt, let me tell you how it’s going to work from now on. All food supplies to Somalia and Ethiopia will go through me. I see to the distribution. There is no room for discussion here, no debate. You will permit it because if you don’t, I’ll see to it that more than one woman doctor dies. You’ll be picking up the bleached bones of your workers for years. Even now, I have men watching several of your camps, and at one word from me they decimate the people in the camps. The world will think it’s the work of a rival warlord, but you and I will know that it was your fault.”

“My fault?” A.J. took a threatening step forward and saw a brief glimmer of fear in the warlord’s eyes.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen,” DeWitt said, striding quickly to join them. “I’ve been out of the country so much that home cooking doesn’t sit well anymore.” He chortled at his own joke. “Shall we?” he asked, motioning toward the guide standing discreetly by the front wrought-iron gate. “I think you’ll enjoy this ride. I went on it once a decade or more ago. It was great then, and I’m sure it will be enjoyable now.”

Mahli was grinning once again. He looked at A.J. and shrugged. “I think you see my point,” he said. A.J.’s reply was communicated through his eyes, and his message was not wasted on Mahli.

The music, redundant and loud, mingled with the machine sounds of chains meeting gears, hydraulic pistons rising and falling, and the clicking of electronic switches. The noise was annoying, and the music, which he had heard cycled over and over again for the last eight hours, grated on his final raw nerve. His back and neck ached from a night spent sleeping on the cold concrete foundation that ran underneath the Small World ride. He might have been a little more comfortable if he hadn’t been wearing a Kevlar bulletproof vest. The vest pinched and shifted, making lying down painful. Only the anticipation of the events about to happen made the noise and the cold tolerable.

Roger rolled over on his back, adjusted the mouthpiece of the headset he was wearing, and said simply, “Your turn.”

“Got it,” Sheila said.

It was part of the planned procedure: Roger would watch the lines of people through a small surveillance camera aimed through a half-inch hole that he had drilled through the wall. The camera was a type used by private investigators and law enforcement agencies that could provide closeup images to a small handheld monitor. Sheila had an identical setup at her position twenty feet away. The Small World ride consisted of boats carrying sixteen people along a fiberglass channel. That channel separated Roger and Sheila.

Roger smiled as he thought of Sheila, her short blond hair now died coal black, her makeup heavy to darken her complexion. His smile widened when he thought of himself with the same makeover. He thought of his own light hair dyed dark and the makeup he wore. He almost laughed out loud, but he hadn’t come here to entertain himself—he had come to kill a man.

The plan was simple and had been executed perfectly thus far. A week ago, Sheila and Roger visited Disneyland like any tourist couple. They dressed casually, spent time in the shops, rode the rides, and videotaped everything—especially the uniforms and costumes. It was a simple matter to have the maintenance uniforms replicated. Returning to Disneyland yesterday, they spent the day as any visitor would, but shortly before the park closed they quickly changed into the uniforms. The equipment they brought—the two surveillance cameras, and two 9mm Uzi automatic weapons—fit nicely into a small backpack carried by Sheila. When the park closed, they had worked their way against the human tide of visitors leaving the park and walked to the Small World ride. They avoided the ornate front of the building and made their way to one of the side entrances. Although it was dark outside, it only took a moment for Roger to pick the lock. Once inside they separated, with Roger carefully crossing over the water-filled channel, being cautious not to disturb the robotic dolls that made up the visual aspect of the ride. He took his position underneath the staging upon which the little automatons continuously danced. Roger and Sheila set up a surveillance camera and waited for the sun to rise and the park to open.

There were more comfortable places in the Small World to hide, but the ride, like all the rides in Disneyland, had strategically placed cameras that were constantly monitored by the park’s staff. Any movement outside the ride area would alert park security. That’s why the next part of the plan had to be done perfectly.

“Tell me again, why do we have to keep surveillance if we’re going to be signaled when they arrive?” Sheila said softly into her microphone.

“Redundancy. Things can go wrong,” Roger whispered. “Besides, the electronics in here might interfere with reception.” Unconsciously, he fingered the pager attached to his belt. The pager was set to vibrate instead of beep.

“How much longer do you think we’ll have to wait?”

“Can’t tell. Who knows what they’re doing out there.” Roger knew that Sheila’s questions were not the results of nerves. He had worked with her many times and had found her exceptionally capable whether she was making coffee for A.J. or pushing someone out of a helicopter. “Are you okay?”

“It’s the music,” Sheila replied bitterly. “I’ll be hearing this song long after I’m dead.”

Hopefully
, Roger thought,
that won’t be today
.

Gasping for breath, David struggled to keep up with Timmy as they walked quickly toward the Small World ride. “Hurry, David, or we’ll miss A.J.”

“Timmy, we’re not supposed to ride with them, remember?” David said breathlessly. “A.J. has important business.”

“But he promised he would go on one ride with me, and this is our last ride. There they are!” Timmy broke into a jog, with David close behind him. “A.J.! A.J.!” The group turned to see Timmy waving both arms over his head as he ran. Puzzled, DeWitt looked at A.J., and the three closest Secret Service agents stepped toward Timmy. A.J. waved them off.

“What’s the matter, Timmy?” A.J. asked with concern.

“You said … you said …” Timmy struggled to catch his breath. “You said I could go on one ride with you.”

“But, Timmy, we were just about to go on this one.”

Timmy grinned. “That’s okay, this one looks neat.” Timmy glanced at the gold-and-white facade with its giant clock with the crooked hands. Just then, the clock began to chime and doors in the facade opened. Toy soldiers dressed in red marched around as the Small World tune began to play. “See, it’ll be fun.”

“But Timmy …”

“You said you would. I wanna ride a ride with you.” Timmy leaped forward and hugged A.J. “Please, please, let me ride with you.”

Breaking free from Timmy’s grasp, A.J. said firmly, “I know what I said, but it would be better if …”

“Nonsense,” DeWitt interrupted. “Let the boy come along. We’ve got room on the boat.”

Unconsciously, A.J. fingered the small transmitter in his pocket. The transmitter looked like those used to activate or deactivate car alarms and was attached to his key chain. The device felt familiar in his hand. He had just pressed its button a moment before. “Timmy, I …”

“I’m sorry, A.J.,” David said. “I’ll try to explain it to him.”

“But, A.J., you promised,” Timmy protested. “You told me to never break a promise.”

“Come on, son,” DeWitt said jovially. “You can sit with me.”

“No,” A.J. exclaimed. “Sit with David. Sit in the back. David, please.”

“Sure,” David replied. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” A.J. smiled weakly, clearly concerned about this unexpected change in plans. “Just sit in the back.”

“Timmy’s with them,” Sheila whispered seriously.

“Yeah, Kristen and David too,” Roger said. “That’s not part of the plan. I told you, things go wrong,”

“So do we proceed?”

“We got the signal from A.J., so we go. If Mahli gets back to Somalia, we’ll never catch him. And if we don’t stop him now, all our work over there will be lost.” Roger looked at his monitor. “They’re sending the empty boats now. Let’s pack up and move. Don’t shoot the kid.”

The Secret Service agents watched as boatload after boatload of people came out of the ride and exited their little crafts. Soon only empty boats were exiting the expansive structure. “The building is empty now; we can go.”

Dutifully they boarded the tiny blue boats that rocked only mildly to the side. Two Secret Service agents rode in the first of the four rows available. Mahli, bracketed by his two guards, sat in the second row. Behind them sat DeWitt with one agent and A.J. The back row was occupied by David, Kristen, and Timmy. The boat was moved from its loading area by a broad belt under the water. A second later the boat was floating in the canal, propelled only by the constantly moving current. The craft full of dignitaries cruised slowly along the little aqueduct, passing topiaries of an elephant doing a handstand and a grinning hippopotamus. Growing up in San Diego, which was less than two hours away, David had been to Disneyland many times as a child, an adolescent, and an adult. He knew what awaited them before the boat sailed into the cavernous structure that housed the Small World feature.