John Ringo: A Deeper Blue

“I’m sorry, Mr. Fisher,” the woman said angrily. “But this is all so stupid! Nobody is going to put anything in a can of OFF.”

“Let the security guard do the checking on this one,” Mike said. “I think that Mrs. Meier could do with a little demonstration.”

“Okay,” Fisher said. “Mrs. Meier, if you could accompany us?”

The threesome walked over to the door and went through. On the other side was a section sealed off with plastic sheeting. Inside the plastic sheeting, two of the Keldara were fitted with poison gas gear.

The Middle Easterner was standing by nervously as the security guard, gingerly, removed the spray can. The two large Keldara still flanked the potential terrorist. The security guard put the can on a tray and slid it into the sealed area through an air lock.

“Sir, if you would step in there,” Mike said, politely. “And demonstrate that that is normal OFF in the can, I’d be very grateful.”

“I will not!” the man shouted. “You are picking on me because I am Arab! You will stop this now! I will protest to CAIR!”

“Fine,” Mike said with a sigh. He drew the Desert Eagle and pointed it at the man’s head. “Once upon a time the .44 Magnum was the largest and most powerful handgun in the world. It was subsequently replaced by this one, the Desert Eagle .50 caliber, which can kill an elephant at short range. Admittedly, subsequent to that other more powerful handguns such as the Casull .454 have been developed but that is not entirely germane to our discussion since I am not currently pointing one of those at your head. I will, however, add that I’m having a very bad day. I’ve gotten shot at, gassed and done a rather nasty swim. My harem manager has been kidnapped and is being tortured at the moment. I’m tired and cranky and I haven’t gotten laid recently. So. You can demonstrate that there is not VX in that can or you can be shot by a gun normally used to kill elephants. Your choice. I’m good either way.”

“You wouldn’t shoot me,” the man said, shaking his head. “Not in cold blood. Not with everyone watching.”

“Bets?” Mike asked, cocking the pistol. “This is a hollow point round. When it hits your head this entire room will be covered in blood and brains, but I’ve got spare clothes and I’ve been covered in blood and brains before.”

“I will not spray that on myself,” the man said, shaking his head. He was clearly terrified, but it could have just been the massive gun sitting on his occipital bone. “No.”

“Georgi,” Mike said, raising his voice. “Try it on one of the gerbils.”

The Keldara reached into a cage and removed a gerbil, then placed it in a different cage. First he sealed the cage, then inserted the can and his hand through a rubber seal. He shook the can and sprayed a very small quantity into the cage. The gerbil began spasming immediately.

The Middle Easterner tried to run but the two Keldara wrestled him easily to the floor and slid cuffs on his hands and feet and a hood over his head.

“Now, Mrs. Meier,” Mike said, decocking the weapon and putting it away. “You just let VX gas into the Magic Kingdom and that really pisses me off. How many other cans did you fail to check?”

“I… I don’t know,” the woman said, her eyes wide and fixed on the dead gerbil that could be seen through the clear plastic. “A… a few.”

“Any carried by men of Middle Eastern extraction?” Mike asked.

“I try not to look ,” the woman said, angrily. “That’s profiling . I refuse to treat people differently just because of the color of their skin. If you were from my people you would understand that.”

“This asshole wants to wipe every Jew off the face of the earth,” Mike said, kicking the terrorist in the side. “Jews are, after all, descendants of apes and pigs. So I don’t find you noble or honest or good or anything. I find you to be a fucking idiot. The sort of fucking idiot that thought that Hitler couldn’t possibly be ‘ serious. ’ But, congratulations, you’ve probably killed quite a few people today, no matter what I fucking do. Because we can’t weed them all out, now. Congratu-fucking-lations. I hope you enjoy your moral superiority.”

He stalked out of the room and looked up at the sky, shaking his head.

“Teams,” he said, turning the communicator back on. “We have a live one. There may have been leakers. And some of them might have noticed this. So be on your toes. Who has the crowd?”

“Braon,” Braon said. “I’m scanning but there’s a bunch of people. Manos has over twenty potentials.”

“Where’s Lasko?” Mike asked.

“Cinderella’s Castle,” Oleg replied. “Main Street position.”

“Get him up here,” Mike said, looking over at Fisher. “I need a sniper transferred from Cinderella to here, fast.”

“I’m on it,” Fisher said. “What about the crowd out front?”

“That’s why I need the sniper.”

Will had Allison up on his shoulders since the six-year-old had nearly been trampled by the crowds. They were finally down to the mouse-maze but it was apparent that, for whatever reason, the checkers were really taking their time. The lines were moving slower than for any ride he’d ever been on.

“It’ll be okay,” Dafney said, rubbing his arm. “We’re almost to the front.”

“Yeah,” Will said, shifting the six-year-old around. “I’m good.”

He’d have been better if the guy behind him hadn’t smelled like a goat. The guy, Middle Eastern or Hispanic, Will wasn’t sure, clearly had never heard of a shower.

“Target Nine,” Lasko said. “Middle Eastern male. Backpack. He’s watching the security and he’s really unhappy.”

“If he dips in the backpack and comes up with anything , take him down,” the Kildar replied.

Lasko flexed his jaw and touched his communicator.

“Target is blocked. Girl on her father’s shoulder. Line Fourteen.”

Mike looked past the booths, where the checkers were taking much more care, and spotted the target. Sure enough, some guy had his kid up on his shoulder. Cute little kid, too. Five or six with dark brown hair and clearly looking forward to a day at the Magic Kingdom.

“Take two shots.”

“Honey, you’re getting to be too big of a girl! I got to set you down,” Will said, bending forward and sliding Allison to the ground. As he did the guy behind him turned and bumped into him, spilling both of them to the ground.

“God damnit!” Will cursed, turning and starting to stand up just as the man, who had a can of bug spray in his hand, stumbled backwards. There was a red hole in his chest and blood exploded upwards from his mouth. The can hit the ground and rolled into the crowd.

Dafney had turned to look when he stumbled and she was the first to scream…

“Everyone down!” Fisher screamed over the announcement system. “EVERYONE HIT THE GROUND, NOW ! THERE ARE TERRORISTS IN THE CROWD! DOWN, DOWN, DOWN…”

“Target,” Braon said as Target Seven pulled his bag around to the front. Some people were running but most were following orders and dropping to the ground. Gunfire helped with that. The suspect pulled out a can and flew backwards as blood and brains covered the crowd around him.

“Left,” Manos said. “Target Fifteen. On the ground, fumbling in his backpack.”

“Target,” Braon said as the man slumped.

“Right…”

“You know,” Mike said, as paramedics with stretchers moved into the still-crouched crowd, “this is actually a great way to filter for terrorists. When you tell civilians to get down, especially when bullets are flying, they generally do. The terrorists keep trying to do their mission and turn themselves into targets. The Israelis use it sometimes. I’m just glad none of them were wearing explosive vests.”