“Slow down, Jimmy, now, or we’re going home.”
“I’m not Jimmy. I’m Count von Batula.” he replied in a phony Transylvanian accent. It wasn’t too bad an imitation of the one used by the vampire bat cartoon hero in Max’s lexicon of animal superheroes. The misunderstood member of royalty in the animal kingdom hissed at the bad guys before hurling tranquilizing gas by spitting at his opponents. Gross on some level, but a big hit among eight to twelve-year-old kids. Max’s pastoral fantasy was an odd mix of humor bordering on bad manners, an almost medieval class structure, and simple moralizing about good and evil. In my career at Marvelous Marley World, I’d focused on the fun. That was hard to do on a night like this. Still, I smiled as I heard Mom’s reply.
“I’m Count von Batula’s mother, too.”
There was more, of course, but it was lost to us. Jimmy and his mother were swallowed up by the crowd as we sped away. With the whirlwind swirling around us, we did our best to move through the packed streets of Arcadia Park. All that joyous chaos had a soundtrack. Marvelous Marley World tunes played loudly enough that we caught snatches of music as we passed speakers in the Park-Kart lane. I didn’t have to hear much of it for the rhythm and the rhyme to latch onto my brain.
You’re out tonight to have some fun, be on your guard to harm no one.
Catmmando Tom depends on you, to fight for good and all things true.
Defenders of the peace. Protectors of the weak.
A force unleashed to right the wrong. We raise our voices loud and strong.
Fighters against crime. We strike in the nick of time.
It continued in my head even though the strains of that song passed us by as we drove on. Before I knew it, I was thumping my knee in time with the familiar beat—ta-da-ta-da, ta-da-ta-da. It reminded me a lot of a childhood favorite—Teddy Bears’ Picnic—but more strident as sung by Catmmando Tom to rally his troops. A Wagnerian take on a kid’s tune. Jack caught me, and a grin spread across his face, ear-to-ear.
“Catmmando Tom’s anthem is catchy, isn’t it?” He whispered those words into my ear, so I could hear them above the noise. I guess that meant he was no longer mad at me for potentially putting myself in harm’s way. “Now I know why you think you have to be in the thick of things when there’s trouble: you’ve been brainwashed.”
If his smile wasn’t so ridiculously disarming, I might have had a smart-aleck reply. Instead, I chuckled.
“Or a little ‘too much catnip,’ as we say around here. Let’s hope we arrive in the nick of time.”
Jack reached out and gave my hand a squeeze. My heart flip-flopped in reaction to his touch. A lump formed in my throat to go with it, hoping we weren’t both on a fool’s mission. I hadn’t passed along Max’s warning that he was holding Jack and Ralph accountable if something happened to me. It already troubled me that my presence might impair Jack's concentration. I stopped worrying about it and did the job I’d come along to do.
“Mark, take the next right and stop,” I instructed our driver. “Ralph and I both have keycards that will give us access to the maintenance route that cuts through Fairyland Woods. When we come out the other side, we’ll be just around the corner from Catmmando Mountain—where Fairyland meets the archway to Fortress Friendship.”
Our driver did as I asked. In another minute, we came upon a gate almost hidden by the darkness. I’d learned about its usefulness as a shortcut when I had more hands-on supervisory responsibility for food production in the theme park.
“Stop.” I said before Mark could drive past it. He came to an abrupt halt, and I slid out of the vehicle and stuck my keycard into a slot on a gate post. A tiny green light came on—like the one you see when the door to your hotel room unlocks. The gate automatically opened as I climbed back into the Catvenger Purr-suit Craft. Several minutes later we were at our destination. Mark pulled up and stopped.
"Sit tight," I whispered as a pair of Tom-Troopers approached. They were several feet away when I gave the all-clear. You could spot a non-regulation outfit a mile away. I could, anyway. Just as we were about to walk over to the maintenance entrance, Ralph spoke up.
“We’ve got action. A keycard swiped trying to gain access to the entry door near the Conquest Control Room. Our corporate computer says it’s Mallory Marley-Marston.”
I gasped.
Even Jack released a puff of air as we all went on high alert.
8 A Doppelgänger, Too?
“Didn’t you cut off her key card’s access after she died?” I asked.
My brain was struggling to make sense of what was going on. I didn’t believe for a minute that it was Mallory—dead or alive.
“Yes,” Ralph said. “That request for access was denied. An illegal attempt to enter a restricted area always gets flagged. The computer spits out information about who made the request for access, too, if it’s a person known to the system.”
"Okay, so not just anyone can get into Catmmando Mountain using that entrance."
"You're correct. The Control Room that operates Catmmando Conquest, the corridor, and the closest access door all require higher clearance than that granted to Maintenance Associates. Mallory had high-level clearances, so her keycard would have given her access anywhere she wanted to go."
"I do not believe in ghosts,” I said. “Ghoulish fiends of the corrupt human variety, yes."
“Well, no ghost would need keycard access, so these must be our guys. I don’t see them, do you?” Jack whispered as we all instinctively backed away from the light cast by ultra-modern street lamps near us.
“That's because Control Room access is on the opposite side of Catmmando Mountain. Maybe they know more than we do about how to get to that back door, and they want to enter that way because it gets them to their destination quicker.”
“Or because that’s where they intend to take their hostages,” I said, hoping I was wrong.
“That access door doesn’t open directly into the Control Room. I've already notified associates in the Control Room of the attempted breach. They won’t allow anyone to enter or exit until we provide clearance.”
“Okay, that's good, Ralph. They still have that other keycard they used earlier tonight. Maybe they’ll come around and try getting in on this side.”
“Maybe, maybe not. There are four entrances into Catmmando Mountain, here at the Arcadia Park level. Another from underground through a maintenance room.” The sound of that voice caused us all to jump. A man stepped from the shroud of darkness nearby and joined us where we stood. “Dan Larson, at your service. I hear you have a problem and need a tour guide to get around inside.”
We did a lightning round of introductions.
I felt uneasy as I spoke, almost apologetic. “So much for my shortcut, guys. It seems like everyone has reached Catmmando Mountain before us.”
“When Max Marley says get a move on, you do it. I also had the advantage that I came in through the back door,” Dan said. “That wasn't easy. It's like getting past Checkpoint Charlie.”
“Do you mean Ralph's security guys gave you a hard time?” Jack asked.
“Yes. Police, too. They have the road blocked off at the turnoff from the highway to the access road. S.W.A.T. teams are there, too. A member of your security team is with them, Ralph. The rest of your guys are waiting just out of sight near the back doors into Catmmando Mountain.”
“How did you get past security?” Ralph asked.
"And the police," Jack added.
“Max gave me a personal code that worked like magic. He assures me that he will change it tomorrow so I can’t use it for any nefarious purpose.”
I could sense the swagger that went with the hint of bravado in his tone and the smirk barely visible on his face in the dim light.
His eyes remained fixed on me, even as he answered those questions asked by Ralph and Jack. “Max called the police, so when security verified that Max Marley himself had sent me, that satisfied them too. Even the S.W.A.T. guys who are p
acing around up there. They're on the move down that access road to assist your security team, Ralph.” For a moment Dan glanced away.
Then he spoke directly to Jack. “They’re getting antsy. If the bad guys get inside Catmmando Mountain, S.W.A.T.'s going to go in with guns-a-blazing. It would be awful if they started shooting in there with all the complicated wiring, tubing for hydraulics—it’s like a lovely, complex game of Chutes and Ladders.”
After pausing to allow all this to sink in, he stared at me and added, “There’s a good chance that would shut down the attraction, leaving riders stranded along the way. I promised Max no one would get hurt.”
His impertinent manner and pointed gaze caused me to blush. Dan had behaved exactly as I remembered from previous meetings. I felt grateful I stood in the shadow, and I reminded myself that Max loved him. Probably because what Max saw in Dan was a younger version of himself.
“Do you think they understand that they've alerted us to their presence?” I hoped my question would cover for the awkwardness I felt.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Dan said, acting as though he was in complete control of the situation, “given these guys appear to have an inside track on park operations. Damon isn’t a name I recognize, but Max sent me a picture of the dead man and he does look familiar. We’ve had several crews do walk-throughs as bidders for subcontracts on projects related to the development of New Arcadia. It’s possible he was a member of one of those teams. He’s not one of mine.”
“Hang on, hang on…we’ve got another alert.” Ralph looked directly at me. “It says Georgie Shaw just used her keycard to enter Catmmando Mountain through that door leading to the Control Room.”
“That’s great. First Mallory’s ghost makes an appearance, and now my doppelgänger shows up,” I commented before I could stop myself. The three men gawked at me.
“Your what?” Ralph asked.
“Doppelgänger, my long-lost look-alike. We’re all supposed to have one, right? Oh, never mind.” An exasperated tone had crept into my voice since I was getting nowhere fast. That could work as a theme for the whole night, in fact. Ralph still seemed puzzled, but look-alike smirks had appeared on Jack’s and Dan’s faces. It’s a good thing I’m not the kind of woman who goes around smacking men when she feels insulted. I looked hard at Jack and that smirk vanished.
“Not just an inside track, but counterfeit keycards. Will your guys out there waiting with S.W.A.T. get that alert, too? If they do, they may decide it's time to move in,” Dan asked, getting back to the business at hand.
“I’m on it,” Ralph said, hitting a button on his phone.
“Was one of the S.W.A.T. team members about the biggest man you’ve ever seen in your life?” Jack asked.
“Yes.”
“Got it.” Twenty seconds later, Jack was speaking in earnest to someone who must be the giant he described. The conversation was over in a flash. “On my signal. I’ve got the big man’s promise.”
“Same here. I’ve told my guys, in no uncertain terms, to stay put until I tell them to move in. I reminded them that we have a team inside already. That helped.”
"Well, they're not likely to wait for word from either of you if shooting starts," Dan said. “We should cut this short and get in there, don’t you think?”
It wasn’t exactly clear to whom he was speaking, but I responded in the affirmative. All three men looked at me again. A series of emotions flitted across Jack’s face. If my Jack-emoto-meter worked as well as the one he's developed to read me, I watched as anger, worry, bewilderment, and resignation passed in fast succession.
“What? Do you imagine that I’m going to stand around waiting to find out what happens? No way. No more talk, let's go." I took the lead as we all dashed past the very spot where Mallory had met her end. Dashed wasn’t quite the right word since we had to dodge revelers who were almost all streaming toward Arcadia's Central Park.
The big circular gathering place at the end of Arcadia Park Avenue, with a bandstand and podium, was filling up fast. It was now approaching 9 o’clock and with that surging throng on the march the area had begun to thin out. Already, fewer people milled about than when we had arrived minutes earlier.
The big draw was an All Hallows’ Eve Parade down Park Avenue. Starting near the front gate, parade participants would move down the Avenue, to a round-about with Central Park in the center. The main thoroughfare near the entrance to Arcadia Park and lined with shops and eateries was, no doubt, packed with guests standing shoulder-to-shoulder.
A parade for younger children had been held at dusk. This one was for teens and adults who had received entry numbers earlier. As I knew well from having witnessed the proceedings a dozen times, it was great fun.
After the adult and teen parade, there would be an awards ceremony to honor guests picked out by spectators to receive special recognition for their costumes. Crowd approval in the form of applause, hooting, and hollering was often driven as much by the guests’ performances as by their costume. Fireworks would follow at ten.
That sequence would give us the time we needed to get this situation under control. As a bonus, there would be fewer guests who could be held as potential hostages if the thieves turned around and fled back into the park, even with Ralph’s men closing in on them.
As I stepped into the dimly lit interior of Catmmando Mountain, apprehension gripped me. I was feeling better about the decisions we had made so far, but that didn’t stop a chill of fear from slipping down my spine.
I was grateful for two things. First, that I’d switched out of my red heels and into sensible shoes before leaving my house. Second, that the man who loved to see me in those red heels had a firm grip on my arm.
9 Who’s the Hostage?
Once inside, we met up with a team of four men dressed in security outfits, complete with headgear with lights mounted on them. They also seemed to be equipped with goggles. My mouth was hanging open, and I stopped moving rather abruptly when they came into view. It felt like someone had just changed TV channels from Murder She Wrote to Mission Impossible.
“Night vision goggles,” Jack whispered. “Our S.W.A.T. guys wear them too.”
Ralph explained to the men that we suspected two armed men had entered the backstage area from the entrance opposite to the one we had just used.
“We believe we’re looking for two men wearing Catmmando Tom-Trooper outfits,” he said, filling them in on what had happened in the Gallery and the backstage area. “They’re probably carrying stolen items. We don’t know how—whether in portfolio cases, attachés, or tubes. Maybe even wheeled containers. The point is they’re armed, but we’re hoping they have less ability to maneuver or react than we do. If they have weapons in hand, they won’t hesitate to use them. Obviously, we’d prefer stealth to confrontation. We have the element of surprise on our side, especially if we keep it dark in here. We can see better than they’ll be able to.”
"Speak for yourself," I murmured as I squinted at objects around me. My night vision is not all that great—period. One of the gifts of aging. I keep waiting for that wisdom thing to kick in as compensation for other faculties that aren’t quite as sharp as they used to be. If that had already happened, I probably wouldn’t be here.
In the glow put out by low wattage footlights lining the walkway, I couldn't see much more than a couple of feet in any direction. I fought off images of Mallory's ghost and my doppelgänger leering at us.
"You two go at it," I muttered under my breath, urging my double and Mallory to fight it out. Maybe Jack had been right to be worried. Were all those years of working in a fantasy world taking their toll? Too much catnip, indeed.
“We also have another advantage,” Dan's voice interrupted my scattered thoughts. “I have a good idea of the route they’re taking from the entrance by the Control Room to the back door out of here. If you’re willing to let me take the lead, I can put us on a path to intercept them. What happens when we meet is up to the crime
fighters among us.”
“That puts you in the path of the first bullet too,” Jack said.
“I’m wearing Kevlar. An old habit I picked up working on development projects in the Middle East. This is the first time I’ve worn it in the U.S. though. Max made it very clear he doesn’t want more dead bodies. When the boss speaks, I listen.”
That Mission Impossible theme song was in my head again, mingling with snatches of Catmmando Tom’s stirring anthem.
“Body armor won’t help if they aim for his head,” Jack whispered under his breath.
“Hey, if that guy wants to play the hero, let him,” Ralph whispered back. He then spoke to the whole group.
“Okay, enough discussion. Let’s get moving. Will someone give Dan a pair of those goggles, please?” Magically, a set appeared.
“Silence from here on out. If you see something, Dan, please alert us with a raised hand. The rest of us will follow single file. Keep your eyes on the person in front of you.”
“Like this,” Dan said in a low voice as he held up one hand when stepping to the front of the line.
With the help of dimly glowing footlights, I could make out the path. I also could see Jack, who had stepped in front of me. Behind me was the last person in our parade, the only other woman at the party, one of Ralph’s security team members
We set out, moving at a quick pace. Soon we were winding our way through twisty corridors wide enough in most places that we could have walked four abreast. An incline took us to higher levels as we moved deeper into Catmmando Mountain. Although I couldn’t see them, I could feel the rumble of the cars on the rails as they swooped past us.
Every so often, above the music we could hear the shrieks and laughter of riders that accompanied their action adventure experience. Despite the merriment going on all around us, I did not feel like laughing. I consider myself in pretty good shape, but the pace and angle of ascent were pushing me.
Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery Box Set Page 23
