“C’mon… please,” I beg.
Climbing out of his seat, Charlie reaches over and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Ollie…”
I gaze at the screen, hunched over in my chair. My elbows rest on my knees. “Why can’t we ever get a break?” I ask, my voice cracking.
It’s a question Charlie can’t answer. He holds on to my shoulder and checks the screen himself. Teetering, he can barely stand. I don’t blame him. Five minutes ago, we had everything that Duckworth had created. Right now – as my brother and I stare blankly at the screen – we’ve got nothing. No bank logo. No hidden account. And worst of all, no proof.
67
“Walt Disney World reservations – this is Noah. How can I help you?”
“Hi, I’m looking for Information Services,” I say to the over-peppy voice on the other line as I watch Charlie squint in the Florida sun.
“Let me connect you with the switchboard – they’ll transfer you from there,” Noah says in a tone that’s been genetically engineered for customer service.
“That’d be great. Thanks,” I tell him as I give the thumbs-up to Charlie and Gillian. It doesn’t calm either of them down. Crowded around me by the payphone across the street from the library, they’re nervously checking over their shoulders, unconvinced I can pull it off. Still, big companies are big companies. By going through the switchboard, it’s now an internal Disney call. We lost our proof once. I’m not losing it again.
“This is Erinn – how may I help you?” the switchboard operator asks.
“Erinn, I’m looking for the IS group that handles the Intranet for Disney cast members.”
“Let me see if we can find that for you,” she says, speaking in the royal Disney “we.” As she puts me on hold, the song “When You Wish Upon a Star” floats through the receiver.
“Sir, I’m going to put you through to Steven in the Support Center,” the operator eventually announces. “Extension 2538 if you get disconnected.”
I grit my teeth and wait for the music to stop.
“This is Steven,” a deep voice answers. He sounds young; maybe as young as Charlie. Perfect.
“Please tell me I have the right place,” I beg in his ear.
“I-I’m sorry… can I help you?” he asks.
“Is this Matthew?” I say, pouring on the panic.
“No, it’s Steven.”
“Steven who?”
“Steven Balizer. In the Support Center.”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” I say, ramming forward. “Matthew said it’d be on there, but when I went to pull it off, the whole presentation was gone.”
“What presentation?”
“I’m dead…” I tell him. “They’ll eat me as an appetizer…”
“What presentation?” he repeats, already swinging to my aid. It’s Disney training. He can’t help himself.
“You don’t understand,” I say. “I’ve got fifteen people sitting in a conference room, all of them waiting for their first look at our new online subscription service. But when I go to download it off our Intranet, the whole thing is gone. Zip. Nothing. It’s not there! Now everyone’s looking at me – the lawyers, the creatives, the finance boys…”
“Listen, you have to calm down-”
“… and Arthur Stoughton, who’s sitting red-faced at the head of the table.” All it takes is a single drop of the boss’s name. That one I learned from Tanner Drew.
“You said it was on the Intranet?” Steven asks anxiously. “Any idea where?”
I read off the exact address where Duckworth’s account was stored. I can hear young Steven jackhammering away at his keyboard. It takes an underling to know one – we’re all in this together. “I’m sorry,” he eventually stammers. “It’s no longer there.”
“No… don’t say that!” I plead, thankful we picked an outdoor payphone. “It has to be! I just saw it!”
“I already checked twice…”
“This is Stoughton we’re talking about! If I don’t get his presentation up there…” I breathe heavy through my nose, trying to sound like I’m fighting tears. “There’s gotta be some way to get it back. Where do you keep the backups?” It’s a bluff, but not a risky one. Every sixty minutes, the bank’s computer systems run an automatic backup to protect it from things like viruses and power failures. Then we store the copy somewhere else, purely for safety purposes. A company the size of Disney has to do the same.
“In the DISC building… in the North Service Area,” he says without even thinking. “That’s where they keep all the long-term stuff.”
“Forget long-term – I need what was there three hours ago!”
There’s a pause on the other line. “The only thing I can think of are the tapes in DACS.”
I hate techno jargon. “What tapes?”
“Data tapes – the tapes we back up the site with. Since DACS makes a copy every night, that’s my best guess to where they should be.”
“And where’s this place DACS?”
“In the tunnels.”
“The tunnels?” I ask.
“Y’know, the tunnels,” he says, almost surprised. “The ones below the Magic Kingd-” He stops and there’s another pause. This one’s longer. “What department did you say you worked in?” he finally asks.
“Disney Online,” I quickly counter.
“What division?” he challenges. In the background, I hear him once again clicking at his keyboard.
I don’t have an answer.
“What’d you say your name was again?” he adds.
That’s my cue. Abandon ship. I slam the phone in its cradle.
“What’d he say?” Charlie asks.
“Are there backups?” Gillian adds.
Ignoring the question, I look up toward the blinding sun in the sky. I have to squint to see it. It’s a few minutes past two. Time’s running out. But I finally see the end in sight. The tapes don’t just show reality – they show a reality that Duckworth invented… and that Gallo had clear access to. “Let’s get out of here,” I say.
“Where to?” Gillian asks.
“Is it far?” Charlie adds.
“That depends how fast we drive,” I reply as I run toward the car. “How long does it take to get to Disney World?”
68
“What?” Gallo asked. Pinching the cell phone between his shoulder and ear, he and DeSanctis raced up I-95. “Are you sure?” “Why would I lie?” his associate asked on the other line.
“You really want me to answer that?”
“Listen, I already said I was sorry.”
“Don’t bullshit me with sorry,” Gallo hammered. “Did you really think we wouldn’t see you? That you could just sneak in without us getting a good look?”
“I wasn’t sneaking anywhere. We were just reacting as fast as we could. We threw it together in about six hours – and once I got in, you were already gone.”
“He still should’ve called.”
“Can you please stop with the guilty mother routine?” his associate pleaded. “He said you already went through this – once Oliver and Charlie found what was in the remote, we were better off putting out the whole fire. After everything else, the last thing we need is to get burned by a loose end.”
“He still should’ve dropped word with me – especially when he’s just sitting on his ass in New York.”
“No, no, no – not anymore. He flew in first thing this morning.”
“Really?” Gallo asked as the Florida interstate whizzed past his window. “So he’s close?”
“Close as he can get. But if it makes you feel any better, next time we’ll send a Hallmark.”
“Actually, you should send it to DeSanctis. He’s the one that got gashed in the head.”