Chapter Twenty-four.

"It happens sometimes. People just explode.

Natural causes."

-Agent Rogersz, Repo Man Repo Man

Toontown was crowded, which was good. It's easy to get lost in a crowd. Unfortunately there would be a lot of witnesses too, but that couldn't be helped.

The whole family was waiting in line to see Mickey Mouse and Chip and Dale. And even though I should've kept my mind on the job, I had to wonder if anyone knew who the hell Chip and Dale were. I mean, come on! I'm thirty-seven and I barely remember their cartoons as a kid.

Louis, Romi, Alta, and Woody were waiting to see the damned chipmunks. Paris and I made sure they'd already met Mickey earlier, so they wouldn't feel robbed of that special experience when he imploded. If we'd rigged the shape charges right there'd be a noise, and Mickey would collapse to the floor with no mess. We'd hustle the kids out so they didn't see the Garth soup inside the costume.

As we stepped up for the kids to meet the chipmunks, I nodded slightly at Paris. He, in turn, took out his cell phone and aimed it at the kids as if he were going to take a picture.

Only he and I knew that we were actually triggering the mechanism that would blow up a beloved Disney character/National Resources assassin.

Paris waited until Mickey was alone and pressed the button.

There was a muffled explosive sound, kind of like ffffoooom ffffoooom, and the Mickey Mouse head shot into the air. Mickey's body fell to the floor backward, fortunately hiding what was left of Garth's head.

Some people noticed the noise; others didn't seem to register it. The Mickey head (sans the ears-apparently they were blown off) came down in front of Chip and Dale, who, because of difficulties seeing through their costumes, thought some kid had thrown them a large beach ball. Thus, to my amazement and everyone else's horror, they started tossing the battered head back and forth.

The cast member who was handling Mickey screamed, and suddenly everything came back to the present. Paris and I faked shockas we dragged our family out of the barn and outside. Three of the kids looked stunned.

Louis, however, was frowning. I didn't have time to worry about it as Paris and I hustled everyone onto the Lilly Belle train for our getaway.

The train seemed like a good idea when we had planned it. It runs the perimeter of the park to the front entrance. No fighting through crowds, no walking. Easy, right? We'd be out of Toontown before security arrived.

Do you know how slow that damned train is? I felt like an idiot, trying to get away from the scene of the crime on a vehicle that goes toot! toot! toot! toot! at four miles per hour. at four miles per hour.

Looking at everyone in the group, I thought that the kids managed relatively unscathed.

Diego told them that Mickey wasn't feeling well, so he fainted but was okay. Todd backed this up with a funny story about something including a rhinoceros and a Pomeranian. Romi and Alta bought it. Woody wisely kept his mouth shut, and Louis was staring at me.

Actually, so were Gin and Liv. Well, they weren't exactly staring so much as trying to kill us with a look. I wondered if you could really do that. It would be so much more effective. I'd have to talk to Missi.

After what seemed like ten hours we madeit to the entrance and hopped on the monorail to the hotel. Gin and Liv had their arms crossed over their chests and were still glaring at Paris and me. I was pretty sure they'd figured out what happened.

We hadn't discussed the job with them. In fact, they knew we'd been working on a Council assignment but never asked about it.

From the looks on their faces, our sisters knew now.

Todd and Diego seemed to know something was up, because they volunteered to take the kids to the pool. Liv and Gin followed us to our room, not saying a word and definitely not invited. Paris and I tolerated it because we didn't know what else to do.

"You killed Mickey Mouse?" Gin hissed before the door had fully closed.

"I don't believe this!" Liv threw her hands up in the air. "That's why we're on this trip, isn't it?"

"How could you drag your family into this?"

Gin was on a tear.

"Now, hold on," Paris said, his hands up and forming a barrier between him and his angry sister. "This is just a job. And it's not like the Bombays don't know that."

I nodded. "You used to do this for a living, remember? The rest of us didn't get retirement."

And that was when Gin slapped me across the face. At least it wasn't a right cross.

"You could've told us! We could've taken the kids somewhere else!" Liv shouted.

"No, we needed them to be there," Paris said simply.

Oh, shit. Here it comes.

"You used the kids as your cover!" Gin said through her teeth. "How could you do that to them?"

Liv had a dangerous look in her eyes, and for once I thought my earth-mother cousin was going to kill us.

"Okay," I conceded, "it was wrong. We know that. But the Council ordered us to get the job done. We had no choice."

Gin shook her head. "I don't buy it. You could have found another way."

"I can't believe you'd drag Louis into this!"

Liv said.

"Louis has to begin his training too, like your kids," Paris said slowly. "It's not like we have an option to exclude them."

Gin crossed her arms over her chest again. I was a little nervous she might have a shoulder holster on. "What about Todd and Diego? You didn't need to drag them into it."

I sat down on the edge of the bed. I had nothing. While I was happy to have four ofthe five hits done, there was something in what she said that made me feel guilty.

"Well, it's over now," Paris said with a sigh.

"Maybe you should tell us exactly what it it is." Liv folded her arms too. is." Liv folded her arms too.

So we told them everything. How five people ranging from Gin's oral surgeon to Mickey Mouse were dangerous assassins who killed innocent people, including children. We might have played up the danger a bit by saying they were coming after the Bombays.

But that could've been true. Gin had known about Munch by being there. What she didn't know was that we had to take out a whole company.

Liv and Gin listened carefully, still glowering-which, by the way, was not a good look for them. I toyed with telling them that at their age they couldn't afford new wrinkles, but a strong sense of self-preservation told me this wasn't the time.

No one spoke for a few moments, which, I must admit, made me a little nervous. If I hadn't had a son depending on me, I do believe Gin and Liv would've killed us on the spot.

"Well," Gin said grudgingly, "I still don't think you had to handle the last one this way."

Liv reacted differently. "You were chased by a hungry bear?" She seemed to struggle not to burst out laughing.

"It wasn't my fault!" Paris whined. "Dak had lousy aim."

"Yeah, but you screamed like Romi on Space Mountain." I had to smile, remembering that.

"Go to hell," Paris said halfheartedly.

"I'm sure we'll all be there someday." Gin scowled. "I do wish I could've seen what happened at the zoo. It would've made for great blackmail material. I'd love to hold that over you for the rest of your life."

We spent the last night at Disney World quietly: dinner at the restaurant on top of the Contemporary followed by one last fireworks show over the Magic Kingdom. Louis was very quiet, and I wondered if he was just exhausted or worried about the man in the Mickey Mouse suit.

First thing in the morning we all packed up and headed to the airport. It took a long time to get through security, and I wondered why I didn't think of chartering our private jet. By the end of the day we were back in the Midwest.

"All set, champ?" I sat on Louis's bed that night.

He nodded solemnly. "Thanks for the trip, Dad. I really liked it. Well, except for when Mickey Mouse's head blew off. But I loved the rest of it."

I wasn't sure what to say. Obviously my kid was smart enough to know that an explosion had occurred. I kissed him on the forehead and tucked him in.

"So, why did you do it?" he asked casually.

"Do what?" My palms started to sweat.

"Kill Mickey Mouse," Louis said. "I saw Paris use his cell phone to do it." His big eyes were hard on mine, and I was pretty sure my spleen had burst. How the hell did he figure it out? For once I thought maybe it wasn't so great to have a smart kid.

"You're not answering me." Louis frowned.

So I did what millions of parents have done over thousands of years: I bluffed. "What makes you think we killed Mickey Mouse?"

My son rolled his eyes at me (okay, so my poker face had abandoned me). "It wasn't Mickey Mouse-just a man in a suit. And it was pretty obvious. Have you been an assassin for very long?"

It felt as if Louis's words were pummeling me. I couldn't lie to the kid-at least, not now. I had no experience in handling this.

My dad learning curve was pretty short.

"All right." I sat up a little straighter. "It's time you knew the truth about the Bombay family."

Two hours and an entire stuffed-crust cheese pizza later, Louis knew his family history. He took it well, considering he just found out he'd be doing contract kills for the rest of his life.

"That explains why everyone is so rich and no one works." Louis chewed his pizza thoughtfully. "It's bad guys, right?"

"Well, that's the story, for the most part," I responded. "They don't really give us a dossier on each hit. We assume the Council knows what it's doing."

"And I have to start my training?" Louis looked a little perplexed.

"Soon." I stole a look at the clock. "But right now you have to get some sleep. It's very late. Oh, and Louis?" I hesitated. "We don't talk about this outside the Bombay family."

My kid nodded, then used his pajama sleeve as a napkin and curled up to sleep.

I hit the bottle of scotch in the kitchen. I felt like I'd just unleashed hell on the world.

That was ridiculous. Louis would be a perfect killer. He'd research everything and be completely careful.

It surprised me how well he took the news.

Maybe the fact that he knew his cousins were dealing with this helped. He was only six. There was plenty of time to cope with the ramifications. I didn't think I had to worryabout seeing any Junie B. Jones books called I Was a First-grade Assassin I Was a First-grade Assassin.

Eventually I went to sleep, and I dreamed of exploding Disney characters.

Chapter Twenty-five.

"The extreme always seems to make an impression."

-J.D., Heathers Heathers

After dropping my soon-to-be-lethal son at school, I called Leonie and set up a date for that night. Mom told me the minute we got back that she was babysitting-no matter what. I figured Louis would have a million questions about family and that Mom was the perfect person to answer them.

Something had been bothering me for a while, so that night, as we settled on my couch, I asked Leonie the big question.

"What's your favorite color?"

Leonie choked on her beer. "What? Why?"

"Because I'm afraid I'm moving too fast, and I don't know you as well as I should."

She arched her eyebrows in what I took to be amusement.

"I want to get to know you intellectually . . . in addition to physically." That wasn't hard. So why was I nervous? It seemed like a perfectly normal question. Maybe it was too personal? Listen to me! I'm in love with this woman and I'm too scared to ask her favorite color. Maybe I should be drinking Pink Cadillacs. Listen to me! I'm in love with this woman and I'm too scared to ask her favorite color. Maybe I should be drinking Pink Cadillacs.