December 19, 2029

Seventeen recalcitrant Globalist functionaries and their various companions are skiing today at Chamonix-Mont-Blanc, France. Ted arrived early yesterday to inspect the opportunities. He ended up doing two dry runs, mostly just visualization, on the tramway. This venture will require clockwork precision and be very dangerous for him. As he sits finishing his breakfast, looking up at the mountain, he is confident that he has done a virtual mockup of every unexpected contingency.

8:45 A.M.

The Globalists are all together. They have no special reservation, but their numbers are just about right to fill one tram car. Ted has been waiting to the side and as they approach he skis up to the tramway door. A large in-charge looking chap speaks to Ted gesturing,

“Sir, we are all together as a group. Would you object terribly to catching the next tram?”

Ted replies like a thwarted teenager,

“Oh Maaan, don’t you think there will be enough room for just one more?”

The fellow is sympathetic and says,

“There might be. How would you feel about letting us on first? Then if there is enough room, you will be able to get off at the top ahead of everybody else.”

Ted smiles enigmatically,

“A / Okay, Tony the Tiger. Sounds great.”

The group files into the tram, and there is, in fact, room for about four more people. Ted has his short skis secured to his back. He enters, and as he clears the door, it closes behind him and locks electronically. A girl, with firm protruding breasts, standing next to Ted, notices how his skis are attached behind. She gestures to the rig and says,

“That’s very unique, I’ve never seen skis carried that way before. Leaves your hands free for other things of more immediate interest, doesn’t it?

Ted, with an admiring titular glance, says,

“Yes, it does.”

She smiles with a look of bovine contentment,

The tram takes off fast. Now turning away from the girl, Ted gets back to business. With a mixture of dread and precision, he looks up ahead at the rapidly approaching high promontory, sporting two towers for the tramway cables. At the pre-planned moment, he reaches into his right pocket for the electro magnet, activates it, moves it along the door, and hears the lock disengage. Out of the left pocket comes the gas canister. He takes a big gulp of air, opens the valve, and pitches it along the floor, to the back of the tram. But…the door won’t open. With desperation and all his strength, he tries and fails again, then it opens the third time.

This frightful moment has caused a bad delay. Ted had planned to pitch a hook-rope to the tower top and swing himself out and down. The tower passes fast, just as he slides open the door. It’s too late, but the far end of the promontory is highest and comes to within twenty feet of the tram. Ted jumps, gasps for air, and lands in soft new snow, but is far past the flat part. He starts to slide over the edge, aware of the jagged rocks at a sickening distance below. He grabs hold of some krumholtz with his left hand, pulls out the Walther PPK with his right, takes aim, and fires the incendiary bullet through the back window of the tram, now at a distance of over two hundred feet up the mountain. The explosion is magnificent, but that poor girl… Smart young women should not date globalists in this unstable political climate.

Without crampons, it takes all of Ted’s courage and strength to climb back up the promontory to safety. He quickly puts on his skis, keeping his back to the buildings below. Good idea, because binoculars are already on him. He pulls out his telescoping polls, and arcs down around out of view.  He skis the promontory in record time. Half way down, he stops, and takes off his nylon shell, turning it inside out, from orange to blue, and puts on a blue stocking cap. The last part is the most dangerous, but there are eight foot evergreens that conceal most of his return to the populated area below. A few different people see him, but apparently none who would be looking for him, because nothing comes of it. Back to the restaurant fast, for some hazelnut coffee with a view. There are cops and firemen everywhere.

Ted enjoys the news coverage later, especially the part with some older Globalist spokesmen deliberating about the viability of abandoning their unpopular objectives. The next morning, Ted is lame almost to paralysis. He lays in bed all day. The following day he is still lame, but rises early, has a high-protein breakfast, and resumes skiing. It’s painful at first, but his muscles finally loosen up. He now has small storage lockers in fourteen countries for all the stuff he uses on these adventures.