As celebrities, their staterooms were not registered in their names. Only key officers knew how to track them down. These included the heads of entertainment, security, and what was called hotel management. There was no question the Beach Blanket Barbecue had been arranged by an officer; who else could convince the captain to stay extra hours on Castaway Cay? There seemed little doubt that whoever had arranged the extension had connections to the Overtakers. And since this had to be a highly ranked officer, it seemed likely that the Overtakers might now have knowledge of the Keepers’ staterooms. That meant there was nowhere safe on board.
Nowhere.
Philby didn’t want to freak out the others, so for now he kept this realization to himself, but as he reentered the ship he was already scheming about ways to use some of the empty staterooms for DHI sleep during crossover in case the OTs had plans to kidnap them or attempt to trap them in SBS. With too much to do and with too little time, he pushed his concern aside and focused on crossing over Charlene in hopes she could follow the mystery crate.
He texted Finn:
i need to see it
There was no need to mention the journal by name; Finn would know. He was excited to get a look at it to find out what was so important to the OTs to risk stealing it in the first place. He might have wondered why Maleficent would keep it on her person, but then again she was such a control freak it really didn’t surprise him all that much.
“Welcome back,” the steward said as Philby ran his key card past the sensor. “Did you enjoy the fireworks?”
“Oh, yes!” Philby answered. “They were much more than I expected.”
The steward smiled at him, then welcomed the next guest. Philby crowded in with others awaiting the elevators, then broke free of the pack and climbed the stairs.
meet u @ the room
…came Finn’s reply.
Good, Philby thought. Finn was okay and was either back on the ship or would be soon. That was a load off his mind. Without the crate and the mystery plane, without Luowski being seen on the island, without Tia Dalma’s involvement, it might have felt to Philby like their mission was nearly over. They needed the GPS data on the OT server, but he expected that any minute. Then it would be a matter of finding and disabling the OT server.
Given the recent developments, the recovery of the stolen journal didn’t merit celebration the way it might have. There were too many variables—too much going on that needed explaining. The ship was not safe, whether Wayne and the Imagineers knew it or not. Maleficent had brought the battle to the ship, and as much as he didn’t want to think about it, there was no better place to get rid of someone than by throwing the person overboard at night.
Or five people, one by one.
The cruise had been promoted as featuring the DHIs. So far he had faced two DHIs trying to dispatch him. Was it a Murder Cruise?
We should have stayed behind on the island, he thought, catching a glimpse of the beautiful Castaway Cay as he reached Deck 4. He looked down over the rail at the churning water. For the next two days there would be only this one way off the ship.
* * *
Finn sensed eyes on him as he boarded. He didn’t know if it was because the stewards were greeting passengers, or a guest had recognized him, or the lenses of security cameras were recording him, or if it was just his own paranoia. But there it was, and he had to deal with it.
The journal was tucked under his shirt into the back of his waistband. His mission was to copy its contents and transmit it to Wayne. But a second element to the mission revealed itself: finders keepers. Until this moment, as he felt the power of a thousand eyes watching him, he’d not bothered to consider that Maleficent would want it back. Not simply want it, but do anything to get it. Its importance to her could not be overstated.
He felt like a thief with a world-famous jewel in his pocket. He felt like a target. Suddenly, everyone was the enemy: the nice steward who’d just welcomed him, the girl at the elevators giving him a warm smile, the old lady with the walker and the bad sunburn glaring at him as he tried to slip past her.
The boarding passengers hit gridlock at the elevators, packing in tightly. The smell of body odor mixed with barbecue sauce was a dreadful, toxic sweet-and-sour blend that made him want to retch. Someone farted, and Finn thought he might hurl. He finally broke through the throng and reached the staircase, his hand at his back protecting the hidden journal. He climbed the stairs slowly at first, but he had that creepy, spine-tingling sensation, convinced someone was right behind him.
Arriving at the landing on Deck 4—more guests awaiting the elevators here—he noticed two uniformed crew members enter from the outer decks. They looked right at him and turned in his direction. Finn held the banister and began climbing calmly toward Deck 5 (there were rules against running) but felt his heart rate soar as the two fell in line behind him—also climbing the stairs calmly.
At the next landing, he got a look at their solemn faces and felt a jolt: the one nearest the banister had been in Tia Dalma’s cabana.
He tried keeping his pace calm, but took two stairs at a time in an attempt to put distance between himself and the other two.
They stayed with him.
It felt as if the journal were burning a hole in his back.
At Deck 5 the two officers separated. The one he thought he recognized stayed behind him.
His throat went dry. His skin itched. He should have thought to pass the journal off to one of the others; he’d been a fool to carry it aboard himself. Maleficent would be furious at Finn’s use of Triton’s crabs to sabotage her. He could barely swallow. He was not about to lead this officer to his stateroom! Worse, a ship’s officer could go anywhere he wanted to, had access to much more of the ship than Finn; it wasn’t like Finn could slip into an area the officer wasn’t allowed.
He glanced left, right, and up, where he spotted a girl stopped on the stairs staring at him intensely. The moment they met eyes she started down toward him.
“O…M…G!” she said loudly. “Are you one of those hologram thingies? You’re, like, in all the parks, right?” He made his voice sound like a robot. “Hell-o! My name is Finn. Can I show you around the park today?” She skipped stairs hurrying down to him and stopped, blocking his way.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the officer climbing toward him.
The girl reached out and took him by the wrists and shook both arms, wildly excited to meet him.
“This is so awesome!” she said. Then, looking down at her hands, she added, “But how come I can touch you?”
He caught her glance over his shoulder. Then she reached around him and put her hand right into the small of his back. Finn wrestled to be free from her, but she pinned the journal there and hugged him, giggling.
With both arms wrapped around him, she leaned back. “Sorry, but I just had to do that!” she proclaimed.
His wrists felt cold where she’d gripped them. He didn’t recall feeling her hands as cold, only the lingering aftereffect. It felt strangely like he’d forgotten something, or had lost something. But thankfully the journal was still there.
The ship’s officer slowed as he drew near, then walked past Finn, tracking the boy with his peripheral vision. He continued through a door to the starboard deck.
The girl appeared to be watching the officer as well.
“You’re right in thinking they mean you harm. I can help,” the girl said in a whisper. She took off through the port doors; her oddly colored hair was what he remembered most—black, with a splash of vibrant red at the bottom.
Finn stared at the twin doors in a stupor. He wanted to call after her, to stop her. But she was gone. For a moment his legs wouldn’t move. When they finally did, he bounded upstairs.
He tried to remember her face but couldn’t; she was surprisingly unmemorable. Just the weird patch of red hair—out of place on a Disney cruise, where no one stood out like that.
He checked behind him—still no one f
ollowing. He forced the stress to leave him, understood the importance of copying and transmitting the journal’s contents immediately—before the Overtakers managed to steal it back!
Was there even a way to photocopy on the ship? He imagined the concierge would do it for him, or the front desk, but he wasn’t about to give the journal over to someone else. A digital camera, he realized. He could photograph the significant pages and email them to Wayne. He tried to think back to what she’d told him, feeling violated for her having known what he’d been thinking.
How was that possible?
* * *
There was an unmarked envelope awaiting him outside his stateroom door. Finn reread the note that had accompanied a key card:
EAT. WON. AN ANGRY DOG.
He stepped inside and closed the door. He locked the journal in his stateroom safe, feeling relief. Back to the note.
The code had to have something to do with the key card—and therefore was a number.
Eat…ate…eight! he thought, celebrating his cleverness. He used a stateroom pen to write it down: 8.
Won…one…easy: 8-1.
An angry dog…mean? Nothing came to him. Slobber? Nothing. Wild? Still nothing. He began to get frustrated. Teeth? Eyes? Drool? German shepherd? Doberman? How hard could this be? An angry dog. Attack? Defend? Sic?
Sic…sics…six!
8-1-6.
Worth a try.
Which was safer, he wondered, leaving the journal locked up inside his stateroom safe, or taking it with him? Someone on the ship had the authority and the means to unlock a stateroom safe—certainly guests forgot their four-digit code from time to time. But such access would be limited to very few: maybe the head of security and the captain. Whoever was after it would first have to get into his stateroom and then unlock his safe.
He emailed Wayne photographs of the journal’s five middle pages—both sides. Ten pages in all. Then he knocked on the connecting door to Philby’s stateroom. Mrs. Philby said, “Come in,” and Finn went inside and asked if it was all right if he left the door open while he was out.
“I locked my passport and some money in my safe, and I don’t want anything to happen to it.”
“No problem,” Mrs. Philby said, and added, “Do you know where Dell is?”
Finn had a couple of hunches.
“He came back from the fireworks, didn’t he?”
“Left his clothes on the floor of the bathroom, so…yes,” she said, grimacing.
“Probably the Vibe,” he said. “I’ll check.”
“Thank you, Finn.”
“No problem.”
A few minutes later and a few decks lower, Finn knocked on the door to 816 and then tried the key card. The door unlocked and he entered. The ship was already under way, and this was his first sensation of it moving as he saw through to the stateroom balcony and the flickering moonlight on the gray water and a girl’s silhouette out there.
“No lights,” the girl called out as his finger was about to hit the switch. He recognized her voice. Storey Ming.
“Nice,” he said, joining her, admiring the view.
“It’s so appealing…being on the water at night. So beautiful. That’s Castaway back there, and over there…I’m not sure. Nassau, maybe.”
“They look so far away.”
“Perspective,” she said. “Distance is so different at sea.”
“Nice code.”
“I thought you’d figure it out.”
“Why am I here?”
Storey Ming lowered her voice, as the neighboring balconies were close. “The GPS transmission device you set up—”
“Philby, my friend, set it up––”
“––pretty much confirms the OT server is aboard the Dream. I received a message that while they can’t prove it absolutely, they are confident it’s here.”
Why would Wayne send a note to her instead of him? Finn wondered.
“So that’s next,” he said.
“It must be destroyed or at least taken off-line if our guys are to have a chance in the battle for the Base.”
“I’d almost forgotten…”
“It has been worse the past few nights. Things are heating up.”
“DHIs?”
“The OTs are using their DHIs as decoys. Our guys rush a bunch of OTs only to realize they’re holograms.”
“Meanwhile the real OTs are on the opposite side of the Base.”
“Something like that,” Storey Ming said.
“Philby set up a connection so we can cross over to the parks. Maybe it’s time.”
“They’ll let us know. You all are plenty busy.”
“Tell me about it.” He wasn’t sure if he should tell this girl about the journal. He decided against it.
“A huge crate was brought onto the ship via the forward gang.”
“You do get around,” he said. Wayne’s choice of her made slightly more sense.
“It wasn’t on any manifests. I hear about that sort of thing.”
“How?”
She studied him and shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. Not yet.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said.
“There have been some attempts to breach security. Is that you and your friends?”
“No. Not that I know of.”
“If not your friends, maybe your enemies.” Storey sounded worried.
“Speaking of getting around.”
“You’ve seen them?”
“Face to face. On the beach tonight. Maleficent.”
He thought he saw her shiver. He knew the feeling.
“Yet here you are.”
“Here I am.”
“That’s impressive.”
“That’s lucky. Friends in the right places.”
“Friends in deep places,” she said.
“Triton.” Finn was awed by the extent of her knowledge.
Storey took a deep breath and held it as if savoring it. “You know how we envy you? Having a chance like that? You met him?”
“I did.”
“Unreal.”
“Tell me about it. But I also saw Jafar. That wasn’t so nice.”
“I hate Jafar.”
“Strong word.”
“I’m not changing it,” she said.
“His staff came alive. A snake.”
“Like in the Bible,” she said.
“Like in the movie,” he said. “I hate snakes.”
“Strong word.”
“I’m not changing it,” he said.
They both laughed.
“If it’s not you breaching security…I’d be careful if I were you.”
“Yes, you would,” he said.
“No way to know what they might have been after.”
“Us. It’s us.” He paused. “It’s a lot of things.”
“Does that scare you?” Storey asked.
“It does.”
“I would think so.”
“You know that stupid line ‘Failure is not an option’? That’s kind of what it’s like. Like you can’t fail but you don’t know how to succeed. I feel like a hamster on a wheel most of the time. The OTs obviously have some goal. Our only goal is to not let them reach theirs. It’s like always playing defense. Hard to win a game that way.”
“The best offense is a good defense.”
“Maybe.”
“How can I help?”
“You are. Believe me. The crate? The one that came aboard?”
“No one knows about it. I mean, some guys hauled it aboard. I have my sources. But not the normal guys at the loading bays. Different guys.”
“Six people arriving by Boston Whaler,” he said. “Let me guess. They arrived right when the crew was on a break or busy somewhere else.”
“Shore duty,” she said. “Getting ready to sail.”
“The thing that gets me is how well planned everything is,” he said. She didn’t comment. “Any idea where it went, this crate?”
> “Forward gang? An odd choice, except its location away from the dock. Could be for one of the bars. A piece of replacement equipment or a computer for the bridge. Any of the galleys. Or, I suppose, the big theater.”
“It’s not a piece of equipment,” he said, thinking of the air holes in the crate. “Fewer people nosing around in the galley or in the theater?”
“A lot more hiding places in the theater,” she said. “Backstage, the catwalks, below stage, the dressing rooms, prop area. And a good part of every day no one’s around.”
“So that’s where we start.”
“Sounds good.”
“What are the chances there’s some surprise planned for one of the shows? Something new?”
“It happens,” she said.
“Often?”
“Not on a regular cruise, but this is no ordinary cruise. The first ship through the new locks? They could have anything planned. And it wouldn’t have to be by anybody but a few key people. The captain. Director of entertainment. Information moves around this ship faster than seawater. There are no secrets. For a really big surprise, I can see them pulling something like this.”
“So maybe it’s nothing more than that,” he said.
“I can check it out.”
“I’d rather you not.”
“Because?”
“Because that’s what we’re here for.”
“The big important holograms.”
“The thing is, when we’re holograms not much can hurt us.”
“So it’s safer.”
“Much,” he said.
“I know the big theater really well. It’s crazy back there. Different levels, dressing rooms. Prop storage. I could be your guide.”
“Or maybe just talk us through it.”
“Because I’m not one of you,” she said. “You don’t want me along because I’m not one of you.”
“It’s a safety thing.”
“I get it. If you need me for the GPS…or for anything else, I’m up in the Vibe—outside, actually, giving a demo tonight.”
“Good to know,” Finn said. “And what about this stateroom we’re in? We could use a room or two that won’t get looked at.”
“Philby knows the empty rooms. I can get key cards to him.”
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