Looking to Norm for an okay, the guard just shrugged. “It’s really quiet today. Only one tour going on and no filming. Are you going to have lunch in the commissary?”
Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’m starved!”
“You’re always starved.” Lance gave the boy a fond smile.
“Like father, like son,” coughed Norm and earned a grin from his friend.
“Okay, go ahead, Peter. Don’t get in anyone’s way. You know the way, right?”
As Peter ran off toward the main avenue behind the Animation Building, Norm chuckled. “Yeah, he knows. So, what brings you into our neck of the woods? What’s new with the family?”
With his chin, Lance indicated the disappearing figure of his son. “He wanted to do some shopping for one of his teachers. And I thought it would be a good time to remind you about our party in a couple of weeks.”
Norm’s eyes lit up. “Your Annual Security and Princess Gala?”
“Well, that’s its unofficial title.” Every year Lance and Kimberly threw a party for all the security guards and all the princes and princesses who worked at the Parks and the Studio. Going on all day and well into the night, the cast members could come and go as their work schedule allowed. With the added attraction of the beautiful women who portrayed the princesses in the Parks, it was a very popular party.
“That’s a big Duh that I’ll be there.” Norm led Lance into the commissary. “Want to get a cup of something before Peter gets back?”
“What’s on the menu today?”
“I heard they have ahi tuna,” Norm suggested with a pat on his stomach.
“Now we’re talking.” Lance grabbed up a cafeteria tray and headed for the ‘Seafood Section.’ Peter was on his own.
Once out of sight of his dad, Peter picked up his pace and sprinted down the empty avenue behind the Animation Building. His goal was somewhere inside the middle of the Ink and Paint Department. He just hadn’t figured out how to get inside there yet. Snapping a quick picture of the statue of Roy Disney relaxing on a park bench with Minnie Mouse, Peter looked around the area. At the other end of the Plaza stood the original Partners Statue of Walt and Mickey Mouse. Just in front of Peter, the seven dwarfs were holding up the roof of the Michael D. Eisner Building. For extra proof that he had been there, Peter snapped a quick picture of Dopey at the very top peak, and turned his attention back to his dilemma. As he was thinking, the tour group Norm had mentioned was just leaving the far end of the Plaza, having just taken pictures of themselves standing with Walt and Mickey.
Hurrying, he caught up with them as he heard the guide say they would tour the Animation Building, the tunnels, and then they would go to lunch. Quietly falling in behind the group, Peter tried to blend in, happily noticing his clip-on nametag looked almost identical to theirs.
“No cameras, now,” the guide Christopher was telling them. “Once we get down into the Archives and the Morgue, no pictures.”
As the group trooped down a long, sloping corridor, Peter listened to the story of the original Archives and all that had been saved for future generations to see. He was disappointed to see a sign on the door that said the Archives was not accessible that day. The concrete tunnel, spooky in its own right with low ceilings, miles of exposed pipes and ductwork, and closed doors to hidden rooms, had also been used in numerous television shows. While that had been a nice side benefit, the tunnel had been used for many purposes. Walt had wanted to preserve the campus-like setting of the studio so all the utilities had been put underground—something that was unheard of back in 1940. Plus, the tunnel had been a way to protect the freshly painted animation cels. No matter what the weather was like outside, the cels were protected from the elements while being transported through the tunnel from one department to another.
Peter’s disappointment at the inaccessible old location of the Archives was short-lived as the guide brought the tour up the other side of the tunnel and down a corridor lined with offices. Most of the doors were closed as it was not a workday for most people.
“And this,” Christopher was saying, “is called the Nunnery.”
Peter couldn’t believe his ears as they were led into the narrow break area. Next to their location, only one office, its animation table lit from underneath, was occupied. The woman at work ignored the hushed talk of the tour guide and continued her detailed work. After everyone had time to look into the window of the Paint Room and see all the plastic containers of color lining the walls, Christopher led them back into the corridor. “Now we’ll head to the commissary and you’ll have just about an hour to eat and to shop in the Studio Store before the bus leaves.”
Peter’s mouth fell open. Oops. In his excitement, he had forgotten about buying a coffee mug for Mr. George. He would have to remember to do that once he was finished in the Nunnery.
Having hung back as far as he could, walking slower and slower, it was unnoticed when he began to walk backward and ducked back into the break area. A quick glance showed him the animator was still at work, oblivious to the outside world. When he had been with the group, Peter had looked over all of the plants in the small area and decided to first check out the low-growing shrubs along the one wall.
On his hands and knees, out of sight of any window, Peter slowly and meticulously examined every bush, not knowing at all what he was looking for. He pushed aside the greenery and basically hoped something popped out at him. As he worked further toward the back wall, he was starting to lose hope, thinking he had made a mistake.
Then, without realizing it, Peter saw what his dad had seen years ago in his own quests: The initials WED etched deep into the wall near the base of the dirt and a small arrow pointing downward. As his heart began to pound with excitement, Peter knew those initials stood for Walter Elias Disney and that he had probably just found what he had been searching for. After one last glance to make sure he was still unobserved, he removed his backpack. He brought out a small folding shovel he had taken from the camping gear in their storage shed. Trying not to hurt the plants, he shoved the tip of the six-inch steel blade into the hard dirt and tried to be as quiet as he could.
“What are you doing there? Why aren’t you with the rest of the tour?”
Surprised, Peter jerked around and almost fell backward over the bench right next to him. “I…I was just looking into the Paint Room with everyone else. Are they all gone?” He tried to sound worried and lost all at the same time. “Oh, no. The bus can’t leave without me! I…I don’t know how to get home.”
The artist, on her requisite break, looked at the worried expression on the boy’s face. He had obviously just lost track of time. “If you go down that corridor,” she pointed, “just keep going until the end. The buses are usually just around the corner. Do you need me to show you the way?”
“Oh, no, thank you. I can find it!” Peter tried not to gush too much as he hurried out the door and didn’t look back. He held back from actually running.
With a shake of her head, the artist mumbled something about “kids” and sank down on the garden bench. Looking around, she couldn’t see anything that would have been so fascinating to a kid so he’d lose track of time like that.
As she returned to her desk, she idly wondered when the gardeners had been there to dig up the soil.
Peter practically ran into the commissary and held up a Studio Store bag for everyone to see. “Got it!” His voice was over-loud for the circumstance and a few other diners looked over at the noise.
Looking up from his chocolate cake, Lance wondered why Peter looked so flush—almost as if he had been running the whole time he had been gone. Which was considerable, Lance noticed as he glanced at the clock. “You okay, buddy?” he asked as Peter threw himself down in the cafeteria-style chair next to him.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Can I have lunch now?”
Lance glanced again at the clock. “You’ve been gone quite a while. I already ate.”
When Peter’s face fel
l, his dad relented and indicated for him to get a move on. Already knowing what he wanted, Peter didn’t wait for Lance to change his mind.
While Peter was busy getting a couple slices of freshly-sliced ham, Lance peeked into the shopping bag. There was an item heavily wrapped in cushioned bubble paper that he assumed was the mug, plus he saw a few new pins for Peter’s lanyard. As he pulled his hand back, his smile faded when loose dirt fell off the handle of the shopping bag. Unconcerned, he shrugged as he dusted the dirt from his hand and went back to his interrupted conversation with Norm.
“Wow, it’s another key.” Peter set aside the contents of the new capsule and stared at the brass object in his hand. “And it looks just the same as the first one we got in the Lilly Belle.” Setting the new key down on his desk, he walked over and thrust his hand under the mattress on his bed to retrieve the first key. “Gotta find a new hiding place,” he mumbled when he finally located the elusive item. “Some of these papers are getting messed up.”
Comparing the keys side by side, they did, at first, appear identical. But when he tried to nestle them together, he found something out. “Ah, the flat part is on the opposite side. This one has to be turned around to fit.” Once together, he could see the antique teeth were exact matches and the two parts made a significantly thicker key. “Wonder why there are two of them.” As he held up the shiny object in front of his eyes, his gaze kept going to the Hidden Mickey cutout at the top. From the research he had done on skeleton keys, he could imagine a long tasseled cord hanging from the cutout. “Maybe there are two doors I have to find. Ooh, or two treasure chests! That’d be cool.”
The idea of having to locate something else reminded Peter that he still hadn’t examined all the contents in the newest gray container. This one was slightly larger than the one Catie had found stuffed down into the cushion in the Lilly Belle. Besides the key, there was also another note written on the same yellow-edged paper and a wallet-sized card of a thicker ivory paper that had been slightly rolled to fit in the tube.
Uncurling the thicker paper, his eyes widened in surprise as he read the ornate wording that scrolled over the card. The first words he saw printed in a faded brown ink were ‘Gold Pass’ and that the Pass would ‘admit the unnamed holder of the card and his party of five to Disneyland.’ On the left, next to the word Disneyland was a blue and brown representation of Sleeping Beauty Castle. Below a blue line that underscored the castle and Disneyland was the year of 1960 and Walt Disney’s signature written with a thick blue pen. In smaller letters under Walt’s signature was the title of President. Peter could see a curling filigree design all around the edge of the card and around the words Gold Pass.
“Oh, looks like I got a free admission to Disneyland.” He gave a small chuckle. “And I can bring five friends with me. Oh well, that’s too bad. I’ll think about that later.” Because both his parents worked for Disneyland, he knew he could get into the Park whenever he wanted. But, he realized some of his friends who didn’t have the same privilege might enjoy a free day. Tossing the uninteresting pass onto a pile of papers on his desk, Peter turned to the other sheet from the capsule that he hoped was more interesting and important.
The yellowed paper had been folded in half and, with his heart beating a little faster, Peter pulled the edges apart to see what new, exciting mystery would be inside and worthy enough to be buried on the grounds of Walt’s own Studio.
“Two keys are better than one. You will find the location of the secret door under the harpsichord’s keyboard.”
“What the heck is a harpsichord? I wonder if these keys fit into it. No.” He reread the clue and answered it himself. “It says a secret door. Cool. That sounds like fun.”
Back at his computer screen and having entered the word harpsichord, Peter began reading. “A harpsichord is a musical instrument played with a keyboard, producing a sound by plucking a string when a key is pressed. The harpsichord was widely used in Renaissance and Baroque music. However, during the late eighteenth century it gradually disappeared from the musical scene with the rise of the piano. But in the twentieth century it made a comeback, being used in historically correct performances of older music, in newer compositions, and in popular.…
“Okay, now I’m bored.” He broke off and rubbed his eyes. “Why didn’t they just call it a fancy piano…. So, what does this have to do with Walt Disney?”
He could tell the article he was reading never mentioned Walt as he quickly scrolled through the rest of its many pages, bypassing many pictures of the antiquated instrument. Going to the top of the screen, he condensed his search by adding the word Disney with a disgusted shake of his head. “You’d think by now I’d just automatically do that.”
Leaning forward to the screen, his eyebrows went up as he saw result after result that listed Club 33 in Disneyland as the location of Walt’s, or rather Lillian Disney’s harpsichord. He wasn’t too interested in the beautiful wharf scene that had been painted on the underside of the lid by the Disney Imagineers. “Hmph, we musta walked right past it when we were there for lunch. So now the problem is,” he muttered, putting his arms behind his head as he leaned back in his chair to stare up at the unhelpful ceiling, “how do I get back into the Club.”
When he couldn’t immediately come up with a solution, he amused himself by spinning around in his chair. On one pass, his eyes happened to fall on the wallet-sized card that had accompanied the clue and that he had unceremoniously tossed aside. “I wonder what the search engines will say about a Gold Pass,” he smiled as he typed in the words, not really expecting to find any references for a measly one free day at Disneyland.
It didn’t take long for his ‘isn’t-that-cute’ smile to fade. The look on his face was replaced with one of an almost reverential awe. For what he held—very carefully now—in his hands was a lifetime entry into every Disney Park around the world that was personally signed by Walt Disney.
His hushed “Oh, wow” didn’t even begin to cover it.
Carefully listening to the musing and mutterings from Peter through the hidden bug still secure in the backpack, Todd pieced the clue and the next location together. “Figures,” he snorted, “the brat gets to go back to Club 33 again and I’ve still never been there. I’ll have to jump him when he comes out—whenever that’ll be.” He popped open a beer and put his feet up on his messy desk. “I just hope he calls his little girlfriend and sets something up soon. I’m getting tired of waiting.”
Todd took a long drink from the opened can. “Wonder if I should shake things up a bit. Let him know he isn’t the only one in on this. Might scare the brat into doing something stupid.” Todd gave a lopsided smile. “Stupid usually means mistakes. He’s had way too easy a time of this.”
He could tell Peter was now typing on his keyboard. “Rats. Doesn’t anyone use the phone any more?”
As he stared at his own computer, Todd got an idea. What if he posted something anonymously on Peter’s social page? He had found the page when he had first started stalking the boy, occasionally checking to see if Peter was stupid enough to post something about his finds at Disneyland. Much to Todd’s annoyance, so far he was not. Maybe a private message would be better, he decided.
Thinking for a minute on what to say, he pulled up the popular social pages and logged in using one of his many aliases. The Axeman sounded nasty enough.
I know what you’re doing. I know what you found. Don’t think you can keep this from everyone. If you don’t turn over the evidence to me, there will be consequences you’ll have to pay. And that goes for your little girlfriend, too. Reply to this immediately and then I will tell you what to do next. The Axeman.
Todd chuckled darkly to himself. “Ooh, that’s good. I like the part about the girl, too. Now let’s see if he is smarter than he looks,” as he hit Send and then sat back in his chair to wait for Peter’s frantic reply.
We need to go back to Disneyland and into Club 33. Any suggestions? he typed to Catie.
>
Hi, Peter! How R U? I’m fine. How is school?
“C’mon, Catie, I don’t have time for this.” He grumbled to himself as he started to type again. It’s all good. Listen, we have to go back to DL. I got another clue from the Studio. Do you want to go, too?
That’s good! We sold the last puppy yesterday. : ( I’m going to miss having them all around. Did you have fun at the Studio? I’ve never been.
Peter actually growled. “I’m not trying to chitchat, Catie! Gosh!” Studio nice. FOUND CLUE. NEED TO GO BACK TO DL. DO YOU WANT TO HELP ME?
Gosh, U don’t have to yell. Sure, I’d <3 to help. What do we have to do?
“That’s more like it. I think…. I don’t know what <3 means, but I’m not going to ask,” he muttered to himself. Sorry, he typed, but don’t have much time. Trying to come up with way to get back to Park. This is Thurs. If we can, let’s try to get back on Sat. I’ll get us into Club 33, I think….
R U going to ask your dad or Wolf?
Peter stared at her question. Was he? His email button pinged. Just a minute. I got an email.
‘K
Peter read the message from The Axeman and tilted his head, his eyes narrowed. He hit the reply button. Knock it off, Jason. You aren’t getting my autographed baseball cards, and hit Send. Back, he typed to Catie. Just a dumb note from a friend from school.
LOL I get a lot of those. What about your dad?
Still thinking about Jason, Peter had no idea what she was talking about and he didn’t want to look back at her previous message. What did you say? Repeat.
Oh, man…. R U going to ask your dad or Wolf for help?
“Oh.” Not yet. Let’s see if we can do this on Sat. Just us. Mom and dad busy with party coming up. You’re coming, right?
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