It All Started...
Page 1
Table of Contents
Cover
Synopsis
Inside Cover
Copyright
Dedication
Disclaimer
Acknowledgements
Dear Readers
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Next book in the series
Hidden Mickey Fan Club
About the Authors
HIDDEN MICKEY 2
It All Started...
Volume 2 in a series of action-adventure mysteries about Walt Disney and Disneyland written for Adults, Teens, & Tweens (age 10 & up).
MISSING A CLUE LANCE STUMBLES ON A MYSTERIOUS GEMSTONE
What was in the instructions Walt gave him just before he died? Is there more to the Hidden Mickey quest? A mysterious Red Diamond comes from the depths of the Jungle.
WHAT IS THE POWER BEHIND IT?
Lance Brentwood, the spoiled bad-boy of Hidden Mickey 1, finds himself in an unfamiliar position—alone and at the receiving end of a gun.
ONE CRYPTIC CLUE INVOLVES A MAN'S ENTIRE DESTINY
When Lance learns the legacy Walt set in place is more far-reaching than he had ever imagined. Can he earn the trust of the Blond-Haired Man’s daughter, or does this feisty beauty have plans of her own? Intrigue heats up when Lance has to team up with her as the two embark on an even wilder quest to unravel Walt Disney’s final clue to ultimately find the very treasure that helped Walt build the greatest entertainment company in the world.
THEIR ADVERSARY STOPS AT NOTHING TO GAIN THAT POWER
Daniel Crain was content to sit on the sidelines and live the easy life. Now with a chance to up the stakes, he stops at nothing to step into the position of power he feels he deserves. The only thing standing in his way is Lance.
THEY ARE IN A LIFE-OR-DEATH RACE TO UNCOVER THE MYSTERY
Who will win the battle for Walt’s legacy—the one man determined to preserve it or the other man determined to destroy it? In what seems to be a no-way-out situation, Lance discovers there is far more to the Legacy of the great showman, Walt Disney, and is thrust into a life-or-death race to uncover what the Master Storyteller wants someone to find.
Another "E-Ticket" ride through Disney's history.
HIDDEN MICKEY 2
IT ALL STARTED...
SECOND BOOK IN THE HIDDEN MICKEY SERIES
REVISED EDITION eBOOK -,VOLUME 2 - OCTOBER 1, 2015
ISBN 13: 978-0-97-490266-1
COPYRIGHT © 2010 NANCY RODRIGUE & DAVID W. SMITH
Library of Congress Catalog number 2012659962
www.HIDDENMICKEYBOOK.com
Flesch-Kincaid Grade 5.6 - Flesch Reading Ease 78.3
FIRST EDITION eBOOK - SEPTEMBER 2010 - ISBN 13: 978-0-9749026-61
REVISED EDITION eBOOK - OCTOBER 2015 - ISBN 13: 978-0-9749026-61
FIRST EDITION PAPERBACK - SEPTEMBER 2010 - ISBN 13: 978-0-9749026-30
FIRST EDITION HARDBACK - OCTOBER 2015 - ISBN 13: 978-0-9749026-30
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
NO PART OF THIS BOOK BE USED OR REPRODUCED IN ANY MANNER WHATSOEVER, ELECTRONIC, MECHANICAL,
PHOTOCOPYING, RECORDING, OR OTHERWISE WITHOUT THE PRIOR WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE PUBLISHER
Double R Books Publishing
740 N. H Street, Suite # 170
Lompoc, California, 93436
www.DOUBLERBOOKS.com
COVER CONCEPT BY NANCY RODRIGUE
www.NANCY.RODRIGUE.org
COVER ARTWORK & COLOR BY CHRISNA RIBEIRO
www.JUHANI.DEVIANTART.com
COVER COPYRIGHT © 2015 BY DOUBLE R BOOKS
www.DOUBLERBOOKS.com
PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Dedication
I would like to dedicate this book to my
husband Russ Rodrigue. He has read every
word I have written; he has offered support
every step of the way; and he has been
there for almost every book signing and
appearance I have made.
His behind-the-scenes work has been
invaluable to me. Thank you from the
bottom of my red diamond heart!
Nancy Temple Rodrigue
I dedicate my efforts in this book to
the two women most important in my
life: My wife, Dr. Kerri Smith, who has
provided the means for me to do what I
enjoy doing, and my Mother, Donna
Winchester, who has always faithfully
supported me and my projects.
David W. Smith
Disclaimer
Walt Disney Company Trademarks: Hidden Mickey is in no way authorized by, endorsed by or affiliated with the Walt Disney Company, Inc., Disneyland Park, WED, or Mouse Adventures. Disneyland Park is a registered trademark of the Walt Disney Company. Other Disney trademarks include but are not limited to Adventureland, Animatronics, Fantasyland, Frontierland, Jungle Cruise, Magic Kingdom, Neverland, New Orleans Square, Space Mountain, Sleeping Beauty’s Castle, Tarzan’s Treehouse, Tomorrowland, Tom Sawyer Island, Walt Disney, and Walt Disney World. All references to such trademarked properties are used in accordance with the Fair Use Doctrine and are not meant to imply this book is a Disney product for advertising or other commercial purposes.
While some of the events and persons contained herein are historical facts and figures, other persons named and the events described are purely fictional and a product of the Authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual people is purely coincidental.
The actions depicted within the book are a result of fiction and imagination and are not to be attempted, reproduced or duplicated by the readers of this book. The Publisher and Authors assume no responsibility or liability for damages resulting, or alleged to result, directly or indirectly from the use of the information contained herein.
Acknowledgements
Thanks and Acknowledgements go to
our proofreaders and editors :
Alyssa Colodny, Proofreader
Karla Gallagher, English B.A., Editor
Kimberlee Keeline, English PhD., Editor
www.KEELINE.com
Dear Readers,
Writing the first novel in the Hidden Mickey series, HIDDEN MICKEY: Sometimes Dead Men Do Tell Tales!, was an adventure for both of us. No one could have predicted the interest and success that the novel has enjoyed in its first year of publication. From Disney fans to Mystery/Adventure fans, Sometimes Dead Men Do Tell Tales! found a following among almost all who have read the book! Yet, this is just the start. To us, the book is our way of sending readers on a nostalgic—if not just plain fun—adventure as they visit places in Disneyland, relive their youth, and share in the common goal of keeping Walt Disney’s legacy alive. HIDDEN MICKEY 2: It All Started…has turned out to be every bit as much fun for us to write...and we hope as much fun for all who read it.
For the best experience, we recommend readers begin with HIDDEN MICKEY 1: Sometimes Dead Men DO Tell Tales! before moving to this second book in the series. However, this novel stands on its own. Many questions our readers had after reading the first novel are answered in this book. Yet, this novel poses several new questions. We can happily say that these will be answered in the next book in the series HIDDEN MICKEY 3: Wolf The Legend of Tom Sawyer’s Island.
So, sit back, get comfortable, and dig into
the quest for Hidden Mickeys!
Best Wishes,
Nancy Temple Rodrigue
David W. Smith
July 27, 2002
Lance looked up from the frosted window in front of him knowing he had discovered something truly incredible, monumental. Fingers interlocked behind his head, he had to consciously will his breathing and heart rate to return to anything under one hundred beats per minute. As he gazed up at one of the few remaining working bulbs that feebly lit the subterranean cavern he had stumbled upon, Lance thought of all the rumors, the myths that surrounded Walt Disney. Some said he was abducted by aliens, others claimed that he was cryogenically frozen, others still maintain that he was alive, never aging, and hanging out with Elvis like a pair of ‘lost boys’ in their own private ‘Neverland.’ Looking back at the window and the blinking red light, it became apparent that only a thick pane of glass was all that separated him from one of the world’s greatest entertainers.
A million thoughts flooded his mind, subjecting him, he supposed, to a phenomenon similar to that of someone about to die: His life passed before his eyes…and he didn’t like what he saw. What an idiot to do what he had done to his friends Adam and Beth, how he had let his needs—no, his greed, he corrected himself—turn him into a…a.…
Lance groaned and shook his head in disgust. There wasn’t even a word bad enough to describe himself as he recalled pulling a gun on his friends and threatening to shoot them for whatever had been in the sealed room.
He knew they had found Walt’s Treasure. There was no doubt in his mind about it. The heavy door that had been the final puzzle to the treasure’s discovery had been locked, but now it was open. In the chamber outside the one in which he now stood had been a broken and empty crate. All this testified to the fact that someone had figured out the clue to the locked door. And that ‘someone’ had to have been Adam and Beth.
“Sunnee holds the key.”
Four words that had sent him on a wild goose chase to Idaho while Adam and Beth either had known the answer all along or had figured it out while he was gone.
“Sunnee holds the key.”
Walt’s favorite dog, a Chow, the one he had given to his wife Lillian for Christmas, had been named Sunnee. This he had found out while in the Lapwai Library, after Beth had made a fool out of him and sent him to the Nez Perce Reservation in Idaho where Walt’s wife had lived as a girl.
Unable to stand still, Lance began to pace in front of the mysterious cylindrical machine that took up half of the room. There was something missing, some part of the puzzle, and he just couldn’t connect the dots. He understood the journey Walt, the world’s greatest storyteller, had taken them on, which had ultimately led them to Disneyland’s Pirates of the Caribbean ride. There in the Captain’s Quarters, they had found the map with the red X that hadled them to the secret chamber’s entrance behind the ornate headboard. That long-unused chamber had, in turn, led them to the locked door and the final, obscure clue. But what was it about the Pirates ride that connected the clue to the locked door?
Lance still hadn’t been able to make sense of the clue “Sunnee holds the key.”
Sunnee, a dog, holds the key.
A dog holds the key.
Next to Lance, the machine continued to puff small whiffs of white, cold air out of a small exhaust tube at the base of the metal box. Suddenly, he drew in his own sharp breath of air and came to an abrupt stop. He knew the answer. It had literally dogged him all the way back from Idaho.
Pictured in his mind was one of the most recognized scenes in the Pirate ride that was, at that moment, dark and silent above him. It had to be the jail scene where three hopeful pirates were locked behind metal bars. Lance had just had the same epiphany that Adam and Beth must have had weeks earlier.
In that scene, the pirates were trying to lure a shaggy dog that held in its mouth a metal ring from which a long key dangled and shook every time the dog moved his head.
“Sunnee holds the key.”
That dog with the knowing smile, Lance knew, had been there in plain sight ever since the ride opened in 1967.
Lance started to pace again, this time excited by his new discovery. “That key must have been THE key.” Spoken out loud, his voice was overloud as it echoed back from the concrete walls that housed the machine he had found. “The man really was a genius.” The pacing stopped and he looked down at the frosted window. It was there, behind that glass, that he had recognized the man who had set this whole thing in motion with his diary, the clues, and the places in his history. His mind started to run through all the ramifications of this discovery, his discovery. Yes, Adam and Beth had probably found some treasures of some financial merit left by Walt. Lance could only imagine what might have been in that wooden crate he had come across earlier. But this… He turned again to the machine and the window. This was huge! What price could be put on this discovery? His heart sped up again as his mind began to race. What would be the outcome, he tried to imagine, the impact if this incredible discovery was ever revealed to the public?
As he again began to pace, he ran an excited hand through his hair, not even realizing he knocked off his security hat in the process. This was big. “I knew it!” he shouted up at the dimly-lit ceiling. “I always knew it would be big!” Lance thought back to his friend Adam’s view of this Hidden Mickey quest. Adam had never considered the far-reaching possibilities of their quest. Adam thought small and compact and orderly. Lance had always believed in something far bigger. But this discovery? As he stared at the machine, he became transfixed by the process that brought him here and the ramifications of this incredible discovery. It trumped anything he could have possibly imagined.
With a grin of triumph, Lance strode over to the blinking red light illuminating the little window. As he stared at the fog of condensed water that obscured his view of Walt, his smile faltered. A similar fog began to fill his mind and obscured details that were really only hazy outlines.
“What in the world do I do now?” Lance hoped that the sound of his own voice would somehow, miraculously reveal a logical course of action.
“Push Here”
He looked down at his hand at the forgotten piece of paper he had been holding since he found it on the ground and just now had thoughtlessly thrust through his hair.
“Push Here”
This small piece of paper, torn out of Walt’s secret diary, had actually been the final clue. No, the final task, Lance corrected. It had fallen onto the floor in this secret chamber who knows how long ago. The chamber that only I know about. After an extensive search, he had found the remnants of adhesive tape on a lone button on the side of the main console. It had to be that button to which the paper referred. Yet, he was not certain what his next action should be.
“What do I do?” he repeated, softer this time, as he walked over to the dusty panel of buttons and switches and stared at that single, black button.
“You do absolutely nothing.”
Startled, Lance swung around at the sound of the deep, resonant voice which came from a dark corner of the cavern. Before he could react, Lance saw the concrete door—his only exit—close with a distinct and final Bang! The wooden crate that he had hopefully propped up in the opening to keep the door open was instantly reduced to a pile of ineffective, worthless splinters. Already dim, the lights in the cavern flickered on and off. In that moment, Lance felt as if his whole world had been pulled out from under him.
A blond-haired man, probably in his mid-sixties, stepped away from his hidden observation point. An odd smile creased his lips. It was a smile that revealed he was a man of confidence and faint surprise as his green eyes looked over Lance. In his hand, the stunned Lance now saw a shiny, chrome-plated .44 Magnum.
“You do absolutely nothing.”
December 14, 1966
“It all started with a moose.” His boss had mumbled these words right before he had been dismissed. They weren’t Walt’s final words, but, to this you
ng blond-haired man, as he hurriedly left the hospital room, those would be the words he’d remember. The instructions he had been given, the little black diary that needed to be placed, contacts he needed to make, all blended together with the grief he felt as he walked through the white hospital corridor. “It all started…,” he murmured to himself.
Coming toward him from the opposite end of the hallway, he felt the curious eyes of Walt’s secretary on him as he continued toward the exit. In a hurry to pass her, he offered a short, non-committal nod. He knew her by sight, of course, but she would have no idea who he was. It had always been that way and always would. He would have liked to have seen the painting she carried under her arm, but that would have meant a conversation. And that would not do. The anonymity worked to his advantage. And now, with the huge task Walt had given him, it was vital that he maintained it. Head down, he wiped the remnants of a tear from off his face. There was too much to do right now. He would grieve later in private. Now he didn’t have the time.
As he headed to his home in the Fullerton Hills, the blond-haired man’s emotions seemed to match the gloomy December afternoon. It was as if the sky was beginning to mourn the loss that the world would soon experience. He slowly pulled into the large, circular drive of his house. It was a large home, too large for the young, single man he had been then, but Walt had insisted. “A man should never neglect his family for business. There’s room to grow here. Trust me. You’ll need it. And in more ways than one.” Walt had then chuckled mysteriously at the perplexed look on his face.
Years earlier, as Walt oversaw the final construction details of this fine house, he called the younger man to his side. In answer to the man’s confused look, Walt had handed him a different set of blueprints retrieved from the trunk of his car. Spreading them out on the floor of a huge room on the third story, Walt began to point out the designs, diagrams, schematics, monitors, communications, and mechanics represented by specific symbols and codes. Some of them the blond man recognized. Others were as foreign to him as Egyptian hieroglyphics. As the large, curled pages were turned, one by one, his boss’s cryptic ideas began to become clear to him.