“You missed something.… You had it all along.… You missed something.… You had it all along.”

These words played over and over in Lance’s mind. What was it he missed? They had finished the quest. Adam and Beth had gotten the treasure—whatever it was.

“You missed a clue.”

Lance mentally went over each step of the journey he, Adam, and later, Beth had taken as they followed each of Disney’s obscure clues. Marceline. Kansas City. The Golden Oak Ranch. The Studio. Back to Marceline and Kansas City. Disneyland. San Francisco. Tobago. And back to Disneyland again. He went over each clue and its logical next step. How could they have possibly missed something? And even if they did, didn’t their discoveries still take them to the conclusion of Walt’s Hidden Mickey quest?

Was it in the small treasures Walt left along the way? The first gray capsule had given them stock certificates to the railroad. There was nothing else there. The abandoned building in Kansas City? They found the engraved WED and figured out where the capsule had been artfully hidden. Was there something else in the ruins of that room? The entire building just needed a good, stiff breeze to come tumbling down. No, the gray capsule had to be the only find there with its Alice script and the Laugh-O-Gram business card.

Lance paced back and forth in his small living room. Could it have been in the old garage in Kansas City? The studio in Burbank? The Golden Oak Ranch? Lance ran a frustrated hand through his hair. The Ranch was huge. Was there more to it than the guest house where they had found the WED carved into the attic? No. Mario, the groundskeeper, had known Walt personally. He would have told them, especially after he had waited forty years for someone to come along. There was no doubt he wouldn’t have let them leave if there had been something else of this much importance.

What about Manny at the Studio? No, it couldn’t have been him. He didn’t even know what they were looking for. He had just shown them Walt’s empty office. Walt’s desk had been moved to the Opera House at Disneyland and it had given them the unpublished animation cels from Snow White. Tobago? Were they supposed to search the whole island? The movie Swiss Family Robinson had been filmed at Barcolet Bay. The crew had stayed at the Blue Haven Hotel. The clue pointed specifically to Jeremy B. But, Jeremy had been dead for many, many years. If there had been something else connected to Jeremy, they’d never learn what it was.

No, none of that fit. After seeing the War Room, Lance realized the blond-haired man had been aware of almost every step of their journey. What he didn’t know, he was able to fill in by questioning Lance. It would be ridiculous to think that a man’s dying words would be something impossible to attain. This man had spent his entire life protecting Walt and his legacy. His last words would certainly be true.

There just had to be something they overlooked in the clues and treasures they already had in their possession.

Without any firm, logical idea, Lance decided to go to the only place he could think of that might trigger some thought or something to tell him what they had overlooked. He headed for Disneyland.

In the quiet lobby of the Opera House on Main Street, he studied the items from Walt’s history that Beth had loaned to the Park in exchange for her job. Lance ran his hands over the edge of the glass case; the metal frame was warm from the fluorescent bulb that illuminated the case. He paused in his scrutiny to think of his old friends. If the lobby had been empty, he probably would have banged his forehead against the wall. Instead, he gave a deep sigh—one that was echoed by a trio of college girls who had followed him into the building.

Unaware of the girls’ longing looks, Lance stared unseeing at the display in front of him. How in the world would he ever be able to justify pulling a gun on Adam and Beth and demanding the unknown treasure for himself? It hadn’t really hit him until he was exhausted in Idaho and on his subdued flight home to California. He knew who Sunnee was by then, but at that point, it didn’t matter. It took more than a month after the fiasco before he even returned to the hidden cave under the Pirates ride. The hated gun had been thrown into his little wall safe. The force he had used had been so great that it scattered the few important papers he still possessed. He remembered the stock certificate and some white envelope had fallen out of the safe. Grabbing them up off the floor, he had thrown them back into the safe before slamming the door shut, vowing never to open it again.

His eyes narrowed as he thought back on those documents. What was there? There were the worthless lease papers for his Mercedes—the one his father had repossessed. The stock certificate for the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad was a minor prize he and Adam had found early in their quest and had forgotten to return to Adam after having it evaluated. His birth certificate. A few valuable coins he had collected. A letter from an old girlfriend. A copy of his grandfather’s will that had been invalidated by his father. Just those few things and that white envelope that had fallen to the floor. He looked away from the display of Walt’s office, over the heads of the patient women who now smiled encouragingly at him. What was in that envelope? Another letter? Maybe, but he didn’t think so. He couldn’t remember any writing on the front and knew it hadn’t been opened. It had been curled. He recalled that it hadn’t stayed flat at first. It was like it had been rolled up in something….

Something hard and plastic and gray…yes!

“That’s it!” Lance let out a loud yell. “That has to be it!”

The three women looked around, confused. They couldn’t see what in the world he was talking about. They just knew it had nothing to do with any of them. Their theory was further validated when Lance suddenly turned away from the display that had oddly held his interest for so long and strode quickly out of the ornate building. The women gave each other a disappointed pouty-face look and decided to go ride Space Mountain.

“That has to be it.” That became Lance’s mantra as he drove home, his palms impatiently banging against the steering wheel at red lights. He zoomed around slower drivers which invoked more than a couple honking horns and dirty looks which went unheard and unseen. “That has to be it.” He slammed the shift into park and shot out of his Jag.

“Hand the envelope to Manny, Mo, or Jack if you can’t find it.” That had been part of the clue that first led them to the Burbank Studio and then to the Opera House where Walt’s original desk was on display behind a large plate glass window. But he and Adam had figured out the clue and hadn’t needed to open the envelope that was part of the reward at the Golden Oak Ranch. Considered unimportant, the envelope had been tossed in the back of his car after discovering the Grant Deed to the guest house and another page torn out of Walt’s diary. Wow, he thought unbelievingly, we treated it like trash.

Once home, Lance quickly spun through the combination of his safe. Trying to avoid touching the gun, he pulled the white envelope out from under the still-scattered documents inside. He carefully examined it as he held it in his hands. Only this time he held it with a touch of reverence.

Taking the envelope into the kitchen, he pulled a paring knife out of his messy utensil drawer. Heart pounding in his chest, he took the knife and put it gently under the sealed flap. Licking his dry lips, the knife made a clean slit across the top of the envelope. There were two sheets of paper inside. The blank envelope was forgotten on the table as he unfolded the first page and started to read:

“Well, boys, if you are being handed this envelope, it means two things: 1) I am no longer here having fun setting this up, and 2) the person or persons who handed it to you needs some help in figuring me out. Don’t we all? Ha ha.

“I hope everything in my studio is going well. I know you all are doing your best to keep things on track. I chose well and I know you will carry on to the best of your combined abilities.

“Since you know I plan things out pretty well and pretty far in advance, this letter probably doesn’t come as much of a surprise to you. Please help the bearer of this missive as best as you can without interfering or asking too many questions. You know me too well to do that, anyway. They have a mission to fulfill and the contents of this envelope are designed to help them on their way. You have your work to do and they have theirs.

“Forgive the secret nature of this, but it’s something very important to me. I am sure they already realize how important this is, so give them any help they might need. I don’t think this is too difficult to figure out, but then, who knows all this better than I do?

“Give them the attached paper and your promise of help in case they can’t figure it out. Tell them to get busy and that ‘this trip inspired the first Hidden Mickey in film. Look for El Lobo and tell him WED sent you.’

“I wish I could be there with you all seeing how everything we started is working out. Keep up the good work, boys!”

Lance again read through the letter Walt had written to whom he assumed were Walt’s dedicated animators. He knew about the “Nine Old Men”—the most loyal animators who had stood by Disney through the bulk of his career. Recognizing Walt’s handwriting from all the clues and the pages from Walt’s diary that he and Adam had originally found, he smiled to himself as he held the letter. Walt thought of everything, even to the point of offering help if the discoverers of his long-hidden diary got stuck on his clues.

Pausing for a moment, the papers now at rest on the countertop, he looked sightlessly out the kitchen window next to him. He, Adam and Beth had finished the first set of clues the diary had set in motion. Adam and Beth had found some kind of treasure in the small closet-like room under Pirates. The blond-haired man had confirmed that. However, it was he who had found that hidden button recessed in the floor that they must not have seen. That button revealed an even larger room and the cryogenic chamber. Was that the point of the quest the diary had sent them on? To find the treasure and then the chamber and its famous resident?

Lance could picture Adam discovering whatever was in that small wooden crate and in his haste—probably because he was nervous, as Adam tended to be—he completely missed the whole purpose of the quest: Walt. Yes, he had some of the treasures that had been found along the way, but he hadn’t seen the grand reward. Lance sensed he now held what appeared to be another quest set in place by Walt. However, he thought, wouldn’t this quest also lead right back to the chamber where Walt was? But, what would be the point of that? Why had the blond-haired man been so adamant that Lance had missed something? He had said the search for the Hidden Mickeys wasn’t over. Was this envelope part of the grand plan to become a Guardian? Or, were all the clues set in motion by Kimberly’s father all along? Perhaps when he began having heart difficulties and sensed his pending demise, he put the envelope in with the original clues Walt left. No, that couldn’t be. This note was also written by Walt, Lance was positive of this. It couldn’t have been hidden after Walt was.… Lance pictured Walt’s face within the machine’s glass window.

As he pondered these thoughts, he glanced at the slightly-yellowed envelope as it silently sat in front of him. Walt must have wanted to insure his eventual discovery. Perhaps Kimberly’s father was only aware of the envelope, not its contents. Lance shook his head. He felt a mild headache begin, but he couldn’t put his mind to rest. The questions just kept coming.

What if the envelope had been opened and the clue in Walt’s desk had never been discovered? What would have happened to the ending of that quest? Or, perhaps this clue circles back and leads the discoverer right back to Pirates of the Caribbean and the secret chambers…which would make sense if Walt wanted a backup quest.

His mind was spinning as he went over the same ground. There were so many questions and fewer and fewer people to answer them. The blond-haired man was now gone, his daughter distraught. She didn’t seem to know about the envelope or what her father had meant. Maybe Daniel Crain could help. Lance made a sour face. He wasn’t sure what Daniel did or didn’t know, but he sure wasn’t going to ask him at this point to find out.

Well, I’ll just have to follow this clue myself and do the best I can. Lance took up the papers to study the second sheet he hadn’t looked at yet.

Unlike the first page, the second sheet had the Disney Studio’s logo on the top. It was unlined and the clues, as Lance could see that they were clues, were listed top to bottom on the right side of the page. The left side had a line apparently for writing in the answer to the clue. He counted nine lines in all. Two of the lines, in the third and fourth positions, were off-set from the others. Lance wasn’t sure if this was done on purpose or was because it was hand-drawn. “Time will tell.”

The time for questions was over. Now was time for action. As he read the first clue, he smiled to himself and looked around for his car keys. It looked like he was going back to Disneyland.

Lance made a photocopy of the second page and took this with him to the Park. He didn’t want to risk either damaging or losing the original page as it had been written by Walt. As he looked it over again, he felt the excitement like he had felt earlier in May, back when Adam and he had run the Mouse Adventure race through the Park. This would have fit right in with what they had to do back then during the exciting scavenger hunt the Park hosted twice a year.

He looked across from the Main Street plaza, over toward the Fire House. Up above the Fire House was Walt’s private apartment—where Adam had found Walt’s diary. Instead of remembering Wendy, the curvy cast member who had been on duty that day and who had later accompanied Lance on a few memorable dates, Lance thought about Adam and how much fun they had had on their adventures together. He again wondered if Adam would ever forgive him. Knowing Adam as well as he did, he told himself, probably not for a long, long time.

The shadow of regret that had crossed Lance’s face was momentary because he knew he had to get to work. There would be some time, some way in the future to make it up to Adam and Beth.

“Lance? Is that you? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

At the sound of his name, Lance turned to see Julia smiling at him. His face broke into its customary grin. Julia worked at the Haunted Mansion as a ‘Ghostess’, greeting people in dead-pan seriousness at the entrance. Her bubbly personality was the exact opposite of the character she was supposed to portray. Lance had taken her out a few times. Once, when the ride had been down for maintenance, they had waltzed in the Ballroom Scene of the Mansion, dancing in and out of the ghostly residents. It obvious she would like to go out again.

He could see she was dressed for work in the somber costume of the Mansion. Safe for the moment, he amicably chatted with her without actually answering any of her subtle questions about seeing him again. A pair of green eyes that belonged to another beauty kept appearing in his mind’s eye, and this proved to be distracting as he tried to talk to Julia.

When Julia couldn’t put off heading to the Mansion any longer, she gave a good-natured ‘see you later, Sweetie’ to Lance and hurried to her assignment. She gave one backward glance before rounding the corner and was disappointed that his dreamy brown eyes hadn’t followed her. I’ll get you next time, she promised herself with a smile. She had had too much fun with Lance to give up on him that easily.

Even before Julia had stepped off Main Street, Lance’s attention was on the paper in his hand. He read and reread all the clues before he would fill in any of the answers:

________________________ 107 Main Street

________________________ 1st Completed Building

____________________________ Down, down, down, down

____________________________ You need a magic feather

________________________ Holiday Hill

________________________ 31 Royal Street

________________________ 1964 World’s Fair

________________________ Richfield Oil sponsor, better have a C ticket

________________________ Kiss-O-Meter copyright date

“This trip inspired the first Hidden Mickey in film. Look for El Lobo and tell him WED sent you.”

Lance’s photographic memory came to his assistance. From all the research he had done with Adam, Lance remembered reading that the first completed building when Disneyland was built was the Opera House. After writing that on the second line, he slowly walked down Main Street looking for addresses to the different shops. This proved to be more difficult than he expected. Hardly any of the buildings had actual addresses on them. By the time he located a street address of 217 on the final building called the Refreshment Corner, it showed he had gone too far. He did realize the desired store would be on the same side of the street. Retracing his steps, he came to the huge, curved arch of the Crystal Arcade, the words spelled out in white lights. He wondered how he could have missed the address—it was on both sides of the marquee—107. He wrote Crystal Arcade on the first line.

He now headed to New Orleans Square to see what was located at 31 Royal Street, hoping it was a restaurant. His stomach began to growl at the sweet smells coming from the Candy Palace that he had already walked by twice, the sugary aroma intentionally pumped through small round vents located at knee level.

He smiled when he saw the number 31 was over the entrance to the Blue Bayou restaurant. Turning on the full power of his smile to a hostess at the reservation desk whose nametag identified her as Kerri, he managed to get a table right away. Ordering a bowl of clam chowder from the server, Lance munched on the sourdough rolls that were set quickly on his table. Dimmed to a perpetual dusk, the Blue Bayou sat on the edge of the well-known Pirates of the Caribbean ride. Sounds of the bayou that drifted across the dark water mingled with the sounds of boatloads of guests embarking on their journey into the world of pirates. A flash from a camera would light up the surroundings briefly, only to dim to nothing and leave the flashing fireflies as the only source of light around the bobbing houseboats. Croaking bullfrogs and distant screams of riders going down the waterfalls inside the attraction mixed with the dim clatter of silverware and plates being set and removed and the constant, soft murmur of guests eating inside the restaurant.

Gregarious by nature, Lance was unused to dining alone. Yes, there were a few wistful glances being thrown at him by some of the female diners—some of whom thinking they’d like to change his solo status, or at least, spend time on a dark ride with him. But these glances went unseen by Lance as he intently looked at a piece of paper sitting next to him on the table while he ate. Not once did Lance even glance around the restaurant or make eye contact with any of the ladies. Lance did look up from his bowl one time, only to look at the ceiling and then he cast a longing look at the boats of the Pirates of the Caribbean as they drifted by. This place, this ride especially, held many memories for Lance: some good, some very, very bad. He supposed he was keeping himself in a self-imposed exile as punishment for his reprehensible actions. As he returned his attention to his steaming bowl of clams and broth, he figured he would eventually get over it, and probably far sooner than he ought. He smiled as he remembered the quote Beth had said to him once. For a brief moment, the image of Kimberly flashed in his mind, her soft green eyes crying over her deceased father, and that overshadowed his memory of dear Beth. For some reason, the woman had him transfixed. He was driven to solve the clue this time, not just for himself, but also to somehow help her. He hoped that the image of Kimberly crying was not going to be his last memory of her.

Refreshed by the meal and leaving alone, Lance turned his attention to the quest at hand. He had no idea what ‘Holiday Hill’ meant nor the reference to a ‘Kiss-O-Meter’—even though he did like the sound of that one, and he knew there were at least two attractions that were brought into Disneyland after the World’s Fair in 1964.

There was a display of old ride tickets inside the Opera House, so he headed back to Main Street and wondered why he didn’t think of it while he there earlier. The ride tickets used to be required to enter the different rides and attractions at Disneyland. From ‘A’ to ‘E’, each ticket had a different monetary value and was only good for certain rides. The ‘A’ tickets were only ten cents and were good for the vehicles that traveled up and down Main Street, like the Omnibus, and were also good to ride the Carrousel in Fantasyland. The ‘E’ tickets were for the best rides. Depending on which decade they came to the Park, the guests would see new rides printed on these premium money-green-colored tickets: Jungle Cruise, Pirates of the Caribbean, the Matterhorn Bobsleds, the Monorail, the Submarine Voyage, or Space Mountain.

Lance found the glass-enclosed table that contained various Disneyland memorabilia. He located the spread of vintage Disneyland tickets, an information plate describing the various tickets, their historic beginnings, and when they were finally discontinued in 1981 in favor of unlimited Passports. Lance concentrated on the rides listed on the ‘C’ tickets shown in the display. Most of the dark rides in Fantasyland were on this white-colored ticket in the middle of the ticket book. Rides like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, Peter Pan, and Dumbo, in addition to the Autopia car ride that had a queue entrance in Fantasyland as well as Tomorrowland. Beth’s old ride, the Mike Fink Keel Boats, no longer ran, but it was recorded for posterity on the ‘C’ ticket as well. He looked back at the Autopia attraction printed on the ‘C’ Ticket—the cars that could be driven by children and ran on a track to keep them within the confines of the ride.

A smile of satisfaction crossed his face. “Now, what other ride could possibly have been sponsored by an oil company?” Lance tapped the glass top then pulled out his paper again and wrote ‘Autopia’ in the second line from the bottom.

He had another thought about one of the answers and left the Opera House on Main Street. He headed north up toward the hub in front of Sleeping Beauty’s Castle and proceeded to weave through groups of people. He gave a tip of his imaginary hat to the Partners Statue of Walt and Mickey holding hands, displayed in bronzed glory in the center of the Central Plaza Hub. Lance walked around the center garden and casually glanced at the smaller bronze statues that all faced inward toward the Walt and Mickey statue. He paused just for a moment, looking all around the circular walkway, noting for the first time how appropriately each of these characters that Walt had created—or had embellished with his brand of story-telling—were all turned toward the middle, all facing Walt and Mickey; literally looking up to Walt as a child would look up to his father or mother. Lance smiled, nodding his head at the subtle reference the Imagineers intended when they designed the hub’s layout.

Crossing the portion of Main Street that curved around the front of the castle, Lance walked across the drawbridge, under the dark arches of the Sleeping Beauty Castle and into the noisy bustle of Fantasyland. Peter Pan’s Flight was the first, most popular ride on the right; a few steps further was Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride. Going around the glittering white Carrousel, he could hear its calliope playing a traditional carnival tune as horses galloped around in a circle to the delight of dozens of happy children sitting on their gallant steeds. He approached the soaring elephants of the Dumbo ride and watched the smiling gray elephants with outstretched ears as wings. Children and their parents flew around the Ringmaster Timothy, who stood upon a shiny mirror ball in the center of the attraction. Lance stood quietly near the exit as the gray pachyderms made their wide circle, going up or down at the whim of their young pilots. But, now, he wasn’t watching the circling ride vehicles. He was watching the ride operators as they walked along the line of waiting, eager guests. After asking how many would be riding, they would hand the youngest member a black plastic feather, telling them they would need this ‘magic feather to make Dumbo fly.’ The feathers would be collected as the guests entered their elephant and would then handed out to the next group waiting at the gate.

Turning away from the ride, Lance pulled out the paper and looked at the fourth line clue: ‘You need a magic feather.’

On the first of the off-set lines, Lance wrote ‘Dumbo.’

Lance now had five out of the nine answers he needed. With a sigh, he headed back to Main Street and the City Hall. The large sign identifying the City Hall also had smaller letters that spelled out ’Information.’ It was the one place guests could find answers to questions and also served as the Park’s Lost and Found department. Adam would have had it all planned out rather than all this running back and forth. Lance gave himself a self-deprecating chuckle as he ran up the few steps into the cool interior of the ornate building.

With the help of an old map behind glass on the wall, Lance found out that ‘Holiday Hill’ had been a mound of dirt that eventually became the site for the Matterhorn Mountain. It had also been named ‘Snow Hill’, the helpful cast member, Joe, informed Lance. “In the mid-1950’s, it was a popular place for picnics before the massive renovation of Tomorrowland and the addition of the Matterhorn.” Glad to have a receptive audience, Joe, a tall crew-cut, red-head, continued with his history lesson. “I guess there were lots of trees and picnic tables up on the hill.” Looking around to see where the other cast members on duty were, Joe then added with a smiling whisper, “And places for making out.”

That reference reminded Lance to ask about the Kiss-O-Meter, which, at first, drew a blank look from the young worker. Then he got on the phone and called someone. After much pausing and an “I’m not kidding,” some old placement chart was found. “It’s in the Penny Arcade!” was the triumphant response. Not seeing an equal response out of his guest, the cast member added a reserved, “Really…,” as Lance had a look on his face that said, “I don’t believe you.”

Joe stood there for a moment and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s some sort of game in the Penny Arcade…I guess.”

With a “Thanks for your help,” Lance left the City Hall building and headed back up Main Street to turn into the brightly lit entrance of the Penny Arcade. As he went past Esmeralda, the talking robotic gypsy woman who promised to reveal his future for a quarter, he was tempted to see what Esmeralda saw in his future. However, he passed on her clairvoyance and walked into the Arcade, looking around at the various coin-operated machines that lined the walls of the room and older, more antique machines that were lined up in the center of the room. The Penny Arcade still held machines that dated back to the 1920’s. For a penny, you could look into the view screen and turn a crank to watch an old, black and white silent movie. For twenty-five cents, you could turn a handle and make a marionette of Pinocchio dance from his strings. And, backed against the wall, near the corner that lead into the Candy Palace, for ten cents, you could squeeze a bright silver handle and learn the power of your kisses.

Smiling, Lance stood in front of the tall, bright machine. Every ten spaces up the scoreboard had a light bulb to tell you if your kiss was only a ten and ‘Amateurish,’ or a forty and ‘Intoxicating,’ or all the way up to one hundred and ‘Dynamite.’ The last poor soul who tried it had left the machine lit in the humble number thirty spot and would forever be known only as ‘Amorous.’ At least it wasn’t in the negative ten spot and he would be declared ‘Frigid’! Lance looked at the red heart on the top of the machine that enveloped a kissing couple. He would guess from the look on that man’s face that he ranked at least a ninety and was ‘Devastating.’

After a glance at his quest sheet, Lance looked at the faceplate of the machine and quickly spotted the copyright date of 1940. He entered that number on the last line of the page.

“I’d like to see how you rate.” A woman’s voice suddenly whispered in Lance’s direction as he finished writing the date on his sheet. Beside him was a tall, slender blond woman wearing a lime-green tank top and a short denim skirt.

Lance turned and looked at the woman who appeared to be in her late twenties. “With my luck, I’d probably end up on ‘Lukewarm’.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” The woman smiled at Lance’s laugh and the dimples it carved into his cheeks. “I’d like to test your luck.”

Normally, he would have played along, gotten the woman’s phone number, and looked forward to having dinner with her at some point in the future. Now, with his preoccupation with the quest, the seriousness of what had happened to him, his thoughts of Kimberly and her dad, and the task at hand, Lance found himself viewing at this situation differently. “I guess we’ll never find out.” Lance saw the woman’s surprised pout and was sure she had seldom, if ever, faced rejection. “Sorry. Gotta go.” Lance turned and walked toward the arcade entrance.

He didn’t even look back.

Back on Main Street, Lance stood near the curb so as to not block traffic streaming down the sidewalk or on the street. He was left with only one open answer—the 1964 World’s Fair attraction. It would be either Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln, or It’s a Small World. Wait, weren’t the dinosaurs in the diorama from the Fair also?

The answer sheet now looked like this:

Crystal Arcade

Opera House

Alice in Wonderland

Dumbo

Matterhorn

Blue Bayou

__________________

Autopia

1940

Looking down the answer sheet, Lance tried to find a starting point on how all these answers related to each other. Two were buildings on Main Street, one was a restaurant, at least four of them were rides here in Disneyland, two were animated movies, one could be a location out of the country…. He shook his head. That wasn’t helping. There was no obvious reason to put them together that way. It had to be something else. Time frames? Alice and Dumbo, if they were talking about the movies, came out in 1951 for Alice and 1941 for Dumbo. The Matterhorn Mountain here in the Park was built in 1959; the Matterhorn in Switzerland…well, that wouldn’t work. The Opera House and the Crystal Arcade were there in 1955 when the Park opened. The World’s Fair was 1964. No, the years were all over the place. There had to be another angle.

Looking again at the placement of the words, he wondered why the third and fourth lines were offset. There had to be a reason for that. It couldn’t have been just a typographical error. Walt had a reason for everything he did.

Staring at the answer sheet, Lance thought he saw a pattern emerge. He decided to insert It’s a Small World in the remaining blank to see if completed the idea he was forming. When he lined the words up the way the blanks were spaced, he took the letters down in a straight line and came up with the answer:

Crystal Arcade

Opera House

Alice in Wonderland

Dumbo

Matterhorn

Blue Bayou

It’s a Small World

Autopia

1940

‘Columbia 1940’.

Smiling to himself with a new sense of purpose and direction, Lance left the front of the Penny Arcade and headed for Frontierland. The Sailing Ship Columbia was docked in Fowler’s Harbor, off the main track of the Rivers of America when it was not being used for guests or being used in the nighttime show, Fantasmic! Lance stood on the old Keel Boat dock that was now a smoking area for guests, and looked up at the tall, red backside of the ship, its name proudly displayed in golden letters. There were white-framed windows that opened into the display of crew quarters that would have been standard on the ship in 1787 when she sailed as the first American ship to circumnavigate the world.

As Lance stood pondering how a ship that had sailed in 1787 would figure in a clue dated 1940, a familiar voice sounded at his side. “I could smell your cheap cologne all the way into Critter Country.”

Lance turned to greet his Security partner. “Hey, Wolf! It was hand-mixed for me in Italy, as you well know.”

Wolf was unimpressed. “Why in the world would I know that?”

Lance looked surprised. “Because I told you, like, a month ago.”

“You are assuming, yet again, that I actually pay attention to anything you tell me.” When Lance could come up with no reply and was blankly staring at him, Wolf asked, “You take up smoking?” as he indicated the dock that was designed to look like it was made out of rough-cut logs.

“Hardly.” Lance started to laugh, but broke off, hesitant to say more. He trusted Wolf completely, but wondered how much of this quest he should share.

“You haven’t been around much.” Wolf saw the reluctance and would leave it up to Lance to tell him any of the particulars if he so wanted.

Knowing Wolf as well as he did, Lance knew this was his way to say he’d been missed and he was curious. “Yeah, I…I…um, have a project that came up suddenly.” He indicated the Columbia with a tilt of his chin. “I’m just trying to see if this ship holds an answer that I need.”

“Do you need to get inside? Do you need to see the museum below deck?”

Lance slowly shook his head. “I don’t think so. Now that I think about it, this ship’s design is set in the wrong year. I need something with the name Columbia in 1940 that’s associated with Walt Disney.”

“Columbia University? Columbia Pictures? The Columbia River?” Wolf counted off, his voice coming off in a monotone.

Lance let out a breath. “I hadn’t thought of all of those. I need to do more research at home, I guess.”

“Does this have anything to do with all the places you went with Adam earlier this year?” Now Wolf was really curious as to what Lance would tell him. He knew Lance had come back from his last trip to Idaho alone and a changed man. Even after Wolf’s brief conversations with his boss and with Beth Roberts, he still didn’t fully understand what had happened, and this was the first time he had actually seen Lance since he went missing a week ago. He would like to know how far Lance was involved with his own boss, how seriously he was taking all of this. Knowing the old Lance, Wolf was hoping he wasn’t treating it like a game. There was too much at stake—both for Walt’s sake and for Lance’s.

Lance was silent and looked his security partner in the eye. He saw trust, curiosity, and strength in the blue eyes that stared back at him. Sometimes you have to take a chance. “Tell you what, Wolf,” he finally said, “why don’t you come over to my place after you get off work tonight and I’ll tell you all about my trips with Adam and Beth. I think I may need your help, if you’re willing.” Well, not all about my trips, he silently corrected. Some things will have to remain a secret for now.

Wolf gave a curt nod and picked up his walkie-talkie as it beeped. Lance knew Wolf was needed in another part of the Park. After checking in, Wolf gave him a brief, “I get off at eight o’clock. I’ll be over around nine. See you then.”

Lance watched as Wolf strode off toward Adventureland. He felt relief mixed with anxiety—relief that he may have a partner again and anxiety that he was choosing the right partner and doing the right thing.

Time will tell.

Columbia, 1940

It was began to wear on him. He was tired. Exhausted, really. The strike at the Studio was going on and on. This trip through South America, urged by his friends Rockefeller and Whitney, had been for two reasons: A goodwill trip between the United States and Latin America, and a filmmaking venture. The animators that were still at the Studio were finishing up Dumbo, and Fantasia had just been released to mixed reviews. He was even forced off his boat in the Panama Canal to attend their premiere of Fantasia at a theater there in Panama. There had been no time to relax and recharge.

Still, the trip had been creatively fruitful. The DC-3 that took the group into Chile had become the inspiration for a future short film about a little mail plane he would name Pedro. There would be two films that would blend humans with animated characters.

The Studio and money. Two things that were always on his mind to eat at him and add to the pressure and the worry. And his worries were half of that of his brother, Roy, who worked almost daily to keep the Disney Enterprise from going bankrupt.

He was recognized and welcomed everywhere he went. Thronged, more like it. He would put on a gaucho hat and serape, speak the few Spanish phrases he knew, and when those ran out, he would stand on his head to entertain the vast amount of people who came to see him. But thoughts of the Studio kept coming back. The betrayal he felt because of the strike at the Studio.

He just had to get away to be by himself. He needed some quiet. And it wasn’t going to happen if he stayed on the boat.

The chance came when their boat stopped in Columbia. With a small group, he commandeered a launch and traveled about thirty miles up a river deep into the jungle. The lush beauty of the tropical rainforest calmed him. Hanging vines. Calls from hidden creatures. Blooms of exotic flowers. Dark, murky waters that hid potential dangers unseen below a placid, calm surface.

At his request, they pulled into a clearing. The launch was tied to the roots of a huge tree that emerged from the ever-moving green water, water that would eventually find its way to the mighty Amazon. Lowering a gangplank, they made a cheerful camp with a carefully-watched fire that kept the insects at bay and was used to prepare a simple meal. As dusk quickly fell, the native guides recommended they stay the night rather than attempt to run the river in the darkness. Some of the men were a little leery of the noises that emerged from the dense undergrowth as the night became more pronounced. Not Walt. He turned his back on the fire and walked to the edge of the clearing, peering into the shadows, his imagination on full speed. One of the guides brought him a small tumbler of tequila. “Go no further,” he insisted as Walt finished off the drink and handed the tumbler of ice back to the man. When Walt turned back to the trees, the guide gave a panicked look into the darkness. “Please, Mister, come back to the fire. It’s not safe.”

Walt barely heard him. His mind was active, fertile; as fertile, he thought, as the lush soil that bore the weight of each step he took. He stopped and looked back at the guide who stood with a bewildered look on his face, the glass tumbler forgotten in his hand. “Don’t worry. I’m just going for a smoke. I’ll be all right.” He gave the man an assured wave. Looking out to the west, Walt pointed toward the silhouette of a raised hilltop, a black mound seen against the backdrop of deepening twilight. “See that big rock formation?”

“El Lobo? Sí.”

“Is that what it is called? El Lobo? Well, I’m just going as far as El Lobo. You go back to the fire. I’ll be right back.” It was not a request. It was an order.

The guide held back from any further warnings and gave a shrug. “Sí, Señor.” He didn’t like it, but had no choice.

Walt welcomed the darkness as he walked away from the bright, warm light of the fire. He could hear a muted argument going on in camp and knew it was about him and his safety. Let them argue. I need this.

The moon had crested full above the tall foliage that surrounded the clearing where the camp fire blazed in the distance. A single beam of moonlight cascaded through branches and illuminated the area as Walt reached the rock formation. About ten feet tall, the rocks seemed to form a crouching wolf, staring straight at him as it stood next to the river’s edge. He ran his hands along the jagged rocks that were the ‘teeth’ in the open mouth of the wolf-like shape. His smile faded as his thoughts inevitably returned to his Studio. “What am I going to do?” he whispered to the wolf, shaking his head in frustration. Walt reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pack of cigarettes and thumped the top of the box against his palm. Walt slid the slender smoke from the box. Reaching into his other pocket, he took out his familiar chrome-plated Zippo lighter and flipped the lid open. A two-inch flame illuminated Walt’s face and hands. Held up in front of his face, he stared intently into the flickering flame. “How are we going to go on? I don’t want to have to close.” Walt spoke into the flame as if it were a crystal ball that could reveal an answer to his question.

He was startled by a deep voice that came out of the forest. It wasn’t the voice of any of his friends. “Walt, you don’t need to worry about your future. Your studio will survive just fine. You’ll even find the money for your little Park. It will become a reality.”

The unlit cigarette unconsciously fell to the ground. He looked around for a moment, holding the Zippo out as a miniature lantern. He turned around, searching for the voice. Was it a voice? Yes, definitely he heard the words spoken. It was not an alcohol-induced hallucination as he had only the one drink. Suddenly, a stiff breeze blew across the jungle floor, rustling leaves and branches, and, to Walt’s dismay, blew out his lighter, allowing the twilight to consume him.

Walt was now confused. He tried relighting the Zippo, but the wind kept blowing out the weak flame. With a loud snap, the lighter closed and Walt listened to the sounds around him. Was one of his friends playing a trick on him? “Who’s there? Show yourself. How do you know about my Park? No one knows….”

He broke off as a dark shape…a hand, he thought, emerged from the trees. As he squinted in the dim moonlight trying to identify it, clouds moved in on the sudden wind and obscured the moon. He was bathed in complete darkness, trying to see, but unwilling to take a step closer. Was it a hand? It looked wrong, but it had to be a hand because it was holding something…something that dangled in front of him.

“Take this. Safeguard and protect it. It will be far more important to you than its face value.” The voice spoke again. “It will show you things…about your little magic kingdom…about your heart’s desire. But, remember this: How you get it is up to you.”

Hand extended, filled with trepidation, Walt reached for what appeared to be a pendant on a heavy gold chain. The moon decided to peek through the moving clouds again and reflected off the object. A blood-red glow seemed to radiate from a heart-shaped stone at the end of the chain. Flashing circles of gold could be seen behind the gemstone. Could this be a red diamond, the rarest of all diamonds? Even in the dim moonlight, colors of the rainbow flashed from its red depth.

Walt forgot about the unknown voice. Mesmerized by the brilliant stone as it turned slowly in front of his eyes, his free hand rose to touch the red fire. In a moment, Walt felt a strange emotion course through his body. His fingers caressed the stone with a slight tremble. As his fingers touched it, a vision streaked through his mind’s eye. Blinking, he wasn’t sure if the moonlight played tricks on his eyesight or if it was the minimal alcohol. Suddenly his vision cleared, and he could see a pink and white turreted castle and there were swans floating peacefully in the surrounding moat. Across the lowered drawbridge, scores of happy children streamed toward a slowly-turning carrousel filled with white horses.

“That’s it!” Walt whispered. “That’s it!”

Just as suddenly, he was rocked back by a wicked gust of wind that swept down from the north, to swirl around the area in which Walt still stood. Not wanting to lose the pendant in the freakish windstorm, he put it in his pocket and went behind the nearest tree for shelter from the leaves and debris that gusted past him. Eyes shielded from the dirt, he could make out a bright light that suddenly lit the glade. Then, as quickly as it came, the wind and the light vanished.

Somehow, some way, he knew he was alone again. What had just happened? Who was that? And, why? He rubbed his forehead in confusion as he made his way back to the quiet camp, stumbling in the darkness. With no desire to talk to anyone, he soundlessly found his sleeping bag next to the subdued fire. As his mind went over the wonderful vision still in his head, he fell asleep. It was a deep, peaceful, restful sleep—the sleep of one who had finally been given answers to his many questions.

Upon awakening in the misty, damp morning, he was greeted with a pounding headache and many anxious looks from his companions. The pain of his headache worked against the sharp images of his vision. Did he really see what he thought he saw? It was probably just one of his friends joking around. Wow, what a dream! he finally decided with a laugh. Saying nothing to the others, he silently vowed never to touch tequila again.

As he stood next to the cold fire pit, Walt stared unseeing into the ashes. It had seemed so real. He couldn’t shake it off. Better than seeing pink elephants. With a small smile, he tried desperately for it all to make sense. Magic Kingdom. Hmm, I like that.

Unthinking, Walt’s hand dropped into the pocket of his trousers. He let out a gasp when his fingers touched the heavy gold links of a chain. Glancing around, he could see that the others were occupied with loading their impromptu camp back onto the launch. When the chain was pulled partway out of his pocket, the morning the sun hit the curves of gold and the brilliant red stone. His heart sped up.

Without a word to the others, he jammed the pendant back into his pocket and hurried to the glade where he had heard that strange voice. Assured that he was alone, Walt carefully removed the pendant. Held up in front of his eyes, he thoroughly examined the beautiful object. It was indeed a heart-shaped red diamond. It had to be when he saw all the colors of the rainbow in every facet. “It was true!” Ancient, was his next thought as he examined the way the gold was crafted. The patina gave the precious metal the appearance of age—great age. As the pendant turned, the back of the setting came into view. What he had thought were three circles was actually an outline in a shape that was unmistakable to him. Mickey! he smiled to himself, a red diamond with a hidden mickey. The familiarity of the shape relaxed Walt after the confusion of the vision he had the night before. Reaching out his hand, his fingers outlined the shape of Mickey’s ears. But, when a finger touched the brilliant red gemstone, the same emotion coursed through him once more. Not fighting it this time, he let the thoughts and pictures flood through his mind. This time he saw an elegant triple-decked paddlewheeler, all white, as it slowly made its way up a winding river in the wilderness. A Native canoe, full of laughing people, came next. He could see native guides in the front and the back of the canoe, their paddles deep in the river’s water. A log raft named Becky pulled away from a wooden dock and headed for a cave-filled island.…

As Walt’s hand dropped from the stone, the vision vanished. “How could they know?” he whispered out loud. The words he had been told came back to his mind. How you get it is up to you. He couldn’t answer the ‘who’ or the ‘how’ right now. There was too much to consider. But he firmly believed one thing: This vision of his future would come true.

With a hope to get at least some kind of an answer, he placed the mysterious piece of jewelry back into his pocket and turned his attention to his surroundings. The rock formation of the crouching wolf was more defined but looked decidedly different in the bright sunlight that had finally burned off the river mist. He didn’t pay much attention to the rock formation. He studied the ground around the trees from which the heart-shaped pendant had emerged. He was looking for footprints, bootprints, tire tracks, anything that made sense.

There were no footprints to be found. All he found in the dust, however, was the unmistakable shape of paw prints. Big paw prints…that led partway into the jungle and simply vanished.