Dressed all in black, Adam and Lance blended into the darkness. Hugging the side of the old building, they kept out of the sliver of light coming from the crescent moon. A dog barked in the distance, but that was the only sound they heard. So far. The hair on the back of Adam’s neck tingled. He knew someone was looking for them.

Speaking only in whispers, they knew sound would travel far in the silence that surrounded them.

“Are you sure this is the spot?” Lance’s words were quiet as he spoke into Adam’s ear. He held a shovel in one hand, ready to dig.

Crouching, Adam lit a match and shaded it with his other hand. He shone the dull light on the map at their feet. He glanced over the maze of lines and boxes. The seemingly random grid made sense to him. “Yes, two paces more to your left. That’s it. Start digging. I’ll stand guard.”

Adam blew out the match as it started to burn his fingers. He could hear the shovel as it bit into the earth. Going to the edge of the building and peering around the corner, two shadowy figures moved away from their location. Their searchers hadn’t heard the shovel as it continued to dig deeper and deeper. He and Lance were safe for now.

“You find anything yet?” He went to the edge of the hole and looked down at Lance. Another shovelful of dirt flew past his face. “You need to hurry. They’re getting closer.”

There was no reply. He heard a clink of metal against metal as Lance found their target.

A dog barked again, only this time it was closer. The searchers brought their own dog. It wouldn’t be long now. They had to go.

“Lance!”

“I got it.” His answer was muffled. “Help me out of here.”

Adam got down on his stomach and reached into the dark hole. Something cold and metallic was shoved into his hand. It was their capsule. Setting it next to him on the ground, he reached into the hole again but couldn’t feel anything. Lance wasn’t reaching for him. He began to panic as he leaned in further and further. “Lance!” he whispered frantically. “Grab my hand.”

He could see the beam of a flashlight searching the ground. They were getting closer. He could hear the dog sniffing the trail. The narrow beam of light waved back and forth in a search pattern. Soon their footprints would be seen.

“Lance!” he whispered again. “We have to go.”

He finally felt Lance grip his hand and he pulled, helping Lance get out of the deep hole he had dug. Lance’s head finally emerged and he was able to hoist himself up, covered with dirt. “So, what’s in the capsule?” Unconcerned, he wiped the dirt off his face, only to smear it worse.

“Shhh! They’ll hear you. We have to go.” Adam tugged on his friend’s arm as Lance bent down to retrieve their find.

The dog must have heard them because he started barking furiously. The two men holding the leash gave a shout and started running across the yard.

Hearing the footsteps pounding toward them, Adam pulled on Lance to get him to move but he seemed transfixed by the gold capsule he was holding. “Run!” Adam hissed at him, pushing him in the opposite direction of the nearing footsteps. He could hear the dog snarling.

Lance finally started running. They rounded the building and broke out into the silvery moonlight. They could hear the dog whining near the hole they had just left.

They ran past the dark farmhouse and cut across the yard. When the hole was found to be empty, the yelling and footsteps behind them began again as their pursuers resumed the chase.

Lance had parked their car a block away and they pounded down the middle of the sidewalk. There were no streetlights, no porch lights, nothing for illumination except the moonlight. Adam, now panting heavily as they continued to run, concentrated on the broken sidewalk in front of them. Lance was keeping pace without a word as the dog’s barking was getting closer on their heels. They must have let him loose, he thought. Neither of them looked back. They kept their eyes on their car.

Lance broke away from Adam as his longer legs got him to the car faster. He flung open the driver door, threw himself in and slammed the door shut behind him. As the engine started, Adam flung himself into the passenger seat. The dog reached the car and jumped at the driver’s window, barking and snarling. He kept jumping at the window, his claws scratching at the glass and down the side of the car door, leaving dozens of scratch marks on the rented Pontiac.

“Put it into gear! We have to go!” Keeping his eyes on the dog, Adam saw headlights coming on half a block behind them. There was a sharp whistle and the dog turned to run back to a black car. Hearing a door slam shut behind the dog, the glaring headlights moved away from the curb and Adam heard the screech of tires as the car hurtled toward them.

Lance slammed the car into first gear and they finally lurched forward. “Headlights!” Adam called to him as they wove down the unknown, dark street.

Lance fumbled with the gear shift and then found the headlight switch. He swerved down another street as the black car gained on them. Ignoring the stop signs, Lance plowed through empty intersections and finally ground the car into fourth gear.

Adam’s eyes were glued to the back window as the black car continued to gain on them again.

“So, what’s in the box, goose?” Lance’s question was lightly asked as if they were sitting in Adam’s living room and not hurtling down some unknown quiet residential street trying to find the freeway. He shifted again and barreled up the onramp, swerving to get in front of a tanker truck in the slow lane. The black car found itself stuck behind the tanker.

“You watch the road. I’ll worry about the box,” Adam snapped at him, his breathing still coming hard, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Want to go swimming over at Rose’s tomorrow?” Lance reached over to turn on the radio. He couldn’t find a station, only static. With an unconcerned shrug, he leaned his left arm out of the open window.

Adam could see the black car swerve around the tanker. They were gaining on them. “Lance! Speed up.”

Lance glanced in his side mirror and began whistling softly to himself. He veered over two lanes in the freeway and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The rental slowly picked up speed. He ran a hand through his hair. “You have a comb?”

“No, I don’t have a comb!” Adam clutched the gold capsule to his chest, his heart still pounding. They would never get the capsule from him. It was his!

Without warning, the back glass of their rental car shattered as a bullet tore through the car, embedding itself in the dash. Fragments of glass blew around them like pale green confetti and finally settled throughout the car.

“That was close.” Lance checked his teeth in the rear view mirror before swerving into the middle lane next to the tanker truck that was keeping pace with them.

“They’re shooting at us!” Adam was getting frantic. “Can’t you drive faster? Get away from the tanker truck! They could hit it!”

“You could give them the capsule,” Lance suggested as he veered back into the fast lane of the empty dark highway.

“No! It’s ours! Walt left it for us!”

“Walt left it. He might not have left it for us.” Lance had his arm resting out on the window frame of the car again. Another bullet shattered Adam’s side mirror. He didn’t know how many bullets had flown past them.

“What do you mean?” Paranoid, Adam clutched the gold tighter.

“It might belong to them.” A nod of his head indicated the fast approaching car. Lance held out his hand. “Let me have the gold. I’ll toss it over to them.”

Adam looked back through the glassless window as the black car barreled down on them. There were less than two car lengths between them and Adam could hear the dog barking. As his head jerked back, Lance was still holding his hand out for the capsule.

The faceless passenger in the black car shot at them again and blew out one of the back tires of the rental. The car swerved onto the shoulder of the road causing a cloud of dust to billow up and blow back towards the black car. Lance had to fight the steering wheel to keep the car going straight. Still, he held out his hand for the capsule, waiting for Adam to give it to him to end this chase.

“I can’t keep this up for long.” Lance seemed too calm. “Give me the gold.”

Adam looked from Lance’s hand to the car behind them. It was getting closer and he could see the car was going to pull up next to them. As Lance still fought with the steering wheel, Adam could see the silver barrel of the gun as it pointed at him. The dog was snarling, barking in the back seat. As he looked, the back window of the black car was slowly lowered. Excited, the dog hurled itself at the growing opening. The gun turned away from Adam and blew out the back passenger window of their rental. The dog was going to jump! Adam watched in growing horror as the gun barrel now slowly turned towards him. The black car swerved closer, but Lance managed to pull away.

In a burst of speed the black car slammed into the side of their car, causing Adam’s window to shatter over him in a cascade of glass. He threw his arms up to protect his face. The black car pulled away to ram them again, to force them into the freeway divider. One more slam would do it. Smoke was starting to pour out of the exhaust. The black car was coming at them again, but it didn’t ram them. It pulled up next to them, keeping pace with the weakening rental. The dog had its paws on the window frame. Powerful muscles bunched, he gathered his legs under him and leapt.

Lance suddenly stood on the brakes, screeching tires protesting as the car immediately jerked and squealed to a stop. Adam watched the dog fly through the air to where their car had been seconds earlier. Lance jerked the wheel to the right and gunned it, heading for an off-ramp. The Pontiac wasn’t going to last much longer.

The driver of the black car slammed on his brakes and did a smoking 180 degree turn in the middle of the freeway.

The off-ramp was getting closer, but they weren’t going to make it. Lance had to fight the rental into each gear as they surged forward. The black car approached them at an angle, its powerful Hemi undamaged. Not taking his eyes off the ramp, Lance concentrated on his driving. Adam watched as the black car got nearer and nearer. He thought they were going to ram the front of their car.

The passenger window began to lower. The silver gun barrel emerged out of the darkness of the car. It pointed at Lance now but Lance didn’t see the gun. He was trying to make the final distance to the off-ramp. Adam saw the lower portion of the gunman’s face for the first time as he leaned towards the open window. There was a thin gray mustache above the smiling lips. It was a smug smile as the finger tightened on the trigger. Adam watched a plume of smoke emerge from the gun barrel.

Hearing a loud noise, Adam jerked. Drenched in sweat, his heart pounding, he bolted upright. Looking wildly around, his eyes wouldn’t focus. There was only darkness.

Breathing hard, his eyes finally settled on a soft green glow that read 4:47a.m. He didn’t hear that noise again as his hand went up to his bare chest and settled on his pounding heart.

He felt for the shattered glass and felt only cool cotton sheets. The vision dimmed and slowly he realized the sound he had heard was himself. Did he yell in his sleep?

A dream. It was only a dream.

He looked at the clock next to his bed again. 4:48. He ran a hand through his hair and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Wow, that was real. He sat there for a minute while his mind calmed down and his breathing returned to normal. As he pushed himself to his feet, he vaguely wondered what happened to the dog….

Not bothering to put on any clothes, he padded into the living room and dropped onto the sofa. He knew he wouldn’t get back to sleep any time soon. Clicking on the table lamp, he leaned forward and looked over the animation cels on his coffee table. Snow White was smiling sweetly at the little bluebird. Doc looked kindly. Happy looked, well, happy.

Adam took a deep calming breath. He shook his head. He hadn’t had a dream like that in a long time. Must have been from concentrating so much on the clues.

At least he hoped that was the reason.…

He would hate to think that’s what awaited them at their next destination.

“Well, you look like something the cat drug in,” was Lance’s amused greeting later that morning.

“Thank you. Thank you very much. Just what I wanted to hear.” The grumbling Adam had black smudges under his eyes and his face was unshaven.

“Rough night?”

Adam sighed. He didn’t know if he wanted to tell Lance about the dream and be subjected to his probable ridicule. Ah, why not? “I had a bad dream last night. Couldn’t get back to sleep.”

Lance grinned and held his arms out. “Aww. Need a hug?”

“Get away from me.”

“What was it, then? Rose coming after you in a bikini?”

Giving a grimace, Adam took another swallow of strong coffee. “Thanks for the mental image I could do without. And, no, it wasn’t that. I would think that would be your dream, not mine.”

Lance helped himself to a cup of coffee and munched on some crackers he found in the cabinet. “Hardly. So, what was your dream? You know I’ll keep asking.”

Again Adam hesitated. Dreams are just dreams. They don’t really mean anything. He shook his head, fingers surrounding the coffee cup, feeling the warmth. “Oh, it was just something stupid about finding a clue in a gold capsule and being chased and shot at…and a flying dog.” The last words were mumbled into his coffee cup as he took a sip.

“Ok, now it’s getting interesting. Tell me about the flying dog.”

“Would you like me to lie down, Dr. Freud?” Adam wondered where Lance had found the crackers. His stomach growled.

“Well, if you did, you would probably be asleep within minutes, so no. So, did the dog have wings?” He seemed to find this very amusing.

Adam rubbed a hand over his tired face. “No, he didn’t have wings! He was just a dog who was leaping into our car on the freeway. You slammed on the brakes and the dog went flying past the car. That was all.”

“What happened to the dog?”

“I don’t know. I wondered that myself when I woke up. I think I yelled myself awake.”

Lance offered Adam one of his own crackers. “Did this dream take place in one of the locations we’ve already been to?”

“Lance, it was just a dream!”

Lance just calmly stared at him, dunking the crackers in his coffee.

“Fine.” Adam gave a sigh. “No, it wasn’t. It was someplace different. A farmhouse. Middle of the night sort of thing. You wanted me to give the capsule to the men chasing us.”

That perked Lance’s interest. “Did I now? How interesting. Why?”

Adam poured himself the last of the coffee. “I don’t know. We were arguing. I didn’t want to give it up, but you said something like it might belong to them, not us.”

“Sounds like a little guilt coming through.” Lance kept his eyes on his coffee mug.

“Guilt? I don’t….” Adam had to stop and think about it. Did he feel guilty about finding all these wonderful things Walt left behind? What did he plan on doing with them? Sharing? Giving them back? Keeping them all to himself and enjoying them? He didn’t know. Not having thought that far into the future, he was more intent on their next destination than what would happen afterwards. Perhaps he should be thinking about it.

Lance just let him puzzle it out. He had had the same thoughts that must be going through Adam’s mind. What were they going to do after they found the last clue? Lance didn’t know how the search would end, but he thought it would be big. How could it not when it involved the man who started with $40 in his pocket and ended with a beloved multi-national empire? He, Lance, had taken an important step he felt would help them in the end. It had already helped them. But, that was his secret for now. Yes, he definitely felt the final treasure would be something to behold.

He just wondered if Adam realized that yet.

Later that morning Lance was sitting in Adam’s office chair, typing something into Adam’s computer. Adam, book dropped in his lap, had his head back on the sofa and was sound asleep. Lance let him be. He was busy canceling the Feed Lance reminder that Adam hadn’t yet figured out how to delete. Just so Adam wouldn’t feel completely unloved, he programmed Do Lance’s Laundry to chime at 6 a.m. every morning. Password protected, of course.

Next, he pulled up his travel site to book a flight for two leaving next Monday. He had been a little surprised at having to fly out again. They both thought the search had finally settled in California. Apparently Mr. Disney didn’t want them to get complacent or lazy. Walt never got that way himself so it made sense he would keep his searchers on their toes. Lance figured by now he should expect the unexpected.

Lance knew Adam was going to have a hernia when he learned they had to fly out again. The treasure hunt had taken up a lot of Adam’s work time and it bothered Adam to be gone so much from the job. Adam had pride in his work—and did excellent work to earn that pride. Good work didn’t come from being absent all the time. Well, that was one of the benefits from having excellent people work under you. Another lesson Walt knew was valuable. What did he say in the diary? ‘You might need some help.… Choose well. I always tried to.’

At least Lance gave Adam a few days before they left. Lance gave a slow smile. That would also give Adam some time to figure out the clue for himself. He certainly wasn’t going to tell him.

After printing out the itinerary, Lance erased the final destination. Making a copy of the altered page, he added a note on the bottom: “This time BE READY when I come at 5:30 a.m. to pick you up. You are out of coffee. Love, Lance.” Tearing off a small piece of duct tape he found in a drawer, the note was stuck to the sleeping Adam’s chest. Taking the original itinerary with him, he left, carefully closing the door behind him. There was an important phone call he had to make. If he could find an unlisted number, that is….

Adam awakened with a jolt. The book in his lap fell to the floor, reminding him where he was and what he was doing…. What they were doing.… Lance was supposed to be working at his computer. But Lance was gone—a circumstance that didn’t overly surprise him. Reaching for the fallen book, he heard paper crinkling on his chest. Pulling the gray tape from his shirt, he immediately saw it was an itinerary for three days from now. He gave a mild curse when he saw the destination had been removed and knew Lance was going to make him find the solution himself.

Or, he could just hop on the plane and see where it took him.

No, that wasn’t right. He knew as soon as he thought it that he wouldn’t do it. Never liking things just handed to him, he preferred working for them, earning them somehow. It should be no different for this search. Even though he had found some of the answers and Lance had found some of the answers, they both had been active in looking. Lance knew he would find this one himself, too. But, it wouldn’t hurt to yell at Lance a little. Lance probably even expected it.

Going over to the phone on his desk, he punched in Lance’s cell number, but there was no answer. Not surprising. He then called the home number. Again no answer, so he left a message on Lance’s machine knowing full well it wouldn’t be returned. He also knew he wouldn’t see Lance again until.…he checked the handwritten message…5:30 Monday morning. Adam also knew he would be ready and packed this time.

He gave a last glance at the research books that had already been taken back to the library and checked out again. As he began to get ready for work, he wondered how many more times he would have to keep checking them out.

Putting Lance and the books out of his mind, he concentrated on work. The replacement beam had come in early and would go up this afternoon. It wouldn’t be cut to size until he was standing over it watching. Once the beam was in place, they would finish the ceiling, set the Jacuzzi and the windows, and texture the walls. They also need to install the flooring and the French doors, paint, and hang the lighting fixtures. The mirrors, window treatments and towel bars would go up before the final inspection and final payment.

Well…that was how it was supposed to go. It was Mrs. Anderson, after all. He mentally added another three weeks to the job. Even that might not be enough.

1963

Smiling to himself, Walt strode up the familiar walkway to the familiar porch and knocked on the familiar door. At least I didn’t just walk right in! It still gave him an odd jolt when a stranger answered. There were so many other faces that should have opened the door to greet him.

He was greeted warmly, if nervously, and asked in. They glanced at the black valise he carried in his hand. Walt was prepared this time with the capsule ready to be put into place. He already had the location in mind. There was even a little speech for the new owners of the house. And he had something else handmade to guarantee the capsule would be safe no matter how long it took before somebody came looking for it.

How he wished he could watch the whole search process! It would be keen to be a fly on the wall and watch that person or persons figure it all out. To see the look on their faces when they opened each capsule! He always liked seeing the end result of his work. It felt strange knowing he wouldn’t see this.

Walt accepted the offer of a cold lemonade as the day was muggy. Looking around the familiar living room, he remembered the original furniture and pictures. His glance fell on the expectant faces around him, silent faces, a mixture of excitement and wariness in their eyes. He had asked if he could visit his old place and had only told them he had something for them.

He stood, and they became alarmed. No, he wasn’t leaving just yet. He just had something to show them. Opening the valise, he pulled out a wooden plaque specially made in his shop back at Disneyland. It was solid golden oak carved into the shape of Mickey’s head. The ears were plain, except for two of the three holes for hanging. The face of the plaque was engraved and there was a bright brass nameplate toward the bottom, below the darkened lettering. The plaque read: ‘My 1st studio. Thank you for preserving my memory for future generations.’ Etched into the brass was Walt’s own signature. A third hole was under the brass. The oak was about eight inches wide and about eight inches tall and an inch thick. It was a striking piece.

Walt gave them his speech on how much his family had loved this house and what had been accomplished out back where the plaque would go. He told them he appreciated the care they had taken of the place and hoped it would continue for years to come. And, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, would it be alright with them if he picked out the place and hung the plaque in his old studio himself?

Stunned, the family accepted the plaque and looked it over, handing it to each member. After it made the rounds, it was handed back to Walt. He again thanked them and asked if he could have some time alone in his studio. Who knew? Maybe he would be inspired for something new!

When they stood to take him out back, he chuckled and told them to stay. He knew the way. They laughed with him, finally at their ease. When the back screen door slammed shut, they tiptoed to the kitchen window to watch him walk slowly across the backyard. When he stopped to look around, they ducked down and laughed at themselves, going back to the living room to wait.

Entering the old garage, Walt thought about the old mahogany camera he had borrowed from the president of the Kansas City Slide Company, a Mr. Cauger. There had been incandescent lights overhead. He had enrolled in night classes at the Kansas City Art Institute. A lot going on at that time. 1919? Was that right? Was I really only eighteen years old? he asked himself, shaking his head.

Looking around at all the usual stuff in a usual garage, he picked out a clear wall on the west side of the building. The garage, like the house, faced east. For the most part, there were vacant lots behind the garage. Only one house faced the other street. Setting down the black bag, he took out a plain piece of wood that was a two by six and twelve inches long. The size matched what had been above his head in the garage. Artificially aged, it matched quite well except for the staining which wasn’t quite right. But, that was the effect he had wanted. Turning the wood over, he smiled as he looked at the back, the side that would be hidden from view. Walt’s little two by six had been hollowed out. The opening was one and a half inches deep and four inches wide by eight inches long. Out of the valise he now drew the gray capsule and fit it inside its new home. Pocketing some screws, he found a ladder leaning against the side wall. Whistling softly to himself, he set up the ladder, got out a screwdriver and set the new two by six in place on the side of an old beam so it wouldn’t be seen from the doorway. Climbing down, he took three bright brass screws and set the new oak plaque onto the bare wall.

He stepped back and surveyed his handiwork. It looked good. Glancing up, he knew where the capsule was hidden, but nobody else would see it that easily. Good.

Good luck! He saluted his unknown followers in the future. Turning, he gave the garage a fond final once-over and went to say good-bye to his hosts.

He knew the plaque would not be touched.

2002

“So, how long did it take you?”

Settled into his seat on the airplane, Adam had leaned back and closed his eyes. It was too much to expect Lance to allow him to sleep. “Take me for what?” He knew what Lance meant.

Lance gave him a half smile. “To finish setting the beam.”

Adam’s eyes came open. “The beam? Oh….” He broke off when Lance grinned at him. He would never get one over on Lance. With a sigh, he closed his eyes again as the plane hurtled down the runway for takeoff. “Half of Saturday and most of Sunday. I was still looking in California.”

Lance was amused. “Even though you had the itinerary showing we had to fly somewhere?”

Adam grunted. “I thought it was a joke. I never figured Walt would send us back to Missouri again. How long did it take you to figure out the clue?”

“Less.” That was all Lance would tell him. Much less.

Realizing Lance wouldn’t let him sleep, Adam was inclined to be chatty as the plane leveled off and headed for Denver. “I guess I didn’t think of Little Red Riding Hood and the Four Musicians of Bremen as ‘Disney.’ Well, I guess they weren’t, as we know ‘Disney’ to mean.” He gave a slight shrug as he looked out the window for a moment. “I finally found a reference to them and saw some of the drawings. Pretty different than what we’re used to.”

Lance had to agree with him. “Yeah, they were. Pretty rough. But, considering how new animation was and how young Walt was, it is amazing.”

“He drew them all himself, too. The Four Musicians got a little more attention with the watercolor wash he used in the backgrounds.”

“My, you did do your homework.”

“You aren’t the only one who knows how to read, Lance.”

Lance laughed at him as he got the flight attendant’s attention. He got each of them a drink and an extra bag of peanuts.

“Lance, it isn’t even 10 a.m. and you’re ordering cocktails?”

He shrugged. “We have a long day ahead of us. We might need them.” He thanked the attendant and handed Adam his cup. “Ah, nothing beats a gimlet served in plastic.” He took a tentative sip and picked up the thread of Adam’s conversation. “So you knew which studio the clue meant?”

Not caring for gin, Adam ignored the gimlet. He popped a few peanuts in his mouth before he answered. “Actually, I first thought we were going back to the McConahy building. Wasn’t sure why, but I thought that was his main studio around that time period. Wrong. Took me a while to figure out how far back and how primitive we had to get. Are you sure the place is still there?”

Lance sipped his drink. “Oh, yes, it’s still there. We get in too late today, so we have an appointment tomorrow morning.”

Adam finished his peanuts and looked sideways at his friend. “An appointment with a garage?”

“The garage is still standing, as is the family house.” Lance started on Adam’s gimlet and eyed Adam’s empty peanut bag. He had meant to grab that.… “I had a nice chat with the owners. They assure me the plaque is still there in the garage.”

Adam hadn’t read anything about that. “What plaque?”

Lance settled back further in his seat, head resting against the back as he sipped Adam’s drink. “Well, that was the interesting part. I hadn’t found anything about it either. They told me the story about Walt himself coming to the house thirty-nine years ago and presenting the owners with a lovely award of some sorts thanking them for preserving his first studio.”

“And you find this so humorous because….”

“Don’t you see? Walt did this to make sure the garage would be there for all posterity. Which includes us. It’s just an old garage. Sure it has special history, but it’s just a jumble of wood. Look what happened to the Hyperion Studio! But, with the special blessing of Walt and the plaque, no one would dare tear it down. It is brilliant, actually.” Lance gave an appreciative chuckle. “Brilliant!”

In Denver, they had to run to catch their connecting flight and had no time for lunch. Once airborne, Lance managed to get them some extra snacks from their new flight attendant.

With the Rocky Mountains behind them and the open plains below, Adam asked Lance what story he used to get an appointment. He doubted they could just go out in the garage and look around for the capsule.

Lance yawned. The cocktails were taking effect. “Oh, the usual. I’m making a documentary about Walt and you’re the cameraman.”

“Of course I am. What else would I be?” Adam couldn’t believe what Lance came up with at times. “How will you explain the lack of camera or sound equipment that usually accompanies a documentary?”

Lance was almost asleep. “I brought them.”

Adam shook his head and looked out of the little window over the open prairie. “Of course you did,” he mumbled at the window. He stared at the huge dark green circles 32,000 feet below them. They had been seen on every trip, but he had never asked what they were. Great. Crop circles. And maybe the little aliens are going to come back for Lance sometime soon.

Hands on his hips, Adam stared at the camera and microphone on the bed in Lance’s room of their suite at the President Hilton. “You really brought a camera and sound equipment.”

Lance was checking something on the camera. “I told you I did. You never believe me.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Silly me.”

“So, you know how these things work?”

Adam just glared at him. “Yes, I use them all the time on the job. How the heck would I know how to operate a camera like that!?”

“Now don’t get testy. You know your blood pressure.”

“My blood pressure would be just fine if I kept away from you!”

Lance ignored him. “Here’s how it works.” He hefted the huge camera onto his shoulder, setting the harness firmly in place. “You hold it like this with your left hand and push this button with your right. See the pretty light come on? That shows it’s filming.”

Adam frowned. “You don’t actually expect me to work this thing, do you?”

Lance lifted it from his shoulder and set it back on the bed. “Well, you are the cameraman, Adam. Of course I do.” Before Adam could begin with his next string of objections, Lance held up his hand. “No, you don’t actually have to frame anything or even have the sound on. The light just has to come on so it looks like we’re filming. You could be shooting a hole in the wall for all I care. Just point it in my general direction and I’ll be doing what I do best—talking—and working our way out to the garage.”

Adam was starting to get the picture. He felt like an idiot around Lance most of the time—something he figured Lance had a lot to do with orchestrating.… “Ok, I get it. How do we keep them from following us out to the garage?”

“Oh, this is a sensitive microphone and picks up the least little noise. Well, it would if it actually worked. I think Sandy said it was already broken so I don’t have to be too careful with it. Just make sure you don’t bang the camera into any walls or anything. I don’t want to have to replace it.”

Lance had Adam lift the camera into place a couple of times to get used to the feel and to make it look as if he knew what he was doing. It wouldn’t look very convincing to have the camera pointing backwards.

“What time are we supposed to be there tomorrow?”

“Around 10 a.m. That gives us plenty of time to search for the capsule. It ought to be pretty easy to find the Mickey mentioned in the clue. I have a feeling Mickey is the plaque even though I never saw a picture of it.”

Adam hefted the camera again and nodded. He could do this. “Is there any film in here?”

“Of course not. You might actually figure out how to turn it on and waste it.”

As they were leaving to go out for dinner, Adam casually wondered if strangling Lance with the microphone cord would be considered aggravated assault or justifiable homicide.

Parking the rented Jaguar down one house from their objective, Lance emerged from the driver’s seat like the Phoenix rising from the ashes. It was a sight to behold. He gave a beaming smile to whoever might be looking out the windows and, tilting his head back, shook his brown hair to achieve that special windblown look. He ran a hand through his hair just to make sure it was perfect and fiddled with the lapels of his shirt for no apparent reason. Taking up the microphone, he tested it and ran a sound check. Adam had to keep from grinning as he hoisted the camera into place. Talking into the microphone, Lance walked backwards toward the red house at 3028 Bellefontaine Avenue. Adam remembered where the switch was and started the camera, red light prominent as he followed Lance at a good distance, keeping him in the viewfinder. He had no idea what Lance was saying—probably Lance didn’t either—as they worked their way up the front walk, Lance gesturing around with his free hand. Adam wasn’t sure if he was supposed to film what Lance was pointing out or not so he kept the camera on Lance.

The front door of the house opened and the owner was surprised to find a camera in her face. She blushed and stammered and told them to go around to the back. They would find the garage with no problem. Touching her hair, she smiled at the camera as Lance thanked her and gave his special smile. Adam continued to look through the eye piece at his left eye. He had found it worked better if he kept both eyes open and navigated with his unencumbered right eye.

Lance walked down the narrow side yard as several neighbors came out to see the excitement and were peering from the front sidewalk. Figuring it would be just a matter of time before they started coming through the alley to get a better look, he motioned to Adam to cut and went out to talk to them.

Being Lance, he charmed them all. Smiling and shaking their hands, he was pleasant and asked their help to make this something special. He told them about the sensitivity of the microphone and asked that they give the two men about an hour to work; then they would be available for questions if anyone had any.

Coming back to Adam, he started talking about the history of the garage and grandly gesturing around the yard. Adam panned the garage and brought the camera back to Lance’s face. Lance seemed so natural at this Adam wondered if he had any training.

Lance opened the door to the garage but kept talking before going inside. He finally finished whatever he was saying and went in, Adam following, and the red light obediently glowing. When he slid the door shut, Adam carefully lowered the camera onto a bare spot on a work bench. Finding the plaque was no problem. Lance had already gotten permission to use a ladder, saying Adam might need to shoot higher for atmosphere.

“Okay, the clue said ‘look up from Mickey. Something doesn’t fit.’ Do you see anything out of place, Adam?”

Adam was up on the ladder with Lance below looking up at everything piled on the rafters. “No, this is just a bunch of usual attic stuff. I don’t think it’s anything in this pile. I don’t see anything right above Mickey either.… That’s a nice plaque. Did you look at it?”

Lance nodded. “Yeah. I still think it’s brilliant. Forty years later and it’s still here.”

Adam was about to get down to move the ladder when he put his hand on a beam to steady himself. “Wait a minute. Hey, Lance, look here. Notice anything?”

Coming over to the ladder, Lance looked up at Adam. “Other than you needing to tuck in your shirt, no. What am I looking at?”

Adam patted the beam next to him. “Notice anything about this rafter?”

“Does it have his initials carved into it?”

Adam shook his head. “Nope. But notice how wide this section is compared to all the other rafters? It’s double width. You can’t see it, but there are screws in each end of this rafter. I think this is it. Find me a flathead screwdriver.”

“Of course,” Lance mumbled, looking at some tools strewn on the work table. “Here, finally,” handing it up to Adam.

Adam anchored his legs on each side of the ladder and sat on the top rung as he worked on the screws. Having been set for so long, they didn’t want to give. He wished he had his Makita cordless screw gun. They would have been home by now.

Handing the screwdriver back Lance, he pulled the rafter away from its perch. A gray capsule fell from the hollowed-out wood. “Grab it!”

Lance missed, but the capsule was undamaged after bouncing on the floor.

Adam brought down the rafter to show Lance. “Walt really had this one figured out! Look at the color of the wood. The outside doesn’t match the back that was nestled against the original rafter. It was stained to match. You’re right. It was brilliant!”

Lance pocketed the capsule. “We need to go out and finish our documentary. Our audience awaits.”

“What should we do with this rafter? Should I put it back?”

Lance looked around. “How about tossing it in that wood pile? It’ll probably be a while before anyone finds it.”

Adam buried it in the bottom of the pile and put both the screwdriver and the ladder back in place. Bringing the camera to his shoulder, he activated the switch.

Lance slid open the garage door and began to talk into the microphone again. “So that concludes our special visit to Walt’s original studio. We hope you enjoyed our stay here in Kansas City. We sure did. Just remember: Great things can come from humble beginnings. That’s a wrap.”

He had to motion for Adam to quit filming. There were more people standing around now, so Lance waved and went over to chat. He thanked them all for their hospitality. But he was vague when asked when the movie would come out. “Oh, you know these Hollywood things,” he laughed. “Who knows? But we got what we came for and thank all of you for your help!”

“That’s the first honest thing you said.” Adam muttered to Lance as they walked back to the Jag, carefully stowing the camera and mike in the backseat.

“What do you mean?” Lance gave a final wave to the people as he started to pull out from the curb.

“That we got what we came for.”

Lance smiled. “Well, we did, didn’t we?”

It wasn’t until they were driving away that Adam recognized the house as the farmhouse in his dream.

A group of neighbors stood on the sidewalk and watched the Jag drive off. Some waved back to the departing men.

“Now that was a real gentleman. Don’t you think so, honey?”

He gave a snort. “He was as much a filmmaker as I am. Must think we’re a bunch of hicks.”

“Why do you say that? That camera was huge.”

“Yeah, it was big alright. Did you notice that blonde fella never once adjusted the lens or zoomed in or out or checked the film? The idiot was shooting into the sun half the time they were out there. All he did was hold it up on his shoulder. Filmmaker, my Aunt Fanny.”

“Now why would they lie about a thing like that and go to all that work?”

He gave another snort. “Probably just wanted to poke around Walt’s old stomping grounds. We’ve heard bigger whoppers than that since we’ve lived here. Hmmph, all they have to do was ask.” He turned to go to the backyard.

“Where are you going now?”

“I’m going to check the garage. If that plaque is gone, I’m getting my double-barrel. And I ain’t loading it with birdshot.”

“Now, honey. I think that tall one was just lovely.”

‘Honey’ didn’t answer. He was already heading toward the garage. “Filmmaker, my ….”

In the ten minute drive back to their hotel, Adam cautiously shook the capsule and heard nothing inside. They figured it was another paper trail.

The content of the plastic container turned out to be one page torn out of the diary. It read:

“Go to the only place outside of Disneyland to fly the official Disneyland flag.

60 07 17 19 55”