Next, he returned to the display of Walt Disney’s original office. There on the desk, both a mug and a cork globe held an abundance of pens and pencils. A dozen or more. My first pen. Finn knew just by looking that this was the place.
He didn’t want to steal anything. He reminded himself that this had been Wayne’s idea, not his. They were borrowing the pens. Nothing more. Wayne could return them. No harm.
But how to get inside the glassed-in display? Finn didn’t see any kind of door, except the one leading into the office, and it was in the back wall of the display. He saw no way in.
He searched for a possible access door into the back of the displays, assuming there was a hallway behind the various windows. The only door he found, toward the main entrance, was not only locked but far away from the office display.
He backtracked, passing all the displays again. He found no door. No way back there. But there had to be a way! Some way to move furniture, dust, clean, change lightbulbs.
Only as he passed a blue poster for the third time did he happen to notice a small floor-to-ceiling gap. The poster was a sketch of the earth with Mickey Mouse ears. The earth was crying. The small description explained that this drawing had been a newspaper cartoon that ran following Disney’s death. It depicted the world mourning his loss.
Finn shoved his fingers into the small crack and pulled. The poster moved and the door came open. He was inside in an instant.
Just as he stepped into relative darkness behind the door, Finn heard three loud knocks at a distance. Willa’s signal. Terror flooded him. Security guards were either in the area or headed for One Man’s Dream. Five knocks would signal that the coast was clear. He pulled the door shut behind him. This was as good a place to hide as any.
A moment later he stood absolutely still as he identified deep voices nearby. Just through the wall. Two men talking. Inside the attraction.
“You say it was an anonymous call?” One guard speaking to another.
“A girl. Young girl at that,” the other said. “That’s what Manny said, yeah. Probably just a prank. You know kids that age. But if Manny wants it checked out…”
“Then we check it out.”
“Got that right.”
Finn held his breath as they drew close.
“Thing is,” the second guard said, “the front door was locked good and tight. We check the other doors and we got nothing to worry about. No way someone’s in here if all the doors are tight. False alarm. Plain and simple. Am I right?”
“You’re right.”
“Okay, then let’s get some coffee.”
“I’m all over that.”
Finn waited several more long minutes without moving, practically without breathing. Who had called security? Amanda? Had she fed them a bunch of lies? Did she want Finn to get caught because of the way he’d excluded her recently?
If they were caught now, their attempt to stop Maleficent would be thwarted. The park would eventually fall under her control. Worse, if she took her powers outside the park, who knew what would happen? Who knew what would become of the five kids who had once been DHIs?
One anonymous call had nearly ruined everything.
Now he heard a distant sound: five dull beats, like a fist on glass. The signal.
His eyes adjusted to what little light was available in this back hallway. He turned left toward the office display and soon reached a door marked: WD’s OFFICE.
Finn opened this door, stepped inside, and was now standing in the display. He moved carefully, not wanting to nudge anything out of place or disturb the office’s contents. The air was stuffy and unusually dry. He kept watch out into the empty gallery beyond.
On the wall a tiny red light began flashing. A sensor of some kind, though an alarm did not sound. An environmental sensor perhaps, measuring heat and humidity for the sake of the display’s contents. Finn’s body heat and his breathing, along with the open door to the back hall, had tripped some kind of silent alarm.
He quickly snatched up all the pens and pencils from both the black coffee mug and the cork globe. He was nearly out the office door when he saw a scroll of architectural plans leaning up against the desk. Walt had told Wayne that he “had plans for this place.” Finn, like Wayne and others, had taken the wrong meaning. Plans, as in drawings, not plans, as in ideas. Finn scooped them up.
He heard three loud thuds on the gallery’s outer door—another signal from Willa. Someone was coming. Again.
Finn hurried out the office’s back door, shut it carefully, and headed down the back hallway.
But where to go? he wondered.
He saw an exit sign at either end of the hallway. Which way?
He looked left, looked right, but was frozen by indecision.