Kingdom Keepers V(47)
“Welcome to the show, Mr. Lawrence. I understand you’re involved in archives at Disney’s Hollywood Studios?” Wayne’s warm voice said through the headphones.
“Yes,” Finn said, trying to play along. “An interest of mine for some time now.”
“And you’ve visited the facility recently?”
“I have,” Finn said, recalling his description to Wayne about the confrontation with Maleficent and the two others. “I discovered a volume that was of particular interest to me. Of interest to many, I’m sure. A journal that dates back to the early days.”
“Are you aware there are many similar journals in the Disney Family Museum in San Francisco?”
Finn tried to make sense of the comment. “I…ah…I’ll have to get out there sometime. I’m based on the East Coast right now. Similar in what way?”
“As you know, the Imagineers have been scanning the contents of the library, and the journal you refer to detailed the creation of many of Walt Disney’s most beloved and most feared characters.”
“Yes, of course.” Wayne had told him as much on the train.
“This particular volume is among those not yet scanned…” Wayne paused, allowing it to sink in. “But there is a card catalog entry listing some of its contents, and it includes information about the enchantment of Chernabog.” He allowed the words to hang there.
Finn tried to translate what he was hearing. Chernabog was Disney’s most evil villain. The enchantment of Chernabog…the thought of that turned his stomach.
“The original entries about the beast’s origin. It is, without a doubt, the most important entry in the volume.” He was speaking somewhat obliquely for the sake of their conversation.
“Okay. Got it,” Finn said. “That is interesting.”
“Isn’t it, though? What’s your overall impression of the Disney library?” Wayne went on to ask a half dozen meaningless questions. Finn did his best to answer. The message had been received: the enchantment of Chernabog was all that mattered. Either Maleficent, the Evil Queen, or, less likely, Cruella had wanted that information badly enough to break into the library for it. That couldn’t be good.
Before ending the interview, Wayne passed along a place and time: Buena Vista Theatre balcony, eleven thirty p.m. Finn would be there.
“It’s not like Maleficent’s collecting a family history,” Finn said to Philby.
“Not hardly,” Philby said as he continued to work with a device about the size of a hardcover book.
“Is that the GPS?”
“Technically speaking it’s a location transmitter. We’ll use the studio’s connection to the dish to send our position back to Base. All other Internet traffic is monitored and filtered. They don’t mess with this line because for voice clarity it’s a direct connection to the transmission dish.”
“And so this box, by showing the Dream’s position, is supposed to help the Imagineers narrow down the location of the OTs’ DHI server?”
“It never stays in one place. It moves up and down the east coast of Florida. It’s likely a relay from one of the cruise ships. By transmitting our exact location, they can determine if it’s us or another of the ships.”
“Or not a ship at all,” Finn said.
“That too.”
“And this is supposed to take you how long?”
“I’m working as fast as I can.” He said it condescendingly, as if emphasizing that Finn was no use in such technical matters.
“The reason I ask,” Finn clarified, “is because if anyone’s on their way up, then according to you, they will be here in approximately…forty-five seconds.”
“Five minutes? That was fast.” Philby snapped an Ethernet cable into the box, flicked a switch, and illuminated a light on the device. “That’s it.”
“We’re gone,” Finn said.
He and Philby stepped up to the smoky glass door.
“Wait a second,” Philby said. He slipped off his running shoe, put the Radio Studio key card into his shoe, and put the shoe back on.
“Smart,” Finn said. If the boys were patted down by security, the only key card found on Philby would be his room card. Only a strip search would locate the real key, and Disney wasn’t about to strip search anyone, especially one of their VIP guests.
“I do my best.”
Finn cringed.
They stepped out onto the landing. Two things happened at once: the security guys arrived up the stairs, and a girl—a young Asian woman in the shorts and polo shirt of the ship’s crew—arrived to the far side of a glass door leading into the Outlook piano bar. She spotted the security guys and turned around, heading deeper into the bar. A swish of black hair.