Kingdom Keepers: The Return Book Two: Legacy of Secrets (31 page)

“The poem wasn’t left for Wayne. It may have been left
by
Wayne—an older Wayne—maybe even the Wayne we knew. Or it could be from Walt himself. But right now we are the ones solving it, and solve it we will.”

Their projections had passed effortlessly through the wood shop’s locked door. The shop was an open warehouse space about the size of three garages. It housed all kinds of industrial saws and planers, drills and lathes and routers. Special vacuums and lights and power cords dangled from overhead. It took ten minutes for them to find the metal brand and the butane torches used to heat it.

The Keepers searched the area thoroughly, but found no pen, and no clue as to where they might find it. A baby stroller nearby, nearly completed, carried the burned Mickey brand. Two benches. A set of window shutters. None offered any further clues.

Discouraged, they took a moment together to regroup.

“It’s got to be the second half of the poem,” Willa said. “The answers are there.”

“That second line is gibberish,” Philby said, “in case you hadn’t noticed.”

He unfolded the clue and they studied it again.

“Letters make up words of three. DNA. EHT. Nep. Nac. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hold on a minute,” Maybeck said. He grabbed the sheet of paper and took it to a nearby desk, digging around in the messy drawers until he turned up a broken shard of mirror. He held it over the paper. “Take this down, somebody!”

Willa grabbed a pencil and a scrap of paper.

“
T, o, o, f, i, t
…” Carefully, Maybeck spelled out the gibberish in reverse order.

Philby was ahead of everyone else. “Too fit can pen the and…”

“It’s backwards!” Finn shouted. “And the pen can fit too—”

“And the pen can fit too easily into one of these so freely.” Philby spoke barely above a whisper.

“One of what?” Maybeck asked.

“A cup with other pens?” Willa suggested.

“A drawer?” said Charlene.

“A hand!” Willa said. “A pen fits easily into a hand.”

“Keep looking!” an excited Philby cried.

They separated and started a fresh search, their focus now much different than before.

“I think I’ve maybe got something!” Willa whispered. They joined her in the far corner, where a high drafting table and wooden stool faced backstage. A glimpse of the top of the castle was just visible in the distance.

“This is for drawing,” Maybeck said. “Check out the initials.” A wooden plaque read:
WED
. “Walter Elias Disney. This was—is!—his desk!”

Reverence filled the air. Finn’s arms rippled with goose bumps; his neck tingled. “It doesn’t get any cooler than this,” he murmured.

The five stood there, unwilling to approach the desk.

“I’m not messing with Walt Disney’s stuff,” Maybeck said firmly. “I mean, we messed with Roy’s and Lillian’s. That was bad enough. But this…this is different. You know the expression ‘This is where the magic happens’? Well, guess what…forget his office.” He threw his arms out wide, taking in the space around them. “This is where he sketches the stuff that counts. This is Walt the designer, the artist, da man.”

“Where the rubber hits the road,” Philby said, voice quiet and impressed.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” said Maybeck.

“We’ve got to do something.” Charlene, ever practical, was the first to issue a call to action. “But Maybeck’s right: I’m not touching anything of Walt’s.”

“Even if it’ll save the parks?” Finn said, stepping forward.

“They’re his parks,” Charlene said. “Who am I to decide what’s right and what’s wrong?”

“There are others deciding that,” Philby said, stepping forward alongside Finn, “and we don’t like their vision. If we did, we wouldn’t be here.”

“Guys?” Willa’s voice carried certainty; a single word spoken crisply, with authority. It said,
You’re going to listen to me.
It said,
Stop what you’re doing
; it said,
I know something you don’t and you want to hear it.

The others turned to her, silent and mindful.

“We don’t have to mess with anything,” she said. She pointed to the window. A bare wood sculpture of what had to be Mickey Mouse stood there, but it wasn’t the mouse they knew. He had the same skinny legs and arms, the oversize shoes and gloves, but his nose was longer and more rodentlike, and his eyes resembled round buttons. He stood in a welcoming pose—one hand at hip level, palm out, the other, his left, held up as if waving.

But he wasn’t waving.

He was holding a fountain pen.

A
MANDA NUDGED
M
ATTIE
and head-gestured toward a quartet of Dapper Dans coming down Main Street USA in their colorful striped jackets, white pants, and straw hats. That made nine since the girls had started looking.

“Oh my goodness,” Mattie said. “Second from the left. That’s him. That’s the man Joe was thinking of. The one with the two names.”

“You’re the expert.”

“That’s the face Joe saw when I read him. I’m sure of it.” Mattie blinked, then nodded firmly. “He’s a little older than the guy in Joe’s mind, but it’s him! He must be the brother.”

“And if he is, then he knows stuff. You’re sure you can you do this?” Amanda asked.

“Yes!” Mattie sounded confident.

“I’ll be right here.”

“All right, then.” And with that, Mattie charged off to intercept the quartet. Amanda stood back, admiring her courage. Mattie had proven herself far more independent than Amanda or Jess. At Barracks 14, she’d been a loner, aloof, and often caustic when not with the two girls. She hadn’t said much outside their circle, and when she had, it was typically cutting or cruel. Her eyes were always dancing, always looking for a way out. She’d proved herself the girls’ ally when they needed her; and in the end, she’d escaped Barracks 14 to join them.

Now Amanda saw her walk up to the four men, singling out the second from the left. She spoke to him as she shook his hand. Invading another’s thoughts was when things could get dangerous. Amanda hugged herself tightly, trying not to let her nerves get the better of her.

The Dapper Dan said something to his friends and nodded to Mattie. They walked over to Amanda.

“Hi,” Amanda said.

“Hello there,” he said, standoffish.

“I see you’re wearing the name tag ‘Ezekiel,’” Mattie said.

“That’s my name, as I told you a moment ago when we met and shook hands.”

“But when I asked you about it—when we shook hands, as you’ve just said—you thought of the name Ebsy,” Mattie said.

The man appeared blindsided. “But how could you—?”

“It’s such an unusual name,” Amanda said, interrupting. “A friend and I happened upon the same name, the name of a man about your age: Ebsy Balwin Hollingsworth. Son of Amery senior, brother of Amery junior and Rexx.”

The Dapper Dan blinked and doffed his hat. “I have nothing to do with my brother. I disapprove of everything he’s doing. I don’t know who you work for, young ladies, but you have this all wrong.”

Amanda wondered why Disney would ever hire Amery Hollingsworth’s son. “You’re a spy for Joe Garlington,” she said, theorizing. “You keep your eyes open for people who might be working with your brother.”

The man blinked rapidly. “I know Mr. Garlington. That’s a ridiculous accusation.”

“One you didn’t deny, I noticed,” said Mattie.

“You can’t hold a brother responsible for his brother,” the man said.

“So you’ve helped Joe out with that.”

“Maybe, a little.”

“You know of the DHIs.”

“Yes.”

“Of their
work
in the Disney kingdoms.”

“I am very much aware. I met two of them recently, I’m proud to say. I respect them all.”

“They need your help. We need your help,” Mattie said. She reached out and put her hand on his wrist. “We need to know about
a vault that’s here in the park
.” A moment later she removed her hand and gave a slight nod to Amanda.

“I think you overestimate me,” he said.

“You won’t help us unless Joe tells you to?” Amanda sounded angry.

“Let’s say I was who you think. Then what do you suppose my answer to that is?”

“The Kingdom Keepers need you,” Amanda said. “This is life-or-death.”

Mattie spoke, giving no indication she’d just gained this information by reading the man. “The vault is in the Disney Gallery. It contains important information. There’s a curtain,” Mattie added.

Ebsy Hollingsworth appeared impressed. “Inter-esting.”

He was far more cautious than Amanda had expected. “Both my friend and I spent several years in Barracks 14.” She paused, staring into his eyes, waiting for him to nod. “It’s outside Baltimore.”

Ebsy looked deeply saddened. “I…I know my brother acquired a former military training base outside of Baltimore. He’s trying to continue my father’s legacy. I don’t approve of what he’s doing. You must know that.”

“Which is?”

He glanced around nervously. “Complicated.” He added, “If you were there, I’m assuming you’re both…talented.”

Amanda just stared. “What do you think?” She paused. “No, that was rude. I’m sorry. Yes. ‘Talented,’ that’s us.”

He nodded, considering. “May I ask what your talents are?”

“If you won’t laugh,” Mattie said.

“I can promise you that.”

Amanda spoke first. “Telekinesis. I move things.”

“I can read people,” Mattie said. “I’ve read you. I saw the vault, but I don’t understand exactly what I saw.”

He addressed Mattie. “That’s…somewhat incredible.”

“Work with us here,” Mattie said. “I only saw a few pictures of the vault. We need more.”

“I feel partly responsible for all that’s happened here in the Kingdom. And I want to help. I do know the vault you’re asking about, and what it contains. It’s said to be a record of disturbances within the park, but I can’t verify that. It’s not money, I know that much. So it must be information of some kind. There’s a certain Cast Member who visits the site each and every day.”

“In the Disney Gallery,” Mattie said, repeating herself from earlier.

“It used to be the Bank of America. Now it’s the gallery and the vault door is left open for visitors.”

“How could they keep anything secret with the vault door open?” Amanda sounded suspicious.

“It’s typical Disney. An illusion. Since it’s not shut, one would never think to try and open it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Amanda asked. Her mind was spinning, trying to make sense of all the hints and half-answers.

Something or someone caught the man’s eye. He snapped his head to the left and spoke faster. “If the stories I’ve heard are true, the combination is put into the
open
vault door, just as if it were closed. That opens an interior wall. It’s only rumor; I can’t vouch for it.” He glanced in the same direction, face flushing with excitement—or fear. “Now, pretend I’m giving you directions!”

He turned them both, pointing off toward the castle. The girls played along, nodding. They thanked him and shook his hand. Then Ebsy Hollingsworth rejoined the crowd in the street.

“What just happened?” Mattie asked.

“I think,” Amanda said, “he just told us how to open a vault that’s already open. You’re going to have to read a Cast Member to get the combination. But then I think,” she said, barely containing her excitement, “that we’re in business!”

*  *  *

As the final sparkles fell from the sky, ending the evening’s fireworks display, and guests flooded down Main Street toward the exit, an average-looking man with an average walk entered the Disney Gallery. He wore khakis and a white Disney Cast Member shirt, and carried an average-looking briefcase.

The Cast Member behind the register walked over to the door and locked it. She drew down window shades that were easy to miss—reflective film that eliminated any chance of the events inside being witnessed from the street. She nodded, which translated as,
Good to go
.

The man with the briefcase heaved against the old bank vault’s open door. It moved one inch. He pushed again. It moved two feet. He stepped between it and the wall and began to spin the combination lock. The Cast Member, used to the routine, stood a distance away with her back turned.

He spun the dial to the left, right, left, right. Then he jumped violently as someone—or something—brushed against his back. “Whoa!”

“Excuse me?” the woman said.

“Never mind.”

“What?”

“You know those Disney myths? Like Cast Members who heard a sneeze inside Snow White, right before they closed it down?”

“Or the ghost in Haunted Mansion.”

“That’s no myth,” the man said. “And whatever just touched me on the shoulder isn’t, either.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Funny thing is, I’m serious. Something touched me on the shoulder.”

Mattie stepped back as they continued speaking, working to memorize the numbers 131, 3, 71, and 3 stolen from the man’s thoughts—the combination to the vault.