Kingdom Keepers: The Return Book Two: Legacy of Secrets (9 page)

In that moment, Jess saw Tim in a whole new light. He was a Tinker, helping to shape Disney for years to come. He’d had to work through having a chip on his shoulder. What she’d taken to be arrogance was likely a defense mechanism, a way to protect himself and keep from spouting out details about top-secret programs. His intelligence was for real—unless he had some gift like hers that he had yet to mention. She measured him differently; appreciated him more.

“You broke the rules,” she said softly. “You and Amanda. I’m not like that.”

“I think I figured that out.”

“There’s more we need from the basement,” she said. Amanda and Tim had previously snuck into the dormitory’s restricted area in search of the DSI’s secret archives. “It’s not like you two can go down there again.”

“No.” They had nearly been caught by a pair of robots under the direction of an old maintenance man, had been questioned by Imagineering School authorities, and had come so close to being expelled that only quick thinking and luck had saved them. Tim had apparently learned his lesson.

He turned her, so she was speaking toward the wall. Jess got the message, and lowered her voice. “I need your support on this,” was all she’d tell him. He tried to provoke more from her, but Jess was whisperingly stubborn.

“We’re friends, right?” she asked.

“Well, yeah,” he said begrudgingly. Tim was not a boy easily led down the road of sentimentality.

“Then let me be blunt.” As if another option was on the table. “Being so tall has some advantages, I’m sure. It’s kind of hard not to pay attention from down here, not to be intimidated by you, not to place more trust in you as a leader.”

Tim’s face contorted, expressing concern, but Jess kept talking.

“But being tall and a boy does not make you right more often than me. Being smarter does. And if you’re smart, you’ll help me out on this, because then I’ll help you out on stuff you want to propose.”

“I never considered doing otherwise.”

“Oh.” She looked almost hurt.

“But not because of any of your psychobabble. Because you’re a friend, Jess. That’s all: I like you. I won’t support stupid stuff you propose, and you shouldn’t do that for me either. But I have yet to hear anything stupid come out of your mouth. That’s why. Not for any other reason.”

“Seriously?” Was her face as red as it felt?

“Would you like me to pretend I’m in awe of your and Amanda’s…talents?” he said, finding the word after a moment of thought. “I’m not. Well, maybe a little, but I’m not gaga or anything. I’ve worked with the people in this room for almost a year. Maybe they can’t move a chair without touching it the way Amanda can, or freakishly draw stuff that hasn’t happened yet, but that doesn’t make their talents any less awesome.”

Jess didn’t like being called freakish. She was about to object when she realized that Tim had probably suffered through the same descriptions, but for even longer. She had a hunch that being six feet tall in sixth grade had seemed cool to everyone but the person who was six feet tall.

“It’s about what that kid Nick told us,” she said.

He nodded. “I figured.”

“Seriously?”

“You ask that a lot,” he said. “You can assume I’m serious unless I make you laugh.”

She laughed.

“There.” He wasn’t only six foot five; his smile was big as well, his teeth blindingly white and perfect. It was the fact that all this came in a kind of goofy package that made Jess feel things for Tim she’d have rather not. “Break’s over,” he said, indicating the conference table.

“Do you trust all these people?” she asked.

Tim looked around carefully. “Well, I did until you asked me that. Now I’m going to have to think about it.”

Back at the table, business chugged along. Tinkers raised issues or projects or problems. When a lull occurred, Jess spoke up. “I’ve got a question.”

“Yes, Jessica?”

“I’ve heard at least one file was confiscated from that storage area,” she said. “Can that be confirmed?”

Shock registered in the eyes of the other Tinkers. “I can confirm that,” said the chairwoman.

“Since I’m basically at the level of an intern on this board, I thought I could volunteer to inventory the collection, to reveal what else might have been taken.”

“That’s a big job,” the chairwoman said. Her voice indicated at least passing interest. “But that’s quite an idea.”

“When will you possibly find time for such a project?” asked a middle-aged woman with dark hair whose identity had stumped Jess so far. The woman’s apparent knowledge of DSI caused Jess to wonder if she wasn’t connected to the program.

“There are nights,” Tim said. “I could help her. Since we’re both board members, I’m assuming the information wouldn’t be considered off-limits and,” he added, continuing before anyone could correct him, “it might be good to get the archiving up-to-date and into a database of some kind. Unless, of course, that’s already been handled.”

“No, I don’t believe it has,” said a man with wispy gray hair, a thin, straight mustache, and drooping eyes. He reminded Jess of an old dog. “I like this idea,” he declared, nodding to the chairwoman.

“If it hasn’t been done, Arthur, it would be of value….” the chairwoman said.

Jess nearly shrieked! Arthur Chancefeldt was a Disney Legend. He’d written several best-selling histories of the company and had been a force behind forming the Disney Archives.

“Of course it would!” the old dog proclaimed.

“We could bring in others,” Jess suggested. “To help lighten the load, so long as Tim and I oversaw the work.”

“I don’t recommend that,” the man said sternly. “Few outside this group know of the vault’s existence, much less its content. That material was tucked away for a reason.”

“It was too sensitive for Cast Members, too important to destroy,” Jess said, theorizing, freezing the air and everyone in the room along with it. The effect was so profound and immediate that it startled her. She drew the scorn of Tim. But she had their attention now, and she felt the urge to push forward. “A schism. A challenge to authority—to the company itself. Damaging information, or at least potentially damaging. I can see I must be close! If we’re all sworn to secrecy, then why not tell me?”

“And me!” Tim said. “Accidents in the park? Lawsuits against the company? What can be that damaging?”

“Suffice it to say,” said the chairwoman, “that this is a committee that deals with the present and the future, not the past. There are others who handle such things, not us.”

“But the completeness of the archive,” said Chancefeldt, nodding his support of the chairwoman, “is very much our concern. The absolute secrecy and security of the documents therein must be ensured.”

The chairwoman’s disapproving face implied he’d gone too far. “Never mind all that,” she said. “Those in favor of Jess’s proposal?” A number of hands went up. “Opposed?” Two hands: one, from the movie director, who struck Jess as the type who enjoyed voting against the others; the second from a bone-thin woman with an artist’s flair to her appearance. Her lack of mass made it difficult to determine her age; she might have been in her late twenties or early sixties. Her dark eyes conveyed a deep-seated warning to Jess, less threat than caution. It was almost as if she were trying to say,
I’ve been there and you do not want to go.

What it all meant, Jess wasn’t sure. But it colored her moment of triumph—she and Tim were approved to inventory the secret archives!—and left her feeling like a child on her own for the first time, watching her parents turn the lock behind them and wondering about being in the house at night, all alone.

“I
’VE HAD AN IDEA.
Follow me.”

So much as a projection could startle, Finn did. The voice belonged to Wayne, who even as a teenager could be as cryptic as the man he’d turn out to be later in life. And just like that much-vaunted Imagineer, this younger version of Wayne took off before allowing Finn, Maybeck, or Charlene any chance to respond—a “my way or the highway” man, not disposed to democracy.

The three followed him, Maybeck checking behind for the boys they’d encountered at Roy’s Main Street office.

“Although, it’s good to be cautious,” Wayne said, leading them through a mercantile shop. It was stocked with toys and items the teens viewed as antiques. The Mickey Mouse stuffed animals looked nothing like the Mickey they knew; the postcards and trinkets they’d seen only on eBay, selling for hundreds of dollars. A few of the T-shirts and sweatshirts were the same as in present time; Disney had come out with a line of “retro” clothing that attempted to duplicate these same relics.

“Mr. Disney knows me, you see,” Wayne said. He spoke over his shoulder, as if expecting the Keepers to be hanging on his every word—which they were. “I know for a fact he and Mrs. Disney plan to ride the various attractions today, just as they did yesterday. I happen to know their schedule as well,” he added proudly. “They are riding the Mad Tea Party in a few minutes with their children. Mrs. Disney does not like taking her purse on the more active rides.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Maybeck asked, dodging a rack of black-and-white postcards.

“It means,” said Finn, “that Wayne intends to hold Mrs. Disney’s purse for her.”

“Because,” said Charlene, “women carry what’s important to them in their purses.”

“We’re going to pinch Mrs. Disney’s purse?” Maybeck said. “And you think somehow that won’t attract attention?”

“We’re going to inspect it,” Wayne said. “More specifically, you three are. As you pointed out, I can’t afford to lose my job. And you’ll have to have it back to me before the ride ends.”

“This should be interesting,” said Charlene.

Wayne nodded vigorously. “The way you three look, by golly! You’ll have to remain at arm’s length so that you can’t be identified or asked questions. And most of all, be very, very careful.”

“W
E NEED TO LOSE ALL CLEAR,”
Finn said. “We won’t be able to hold the purse, much less search it, if we’re pure projection.”

“Well, you’re an idiot!” Maybeck said aggressively.

“That’s it!” Finn said. “I definitely felt something. More.”

The three Keepers stood across from the Mad Tea Party. A large crowd had approached, partially surrounding two adults who were instantly recognizable as Walt and Lillian Disney. The two young women with them, both in their early twenties, were clearly either related or close family friends. It was something of a parade, the Disneys walking at a leisurely gait, the trailing crowd keeping pace.

“You’re an idiot, and I’d slap you if I could!” Maybeck told Finn.

“My fingers are tingling,” Finn said. It wasn’t only fear that could provoke a loss of pure projection. Anger, frustration, and other negative emotions did the job, too. He turned to Charlene and wrinkled his nose. “Your hair looks stupid and that ugly dress doesn’t really work at all.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, flexing her fingers to test them. “Keep it coming.”

Maybeck tried pushing Finn, but his hand went through his friend’s body. Finn, who’d always had a degree more control than the others, returned the shove and managed to connect with Maybeck, turning him violently.

“You got frustrated, not being able to hit me,” Finn taunted. Maybeck pushed back. This time, he made contact. Now they were going, both boys shoving each other while speaking meanly to Charlene.

“You and Willa cry too much,” Finn said, a complete lie.

“Do not!” She shoved him, and he felt it.

“Do too!” he said, egging her on. The three Keepers were well on their way to being partial holograms and capable of retrieving the handbag from Wayne, who was waving at his employer. Walt waved back, a good sign.

“Shouldn’t stop,” Charlene said. They kept smacking one another in the shoulders and pulling on each other’s arms. From a distance, it appeared to be quite the quarrel, and when Maybeck struck Charlene so hard she stumbled back, a man crossed the path, heading toward them.

“Uh-oh,” Maybeck said. “Don’t look now, but we’ve got company.”

Finn did look, and just in time. “Backs to the wall,” he ordered, not wanting them exposed from the side.