Beth nodded, but was silent. This had bothered her for over six years and she was anxious to hear what he would say.
“I had a plan for that day. Randy did what I asked him to do and you fell in, as you were supposed to. I jumped in, like I was supposed to. But, then the Suit showed up and you were hauled off. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“My shirt coming off?” Her cheeks turned red with the memory.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen either.” Adam was going to add ‘that was a bonus,’ but wisely didn’t say it out loud. “Something different was supposed to happen that day and I have regretted it for six years.”
“What was it?”
Without taking his eyes off her face, Adam held up a ring that had been hidden in his right hand. It had a sparkling princess cut, cornflower blue Ceylon sapphire in the middle, surrounded by pave diamonds. Each corner of the mount had another blue sapphire. There were alternating diamonds and blue sapphires down the band in an intricate filigree pattern. Beth’s mouth fell open. “I was going to ask you something that day.” The emotion of the day caught up with Adam and he was almost whispering now. “Maybe I went about it the wrong way, but I had wanted to make that day memorable. I knew how much you loved your keelboats, so I wanted to ask you…to marry me with the keelboats in the mix somehow. I guess I didn’t think it through very well.”
He watched as a single tear ran down the side of her face. He hadn’t even seen her tear up. “Oh, Adam.”
Was that a yes? Was that a happy tear? Why was she just sitting there? Did he forget something? Adam had never proposed before so he didn’t know exactly what was supposed to happen. “Am I supposed to get down on one knee?”
She wiped her eyes and laughed. “If you do that up here, we might just keel over and somebody might get keeled…and I don’t want that to happen before I say yes.”
He slipped the ring on her outstretched finger and then moved over to the seat next to her. Taking her in his arms, he sealed their promise with a kiss.
LAPWAI LIBRARY, NEZ PERCE COUNTY, IDAHO
2002
Lance stared at the computer screen. His worn-out, tired mind just couldn’t grasp the answer that was right there in front of him. He scrolled to the top of the information page. He scrolled down. He even brought up another link. It said the same thing.
Beth lied.
That was his first coherent thought. Beth lied. His Beth, his dear, sweet Beth had lied. In the face of their great discovery, at the moment of truth, she had lied to him.
Lance’s second coherent thought added the fact that he had pointed a gun at them and indicated he might have to shoot them..…
Oh lord.
He dropped his head onto his arms and thought over the entire journey with Adam and Beth. He thought about the diary and the flights to Missouri—all three of them—and to Tobago. He thought about the hours spent pouring over the clues and research books and the excitement they shared when they figured out where they had to go next. He thought about all the planning Walt had put into the search and the treasures they had found—and that he had so flippantly handed over to Adam and Beth.
He must have dozed off. Not surprising considering all the strain he had put himself through lately. The laptop had switched to his screensaver and, when he lifted his eyes, he saw the sandy beach of Barcolet Bay. What a beautiful island. Lance now believed that it had been the most significant of their finds. And, it had been the most significant for Beth and Adam as the memory of her legs swinging slowly off the side of Adam’s beach chair and the murmur of their low voices came to mind. Adam had been forgiven.
Would he ever be forgiven?
Lance touched his mouse and the beauty of Barcolet Bay vanished and the original screen page returned. Somewhat refreshed by his nap, he reread the information. Going back to the first reference, he reread that as well.
All their travel. All their research. All their plans and efforts. And it all came down to this: a dog.
They broke into a warehouse and rappelled down ropes. They dug up Walt’s dreaming tree. They risked life and limb in a condemned building. They jumped off a moving train.… Okay, it was a slow moving train, but, still, it was a train. They pretended to be filmmakers. They dove into shark-infested waters.… Okay, they were fairly harmless sharks. They jumped off of the Pirate boat.… And it all comes down to a dog!
Lance sat back in the padded library chair. Fingers steepled in front of his face, he stared at the blinking cursor next to the description of the family Christmas and the puppy Walt had given to Lillian.
The sound of a chuckle surprised Lance. Running his fingers through his messy hair, he shook his head. He must be really tired.... There was that sound again. It was another laugh.
A dog! He felt the corners of his mouth turn upwards. Beth had sent him all the way to Idaho. Did she know then that it was a dog? He doubted it but still giggled at the thought. Brilliant. She was simply brilliant.
Here he was in the small library of a small town hundreds of miles away and he was stuck here until tomorrow. Oh, lord, it was a dog!
The laughing started again. The librarian instinctively looked over to shush him, but there was no one else there. He seemed to be enjoying himself. He had looked so glum when he first came in.…
Lance wasn’t aware of her scrutiny. Head back on the chair, he was holding his stomach, quickly arriving at the point where he couldn’t stop laughing. He saw Beth’s face as she looked in awe at the etched words on the door below Pirates and then as she told him it was a great chief and Lillian had been born in Nez Perce country. And he believed her and had jumped on an airplane. Oh, lord! He couldn’t stop laughing.
He laughed at Beth; he laughed at himself; he laughed at the fuzzy puppy that started this insane hilarity. Wiping away the tears before they rolled into his ears again, he laughed until his stomach ached and his jaws hurt. Then San Francisco and his joke on Adam with the ‘missing’ clue came to mind. Adam had been livid and he laughed harder still.
As with any good crying jag, Lance’s laughing jag eventually wore out. And it left him exhausted. The computer was closed with a soft click. Head back, his stomach still lurching with giggle spasms, he closed his eyes. Then, leaning forward, he rested his head on the lid of his laptop.
There was one last thought that swirled through his mind right before he fell asleep: I am such an idiot.
The room suddenly quiet, the librarian padded over to where Lance now slept. She didn’t usually allow such conduct, but couldn’t remember the last time she had heard anyone laugh so hard and wondered what it had been about. Normally the sleeper would have been awakened and told to go elsewhere. This was a library after all. But, he looked so peaceful, his head rested on his computer as if it was a pillow. The worry lines she had seen in his forehead were erased. She didn’t have the heart to awaken him.
He slept undisturbed for three hours.
Dressed in the blue pants, white shirt, and blue rimmed, flat-topped white hat of his Security uniform, Lance and his partner Wolf did their final sweep of Critter Country and New Orleans Square. They checked the restrooms and stores for anyone trying to sneak a night in Disneyland. Shining their flashlights over the canoe dock and the hidden recesses of the dismantled Country Bear show, they found no one hiding.
It was 11:30 p.m. Saturday night. The Park officially closed at 11:00, but if anyone was in line for an attraction, they were allowed to ride. A few of the regular Park attendees who liked to be the ‘last one out of the Park’ were currently in the far corner of Fantasyland, drawing out their slow exit as long as they could. Some of the shops on Main Street were still ringing up last minute souvenir sales and the stroller rental facility was busy with a mass of returned strollers and power scooters.
His partner’s walkie-talkie buzzed and he was told to handle a problem at Big Thunder. With a “see you later, Lance,” Wolf strolled off as Lance continued his final sweep. After walking through the queue
of Splash Mountain, he checked with the Ghostess at the Haunted Mansion to make sure the ride was all clear. Wandering through the quaint streets of New Orleans Square, the shops were closed and the managers were busy closing out registers behind locked doors. He checked the Court of Angels off Royal Street knowing it was a popular place both for lovers and hiders. He found neither.
Using his walkie-talkie, he checked in with Central and gave an all-clear report. Getting a “roger-out,” he was officially off-duty and through for the night. The last of the cast members tiredly said ‘good night’ to Lance as they headed backstage to their lockers and their street clothes before they headed home.
Lance paused as he walked past the entry to Pirates of the Caribbean. It’s right there, he told himself. You have to go look. He shook his head no and headed for the path around the Treehouse. In front of the Jungle Cruise he hesitated and looked back toward New Orleans Square.
“I have to do it,” he said out loud. Turning back, he entered the Cast Member Only door off to the left of the Pirate entrance, below the staircase that went up to the Disney Gallery Collector’s Room.
His soft-soled shoes made no sound as he walked through the bright white corridor. He was all alone. The ride operators had long gone. The maintenance crews didn’t begin their work until the Park was completely cleared out of guests. Finding the door he wanted, he stepped from white walls into a rocky cavern. He wouldn’t think about that day two months ago when he forced Adam and Beth down that corridor at gunpoint. He only thought about the hidden cave and a dog.
With no need for secrecy he walked right up to the skeleton sitting in the Captain’s Quarters. Not knowing for sure who did what on that fateful day, he moved the bony hand and checked the door. Seeing the passage was still closed, he went back and put his hand on the map, trying to recall what Adam had done. The door didn’t open. He returned to the bed one more time and put his finger on the red X on the map. In the silence of the cavern he could hear the little door glide open.
Using his security flashlight to light his way down the carved steps, he found, just as he suspected, that the heavy wooden door was still closed. Reading the words again, he couldn’t help but chuckle. As he was shaking his head over the irony, his beam of light showed that the door actually had a gap between it and the rockwork door jam. It had been tightly closed the last time he had been there. No way, Lance thought as he reached to pull on the door. It swung outward, its heavy weight swinging silently on its hinges.
Dang! They did it! Smiling, he almost gave a victory shout as he pulled the door fully open. He was surprised, as Adam had been, that the room was so small. The flashlight beam did a quick scan of the walls and ceiling and then focused on the scattered pieces of wood strewn haphazardly in the center of the floor.
Crouching down, Lance lifted the pieces of what had to have been a wooden crate. One board with a faded stenciled ‘Props’ was leaning off to the side. The top and sides of the crate had been torn off and whatever had been inside was now gone.
“Dang. They did it.” With no need for silence Lance repeated his finding out loud as he stood up. Not sure how he felt right then, his flashlight continued to play over the broken crate.
The reality hit Lance as he bent to pile the pieces of wood off to the side. Adam and Beth had figured out the clue—whatever it meant—had somehow come back and opened the door, and then took whatever had been hidden. “Dang,” he repeated more forcibly, the sound reverberating off the concrete walls around him. A desire to hit something came and went. It’s my fault.
As he stood there staring at the scattered pieces of wood, he gave a resigned sigh and smiled glumly to himself. Well, I have the crate. Figuring he might as well put all the wood in one place, he tilted what had been the base of the crate to lean it against the side wall. He was just about to leave when he noticed something odd about the floor under the crate.
“What have we here?” Crouching down again and shining his light, it looked like some kind of button recessed into the fake rock floor. It had been hidden and protected by the crate. Lance could tell by looking at the dust marks surrounding the wood that Adam hadn’t moved the bottom of the crate and therefore wouldn’t have seen the depression underneath. Figuring he had nothing to lose, Lance pressed on the rock-colored button.
Nothing happened. Lance pushed on it again. Nothing.
“Figures.” With one last grumble, he stood and brushed the dust off his hands.
He was just about to turn away when he felt a faint rumble beneath his feet and heard the sound of gears turning—gears that hadn’t been used in a long time and needed a little grease. Wary, Lance slowly backed out of the little closet, unsure of what was happening. After a moment, the rumble stopped. As he waited, mouth slightly agape, the back wall of the little closet began to slide sideways. As he shone his light, the wall completely disappeared into the hidden recesses of the cavern.
Moving forward again, Lance was careful not to step on the hidden button on the floor. He peered into the opening to see there was another room, even larger than the cavern in which they found the locked door. From where he stood he could see a dim white glow and a flashing red light emanating from inside.
Wide-eyed, Lance took one step inside the new room. He thought for a moment and then glanced back at the crate. Grabbing the rectangular bottom of the broken crate, he set it into the opening of the room, hoping to possibly halt the movement of the wall in case it tried to close. Not sure how much strength was left in an ancient-looking piece of wood, it might buy him some time to get out. He didn’t want to discover too late that the door might only unlock from the other side. The thought of being trapped down here made Lance break out in a cold sweat.
The flashlight wasn’t needed. There were low wattage lighting units in the ceiling of the chamber, many of which had burned out. Lance assumed the opening of the door had tripped some switch to turn the remaining lights on. Those few bulbs provided enough illumination for Lance to see a large machine of some sort inside the room. Listening for a moment, the machine made a soft humming sound. There were tubes and conduits coming in and out of it with panels of switches and levers mounted on the side facing him. Every few seconds another sound could be heard: The release of air released from somewhere on the side of the machine. Looking around each side of the structure, he found the soft sh sh sh sound came from a pipe located near the bottom of the machine. The misty vapor flowed eerily along the floor before dissipating completely.
Against a dark wall leaned a dozen large cylinder tanks connected to a maze of pipes. Each tank stood about five feet tall, a foot in diameter and looked like oversized scuba tanks with a series of valves and pressure gauges attached to a complex array of brass fittings. Lance wiped the dust off a metal label adhered to the side of one tank and read “Liquid Nitrogen.” On another, “Oxygen” was printed in yellow letters across the top near the pressure gauges. Confused by the number of tanks and their contents, Lance could only shake his head.
Near the top of the large machine was a small fogged-over window about eight inches in diameter, illuminated every few seconds by a slow blinking red light located somewhere inside. On. Off. On. Off. Lance vaguely wondered how long that light had been blinking as he looked over the still-functioning machine. Being somewhat familiar with the machinery of Disneyland and some of the attractions, Lance could tell this wasn’t part of the Pirate ride or the neighboring Indiana Jones or the Jungle Cruise. This machine was not as sophisticated as the state-of-the-art technology that operated within the Park. It not only looked old, but a layer of dust had accumulated on every flat surface making it look as if the equipment hadn’t been serviced or worked on in decades. Was this a long-forgotten ride component, some sort of fog machine?
Lance walked completely around the unit that was pushed near the tanks lining the back wall. Rectangular in shape, it was about ten feet long, five feet tall, and four feet wide, and resembled a refrigerator lying on its side.
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br /> He decided the window with the red light was the only entry point. Why else have a window? He glanced around the otherwise empty room. The walls were bare of any charts, instructions, or specifications. A piece of yellowed paper lying on the floor next to the side wall caught his eye. Picking it up, Lance quickly recognized it as a page torn out of the diary and his heart skipped a beat. There was a cracked, yellowed piece of adhesive tape on the top edge. Turning the paper over, he read the words: Push Here. There were no other instructions or indication of where “here” was. Lance looked at the machine’s array of buttons and levers.
Heart pounding, he walked over to the machine. The note had to have fallen off one of the panels. But which one? Using his flashlight for more illumination, being careful not to touch any switch or lever, he tried to find the remains of the sticky tape somewhere on the panel.
Feeling along the bottom of various buttons, he located the trace of adhesive near a button off to the side of the main panel. It was a round black button that didn’t look very special—except for being by itself. What would happen if he did Push Here, Lance wondered as he lifted his finger over the button.
His finger lingered for a deciding moment before he suddenly pulled his hand away. He didn’t know what was in the machine. What could possibly be hidden under Disneyland that needed to be protected by all that technology? He thought he should at least determine the contents of the machine or figure out why it was there.
Lance returned to the foggy window and ran his tongue over his suddenly-dry lips. As he raised his arm toward the window, his heart pounded into his throat.
Slowly wiping the condensation off the round window, he took a deep breath and looked inside. At first he couldn’t make out any recognizable shape. The red light was off and the inside of the machine was as dark as night. Then, suddenly, with a foreboding premonition, Lance looked away from the window and looked all around the room. Why were there tanks of liquid nitrogen and oxygen in the room? Why did the machine and equipment look so old?
Sometimes Dead Men DO Tell Tales! Page 42
