The Key To the Kingdom (17 page)

If Tommy Kirk was the man of the house in the film, he would be the person to drop by and check on. Would Tommy Kirk be a resident of the Echo Lake Apartments here at the Studios? As Hawk’s gaze fell to his left, he saw a bank of apartment mailboxes. Even in the most unnoticeable details of any Disney Theme Park, nothing was left to chance or done by accident. The preacher vaguely remembered from listening to one of the Disney podcasts that these mailboxes featured the names of people who had either helped construct the Studios or were related to people who had been instrumental in the construction. He was sure at some point he had heard the names mentioned, probably on the same podcast. Even if someone with the name Kirk would have been involved, he knew the odds that his name would be Tommy was incalculable. He sighed. If Tommy Kirk was supposed to have an apartment here, then his name would be on a mailbox. The twelve golden mailboxes indicated there were twelve residents in this small apartment complex. Scanning each box Hawk read the name and then moved to the next. A bottom box on the far right revealed the answer. According to the box, the resident in apartment 105 was none other than T. Kirk. What were the chances that there really had been a person who had helped to created the park with the first initial T and the last name Kirk? If there had been—and he decided to research this bit of trivia later—then Farren Rales would have been shrewd enough to figure that out. Amused and impressed at his luck he looked back at the steps, wondering how to scale them to find apartment 105.

He closed his eyes and listened to the cartoon voice replay the clue in his head.
He might even be able to help us. Hawk, if you can think outside of the box you’ll find exactly what we need
. Think outside the box and find exactly what we need. There was something here, so he needed to think outside the box to find it. He looked back to the mailbox with the name T. Kirk on the label. Hawk realized
with lightning clarity that he was thinking outside the box. Outside the mailbox!

He hurried to study the box closer. Bending over he saw it was similar to other apartment mailboxes built into a wall or multibox rack. When the mail was delivered the postman would use a master key to open the box and put the mail inside. Each resident would have a private key to his or her own individual box. Looking at the details of the golden box he knew that like most things at the Studios this had been intentionally aged and left for guests to see if they slowed down long enough to explore. Usually in a film set there wouldn’t really be a mailbox behind the door. Still, the clue was clear and this could be more than just a decoration. Hawk needed to get in the mailbox. That particular task would require a key, and of course, Hawk had a key in his pocket. It wasn’t the usual mailbox key, but up to this point it had opened everything he needed to open, so he figured it was time to try it again.

Removing the key, he looked to see if anyone was watching him. A quick scan of the crowd revealed nothing untoward.

The lock appeared rusted and unusable. Hawk felt confident that this was a visual trick created by Disney designers. He placed the key into the slot and pushed. There was some resistance and then the key slid easily into the lock. With a quick turn of the key, the lock and the mailbox door opened. Hawk’s pulse quickened. He saw something folded inside. Reaching in and grabbing it, he withdrew his discovery and then closed and relocked the door. He unfolded the paper. It was a map of the Walt Disney Hollywood Studios. The map was a guest map that could be picked up by any guest upon entering the park.

Grayson Hawkes’s focus on getting into the box had been so intent that he didn’t scan the crowds very closely. If he had, he would have seen someone sitting inside the Hollywood & Vine diner looking out the window watching his every move. The observer had slid into the seat near the window after Hawkes had walked to the gate of the Echo Lake Apartments. The watcher had observed him as he leaned against the gate, as he looked at the golden boxes, and as he had turned his back to them and studied the box closely. The onlooker continued to watch him as he pulled a key from his pocket and prepared to insert it into the lock of the mailbox.

Inside Hollywood & Vine the spectator saw the preacher examine a theme park map. Trying to read the map and the face of the pastor through the window, the viewer could not tell whether the discovery meant anything to Hawkes. Abruptly Dr. Hawkes folded the map and placed it inside the DVD case he held in his hand. He walked away, never pausing to look toward the window where the watcher had been able to observe his most recent movements.

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

Day Five Late Afternoon

R
USHING ACROSS THE PARK,
Hawk headed toward the Streets of America. The map in the mailbox was just a normal theme park map. Initially he hadn’t noticed anything unique about it. Then he saw it, in the upper left-hand corner: a black star drawn by hand in black ink,
on top of a small plane pictured on the map. Hawk was familiar enough with the contents of the park to know the plane and its location. He quickened his pace into something faster than a jog. Hearing his own breathing he reviewed what he knew about the airplane.

It was the small plane that had belonged to Walt Disney himself. This was the plane that Walt had flown in as he first surveyed the property he would purchase in Florida. Walt had been a man who enjoyed flying and had owned a number of planes. If Hawk remembered correctly, this was the last one he had purchased and was known affectionately as Mickey Mouse One.

Arriving at the back of the park he rushed toward the entrance of the Backlot Tour. Hawk knew the plane could be seen by passengers riding on the tour, and that was the way he hoped to catch a glimpse of it now—if he got there on time. But a barricade affirmed what he had dreaded. The attraction was closed for the day.

“Excuse me, sir, did you want to take the Backlot Tour?” Hawk looked over the barricade into the face of a smiling cast member. The man continued, “You still have time to catch the tram, but you’ve missed our effects tank demonstration. Follow me and I’ll walk you over to the prop warehouse where you can catch the ride. But you’ll have to hurry.”

Hawk, out of breath, managed a nod as the cast member moved the barricade and motioned for him to follow. As Hawk walked behind him, the cast member briskly navigated past the huge water tank, down the ramps, and through a warehouse. Just as they emerged from the automatic double doors, Hawk saw the last passenger vehicle of the bright red and yellow tram was about to close. With a yell the cast member stopped the securing of the side of the vehicle. Hawk jumped aboard and slid across the backseat. He profusely thanked the cast member, and in less than a minute the tour was underway.

Time and expansion of the theme park had forced the tour to constantly change and not always for the better. Years earlier the Backlot Tour was a true behind-the-scenes look at what was happening around the studios. It lined up perfectly with the Walt Disney philosophy. The current attraction lacked the fun of the earlier editions. As the vehicle snaked along the roadway it drew closer to the Lights, Motor, Action! Extreme Stunt Show. The stunt show was an expansion that had radically changed the layout of the tour. This huge attraction needed a large stadium to house the crowds watching the unbelievable stunts. Stadium construction had decimated all of Residential Street and left the tour much shorter than before.

The tram crawled behind the stadium and Hawk saw the plane tucked behind the corner of the massive steel structure. Walt’s plane had been moved here and placed on display for the Backlot Tour. The tram was on track to an area known as Catastrophe Canyon, a special-effects experience that unfolded around the vehicle. While the tram was shaken about, the riders could experience a carefully choreographed catastrophe from the safety of their passenger compartments. Hawk had been inside the canyon more times than he could remember. As the tram headed toward the canyon he was facing backward, turned around, looking back at the plane.

“Ha-ha!”

The tour guide was continuing her dialogue and the tram was rolling into its date with simulated destruction as Hawk grabbed the shaking mouse and held it up to his ear.

“Time just flies when you’re having fun! Get it? Flies? See the airplane? Hee-hee. I can’t believe Mr. Disney named this plane after me! He sure did spend a lot of time on this plane. We might have to call it like he did later, pal.”

Hawk barely noticed the wall of water rushing toward the ride vehicle. While the passengers on board laughed and shrieked at the simulated destruction happening around them, Hawk was trying to figure out how he was supposed to call the plane like Walt did. Replacing his stuffed companion on his waist he readied himself to catch another look at the plane on the return trip. In a matter of moments the tram was passing the plane again. The empty back bench of the vehicle allowed Hawk to slide all the way across it to get as close as possible to see the airplane. This time as the tour passed the plane, the tour guide gave the guests some information.

“The plane we are passing is a Grumman G-159 multi-engine prop plane built in 1963. Walt Disney purchased this plane and it was the one he used to fly over the undeveloped property here in Florida that became Walt Disney World. This plane was also used by Disney executives until it was decommissioned in the 1980s and retired to the Disney Hollywood Studios.”

The glistening white plane, striped in two-toned blue with gold highlights, looked like it would still fly today. The Disneyland and Disney World logos adorned the sides, and Mickey Mouse himself was on the tail along with the registration number of the plane. N234MM was clearly visible. If Hawk correctly understood the way the numbering worked, the N designated it as an aircraft. The numerals were numbers that Walt had chosen along with the MM, which stood for Mickey Mouse. As Disney, who clearly had liked to fly, retired one plane and bought another, he would assign it the same number. This number was the only one on the plane. The N234MM had to be important for something. What that something was, he did not have any idea. The journey through the park had been like a scavenger hunt. But his little helper had told him they would find
exactly what we need
. N234MM was what he’d found. It must be what they would need.

The tour came to an end and the passengers disembarked. Collectively they moved through the American Film Institute Showcase. Hawk glanced down at his watch; it read 6:00. The face of the watch jolted his brain with the promise of a potential appointment. In the excursions throughout the afternoon he had nearly forgotten he was supposed to meet Kiran at 7:00. She had been particularly pointed in her determination not to keep their date. Yet he had made the suggestion that they still meet. If he didn’t show up it was a guarantee that she would. Life just seemed to work that way for Hawk.

The flowing tide of humanity moved him to the front gate without incident. Passing Mickey’s of Hollywood as he moved down Hollywood Boulevard, he stole a glance through an open doorway into the shop. Inside, Sandy was helping a guest and looked up toward him as if on cue. The cast member’s eyes bore into him with a disconcerting intensity. Hawk wished he hadn’t looked into the store.

In order to make it back to Celebration in time he was going to have to hustle. Stepping into the shortest line to move through the exit turnstile he waited for the two people in front of him to push their way through.

“Ha-ha!”

He unclipped the mouse as he moved through the exit and squeezed its midsection gently.

“Hey, Hawk! Wouldn’t it be swell if we visited the Magic Kingdom? I can hardly wait to get there . . . oh boy!”

There was no way Hawk could go the Magic Kingdom now. He was in a hurry to meet Kiran. Deciding to bypass the courtesy transportation tram, he jogged along the same path out of the park he had traveled with Kiran the night before. Freeing Pal Mickey from his waist, the preacher tossed the stuffed animal in the trunk before sliding into his car. Glancing again at his watch he knew he would be cutting it close but was confident he would make it. He hoped she would have thought about the events of last night and feel better about them today. If nothing else he wished that her curiosity to know more might win out over her doubts about him and get her back to Front Street.