Perception: A Novel

By Jack Sinclair

Sam is a young man who has decided that the world he lives in is fundamentally flawed and in need of fixing—and he is determined to do something about it.

The task is daunting and not without considerable risk. Unable to convince him to accept the status quo and in order to minimize the risk, his family opts to help him with astonishing results over the next two years. As Sam purposely acquires the label of terrorist, he takes on what he hopes is his final project. But in order for Sam to resume a normal life when his task is done, he will need even more help. What will happen when his family enlists the assistance of an old friend within the FBI that they hope will alter the world’s current perception of Sam? Now only time will tell as the clock ticks away and Sam is led in a direction he never could have imagined.

Perception is the tale of a young man’s dangerous journey to repair what he feels is a flawed world, with help from his family, an old friend, and the highest office in the land.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532079924

Jack Sinclair

Jack Sinclair is a retired public servant who began his life in Scotland before emigrating with his family to Canada. He completed his schooling in Winnipeg and earned a diploma in business before his career took him to Ottawa. Jack and his wife have three daughters and six grandchildren.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

I did not start out to write a book.

One day, just before my daughter Meri’s birthday, I decided to write a short piece for her amusement – an exclusive interview with one of Canada’s current most reknowned journalists – Lisa LaFlamme of CTV News. I set the interview ten years in the future when Meri’s son - my grandson, Samuel - would be 19 years of age.

The story would revolve around Sam who, in the intervening ten years, became a globally hunted terrorist – a wacky concept, to be sure – but that was the whole idea – and then to use some incident in his most recent minor hockey season as the seed for his eventual character shift.

While the piece was enjoyed for what it was, there was one negative reaction to it – and that was from Sam himself. As a nine-year old, he did not like the idea of people thinking he was – or would become - a terrorist. That started me thinking. I could create a story where Sam is initially perceived as a terrorist and then work to change that perception to one of the fine young man that he is.

Having started the story with it being about my grandson I decided to involve my other grandchildren to varying degrees, highlighting their various interests and talents. As the story evolves, I introduce other characters, both real and fictional, to give the story some depth. The advantage of writing a story set ten years in the future is that current protocols and methods can change, and that technology….well…anything is plausible. There are elements of the story that are in the nature of a spoof - of current entertainment offerings. This is meant to be a fun read and I hope I succeeded in that.

As an added bonus…..no….I don’t want to spoil your read. Please enjoy the story and remember, this is my first – so be gentle in your appraisal.

Jack Sinclair

1

S am’s successful completion, the previous afternoon, of the first important step in this project did nothing to lessen the anxiety he felt at this very moment. Dressing up as a maintenance man to seemingly replace a couple of light bulbs was one thing but, today, he would enter the realm of serious crime. If caught yesterday it could be construed as misguided high jinks. This morning, however, he was actually impersonating a police officer, and that, he knew, was putting him in a whole different league.

His heart was beating as conspicuously as he had ever felt it before in his life. It was the realization that his actions in the next few minutes could very well end up landing him in prison for a long time, make him a hunted fugitive….or worse – and he did not want to think of what was worse. Several weeks of planning had brought him to the basement of the courthouse in Austin, Texas…and to this moment.

He checked his I-phone for the video feed from the security cameras located just around the corner. It was almost scary what Alex could do with a computer. It seemed like there was no such thing as cyber security anymore – but right this minute he was glad his older cousin was providing tech support for this venture. One of the camera feeds revealed the inside of the Evidence Locker, and it showed two officers lifting first one, then a second, large evidence box onto a cart, as a third officer looked on intently. Sam noted the exact positioning of the boxes on the cart and quickly adjusted two similar looking boxes on an identical cart right beside him.

Okay, he thought, still trying to force his heartbeat to slow down…everything was ready.

He then focussed again on his phone just as it showed the lead officer coming out of the secure room followed by the second officer and then the cart being pushed by the third. The three officers, although confident that the building was secure, reasoned that if anything were going to happen this morning it was going to be between the Locker and the elevator – the only thing behind them was the Locker itself where the corridor ended.

The officers were well aware of the importance of the boxes on the cart. They contained packages of cocaine, with a reported street value of around $100 million. This contraband had been found packed inside each of the door panels of an SUV driven by the accused when he was stopped by Border Patrol. Senor Ramon, a high-ranking member of the powerful Ruiz Cartel denied any knowledge of the drugs being there - and thus the trial.

According to news reports, the Austin District Attorney felt very confident that he had a ‘slam dunk’ case to present given that Ramon’s prints were found in enough places around the doors to reasonably infer that he participated in actually stuffing the packages inside those doors. In the DA’s view, this trial was not going to take very long.

And now, for Sam, the moment had arrived.

He took a breath and then focussed on putting the plan into action. He got behind his cart and began to wheel it down the hallway. The timing here was critical. Although he was dressed in a uniform identical to those worn by the officers now coming his way, if he was too early or too late – or acted too nervous - this could all go terribly wrong. He took one last quick look at their progress on his phone and adjusted his pace accordingly. He approached the next corner just as the first of the officers came into view. He noted the officer’s hand resting on the butt of his pistol - ready to draw his weapon at any sign of trouble.

Sam just rolled his cart routinely past the lead officer, nodding his head as he passed a fellow brother, then turned right at the next corner, making sure to leave plenty of room for the escorted cart passing on his right.

As soon as he passed the other cart, again acknowledging the other two guards with a nod on the way by, Sam depressed a button attached to the palm of his left hand. Immediately, there was the sound of what seemed like a gunshot coming from the direction he had just come. The reaction from the other escorting officers was exactly what he had hoped for. Believing that there was an imminent on-coming assault the two escorting officers moved up to the corner and in front of their cart. Weapons drawn, they took positions at the corner focussing their attention on the hallway to their left, awaiting the assault. The team leader felt exposed in the middle of the hallway and dropped down to make himself less of a target. Trying not to panic, or dwell on whether or not this was the last day of his life, he grabbed the radio clipped to his shoulder and alerted his boss that the evidence escort was possibly under siege and that they needed immediate assistance.

During the commotion, Sam, had initially dropped to the floor as part of his performance, just in case any of the officers had checked behind them. Those officers, satisfied that there was no threat coming from their rear flank, and seeing this rookie cop almost quivering on the floor, returned their focus to the hallway ahead of them. Their team leader was fully exposed in the middle of the next stretch of hallway and they needed to give him cover should more guns appear.

Sam waited a few seconds to make sure he was being seen as no threat them then, just to make sure their attention would continue to be directed in front of them, depressed the second button. The ensuing ‘pop’ refocussed the attention of the officers on the hallway around the corner. He got up quietly and, with his heart seemingly ceasing its function, he quickly rolled the escorted cart backward and moved his own cart into its vacated position. He inched a bit further down the hallway closer to the Evidence Locker to ensure separation…and then resumed his crouch. He soon heard more commotion coming from the staircase at the end of the hall as other officers carefully descended the stairs to give assistance.

Once it was realized that there really was no threat the "Stand Down! order could be heard. The first man down the stairs had noticed that the light in the hallway was out with a light scent of acrid smoke permeating the hallway near the elevators. It seemed immediately clear that the light bulb had popped - accounting for the report of gunfire. Just to be sure, he motioned others to quickly scan the area. Having received the ‘all clear’ moments later, he issued the Stand Down" order to the escorting team down the hall. There was a collective sigh of relief. These situations got everyone a bit jumpy. The last thing anyone needed was bullets flying and ricocheting off the walls or ceilings with someone inadvertently getting injured in the tension of the moment. The person most relieved to hear those words, however, was Sam.

Satisfied that everything remained secure, and also somewhat relieved to see the additional manpower, the three officers relaxed a bit, got up, and returned to their cart. Seeing the young officer crouching on the floor they quickly reassured him that there was no threat. The kid had found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time and was now probably checking his pants for wetness.

With all the additional manpower now available to assist the escorting team, the officers felt a lot more confident that they would indeed make it to lunch without further incident. They surrounded their cart and resumed their mission - feeling assured that everything was now under control. As they approached the elevator – now being held for them - the officers noted the smoking light bulb and couldn’t help but chuckle. This would be a story to tell over a beer for years to come….no doubt with a bit of embellishment.

Sam had waited for the escorting team to turn the corner before he rose and quickly wheeled his cart toward the Evidence Locker. He knocked on the door. Upon hearing the commotion, the officer on duty in the room had immediately closed the door and bolted it, then rolled down the metal barrier closing over the reception counter. The integrity of evidence related to scores of cases had to be protected at all costs lest it be considered tainted by eager defense lawyers. He had called upstairs and was soon assured there was no invasion. He re-opened the metal barrier, greeted the young officer and logged in the case evidence – two boxes. He and Sam had a good laugh at all the excitement.

Sam retreated down the hall trying to look normal, hoping that his seemingly thunderous heartbeat wasn’t going to betray him. Things had gone remarkably well so far. The next phase of the plan would take place in about thirty minute’s time and he expected that to go without incident – that’s assuming that the trial followed its expected course. In order to keep exposure of the drugs to a minimum, the District Attorney would likely introduce the evidence as soon as possible so that it could be returned to the security of the Evidence Locker. That would give Sam probably at least an hour before there would be more activity in the basement.

He went into the basement men’s room, checked into an empty stall, noted the time on his phone and just…waited. He thought about all that went into the planning of this project….

Carlos Ruiz was known to be a shrewd businessman – and a nasty one at that. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he would want to send a clear message to authorities throughout the U.S. to stay out of his business. With so much of his product confiscated there was equally no doubt that they needed to be prepared for something to happen today. The Austin P.D. was out in force, securing the perimeter around the courthouse, as well as screening everyone entering the building. If you didn’t have proper ID showing you belonged in the building or you were an accredited journalist covering the trial, you would not be allowed entry. Despite the tight security, nobody would be surprised if Ruiz tried something outrageous to get his stuff back. If the cartel chose to make a bold statement it was likely they would come in through the front door.

When Sam and his family were planning this first important project, his dad quickly made that point….

….and you realize this is $100 million in street value cocaine. Ruiz is not going to stand by and let the cops just toss it in the incinerator after this trial is over. I just don’t want my son getting caught in the crossfire.

His grandfather had listened quietly for a while and then spelled out his own reasoning. "You’re right, Ben. The absolute last thing we want is for Sam to get hurt. The big question, then, is…when would Ruiz be likely to try something? Put yourself in his head for a second – Ruiz has to know that the courthouse would be guarded like Fort Knox during the course of the trial, and the one thing that a guy in his position can’t afford to do is try something…and have it fail. That would make him look weak in the eyes of his organization, and he can’t have that. So, if I were him I would wait until the cocaine was more out in the open and accessible – most likely when it is on its way to the incinerator…..and that means that if we are going to beat him to it, and limit the risk to Sam, our move has to be made early in the trial…."

The thirty minutes seemed like it was ticking by in ultra-slow motion and he was finding it hard to be patient. Finally, though, it was time to execute the next phase. He left the stall, made a show of washing his hands just in case someone walked in…everything had to appear as normal as possible…and headed back to the Evidence Locker. When he got there, he saw that the clerk was surprised to see him again so soon. Sam put on his best ‘exasperated face’ and told the clerk that he needed his evidence back for an unexpected suspect interview. The clerk just chuckled. If he had a nickel for every time that had happened, he would have taken early retirement by now.

Sam logged out his evidence, took a peek in one of the boxes to make sure it contained what he thought it did, then wheeled it out of the Locker, proceeding down the hallways to the freight elevator located right beside the same washroom that was his home for a recent thirty minutes. He pressed the button and waited patiently for the elevator doors to open. He was almost at the end of this phase of the plan and the elevator seemed like it was taking forever. Finally, it arrived and opened its doors. Sam pushed the cart into the elevator and pressed the button for the parking garage. It opened and he quickly pushed the cart out and toward the white Econoline van parked nearby. He slid open the side door and loaded the boxes inside, pushed the now empty cart over against the wall near the elevator. He took a rag out of his pocket and wiped every part of the cart that he could have possibly touched.

He got into the front seat of the van, did up his seatbelt and turned on the engine. After taking a really deep breath and letting it out he put the van in DRIVE and moved out of the garage and turned right - into the mid-morning traffic. He wanted to put some distance between himself and the courthouse before deeming this part of the plan a success. He tapped the GPS and brought up the address of an abandoned warehouse behind which the van would be hidden from view until the next phase of the project was executed…the encounter with Carlos Ruiz himself.

2

Twenty months later…..

S am had just finished watching a movie on his laptop and was contemplating making an evening excursion through the Park before it closed for the night. He had spent the day researching his next - and hopefully final – project. Ironically, although he had come up with the idea for this one, it was his family that was assuming most of the risks.

The success of the first project - nearly two years ago now – had given everyone in his family a much-needed boost of confidence; that with careful planning and attention to every single detail, almost anything was…well, at least possible.

This would be his last project. The last two years had tempered his idealism with a sprinkling of wisdom. He now better understood the urging of caution by his dad and his grandfather. His dad’s pleas he had early on mistaken as just a father’s normal concern for his son. While he appreciated it, he had discounted it as such. His grandfather, however, tended to use more logic and reasoning – and that had got his attention.

This last project– if it worked as they all hoped – would have the biggest impact on society. Then he would willingly sit back and watch as the benefits rained on North America. This would be his contribution to the planet – not that he wanted anyone to know about it being him that brought it all about.

He thought back to the beginning, and that conversation he had with his family after he finally made up his mind. They did everything they could to dissuade him. Understandably, they wanted a ‘safe’ normal life for him. Once they accepted that their continued attempts to convince him otherwise were futile they had done something very surprising – they decided that they were going to help him. They were all convinced that, even with all of their support it would be just a matter of time before he would be stopped. He was, after all, bucking some astronomical odds. He thought that they were equally convinced that once he realized the enormity of risk he was undertaking, he would ‘come to his senses’. Well, that didn’t happen – and with the success of each of his first three projects, they knew it would be that much harder to convince him to end his crusade and stand down.

Ironically, what his family didn’t know was that he now envied, more than a little, what other people his age were experiencing – both the anxiety and the excitement of stepping out from under their parents’ shadow and out into the real world.

His reverie was suddenly interrupted by a ping from his computer, designating an incoming e-mail. Out of necessity he did not get many so when one arrived he checked them out immediately. E-mails from his family were short and cryptic. His cousin had set it up that any such message would make a convoluted journey around the globe in case there was someone trying to track his location.

He opened the message and the cryptic statement got his attention immediately. It read: "Thirteen squirrels were found hiding in the playground. Sam groaned. He knew that his hiding spot had been compromised. The reference to thirteen was a reference to him – his jersey number when he played minor hockey back home. The playground" was this place – the Magic Kingdom in Disney World. He had no idea how they found him, but he had no time to think about it now - he had to leave - and quickly. He figured that as soon as all the families left the Magic Kingdom, in the next hour or so, Space Mountain – his safe-haven - would be crawling with law enforcement agents of all kinds. They would literally be tripping over themselves to nab him.

His personal stuff was always packed and ready to go just in case he had to move quickly, so he only had to pack up the plans for his final project. He had prepared for this day, and for his escape he had purchased a Mickey Mouse costume at the Disney store on Main Street. There was enough room inside the costume to hide his belongings in pouches he had attached just for that purpose. He would sneak out the back tunnel and blend in with the crowd that would be heading towards the exit - after all, who would suspect Mickey.

It’s too bad he had to leave, because this place was perfect for what he needed to do. It was an old unused storage room inside the Mountain. It had a large air vent leading in from the outside which allowed him to not only get much needed fresh air, but it also allowed him to sense when something was not quite right outside in the Magic Kingdom – too quiet when it wasn’t expected to be. His grandfather was right when he had suggested Disney World years ago – who would look for him here. Obviously, someone had finally figured it out because they would be coming tonight.

No time for reminiscing now…..I better get out of here, he thought. I will leave them some evidence so that they’ll know they had the right place.

3

U pon arriving at their desks the next morning at the WFO – Washington Field Office – Senior FBI agents Mark Spencer and Amanda Grant each quickly noticed the yellow sticky note attached to their computer screen, where they could hardly be missed. Amanda read her note: " Get me some coffee and meet me in the Conference Room ASAP ". It was unmistakably the boss’s writing so obviously something was up. Amanda could tell from his groan that Mark had gotten basically the same note. She could see Mark’s note stuck to his index finger.

I’ll get the coffee and meet you there said Amanda, as she left for the lunchroom down the hall.

Okay, I’ll be right there.

Moments later, Mark entered the Conference Room. It had a rectangular table with seating for eight. It had a big screen in the middle of the end wall. The boss appeared to be in deep thought as evidenced by the fact that he was staring at the blank screen as though it were showing a film with an intriguing plot. He turned to Mark when he heard him coming in.

Mornin’, Boss. Agent Grant will be right in with your java… Right on cue, Amanda walked in behind him balancing a tray - three cups of black coffee, a bowl filled with packets of sugar and some creamers - and set it on the table.

Thanks, Agent Grant – Amanda. Mark, would you close the door please and both of you take a seat!

Sure thing, Boss. What’s up? asked Mark, as he took a seat directly across from his supervisor.

Special Agent-in-Charge (SAC) Robert (Bob) Coleman looked across the table and gave himself a final few moments to reconsider the wisdom of this course of action. When no voices came to his rescue, he began…

First of all, nothing said in this room is to leave this room – is that clear?

Mark and Amanda glanced at each other.

Crystal! they both said, almost in unison.

From this day until this is done this room is going to be your office. When you leave the room, you will lock it and only you two and I will have a key. The room will be swept every morning, before you start, for any kind of electronic bugging device. Your other current cases have been reassigned.

What’s going on, Boss….and why us? asked Amanda.

Don’t let this go to your head….and if it gets out, I’ll deny it….but you two are my best agents and right now I need my best agents on this.

Amanda smiled. "Did you hear that, Agent Spencer…we are his two best agents. I didn’t think I was going to hear that anytime soon, did you, Agent Spencer?"

I did not, Agent Grant… Mark chimed in … and I notice, Agent Grant, that your eyes are getting moist. May we have a minute, Boss, to bask in the glow…

You have five seconds….four…three…two….one…DONE!

Thanks for that, Boss said Amanda …now, tell us what this thing is that’s going on, and what are these case files piled up on the table?

"Okay…here’s the thing…last night I got a call at home from an old friend of mine. He and I worked some cross-border cases together back in the day. Before he retired, he was a Canadian federal agent on the tax side of things. Whenever he comes through town he comes by and we have coffee. He drops by and brings me a batch of his wife’s chocolate chip cookies. Next time I get some I might just let you each have one – they’re amazing. The last time was a few months ago, on his way to Florida. You should see the tin they came in - a gorgeous piece of art in its own right – and as a matter of fact, I keep it in my office. So, yeah, I consider him one of the good guys…and a friend. Our work together back then basically made my career. He is rock solid…if he says something is so you can bank on it. He also happens to be….are you ready for this?….Sam Draper’s grandfather."

Unfortunately, at that moment Mark had just sipped a mouthful of coffee and this revelation caught him in the process of swallowing it. Predictably, he would have sprayed it embarrassingly all over the table, but he put his hand over his mouth just in the nick of time. As it was, some of it went up both of his nostrils and out. Amanda could see all this coming out of the corner of her eye and quickly reached over for some tissue and handed him a bunch, before it dripped on his nice clean shirt.

Boss!!…are you kidding me? Mark exclaimed "Sam Draper, reputedly the #1 bad guy on the planet - the one that every agency in the alphabet is after – that Sam Draper?"

"Yeah, that Sam Draper!"

So…what was he calling about? asked Amanda

Well, he asked me, as a favour, to look at these reports and case files on Sam’s activities and dig just a little deeper - look past all the circumstantial evidence. He says that we should find that Sam is not the bad guy everyone seems to think he is.

Amanda looked over at Mark and knew he was thinking the exact same thing. Look, Boss…. Amanda started, almost gently …I realize he’s your buddy and all…and we get that you feel you owe him but…if Sam Draper is his grandson he may have an ulterior motive…you know…to get us off the kid’s back…

"Trust me, that thought occurred to me too, but I know this guy. Believe me when I tell you that he is the sharpest tool in the Canadian shed. He admitted to me that he got wind, somehow, of last night’s planned raid at Disney World and tipped off his grandson."

"You mean…the bust last night was a bust?"

"Pretty much. The Kissimmee Field office and local PD waited for the park to empty last night and crashed Space Mountain – went over it with a fine-tooth comb, found the storage room Draper was using as a hideout but…no Sam Draper. But, they were able to confirm that it was his hiding place. His prints were all over the room including… he chuckled …a cookie tin he left behind, similar to the tin I have in my office. Everything there was bagged and tagged and has been sent to us overnight. It should be here soon…but Draper is still in the wind. He apparently got out through an air shaft."

Mark had the same thoughts as Amanda about ulterior motives - and had finally cleaned himself up a bit.

Look, Boss, why should we help a guy who is obviously thwarting legitimate attempts to apprehend one of the biggest fugitives on the planet?…and while we’re at it, how did he get on to the fact that there was a planned take-down last night?

"Yeah, and how did we figure out he was there…..Space Mountain?…my God, that is pure genius!" remarked Amanda.

"We found him by sheer luck. One of our New York agents was vacationing down there with his family last week and spotted him at one of the concession stands. He followed him for a while and saw him enter Space Mountain through a back door…meaning he obviously wasn’t going in for a ride. The agent called it in. We know this kid is smart, to have evaded arrest this long. Since we had a park full of kids and families…to limit the risk of injury to any of the visitors we took our time and scheduled the take-down for last night….and, no Mark, I don’t know how Jack got wind of it…only myself and a handful of HQ people were in the loop…and I sure didn’t tell him."

It’s possible that if grandpa is in on it then there could be others in the family in on it, too Amanda observed

I’m beginning to think so, too…. Mark added …and I think if Jack, with all due respect, Boss, has the smarts and the ‘cojones’ to tap into FBI operations like that, he could also try to manipulate you and your friendship.

Well, Mark, I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of character…in my old age. That said, however, I hear what you’re saying. That’s why if I’m going to investigate this thing, as a favor to my old friend, I’m going to run it my way…and that’s why I picked you two for the job.

Amanda smiled again. Was that another warm and fuzzy, Agent Spencer?

Before either man could respond the phone rang so, instead, Coleman reached over, picked it up and listened for a few moments before replying Thank you. I’ll be right down. He replaced the receiver as he stood up.

"The evidence-bag just arrived. I’m going down to check it in then bring it up. Maybe there’s something there we can use. As far as being played goes, Jack purposely did not tell me how to do my job, what to look at and what not to look at. All he said was, and I quote: ‘Bob, just don’t limit yourself to the obvious’ unquote".

As he reached for the door Coleman paused and turned to Amanda.

What you said just now about the whole family being in on it. Let’s start there. Find out everything you can about that family…and dig deep. I should be back in thirty.

Coleman opened the door and left the room.

Mark looked over at his partner and smiled.

His two best agents, huh?

Yup! she replied with a grin, as she reached for her coffee.

4

The previous evening ……….

S am knew he didn’t have much time. He could hear the staccato pop of the fireworks coming in through the air vent. As soon as that show ended, people would be making their way to the front gates, and he had to be ready. Everything was packed that he was taking with him. He eased himself into his costume – except for the head - then proceeded to stage the room so that the agents would find what he wanted them to find.

He had heeded Papa’s advice and already set up an alternate location. Papa was convinced that once they realized that he was not here anymore, they would logically assume that he would have fled the park altogether and was going to put as much distance as he could between himself and Space Mountain - and the Magic Kingdom. They would undoubtedly set up roadblocks as well as be watching airports, train stations and any other method of transportation or escape. Having been a federal agent himself for over forty years Papa had a pretty good sense of the law enforcement mentality, especially if you lead them along a little bit - that’s why Sam needed to stage this room in such a way as to lead those agents to conclude that he had, in fact, been there and had fled in a real hurry.

Sam took one last look around and, satisfied with the results, bent down to remove the air vent shaft cover. Of the eight screws only two actually held the cover in place, while the others were already partially undone to save precious time. He removed all eight of the screws and threw them purposely into the room, then leaned the cover against the wall and started his crawl through the tunnel to the outside. The outside opening for the vent was mostly hidden from casual view by shrubbery and was in an area of Space Mountain that was not under surveillance by security cameras, since there was normally no visitor traffic in that area, or any normal access points for cheats trying to sneak in for the big ride. He had previously removed all the screws from the outside vent and now it was just attached to the wall by strong elastics on the inside – he just needed to stretch the elastic off their hooks and the cover would ease outward.

Once outside, and satisfied there was no one watching, he slipped on Mickey’s head and eased himself into the mainstream of visitor traffic. Once there he had to make sure that he took the time to play the role, talk to any kids who were excited to see him, have his picture taken whenever asked. Slowly, though, he made his way to the other side of the park and his new hiding place inside Splash Mountain. Along the way he did notice certain of the park patrons trying to be nonchalant and trying to blend in with the crowd, but since they were not paying the least amount of attention to the fireworks display in the skies over the park and their expressions being much too serious for such a fun place, they were easily made as agents keeping their eyes open for their target, just in case their fugitive was once again out and about.

Unseen by anyone, of course, Sam’s smile inside the costume matched the one that Mickey displayed on the outside as he thought of his grandfather once again. ‘Thanks, Papa!’ he thought ‘suggesting that I get the Mickey Mouse costume was a stroke of genius’. He took the time to pose with a visiting family who said they were from Wisconsin - and even got a kiss on the ‘cheek’ and a hug from little Brianna. Unexpectedly, he got just as much out of the hug and kiss as did the six-year old Cinderella from Wisconsin.

5

S pecial Agent-in-Charge Coleman re-entered the Conference room carrying a clear plastic bag, unopened since it had been sealed and tagged at the Space Mountain storage room the previous evening. Inside the bag was an evidence box with a label showing the time and date the items inside had been placed in it – 22:10 hours on May 15, 2024.

After the boss had left to retrieve the evidence bag, Amanda and Mark each took turns going back to their cubicles to pick up their laptops, and other tools they might need in the next few days or, perhaps, weeks. They took turns because, in his haste, the boss had forgotten to leave them a set of keys with which to lock the room.

Mark looked up as Coleman entered the room.

Just a reminder, Boss, we need a set of keys….and maybe a sign on the door telling anyone thinking of using this room that it’s ‘off-limits’ until further notice. We don’t want anyone wandering in and checking out what’s going on here…right?

Coleman set the evidence bag down at the end of the table, reached into his pocket, pulled out two sets of keys and slid them across to his agents. He then proceeded to break the seal on the bag and pull out the box inside. Noting the time and date on the next line of the label, he broke the seal on the box and removed the lid.

Mark and Amanda paused in their research into the Stewart clan, got up and walked down to that end of the table. First things first, Coleman took out a sketch made of the layout of the hiding place and a set of photographs, taken by the team that raided the storage room, and spread them out on the table. Every angle of the room was covered, showing where all the items in the box were found in the room. Obviously, not everything in the room was removed. They could see in the photographs the cot situated in one corner of the room beside which was a cardboard box set on its end with a small lamp. In another photo could be seen the concrete blocks on which rested a hot-plate and beside it was a small bar fridge. In yet another picture was a table and chair more in the middle of the room, with what looked like a very familiar tin – open and empty. Mark noticed behind the chair on the wall near the floor, an electrical outlet where Draper had likely plugged in any electronic devices….another picture was a shot of the open air shaft with the cover leaning beside it against the wall.

Amanda examined the sketch of the notorious outlaw’s hiding place, with the approximate measurements as well as squares and rectangles showing the placement in the room of all the furnishings. Once the pictures were taken and the drawing was made the agents would have processed the room for prints and other forensic evidence as well as gathered any scraps of physical evidence left behind by the fugitive.

Coleman, meanwhile, looked at the next two pictures. One was obviously taken in the hallway leading to the room and, barely visible at the end of the hall near the ceiling was what appeared to be a small video camera. He knew that once having seen that, the CSIs would have retraced their steps looking for any other security apparatus announcing the approach of unwanted intruders. Sure enough, they discovered another camera in the corner of the staircase leading down to the storage room, and a laser beam at the top of the last flight of stairs.

So, he thought, the place was expertly rigged so that Draper would probably have enough time to react and make his escape through the tunnel. Coleman had to admit that this kid was well prepared but, in his experience hunting down fugitives, mistakes are inevitably made, especially when you’re in a hurry. He quickly scanned the other pictures – there were a few shots of the floor of the room and he could see what were clearly the screws from the vent cover – and one showing some kind of discarded plastic bag.

Okay, so what do we have here in the box?

He saw the round tin at the bottom of the box and had to chuckle. Amanda looked at him quizzically.

What’s so funny? she asked.

This cookie tin. It’s just like the one I have in my office. There’s no question in my mind it came from the same source – Draper’s grandmother…. April Stewart. And, if that’s the case then, in order to send it to him his family had to know exactly where he was.

Amanda picked up the tin and examined it closely.

Interesting! The tin itself may be store-bought but the artwork has been added; I mean, this is hand-painted…impressive…no wonder you keep yours in your office. She set the tin down on the table.

What else have we got here? asked Coleman, as he brought out the small empty plastic bag. It had obviously been ripped open and probably in haste. He read the half-torn label on the front of the package: Prince Charming Wig (Blonde).

"Here’s something……a blonde wig……so he may very well have disguised himself for the escape….Mark, this afternoon take a look at security camera footage from around the park – and the parking lots - last night. We are looking for a man with ‘prince-like’ blonde hair.…..maybe we can track the direction he took…we might have caught a bit of a break here."

The last item in the box was a small plastic baggie containing the eight screws from the shaft cover. He threw them back in the box and replaced the lid.

Okay, why don’t you two get some lunch and then, Mark, you check out that security footage and, Amanda, keep shaking the Stewart family tree and see what falls out.

It had taken Sam a good half-hour the previous evening, but he finally got to where he wanted to be – in the vicinity of Splash Mountain. He had to admit, though, that that was the most fun half-hour he’d had in years. He was like a ‘kid magnet’- he couldn’t go five steps without a kid running up to him like he was his best friend ever – and he had to make sure he used his ‘Mickey’ voice so as not to disappoint any of them. He remembered as a kid coming down here a couple of times with his family, and these little moments were important – kids remember. Finally, the stream of exiting visitors had passed him on their way to the exit gate, and he had made his best ‘Mickey’ wave before suddenly disappearing from everyone’s view.

Splash Mountain was obviously built for a different purpose, but it had the same structural elements – including ventilated storage rooms down at its base. His cousin, Alex, had hacked into Disney’s ‘secret’ architectural plans and found that both structures were built in much the same fashion and, as they suspected, over the decades of their existence some of those storage rooms in both structures were filled with