I found Pilon at camp, sitting in his tent in the middle of a jungle clearing, making coffee over a Primus stove. I introduced myself. He said he knew I was coming; had received a message a few hours before from Disney. I accepted his coffee and eased into a casual interrogation.
I wove my opening questions around bits of information I had gleaned of Pilon’s movements from Disney and the jeep driver. I wanted to test his straightforwardness.
But I had to be careful about my questions. Having no official credentials, I dare not overstep my mark and draw a challenge for them. Disney had accepted me, without question, solely on the strength of Armstrong’s cable.
“Just think,” I said with the proper air of wonderment, “last Tuesday I was lecturing quietly in a classroom and here I am sittin
