Danger for Hire

  Chapter

  One

  SO IN CONCLUSION, I repeat that detective work is exciting,” reported Nancy Drew, “but it can also be very dangerous. Okay, does anyone have any questions?”

  A dozen hands shot into the air. It was Saturday and Career Day for juniors and seniors at River Heights High School, and Nancy was one of three guest speakers discussing careers in law enforcement.

  Nancy pointed to a pretty girl sitting in the front row. “Miss Drew,” the girl began.

  “Please! Call me Nancy,” she said, brushing her reddish blond hair away from her face. At eighteen she didn’t feel old enough to be a “Miss Drew.” “Please tell me your name, too,” she added.

  The girl smiled. “It’s Cindy Larson. Nancy, how do you get your cases? Do you advertise?”

  “No,” Nancy answered. “Usually people come to me with a problem, and more often than not there’s a mystery involved.”

  “Well, you do have a reputation for solving tough puzzles. Like the Nikki Masters investigation. You know, there’s still something about that case that I don’t understand. . . .”

  She launched into a long and technical question about the evidence. Nancy listened carefully and then began a quick summary of the clues.

  Cindy’s interest in that particular case wasn’t surprising. Nikki Masters was a popular junior at River Heights High, who had been suspected of killing her boyfriend. Nancy thought of that case as The Suspect Next Door.

  No, Cindy’s interest wasn’t unusual. What surprised Nancy was that the girl had such detailed recall of the case. It had happened ages ago! She must have studied the newspaper accounts very carefully. Nancy asked if there were other questions.

  Nancy answered them all patiently, until she noticed that the session was almost over.

  “Doesn’t anyone have a question for Chief McGinnis or Tom Hayward?” Nancy asked, glancing at her two fellow speakers.

  Chief McGinnis studied her with a grin. “I doubt it, Nancy. Your sleuthing sounds much more glamorous than police work. Why, I’m wondering if I should go private myself.”

  “The River Heights Police Department couldn’t get along without you, Chief,” Nancy said, her cheeks hot. “Besides, police work must be very rewarding.”

  “Does that mean you’ll take the patrolman’s exam when you’re old enough?” the chief asked.

  “Not so fast, Chief,” Tom Hayward cut in with a devilish smile. “If anyone’s going to recruit Nancy Drew, I want it to be Hayward Security Systems. My company is growing fast, and I need a bright mind like Nancy’s. What do you say, Nancy? You’ll earn a lot more money working for me than for the River Heights Police!”

  Nancy studied Tom. He was remarkably young to be the president of one of the most successful businesses in River Heights. Nancy knew that he was only in his midtwenties and easily the youngest millionaire in River Heights.

  He’s probably the most handsome, too, Nancy decided. Tall and athletic, with neatly trimmed sandy blond hair and attractive steel blue eyes, Tom was the all-American dream-boat. Furthermore, his smile was warm and his manner was easy. No wonder he was so successful! Nancy liked him the moment she met him. It was hard not to.

  “I don’t know,” she said and smiled in response to his job offer. “Security is a whole different ball game than solving mysteries.”

  Tom smiled back and turned to face the students. “I hope that when you finally make a career choice, you will consider the security business. It pays well and there’s plenty of opportunity for advancement.”

  Nancy listened in admiration as he shifted smoothly into a final pitch for his firm.

  “In fact,” he went on, “I am hiring right now for Hayward Security Guard Services. So far not one of our customers’ homes or businesses has been robbed. So think about Hayward, okay? Especially you graduating seniors.”

  Just then a bell rang, signaling the end of the session. As the students rose and began filing out, Nancy turned to Tom and the chief. “Well, how’d we do?”

  “I’d say you did well, Nancy,” the chief answered. “I’ll bet every one of those kids wants to be a PI.”

  It was probably true. A few students were hanging back, and they were all gathered around Nancy. Blushing, Nancy fielded their queries one at a time. The last of the group was Cindy Larson.

  Cindy was of average height, slim, with an athletic build. Her face was pretty in an innocent, hometown-sweetheart way. Her gray eyes were bright and intelligent, and her glossy brown hair was shoulder-length and stylishly cut. She was dressed to impress, like most of the students, but Nancy got the feeling that she’d be more at home in jeans.

  “That was a good question you had about the Nikki Masters case,” Nancy complimented her. “Did you follow it in the papers?”

  “Oh, I save all the articles about your cases,” Cindy said. “I keep them in a binder, a sort of casebook. See?”

  She handed Nancy a notebook. Opening it, Nancy was amazed to see that it contained a complete set of newspaper clippings about her. Some of the articles went back several years! Stunned, Nancy realized that this girl was a fan of hers—big time.

  Nancy felt both flattered and oddly uneasy. Fans were for movie stars, not teenage detectives. She closed the album and handed it back to the girl.

  “I’m honored,” she said gratefully.

  “No, I’m honored,” Cindy answered. “I think you are totally amazing. I mean, a hundred other people could have the same clues that you have on a case, but you’re the one who puts them all together and catches the crook.”

  “Oh, I usually have lots of help,” Nancy demurred.

  “Not always. You must be incredibly smart.”

  “No, just persistent,” Nancy said with an uneasy smile. She was definitely feeling uncomfortable now. It was obvious that the girl idolized her—or at least had an exaggerated mental picture of her. That was too bad. She was bound to be disappointed by the real-life Nancy Drew. Nancy felt that she was a pretty ordinary person most of the time.

  “Okay, so you’re persistent and smart!” her fan agreed. “That still means you’re incredible. My goal is to be a detective, too. Your life sounds so exciting.”

  “Lots of times it is,” Nancy admitted. “But some of the time it’s downright scary.”

  “You always come out of your cases okay, though.”

  “So far! I’ve been lucky,” Nancy said sincerely.

  “It’s more than luck. You know how to keep your cool,” Cindy insisted.

  “I’m also well trained in a lot of stuff, like judo and fencing and—” Nancy stopped herself. She was beginning to sound as if she were bragging!

  “I want to learn all that stuff, too,” Cindy announced.

  Nancy nodded. “Then do it. You’ll enjoy it. I know I did. But if you’re going to be a detective, you have to learn that there are times when the work is dull—with a capital D.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it could never be dull!” Cindy said with a grin.

  It was hopeless. Cindy was determined to glamorize Nancy, so Nancy decided to quit trying to set the girl straight.

  Just then they were startled by the loud crackle of the chief’s radio. “Headquarters to PO One. Are you there, Chief?”

  At that same moment, Tom Hayward’s beeper began to chirp. Shutting it off, Tom swiveled to face the others. “Excuse me.”

  He left the room to find a phone. The chief, meanwhile, lifted his black police radio from its leather holster at his waist. He punched the transmit button. “Chief here.”

  “Chief.” The radio crackled again. “We need you down at Orange and Duke. We got a major five-five-oh at that location.”

  “Anyone injured?” the chief demanded.

  “Negative. An
S.G. was gift wrapped, that’s all.”

  “I’m all done here. Be right down,” the chief said. “Over and out.”

  Nancy grinned at the chief. “A big warehouse burglary, huh? Must have been a professional job—that is, since a security guard was bound and gagged.”

  The chief shook his head in admiration. “No one slips anything over on you, Nancy.”

  “Sometimes, but not usually. Anyway, thank goodness no one was hurt,” Nancy commented.

  “No one but me!” said a male voice from the doorway.

  Nancy, Cindy, and the chief wheeled around to face Tom Hayward, who had come back into the room.

  “That was a call from my office,” he said in a hollow voice. “The warehouse that was robbed is guarded by Hayward. So much for our perfect record! I’m ruined!”

  Chapter

  Two

  THAT’S TERRIBLE,” Nancy said, her blue eyes expressing concern. “About the burglary, I mean. It’s not really the end of Hayward Security, though, is it?”

  “I’m afraid it might be,” Tom lamented. “You see, the whole foundation of our business is our complete reliability. The state-of-the-art alarm systems we put in, plus our security guard service, let our customers feel safe. If they don’t feel safe anymore, then poof!—we have nothing left.”

  “One break-in isn’t going to shatter the confidence of your customers,” Nancy suggested.

  “It won’t help it.”

  “But no one’s perfect.” Nancy searched for a way to help him feel better. “In fact, a break-in was probably inevitable sometime,” she said. “And this obviously was the work of professionals.”

  “That’s even worse,” Tom moaned. He began to pack his briefcase. “It’s the pros that our systems are supposed to thwart. This is a disaster.”

  Nancy gave herself a mental kick—she had only succeeded in making him feel worse.

  “Let’s not call this a disaster yet,” the chief said. “Maybe these ‘pros’ weren’t so professional after all. If we catch them—”

  “Sure!” Nancy interrupted. “If they’re put in jail, your company’s reputation will hardly suffer at all.”

  “I guess,” Tom said, not convinced at all.

  “Well, let’s get going,” the chief said. “We won’t know anything until we check out the scene. Care to come, Nancy?”

  “You bet.” Nancy turned to her student admirer. “It was nice talking to you. I hope you make your dream come true and become a detective. I could use some company!”

  A second later she was halfway to the door.

  • • •

  Nancy shifted her Mustang and let it glide downhill. It wasn’t hard to figure out where to go. A herd of blue-and-white police cars jammed the street in front of a warehouse, their twin roof lights twirling. The long, low warehouse had CD Revolution painted in giant red letters across its front.

  On her way inside, Nancy noticed the high-tech alarm and lock system that controlled the loading bay door. There was even a control panel on the wall outside. Unusual. With access to the system so easy, Tom was obviously confident that the system was secure. So what had gone wrong?

  Tom and the chief were in the glass-enclosed inner office, questioning the security guard who had been tied up by the robbers. A plainclothes detective was taking notes. Nancy, not wanting to intrude, waited outside the door.

  “No, I never saw their faces,” the young guard was saying. “They were wearing masks.”

  “Ski masks?” the detective asked.

  “No, rubber Halloween masks. You know, the kind that pull over your whole head. Frankenstein, the Mummy . . . like that.”

  “Gloves?” the chief asked.

  “Yeah, cloth. Work gloves.”

  “Weapons?” Tom inquired.

  “Uh—long-barrel automatics.”

  Professionals, Nancy thought. Eager to ask her own questions, she was glad when the chief noticed her.

  “Ah, Nancy! Come in,” he said. “You’re good at spotting things. Take a look around and see what you find.”

  Nodding to Tom and the detective, Nancy slid inside and quickly asked, “How much was taken?”

  “We’re not sure yet,” Tom said. “It looks like about two hundred boxes of CDs were lifted. They backed a truck to the loading dock and moved the boxes with handcarts. The whole operation took only seven minutes.”

  “I timed them on the wall clock,” the guard chimed in.

  “Fast work,” Nancy commented.

  “They didn’t bother to blindfold me. They didn’t have to,” said the guard, sounding morose.

  “Because of the masks.” Nancy nodded. “How did they get inside in the first place?” she asked curiously.

  “They came in through the loading bay door. All of a sudden I saw it rolling up, but by the time I got there, two of ’em had rolled underneath and had their guns pointed at me. They tied me up, and—bingo. Seven minutes later they were out of here. That was it.”

  Nancy narrowed her eyes. “Wait a minute. . . . How did they disable the alarm connected to the loading bay door? To turn it off you’d need a code, and I’ll bet you get only one chance to input the correct code on the keypad.”

  “That’s right,” Tom supplied.

  They all looked at the guard. He shifted uncomfortably. He was tall and athletic and quite young. Nineteen at the most, Nancy guessed. The name tag sewn on his gray uniform said “Adam Reeves.”

  The police detective shot them all a warning look. He was obviously suspicious of the guard, but wanted to take it slow with him. “Okay, let’s get back to the robbers,” he said. “Did they say anything to you?”

  After a minute a pair of uniformed officers entered. With them was a worried-looking woman holding a thick computer printout and a pencil.

  “We’ve done a preliminary check of the inventory,” she said. She must be the warehouse manager, Nancy realized, called in on her day off. “There are about two hundred and twenty-five cartons of CDs missing. They seem to have picked whatever was closest to the door,” she added.

  “That’s strange,” Nancy commented. “You’d think they’d take only best-sellers.” Especially considering how well they planned the rest of the operation, she added to herself.

  A commotion outside the office interrupted them. A patrolman was attempting to block the path of a dark-haired young woman. She was about eighteen, Nancy’s age, and was angrily waving an ID card in their faces.

  “I’m with the press,” she snapped. “I demand that you let me through!”

  Oh, no! Nancy thought. Brenda Carlton!

  Nancy could see that the teenage reporter looked as professional as ever in a tailored skirt and pumps. If only Brenda would pay less attention to her appearance and more to responsible reporting, Nancy thought wearily. Their paths had crossed often, and once too often Brenda had come close to ruining Nancy’s investigations. She had even put their lives in danger.

  Dropping one shoulder like a linebacker, Brenda rudely shoved past the officer. She was firing off a rapid string of questions as she burst into the office.

  Adam Reeves glanced at Tom, who shook his head. He didn’t want his guard answering any questions.

  “Um . . . I don’t think I should comment,” Adam said.

  “Chief, what about you? What steps are you taking?”

  Nancy pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Brenda was such a cartoon! Of course, she thought of herself as an ace reporter. The truth was that she had a byline only because her father was the owner and publisher of Today’s Times.

  The chief rolled his eyes. He was well acquainted with Brenda’s blunt style. “Our investigation is continuing,” he told her. “Other than that, I have no comment.”

  Brenda turned to Tom. “What about you, Mr. Hayward? This break-in is a big setback for your firm. . . .”

  Nancy caught the chief’s eye and inclined her head in the direction of the door. The chief took the hint, and both of them slipped quietl
y into the warehouse proper.

  “Chief,” Nancy said in a low voice, “if you ask me, these crooks had inside help. Someone gave them the code to that alarm.”

  “Looks like it,” the chief agreed. “We’ll work on that angle.”

  A moment later Tom joined them, having left Brenda to Adam and the detective. “Chief, I’ve got a big problem,” he said with a cautious backward glance.

  “I know,” the chief said. “Nancy and I were just discussing that. It will take some in-depth probing to uncover the person in your operation who helped these robbers, which is a bit beyond us right now. We’ve had a big budget cut.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Tom said. He didn’t sound bitter, however. “Looks like I’ll have to do that work myself.”

  The chief rubbed the side of his nose with his index finger. “May I make a suggestion?”

  “Please,” Tom said.

  “Since it’ll be difficult for you to be objective about your own people, why not get some outside help? I know someone who’s already familiar with the case. . . .”

  “You mean Nancy?” Tom sounded startled.

  “Naturally.” The chief smiled at her. “She’s got a nose for the truth, and a brain that thrives on mysteries. She’ll be perfect—if she wants to take the case.”

  “Oh, I do,” Nancy said quickly. She didn’t have to think twice.

  Tom studied her for a moment, probably wondering if an eighteen-year-old could really help him. A lot of people wondered that at first.

  Finally he nodded. After all, he was not that much older than she. “Thanks, Nancy. Why not meet me at my office? I’ll pull out some employee records, and we can make plans.”

  Nancy smiled. She always felt great when she got a new case. “Okay. I think I’ll take a last look around here first, though.”

  “Sure. I’ve got a few details to wrap up, too,” Tom said.

  Nancy walked into the heart of the warehouse. There were aisles and aisles of industrial metal shelves. Each shelf, in turn, was packed with cardboard boxes. Glued to each box was a computer-generated label that announced its contents in large letters. It was easy to see which CDs were where. Why had the robbers chosen their loot at random?