Into Thin Air

Mark was taken aback. “I—I suppose I do,” he admitted. “But—Linda?”

  Although Nancy didn’t say anything to Mark, her newfound suspicions about Linda seemed more and more justified. For one thing, Linda’s behavior toward Mark wasn’t very consistent. When she’d talked to Nancy, she put Mark down and made it clear that she didn’t want to see him.

  But when Mark had refused to drop the Johnson case, Linda had arranged for him to stay with her aunts. And according to Mark, they talked on the phone all the time. Maybe she had asked the Bradford sisters to keep an eye on him as well.

  “I’ll tell you what I think,” Nancy said to her friends. “I think Linda Bates and maybe her aunts, too, are in this up to their necks. We’d better have a chat with those nice little old ladies—right now.”

  The four of them piled into the car and soon Nancy was pulling up at the curb in front of the Bradford house. The sisters were not out on the porch. They climbed the steps to ring the bell to their ground floor flat.

  “Hey, look at this!” said Bess, pointing to an envelope taped to Mark’s front door. It said Mark Rubin on the front.

  Mark tore it open and read the note out loud.

  Dear Mark,

  Please forgive us for leaving on such short notice. We didn’t know until today that we were going abroad, but sometimes things happen fast! When your apartment was broken into we were upset. Linda must have seen how frightened we were, because this morning she came over with airline tickets for us! We’re off to the South Pacific, can you believe it? We’ll be back in two weeks. Please give the rent check to Linda. And could you water the geraniums? Thanks.

  The letter was signed Frances Bradford.

  Nancy was as startled as the others. “I guess Linda wanted her aunts out of the way so they couldn’t answer any questions,” she said.

  Mark put the letter in his pocket and sighed deeply. His face registered his hurt. “I should have seen this coming. I guess I’m just not cut out to be a detective. Oh, well. I’ll water the plants, at least.” He disappeared inside his apartment.

  Nancy shook her head and sat down in Frances Bradford’s chair to think. Bess and George plopped down next to her on the glider.

  George looked at Nancy. “Well?”

  “Well,” Nancy began, “Johnson always seems to be one step ahead of us, doesn’t he?”

  “So Linda must be his accomplice,” Bess said.

  “It sure makes all the pieces fit, doesn’t it?” Nancy said. “Let’s go over it—Johnson knows an investigation is about to start, so he plants Linda at Crabtree and then hires the agency to do the investigation. When Mark stumbles onto him, Johnson sets up his escape and fakes his own death.”

  Bess and George listened closely.

  “Now,” Nancy continued, “Johnson thinks he’s safe—that is, until that crazy Mark Rubin keeps pursuing the case. Johnson has Linda set Mark up somewhere where they can keep an eye on him until he calms down. But he doesn’t calm down. Worse, he spots Johnson downtown one day and brings Nancy Drew in on the case.”

  “So far so good,” George said, nodding.

  “What happens next?” Bess looked spellbound.

  “Now it gets a little fuzzier,” Nancy had to admit. “But here goes: Johnson must be hanging around River Heights for a reason, otherwise he’d be out of the country already, right?”

  Bess and George nodded.

  Nancy went on, speaking slowly. “Maybe what was in the desk was something he needed—like a key to a safety deposit box. A safety deposit box filled with a million dollars. Johnson can’t get the money out without the key.”

  “Why would he have left the key in his desk?” George asked.

  “I don’t know,” Nancy said, shaking her head. “But for whatever reason, before he faked his death, he couldn’t go back to his apartment to get it. And afterward the police had sealed it off.”

  “Hey, that makes sense!” Bess said, her eyes lighting up.

  Nancy nodded. “The way I see it, the dark-haired woman—Linda in a wig—took the key out of the desk at the auction hall. That’s why Slade didn’t find it.”

  George frowned. “How did Slade know about the key? A lucky guess?” Nancy nodded.

  “That would mean that Johnson and Linda have the key now,” George pointed out. “So why haven’t they left town?”

  “I don’t know,” Nancy said. “If this whole theory is solid,” she added, “then Johnson has had the key since the night of the auction.”

  Nancy massaged her eyes, trying to clear her mind, The three girls looked up as Mark shuffled back out onto the porch, a watering can in his hand. He silently started watering the flowers;

  As Nancy watched, she remembered one of the Bradford sisters telling her that Linda had bought them the planter of flowers. Something about it was nibbling at her memory. Then it came to her.

  She formed a mental picture of the moment she’d come downstairs with the Bradford sisters, the day Mark’s rooms had been ran-sacked. Linda was in the house making tea. There’d been dirt on the porch floor, and Marie had lamented that she had spent all morning sweeping. . . .

  Nancy snapped to attention. She jumped up; Pushing Mark aside, she bent over the flowers and dug her fingers into the wet soil.

  “W-what?” Mark sputtered, standing aside;

  George and Bess exchanged glances. “What are you doing?” George ventured.

  “Give me a minute,” Nancy said impatiently.

  It didn’t take her long to retrieve her prize—a plastic film canister containing a small key. There was a bank logo on it—the same bank Nancy had visited the other day. “The key to Johnson’s safety deposit box!” Nancy announced, holding it up for them all to see.

  “Oh, boy,” Mark murmured.

  “This proves that Linda is Christopher Johnson’s accomplice, Mark,” Nancy said levelly. “I’m afraid there’s no doubt about it now.”

  He nodded sadly.

  “I don’t get it, Nan,” George said. “Why did she hide the key here?”

  Nancy smiled. “Because Slade was looking for it. Maybe she was afraid he was onto her. And he’d already looked here when he tore Mark’s apartment apart. He wasn’t likely to come back and look again.”

  “But why haven’t Linda and Johnson come for it yet?” Bess wondered.

  Mark gave a little laugh. “Probably waiting for their passports to come in the mail. You know how slow the government is—”

  Nancy gasped. “Mark! You’re a genius!” she cried out.

  Mark blinked. “I am?” he said.

  Nancy patted his shoulder. “Yes, you are. Remember the forger? Artie Wilson?”

  All three nodded their heads.

  “This completes the picture. Johnson hired Wilson to forge new passports for him and Linda. But Wilson violated his parole and got thrown in jail before he could finish! That would explain why Linda and Johnson didn’t leave town after they’d gotten the key. Linda hid it here to keep it safe till Wilson is released and can finish their fake passports. Then she and Johnson will come for the key, pick up the money, and vanish!’ ”

  “Nancy,” Bess exclaimed. “When was that forger supposed to get out of jail, anyway?”

  “Friday at five P.M.,” she recalled. “Today!”

  Bess shrieked. “It’s three-thirty now!”

  “Come on, Mark.” Nancy slipped the key into her pocket and grabbed his arm. “We’re going to meet Wilson at the prison gate. If we dog his footsteps he’ll have to lead us to Johnson!”

  “Hey, what about us?” Bess called after them. She and George stood waiting on the porch.

  “Wait at George’s,” Nancy told them. “Four people tailing one guy is too many—we’d give ourselves away.”

  Getting into the car, Nancy and Mark sped off toward the jail.

  “Wait here, Mark,” Nancy instructed as they pulled up outside. “I’ll find out where prisoners are released so we can get into position and tail Wilson.” She went up
to the desk and made a discreet inquiry about Artie Wilson.

  “I’m sorry, miss,” the clerk said. “When prisoners are due out on Friday afternoon we usually let them out early. Artie Wilson was gone at three o’clock. You just missed him.”

  Nancy stood still for a moment, too stunned to react. If Johnson, Linda, and Wilson had already met up, where would they go? To get the key to the safety deposit box at the Bradford house, of course!

  Nancy ran back out to the car. “Come on!” she cried. “We can still catch them, but we haven’t got a moment to lose!” She gunned the engine, and they drove back to George’s house.

  To her surprise, the cousins weren’t there. Nancy and Mark looked at the Bradford sisters’ house. Bess and George were not on the porch.

  Nancy’s heart was pounding. Something was wrong. Then she spotted the note, pinned to the door with a penknife.

  Mark worked the knife free and read the note out loud.

  “ ‘We’ve got your friends. Do as we say and they won’t get hurt.’ ”

  “George and Bess!” Nancy said, putting her hands to her face. “They’ve been kidnapped!”

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  LET ME SEE THAT,” Nancy said, taking the note from Mark to read the rest of it. “ ‘Meet us at the landfill—nine tonight. Bring the key. No cops, no tricks, or your friends are history.’ ”

  Nancy swallowed hard. “We blew it, Mark,” she said. “We should never have left them here alone.”

  “This is my fault,” Mark moaned. “I should never have dragged you into this case.”

  “No, it’s not your fault,” Nancy reassured him. “I should have seen this coming. They had to come back here to get the key.”

  “Hey, you didn’t know Wilson was going to be let out early!” Mark grabbed Nancy by the shoulders. “Anyway, don’t worry. We’ll save them.”

  Before Nancy could stop him, Mark dashed upstairs. In a moment he was back down. Grinning at Nancy, he bent over, lifted his trouser leg, and revealed an ankle holster with a gun in it!

  Nancy put her hands on her hips. “Are you out of your mind? What are you doing with a gun?”

  “Don’t you have one?” Mark asked, surprised.

  “No way,” Nancy answered. “As far as I’m concerned, guns cause more trouble than they’re worth. Like right now, for instance. The letter says no tricks. Let’s not give Johnson an excuse to hurt Bess and George.”

  “But they’ll kill all of us, Nancy!” Mark protested. “We’ve got to be prepared.”

  “There are better ways to prepare than carrying a gun, Mark. Please leave it behind,” Nancy told him. “Most times, guns wind up hurting the wrong people. I’m going to call Chief McGinnis and tell him what’s going on. There’s only one way out of that landfill. The police will nab Johnson—and Linda—after we meet with them.”

  Mark shook his head. “I still can’t believe she’s involved in this,” he said. “I guess love really is blind, huh?”

  “Sometimes,” Nancy replied. “Just try to keep your eyes open tonight, when you and Linda come face-to-face. Remember, you’re on opposite sides of the law now.” With that, she went up to Mark’s apartment and called police headquarters.

  Chief McGinnis was glad to hear from Nancy. “I’ve left three messages at your home,” he told her. “Where’ve you been?”

  Nancy told the chief about Bess and George’s kidnapping.

  The chief gave a heavy sigh. “You’d better go ahead with the rendezvous,” he told her.

  “The note said ‘no cops,’ ” Nancy warned.

  “Don’t worry. You won’t see us, but we’ll be there. In force,” said the chief. “And, Nancy, be careful. Johnson is as dangerous as they come.”

  • • •

  Several hours later as dusk fell over River Heights, Nancy and Mark headed out to the landfill. Nancy tried to brief her partner on how to handle himself.

  “I’ve been in situations like this before,” she explained matter-of-factly. “The main thing is, don’t make them mad. Find out what they want, what their plan is, then stay alert for your moment. And remember, we don’t have to overpower them ourselves. The police will be waiting for them. All we have to do is survive.” Not necessarily an easy task, Nancy reminded herself.

  Soon, the landfill loomed ahead of them, its steep slopes grass covered and eerie. The night was dark, with only dim light from the moon filtering down through windswept clouds.

  “Should we leave your car here at the bottom of the hill and sneak up on them?” Mark asked. They had reached the spot where they’d hidden on the night of the auction, while the two men above had set fire to Johnson’s desk.

  “No way,” Nancy said. “They know we’re coming at nine. There’s no way we could possibly get the jump on them.”

  “We should have gotten here earlier,” Mark muttered.

  “No, it’s better this way,” Nancy told him. “Let’s not look for a fight. Please, Mark,” she begged, seeing the reluctance on his face. “Don’t screw this up by trying to be a hero.”

  Mark bit his lip. “Can’t I at least watch for them to let down their guard?”

  Nancy blew out a breath. “Just don’t go off half-cocked, okay?” she said.

  “Right.” Mark stared into the darkness ahead of them. “Flashlights up ahead,” he announced, as the car wound around the terraced hillside.

  Nancy braked to a stop at the edge of the landfill. The hill sloped down steeply. A car was parked at the edge. In front of it stood a man Nancy guessed had to be Christopher Johnson. He held a flashlight in one hand, and a gun in the other.

  “Welcome to my scenic rendezvous,” he said with a debonair gesture as they emerged from the car. “You’ll find it has quite a view—and if you don’t breathe, you can almost ignore the smell.”

  “It smells, all right,” Mark retorted angrily. “Just like this scheme of yours.”

  “Cool it, Mark,” Nancy whispered out of the side of her mouth. Johnson looked just as he had in the window of Artie Wilson’s apartment. The mustache, she could see at this distance, was real, probably grown after the helicopter explosion. The flat cap sat on his head at a jaunty angle.

  Glancing at Mark, she could see that his eyes were riveted on Johnson’s gun. Johnson also caught Mark’s gaze. “I wouldn’t try anything rash,” he advised. “My darling fiancée, Linda, is right behind you, and she has a very nasty weapon in her hands.”

  Sure enough, behind them and about fifty feet away stood Linda Bates, toting what looked like an Uzi submachine gun. At her feet were three people, all bound and gagged.

  Wait a minute, thought Nancy. Three? Then she saw who was next to Bess and George—Hal Slade!

  “Surprised, huh, Nancy? Well, Slade was getting too nosy,” Linda called out. She gave a nasty laugh, then ambled nearer to Mark.

  “So you were engaged to Johnson this whole time?” he asked, sounding outraged.

  “Poor baby,” she said, pouting a little. “I’m sorry I had to deceive you. You’re handsome when you’re angry, though.”

  To his credit, Mark held his tongue, but there was fury and betrayal in his eyes.

  “Did you bring the key?” Johnson asked Nancy, all business.

  Nancy reached into her pocket and brought it out. “Is this the one you had in mind?” she asked, holding it up for them to see.

  “You’re a very good detective, young lady,” Johnson told her. “Linda and I both thought there could be nothing safer than stashing the key at the Bradfords’. You proved us wrong. Now toss it over.”

  Nancy did as she was told. Glittering in the silver moonlight, it fell to the ground and Johnson picked it up. “Thanks,” he said cheerfully.

  “Now what?” Nancy asked, glancing at the three bound bodies and trying not to sound as nervous as she felt. Bess and George were staying as still as they could, and the police were probably moving into position. If she could just stall Johnson and Linda for another
five minutes.

  Johnson walked closer, with Linda at his side. “Now we tie you and this young man up, just like your friends, and drive you back to the Bradford house. There, you remain until somebody finds you. By then, we’ll be safely out of the country with the brand-new passports Artie Wilson is making for us tonight. The bank opens at nine—how considerate of them to be open on Saturdays—and our flight leaves at ten-thirty. Now if you’ll both turn around—”

  He picked a coil of rope off the ground and approached Nancy.

  Nancy caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and glanced sideways at Mark. His hands were at his sides, and he was clenching his fists. There was a wild, glazed look in his eyes.

  Mark, no! she thought.

  As Johnson approached, Mark leaped at him, knocking him backward onto the ground. Mark, still standing, reached for his pants leg.

  Nancy gasped in horror. Mark had brought the gun! Glancing behind her, Nancy saw Linda running toward them.

  “Mark, you’re covered!” Nancy screamed.

  Mark wasn’t listening. He was tripping all over himself. The gun was stuck in its holster. Mark fell to the ground with a thud, just as Linda was about to hit him with her Uzi. She pointed the muzzle at his nose. Johnson moved forward and quickly disarmed him.

  “Nancy, why didn’t you help me?” Mark demanded.

  “Because I don’t want to die!” she shot back furiously.

  “Unfortunately,” Johnson said, “that’s just what’s going to happen now that you’ve broken our terms. Obviously I cannot count on you to cooperate. Cover me, Linda.”

  Johnson went about his task with a vengeance, tying both Mark and Nancy so tightly that it hurt them just to breathe. Johnson and Linda dragged their five prisoners to Nancy’s Mustang, crowding them all inside.

  Nancy was in the driver’s seat, with Bess’s feet in her face. George was splayed across the back seat, Mark’s legs were sticking up over the back seat, and Slade, in an impossibly contorted position, stared at Nancy from the passenger seat. All had been gagged as well as bound.

  Johnson closed the car doors. Reaching in through the open driver’s window, he started the engine. “Bon voyage, all of you,” he said, putting the car into Drive and releasing the parking brake.