Recipe for Murder

TIE THEM UP!” Slesak called over his shoulder, and Slesak’s mysterious friend from the night before lumbered into the room, closing the door behind him.

  He snatched the photographs from Nancy’s hand, yanked out a coil of tough, narrow rope from inside his jacket, and bound her hands so hard and fast that her fingers started to go numb instantly.

  “Who are you?” she demanded. “What’s going on?”

  The heavyset man smiled as he tied up Bess and George, showing off a pair of flat, even teeth. “We’re just a couple of guys trying to make a living.”

  “Shut up, Colville!” Slesak commanded.

  “What’s with the recipes?” Nancy asked. “What kind of information have you got hidden there?”

  Colville couldn’t quite hide his surprise. His jaw slackened. But Slesak said, “You are grossly mistaken, Ms. Drew.” He lowered his gun as Colville bound Ned’s hands behind his back.

  Nancy spoke up quickly, “I think not. I think there’s more to these recipes than meets the eye. Why else would you want them so badly?” she asked.

  “I am only taking what is rightfully mine,” Slesak told her. “Look elsewhere for your thief.”

  “So you’re the good guys, huh?” Ned asked. “How come I don’t believe that?”

  “Gag him,” Slesak ordered Colville. “And the others too.”

  “What are you going to do with us?” Bess asked tremulously.

  “I have not decided yet.”

  Nancy suddenly spied a manila envelope poking out from Slesak’s jacket pocket. It was the envelope from Jacques’s office. “You already stole them back!” she said.

  “Now I have all the copies. And I am afraid your fate is sealed.”

  Slesak signaled with his gun. After checking the hall, Colville shoved Nancy and her friends out the door. Nancy walked as slowly as she could. If only someone would come along!

  “Hurry up,” Slesak growled. Colville forced the four down the many flights of stairs and into the pitch-black night. Nancy dragged her feet, trying to buy time.

  They skirted the main hotel and parking lot and were herded toward a narrow side street. A gray van with a broken taillight was parked on the corner. A van with a broken taillight? Nancy thought. Claude DuPres had nearly been run over by a van like that!

  “Tie their feet,” Slesak ordered, and Colville dumped each of them in the back and did as instructed. Just before the van door rattled closed, Nancy got a quick glimpse of a barren, closed-in rectangle.

  Nancy scooted toward the front of the van where a wall separated the cab from the back. It was so dark that she couldn’t make out anything. She struggled to sit upright. The engine fired, and the van trembled beneath her.

  As the van picked up speed, Nancy became certain they were on a highway. The first thing to do was get rid of her bonds. She tried to remember if there was anything—some little hook or sharp-edged piece of metal—in the van. Her one glimpse hadn’t been sufficient to show her.

  The van turned off the highway and began twisting down another road. Traffic noise diminished. They were moving away from civilization! Nancy struggled even harder to loosen the rope around her wrists. Her mouth was as dry as sand.

  She had been so involved with her escape that at first she didn’t realize the dull hum coming through the wall of the van was conversation. Colville and Slesak were talking to each other.

  Nancy pressed her ear to the wall. She could only make out snatches of their conversation.

  “I’m worried about being found out,” Colville said hotly. “These are just kids!”

  “You knew the risks when you got into this.” Slesak’s voice was hard. “Shut up and drive.”

  Colville’s voice lowered, and Nancy had to strain to catch just a few of his words. She thought she heard him say, “A double cross . . . not going to like it . . . Information worth millions to the right political party!”

  Nancy’s eyes widened. Political party? Slesak and Colville were involved in the transfer of classified information! Stolen classified information, no doubt. The pieces of the puzzle were finally beginning to fall into place!

  What seemed like hours went by. Nancy was beginning to think they were driving across the entire state. Then there was a sudden surge of acceleration and the van leapt forward. It seemed to coast for a moment, then the engine sputtered and died.

  Nancy expected the rear doors to open. She was surprised when nothing happened. Silence surrounded her. Then she heard a ripping sound. “I’ve got my gag off!” Ned said. “My hands are free. I worked the ropes loose.”

  His hands groped across her face, and he jerked off her gag. Nancy’s tongue felt like dried leather. “Ned, they’re selling political secrets! I heard Slesak say—” She broke off in a gasp as a gush of ice-cold water soaked her feet and legs. “What’s that?”

  “Water,” Ned said tersely. He worked feverishly to untie her. Then they both rushed over to Bess and George. The van was starting to sway back and forth.

  “It’s freezing! We must be in a river or something!” Bess cried as soon as her gag was off.

  The swaying motion continued. Nancy went cold inside. “We’re sinking,” she whispered to herself.

  “We’re trapped in here.” George’s voice drifted toward Nancy in the darkness. Nancy could hear the panic beneath her words.

  “I’m going to kick the door open,” Ned said through his teeth. “Get ready.”

  “We’re not going to make it,” Bess said fearfully. “We’re all going to die.”

  “Shhh!” Nancy reprimanded her sharply. “We’re going to be fine.”

  Ned kicked the door furiously. At first it didn’t budge. Nancy bit her lip. If he didn’t get it open, they had no chance. She could feel water swirling halfway up her calves.

  Bam! With a final hard kick the doors flew open. A torrent of water burst inside. It was over their heads!

  Nancy flailed her arms, gasping for air. The van was sinking, and they were all going down with it!

  Chapter

  Sixteen

  NANCY TRIED TO call Ned, but water filled her throat. She coughed and choked. She lost her sandals as she kicked through the water. Her lungs were bursting. Her fingers clawed along the sides of the van. She would never get out. Never!

  Then her head surfaced for just an instant. Water was bubbling and swirling inside the van. She saw Bess’s blond head and tried to reach for her.

  “Bess!” Nancy called, but Bess had sunk beneath the water. Of all of them, Bess was the weakest swimmer.

  Nancy’s hand suddenly connected with the edge of the van door. She heaved herself outside and kicked up. Her head broke water and she drew a huge breath.

  “Nancy!” she heard someone call.

  “George!” she cried. “Bess is in the van!”

  “I’ve got Bess,” George yelled. “I got her out!”

  “Nancy!” This time it was Ned who called her name. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” She coughed again. Her arms ached. The shore seemed a long distance away.

  Ned’s head was bobbing several yards away. “I’m going to help George with Bess,” he called. “Can you make it to shore?”

  “No problem.”

  Nancy glanced at the shore. She treaded water, trying to conserve her energy. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and stroked. Take it easy, she told herself. Don’t hurry. Don’t panic. She swam cleanly, wasting no effort. You can make it, she told herself over and over again.

  Her arms were starting to give out, so she rolled over and floated on her back, staring up at the starlit sky. They were in a huge lake, she realized. A lake as big as a sea.

  Turning over again, she pulled herself through the water. At last her toe touched gravel. She surfaced, coughing and sputtering. “I made it!” she shouted.

  “Great!” Ned called back. “We’ll be right there.”

  A bubbling over to her right was the last sign Nancy had of the sinking van. She thanked her lucky star
s the air trapped inside the back of the van had kept it afloat as long as it had.

  “Where are we?” George asked as she and Bess and Ned swam up to Nancy.

  “Well—” Nancy made a face. “It’s a big lake, and we drove a long way. I have no idea where we are.”

  Bess got to her feet. “Let’s get going. Wherever we’re going.”

  They struck off down the highway. Nancy had to bite her lip to keep from complaining about her bare feet. She was shivering even though the night was warm, and her clothes felt stiff and sticky.

  “Need someone to keep you warm?” Ned asked, putting his arm around her.

  “What I wouldn’t do for a bike,” Nancy answered.

  “What I wouldn’t do for a car,” Bess moaned.

  “What about some talk?” Ned asked. “Nancy, you said something about political secrets.”

  “I think Slesak’s private recipes are actually a code for the transfer of political secrets.”

  “What?” George stared at her. “How do you figure that?”

  “Slesak and Colville were talking about it. Colville was worried. He talked about getting money for their political secrets.”

  “Really?” Bess said. “What has that got to do with Slesak’s wanting to run the cooking school?”

  “I think it’s his cover. After all, he is a chef. A cooking school would be a perfect cover.”

  “Where does Jacques Bonet fit into all of this?” George put in. “I mean, why did he steal the recipes from Slesak? He must have known what was going on.”

  “Yes, he must have,” Nancy agreed quietly. “I’ll have to figure out what he’s up to.”

  • • •

  It was nearly dawn before they found their way to a major highway. “Civilization!” Ned shouted when headlights finally came toward them. He waved frantically, and Nancy, Bess, and George did the same.

  The car slowed down and stopped. The woman on the passenger’s side rolled down her window. She looked them over. “Are you all right?” she asked nervously.

  Nancy glanced at her friends. They were a sorry sight. “We had a little accident,” Nancy explained.

  “I’m afraid we don’t have room for you,” the woman said. “But we’ll stop at the nearest phone and call the police.”

  “Thanks.”

  Nancy watched them drive off.

  “Think they’ll really do it?” Ned asked.

  “I hope so,” Nancy said.

  They had barely traveled half a mile when a state patrolman picked them up. He took them to the nearest police station, where they told the story of their kidnapping.

  “We’ll put out an APB for Slesak and Colville right away,” one of the officers assured them.

  “Is there any way we can get back to our hotel today?” Bess asked hopefully.

  He smiled. “Arrangements are already being made.”

  They barely had time to offer their thanks before another officer drove them back to the Westerly. Exhaustion overtook them as soon as they entered the hotel and returned to their rooms to tumble into bed. It’s Sunday, Nancy thought as she laid her head on her pillow. Sunday, July twenty-ninth. Now why does that seem important?

  She was asleep before she could come up with the answer.

  • • •

  Someone was knocking on her door. Then her door unlatched. “Oh, pardon me. It’s room service. You don’t have your Do Not Disturb sign out.” The door closed again.

  Then Nancy awoke with a start. “July twenty-ninth!” she said. She tossed off her blankets and glanced at the clock. It was after noon. “Oh, no!” She banged her fist on the connecting door to George and Bess’s room. “Wake up! Wake up!” she called. “Hurry! I’ve thought of something!”

  A very tousled Bess pulled open the door. “This had better be good,” she mumbled.

  “The recipe,” Nancy said. “Do you remember the proportions on the chocolate cake recipe? The one we talked about? Right at the top there were twenty-nine pounds of salt, and only seven of sugar.”

  “Am I dull, or what? I don’t get it,” Bess said with a yawn.

  “Today’s July twenty-ninth. It’s the seventh month and the twenty-ninth day. It must have something to do with today’s date!”

  Bess rubbed her eyes. “So what’s going on today?”

  “I don’t know. But I intend to find out. I’m going to try to reach Jacques Bonet. This time I’m going to ask him straight out what his involvement is.”

  She phoned Jacques’s hotel room, but there was no answer. She called directory assistance for Claude DuPres’s home number and was lucky enough to get it. She dialed the number and was surprised when the chef answered on the second ring.

  “Hello,” he said. “Claude DuPres speaking.”

  “Chef DuPres, it’s Nancy Drew. I—uh, I was really trying to get hold of Jacques Bonet. I need to talk to him as soon as possible.”

  “Oh? Well, I’m afraid you will have to wait a few days. Jacques is out of town.”

  Nancy’s heart sank. “Out of town? Do you know where?”

  “He is in Washington, D.C. He left yesterday.”

  “The Washington dinner!” Nancy gasped. “Of course!” Suddenly it all made sense. All along Chef DuPres and Jacques Bonet had talked about this important dinner. She’d even wanted to know more about it herself. But what was going to happen there?

  “Ms. Drew?” Chef DuPres asked. “Are you there?”

  “Yes, Chef DuPres. Please, I don’t have time to say more. I’ve got to contact Jacques.”

  “Ms. Drew! Please—a moment. Does this have anything to do with the threats against my life?”

  Nancy was anxious to get off the phone. “I think so. But I won’t know for certain until I talk to Jacques.”

  “Wait a moment. I will give you the address of the hotel where the dinner is taking place. Jacques should be there.” Chef DuPres told her the street address of a hotel in Georgetown, a prestigious section of Washington, D.C.

  Something else clicked in Nancy’s mind. As soon as she was off the phone, she wrote down as much as she could recall of that first recipe. She couldn’t remember the rest of the proportions, but she did remember the preparation and cooking times—and they corresponded to the street address of the hotel!

  Nancy’s hand was shaking slightly as she dialed Jacques’s hotel in Washington. “Carlisle Hotel,” a woman answered.

  “Please connect me with Jacques Bonet’s room,” Nancy said.

  “One moment.”

  The line rang on and on. “I’m sorry,” the desk clerk said, coming back on the line. “Mr. Bonet isn’t in. Would you like to leave a message?”

  “No. Thanks anyway.”

  There was only one thing left to do—go to Georgetown herself! Picking up the phone again, she dialed Ned’s room. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” she told him. “We’ve got some traveling to do.”

  “I’m awake and dressed, I’ll have you know. What traveling?”

  “I’ll let you know at breakfast. The coffee shop in five minutes?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Ned was waiting for her when she arrived. “So what’s up?” he asked as they were shown to their table.

  Nancy leaned forward on her elbows. “Today is July twenty-ninth. This is the date of the Washington dinner, the one where Jacques Bonet is taking Chef DuPres’s place. Remember the chocolate cake recipe? The one we looked at in your room? The top two proportions were seven and twenty-nine?”

  “The date of the dinner,” Ned said and whistled.

  “And that’s not all. The address of the dinner corresponds to the preparation and cooking times.”

  “So where are we traveling?”

  “To Washington, D.C. If my hunch is right, Jacques Bonet is right in the thick of things—whether he knows it or not!”

  “What time is this dinner?” Ned asked.

  “Claude said it’s scheduled for seven-thirty. Ned, some very important international heads of s
tate are going to be there. We won’t be able to get in!”

  “Call your father,” Ned suggested. “We’re going to need his help.”

  It took only a few phone calls for Carson Drew to contact Senator Kilpatrick, one of his personal friends, and pave the way for Nancy and Ned.

  “Be careful,” Carson told his only daughter.

  “Always, Dad.”

  As Nancy tossed a few items in her purse, she brought Bess and George up to date on what was happening. “So I need you two to drive us to the airport,” she finished. “Then come back and tell the local police about what’s happening with Slesak and Colville. I’m sure they’re both on their way to Washington.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it. We just need to get you to the airport in time,” said George.

  George pushed the speed limit all the way to the airport. As they entered the terminal they heard their flight being called.

  “Can we still get on the flight that’s just leaving for Washington?” Nancy asked the ticket agent anxiously.

  The agent punched up her records on the computer. “There are a few seats left,” she said.

  In record time the ticket agent collected their money and pointed them toward the gate. Nancy and Ned buckled in just as the plane started taxiing.

  • • •

  The airplane’s tires touched down in Washington just as Ned’s watch flicked to six-thirty. With rush-hour crowds it seemed to take forever for a taxi to arrive, but at last a bright yellow cab pulled up in front of them. “Where to?” the cabbie asked.

  Nancy gave him the address of the hotel.

  The cabbie drove to the outside gates of a stately gray stone hotel. The entrance was cordoned off by ropes—and secret service men were everywhere.

  Nancy walked up to the front door. “My name’s Nancy Drew,” she said, showing her identification to the first agent she encountered. “Senator Kilpatrick was going to call and— ”

  “It’s all right, Ms. Drew. Both of you come along with me,” he said. “Senator Kilpatrick relayed your message. You’re to go straight inside. I’ll take you.”

  “Thank you,” Nancy said with relief.

  They entered the main door of the hotel. Beyond the guards were rooms full of people—some of them very famous. “May we see the head chef, Jacques Bonet?” she asked their escort. “He’s the reason we’re here.”