“Jump as far from the boat as you can. Whatever you do, don’t freeze up. We’re going to make it.”
He pulled himself up next to her.
“Wait for my signal,” she shouted.
Nancy paused a moment, feeling for the rhythm of the up-and-down movement of the prow as it plowed through the waves. They had to jump when the bow was as high as possible out of the water. That would give them more of an arc to get clear of the boat’s churning wake.
A few more seconds—now!
“Jump!” she cried.
The cold September water struck her with a jolting shock. She swallowed water and spray as she was forced beneath the surface by the momentum of her leap. She’d grabbed Michael’s arm so they would jump together, but her hold slipped when they hit the water. As she fought her way to the surface, she had no idea whether she would find him there or not.
She broke through into the sunlight and shook the water from her eyes. There he was, about ten feet away. He was holding tight to the cushion, and, sure enough, it was supporting him. Unfortunately, he was still in the cruiser’s wake, though Nancy had thrown herself clear. She propelled herself toward him, stroking overarm.
The boat was past them now, roaring off toward the cliffs. Meanwhile, a surge of wave, created by the cruiser’s rampage through the water, was headed straight at Nancy and Michael. She grabbed him and stroked one-arm with all her might till she could feel that they were free of the wake. Still, she kept stroking hard as she could.
“Kick!” she hollered at Michael as her own legs whipped up and down beneath the surface.
It wasn’t the current she was so intent on escaping now. She didn’t look up to see. She didn’t have to. She could hear what she’d been dreading. In fact, she was sure everyone for miles must be hearing it too, as the cruiser hit the cliffs with a crash of metal and shattering glass.
Nancy kicked harder still. Maybe two seconds passed, though it seemed much longer.
Then the most dreaded sound of all assaulted the autumn afternoon, as what was left of the cruiser exploded in a gush of flame.
Chapter
Seventeen
A CHUNK OF FLAMING DEBRIS hissed into the water barely two yards away. Nancy waited for the sizzling to stop before reaching for the piece of wreckage as it floated past. She doused it thoroughly to cool it off. Unlike the cushion, this piece of wood was big enough for two.
“Grab on to this with me,” she told Michael. “Then let go of the cushion.”
Michael had been clinging so tightly to the square of foam and fabric that it took him a moment to give it up. When he had hold of the wreckage at last, he and Nancy began to kick.
The current was strong, but with the floating debris to buoy them up and both of them working together, they would make it to the shore.
By the time Nancy and Michael dragged themselves out of the water and back along the shore to Williams’s mansion, the campaign-workers’ party was in full swing. The band had set up and was playing rock and roll much too loudly for anyone to have heard the cruiser explode.
The lawn and garden were filled with people. A pleasant breeze fluttered the flowered cloths on the long tables. They were set with dishes that looked far too elegant, in Nancy’s opinion, for eating on the lawn.
A chef in a tall, white hat supervised the barbecue area like a captain of a ship. Several cooks of obviously lesser status, wearing much smaller hats, scurried about with heaping platters of smoked turkey, ribs, and chicken to add to those already brimming with corn and salads and baskets of rolls.
From behind some shrubbery, Nancy noticed Jethro Serkin a few tables away. He’d come up to Bradford Williams, who was deep in conversation with Councilman Terry. Serkin appeared to be pretty upset. He pulled Williams aside and whispered something in his ear.
“I wonder what’s going on over there,” Nancy whispered to Michael.
“It looks like some kind of high-level discussion,” he said.
The expression of sudden sorrow on Bradford Williams’s face would have convinced anyone but Nancy that he’d just had a terrible shock. “They’re pretending they’ve just heard about us!” she whispered as the realization hit her.
Then she spotted George and Bess emerging from the crowd. Nancy had a strong suspicion what Williams was intending to say to them. Meanwhile, he couldn’t have looked more solemn as he laid a protective hand on George’s arm and eased the overflowing plate of food from Bess’s hand.
“I think we should go inside,” he said in a gentle tone as Nancy moved out of the bushes and close enough to hear. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“What’s going on?” said George, her eyes widening.
“It would be better if we talked about this privately,” said Williams.
“I disagree,” said Nancy, stepping out from behind a nearby clutch of partiers. “I think you should say what you have to say right here where everyone can hear. I think they’d all be interested in sharing your sad news, Mr. Williams. Or should I call you Mr. Mulraney?”
George’s jaw dropped. “Nancy! What happened to you?” she exclaimed.
“Tell them what’s going on,” said Nancy, who had not taken her eyes off Williams.
She noticed him falter a moment, almost imperceptibly. Then he composed himself again. He nodded at Serkin, who stepped toward them, slipping his hand inside his jacket.
“Look out. He’s got a gun!” shouted Michael as he ran up behind Serkin.
The crowd turned to stare as Michael wrestled Serkin to the ground. Williams took advantage of the distraction and headed across the garden.
“Stop him!” Nancy cried. “Don’t let him get away!”
She raced after Williams, shoving some of River Heights’ more prominent citizens out of her way as she ran. The bewildered guests obviously had no idea what to do.
By the time Nancy broke free of the crowd, Williams was through the garden and out of sight. Nancy guessed he was heading for his helicopter launch pad. She cut through some shrubbery, ignoring the branches that caught at her soggy clothes. She wasn’t about to let him get away now!
As she emerged onto the lawn, she spotted Williams. He was almost to the copter, and he was signaling the pilot to start the engine.
“Nancy, what’s going on?” cried George, whose long strides had finally closed the gap between her and Nancy.
“We can’t let Williams take off,” Nancy shouted over her shoulder. “Call your volunteers!”
George immediately stopped in her tracks. Putting her fingers to her lips, she gave a piercing whistle. “Everybody! Over here!” she screamed.
In a moment a fast-growing crowd was running across the lawn toward the helicopter pad.
Williams had climbed into the helicopter by the time Nancy and her troops reached the launch pad, but he hadn’t yet closed the door behind him.
“Grab onto the runner,” Nancy shouted as she caught hold of Williams’s arm. “This man is a killer—we can’t let him get away!”
The youthful volunteers, who had done such a wonderful job of getting potential River Heights voters to register, rose to the challenge once again. They pounced on the nearest of the copter’s two runners, pulling the big bird off balance just as it had begun to rise from the ground.
Nancy nearly lost her grip on Williams as the copter tipped and weaved.
“Pull harder on that runner,” she urged the still-growing ranks.
More volunteers had arrived and leapt into action.
“Get us out of here, you fool,” screamed Williams at the pilot.
The pilot struggled with the controls as George joined Nancy in tugging at Williams’s arm.
“He’s going for a gun,” shouted George as Williams reached for a compartment between the seats.
But before he could latch onto a weapon or anything else, George and Nancy had pulled him from the cockpit He came out headfirst, nearly taking Nancy with him as he fell. Then he was on the ground w
ith George on top of him and a number of her volunteers following suit.
Nancy heaved a sigh of relief. The real Michael Mulraney had been caught at last.
• • •
Two days later Nancy, Bess, and the other “Michael” were at the councilman’s office helping George pack up her materials from the voter-registration drive.
“It looks like Tim Terry isn’t going to make it to Washington after all,” said George mournfully. “In fact, I doubt he’ll even be a city councilman after the next election.”
“Not when this oversight committee scandal hits the newsstands,” said Bess.
Brenda Carlton had already been around asking questions for an article for her father’s paper.
“Hiring that creep Turner was a big mistake,” Bess went on. “It looks like Mr. Terry is going to pay for it with his career.”
“Bess!” Nancy warned.
Michael put his arm around Bess’s shoulders and took a more diplomatic tone. “I don’t think George wants to talk about the councilman’s future right now.”
“That’s okay,” said George. “I can take it. Besides, who knows what Tim Terry’s future will be? He’s a smart man and a shrewd politician. He may come out of this better than we think. I do know one thing though.”
“What’s that?” Nancy asked.
“Whatever happens to him, I’m one person he won’t have on his team.” George fitted the last stack of flyers into the box she was packing. “My public service is going to be confined to the voter-registration drive from now on. I can be sure that’s a good cause.”
“My father is glad you took him up on his offer to work out of his office,” said Nancy.
“I’m really grateful to him for that,” said George. “It means the drive can go on without a hitch.” She grinned mischievously. “And now that Bess has some free time, I know she’s dying to help.”
Bess looked resigned. “Yeah, well, Jeff was cute, but his sole interest in life was being the Video King.” Suddenly she brightened. “Hey, isn’t this the recruiting season for young lawyers?”
Nancy and George laughed. “I think you finally figured out how to get Bess to do her civic duty,” Nancy joked, poking George in the ribs.
Michael lifted the last box onto the hand truck they’d borrowed from the Municipal Building maintenance department.
“I feel like I owe Mr. Drew even more thanks than George does,” he said.
“My dad is only too happy to negotiate with the immigration office for you,” said Nancy. She grinned. “Especially since you said you’d speak at the voter-registration rallies. He’s very interested in your case. He thinks he may even be able to convince the INS to let you stay in the States.”
“Speaking at those rallies is the least I can do. And nobody knows better than I do how much it means to be a citizen of this country, because nobody ever cared more about getting to be one.”
“When is your family coming?” Bess interrupted. “I can’t wait to meet your brother.”
They all laughed.
“That’s our Bess,” said George.
“It will take a month or so for Jamie and the rest of the Doughertys to make it through the red tape to River Heights,” said Nancy. “In the meantime, this is so we won’t forget who our first future citizen really is.”
She pulled a name tag from her pocket and pinned it on Michael’s shirt. She’d found it in a box of supplies left over from the fund-raiser and had written a name on it in big letters that were bright, Irish green.
He looked down at the tag and read aloud with a bit of a brogue and a catch in his voice:
“ ‘Hello. My name is Kevin Dougherty.’ ”
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Carolyn Keene, Danger in Disguise
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