it.”

  “We already did,” Nancy said. “There's nothing on it

  but files from the Harris case.”

  “She shouldn't be taking that out of the office

  anyway,” Henry said. “That material is highly

  confidential and very important to the case. Boy, this

  really does make it look like Blaine's the one behind all

  this. Sorry I ever doubted you, Ms. Hanson,” he called

  out to the empty reception area.

  “Well, Mr. Know-it-all, do you know Blaine's logon

  password?” Bess asked.

  “Of course I do,” Henry replied.

  “Then let's go into her office and have a look at her

  private files,” Nancy said. “We need solid proof that

  she's the one who's been sending information to

  Williams and Brown.”

  The trio turned off the computer and the lights in

  the library, and walked across the hall to Blaine's

  office. There they switched on her small desk lamp and

  computer, and waited for it to warm up.

  When the screen prompt glowed, Henry entered

  Blaine's log-on password, and they started to scan all

  the files and directories relating to E-mail, file

  transfers, and communications.

  “She's got Williams and Brown's E-mail address on

  her modem address book,” Henry pointed out.

  “That's not necessarily suspicious,” Nancy said. Her

  eyes darted over the information on the screen. “She

  could have that for legitimate purposes. What else is

  there?”

  Henry started pulling floppy disks out of Blaine's

  storage file and feeding them into the disk drive one

  after the other. “Why would Blaine do something like

  this?” he asked.

  “She went to Walker Law with John Brown Junior of

  Williams and Brown,” Nancy said. “And they do know

  each other. I saw them having lunch together at the

  deli yesterday. Maybe he's paying her to get him

  information he can use to settle these cases, save

  money for Williams and Brown's clients, and impress

  his father.”

  “Does he have curly brown hair?” Bess asked.

  “He sure does,” Nancy replied.

  “Then he was with Blaine when we saw them at the

  Sacred Cow the other night,” Bess added excitedly. “I

  saw him at Williams and Brown today when I delivered

  those papers for your dad. I knew I'd seen him before.”

  “But this is all just speculation,” Nancy said. “I need

  hard evidence.”

  “What's this?” Bess interrupted, pointing at

  something far down on the list of files in the directory

  of the last disk Henry had fed into the drive.

  “It says phone bills,' ” Henry read aloud.

  “But everything else in this directory is legal files

  and case notes and office correspondence,” Nancy

  noted. “Why is there a file of phone bills in here?”

  “Let's take a look,” Henry said, opening up the file

  labeled “phone bills.”

  And there, in the mislabeled file, were personal

  background notes on all the clients who had settled

  early.

  “Look at this,” Nancy whispered. “This information

  comes from their old criminal case files. I remember

  some of this from when I read through the records in

  storage. Bob Jamison's old injury, Jeannette King's

  false theft charge, Harriet Wasser's indictment for

  withholding heat from her tenants. This is all

  information that they'd want kept quiet.”

  “Wow, Councilman Fox had a drunk-driving

  conviction?” Henry exclaimed. “Mister Get-Tough-on-

  Crime? No wonder he settled fast. He wouldn't want

  that to be made public, especially not right now, when

  he's running for mayor.”

  “And look at the bottom of this file,” Bess said. “It's

  a list of dollar amounts and dates. I'll bet that's what

  John Brown Junior paid her for sending him this

  information.”

  “This proves it, all right,” Nancy said. “This

  information could definitely have been used to

  pressure those clients into accepting early settlements.”

  “But how can we prove she's been working with

  John Brown?” Bess asked. “That E-mail log file just

  shows Williams and Brown as the destination phone

  number. It doesn't give any receiver names.”

  “That log file shows only the information covered in

  our communications program,” Henry explained. “Like

  the fact that MHans made the transmission.” He shook

  his head. “I can't believe I fell for that. Blaine must

  have changed her screen name in our in-house E-mail

  logs.”

  “I knew Ms. Hanson wouldn't do this,” Nancy said.

  “And look at the transmission times. They're too late at

  night for her.”

  “We need the base information stored in the mail

  server,” Henry said. “Give me some dates,” he said, his

  fingers flying over the keyboard.

  The two girls watched in fascination as the screen

  filled with letters, numbers, names, dates, abbrevi-

  ations.

  “What is all that?” Nancy asked, mystified.

  “Most mail programs filter out all this stuff,” Henry

  said. “But it's what tells the mail server how to route

  the mail, identifies each computer user who sends E-

  mail out, and where it went. Take a look.” He pointed

  to what looked to Nancy like a coded language.

  From [email protected] Fri May 22 19:26:03

  1998

  Received: from drew.com by willbr.com with

  SMTP (1.39.205.11.15.3) id AA21901

  (4.1/SMI [email protected]); Fri 22

  May 1998 19:29:05 -0400

  Date: Fri 22 May 9819:29:05 -0400

  From: Blaine Warner [email protected]

  To: John Brown Jr. [email protected]

  Subject: Phone bills

  “You see?” Henry said. “The original transmission

  shows it was sent from Blaine's computer after nine

  o'clock at night,” Henry said. “You have to know an

  awful lot to cover your tracks on a computer.”

  “Now we've got the proof we need,” Nancy said.

  “It's time to call my father and tell him that his new

  associate has been up to no good.”

  Nancy picked up the phone and dialed her home

  number. While she waited for her father to pick up,

  Henry and Bess read through more of the material in

  Blaine's secret mislabeled file.

  Mr. Drew answered. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Dad,” Nancy said. “Bess and I are still in the

  office.”

  “I wondered where you were,” he said. “Ms. Hanson

  told me you left before me. Hannah was starting to get

  worried when you didn't come home. Did something

  come up at the office?”

  “Yes, Dad. Something serious. We just discovered

  files in Blaine Warner's computer disks that strongly

  indicate she sent privileged information from the old

  criminal cases of those clients who recently settled

  their cases.”

  “What?” Mr. Drew said, shocked.

  ??
?There's a summary of notes from the old cases,

  with either compromising or delicate information,”

  Nancy went on. “And there's also a list of dollar

  amounts and dates that seem to show she was paid for

  getting this information.”

  “I can't believe this happened in my office,” Mr.

  Drew said. “How did you find out about it?”

  “Henry was suspicious, too. That's why he made that

  list I told you about. He helped us get into Blaine's

  computer system, and then he went into the mail

  server information, where we discovered Blaine had

  sent E-mail to John Brown Junior at Williams and

  Brown.”

  “This is serious, Nan—”

  Before her father could say anything more, the

  phone went dead, the computer screen went black, and

  the entire office was plunged into darkness.

  15. An Inside Job

  Bess screamed. Nancy and Henry shushed her.

  “Be quiet, Bess,” Nancy said firmly. “Blaine must

  have come back. I'll bet that was the noise I heard

  before.”

  “She must have overheard everything,” Henry

  whispered. “We've got to try to stop her from getting

  away.”

  “I can find my way around here, even in the dark,”

  Nancy continued in a whisper. “Follow me.”

  They all held hands, and Nancy led them silently

  around Blaine's desk and through the door. They

  walked up the darkened hallway to the darkened

  reception area.

  Some light from the elevator area shone in through

  the thick double glass doors. Bess whispered, “I'll wait

  here and stand guard. You guys go ahead and get the

  lights turned back on.”

  “Okay, Bess,” Nancy said, still holding on to Henry.

  “We'll be right back. Don't let Blaine get out.” Nancy

  steered Henry carefully into the small utility closet off

  the reception area, where the electrical panel was

  located.

  “I can't see a thing,” Henry said.

  “Here,” Nancy said. “I keep a penlight on my

  keychain.” She held the button at the tip of the

  flashlight that looked like a ballpoint pen, and a faint

  beam of light shone onto switches and wires in the

  electrical panel.

  “Someone's thrown off the main power switch,”

  Henry said, looking closely. “I've just got to turn it back

  on and—”

  Before they could do anything, they heard a scuffle.

  Bess screamed and cried, “She's out here!”

  Quickly Henry and Nancy turned the main power

  switch back on, and ran out into the reception area to

  find Blaine Warner holding a silver award cup over

  Bess's head, about to hit her!

  “Stop!” Nancy called.

  Blaine turned around, clearly startled. Bess tried to

  jump away. Blaine grabbed her by the arm, and Bess

  shrieked again.

  “Let me go,” Bess cried, struggling with the tall,

  angry woman.

  “Let her go!” Nancy echoed her friend.

  Blaine froze and eyed Nancy with hatred. “You!”

  Blaine snarled. “I thought I'd scared you off at the

  Cyber Space last night. I heard you at the restaurant

  when you planned to go on-line with your little friend

  here and look for help tracking E-mail.”

  “You are SEEK!” Bess gasped. “And you're the one

  who attacked Nancy last night.” She tried to pull away,

  but Blaine's grip was too tight.

  Blaine laughed. “Yeah, I sent you that note about

  the rose. I thought that would grab you, Little Miss

  Romance. And I set up the meeting when you'd have

  to run off to your precious chat group, so Nancy would

  be all alone.”

  She turned to Nancy. “I thought I'd be able to get

  you out of the way for good.”

  “We found the floppy disk with the file you called

  phone bills,' ” Nancy said.

  “Your father's always bragging about what a super-

  sleuth his daughter is,” Blaine went on. “I was worried

  you might figure out my scheme. Henry here couldn't

  find his brains without a map.”

  Nancy heard a sharp intake of breath from Henry,

  and then he said, “You fooled me with Ms. Hanson's

  password, Blaine. But we found the original E-mail

  information, and we know what you and John Brown

  Junior have been doing.”

  “Good for you,” Blaine snapped. “Now you've got to

  catch me. I'm out of here, and you can't stop me.” She

  shoved Bess away from her forcefully, and Bess fell

  over the low coffee table. She scattered the magazines

  to the floor and moaned.

  “Bess!” Nancy cried. She ran over to her friend.

  Henry followed close behind.

  Blaine took advantage of the moment and headed

  for the office door. With one hand, she pressed the

  button for the automatic lock. With the other, she

  threw the heavy cup behind her.

  Bess and Nancy were protected behind the low

  coffee table, but the heavy cup struck Henry in the leg,

  and he stumbled, groaning in pain. Bess screamed

  again.

  “Henry, are you okay?” Bess asked.

  “Never mind me, just stop her,” he said, holding his

  leg. Nancy was sure he'd been injured pretty badly.

  The cup itself was heavy, and it was mounted on a large

  wooden base with sharp edges.

  “All right, Henry. Call the police and an ambulance,

  too. Come on, Bess,” Nancy said. “Can you walk?”

  Bess nodded. Though still shaken up from her fall,

  Bess joined her friend.

  The heavy glass office doors had locked automati-

  cally after Blaine's exit, and by the time the girls

  buzzed themselves out, the elevator door had closed

  behind Blaine, and she was gone.

  “Oh, no!” Bess exclaimed.

  “The stairs,” Nancy cried, and they headed for the

  fire stairs.

  “Four flights,” Bess groaned, panting a little after

  her recent ordeal. They rushed down the stairs, only to

  see Blaine exit the building and run into the street.

  “She's going to get away,” Bess cried.

  “No, she's not,” Nancy said. “Look.”

  Right outside the office building was a police car,

  lights flashing and sirens wailing. Mr. Drew was pulling

  up behind it in his sedan.

  “There she is, officers,” Nancy cried, pointing to

  Blaine Warner.

  Mr. Drew rushed over to Nancy and Bess. “Are you

  two all right?” he asked. “When the phone was cut off

  while you were telling me about the conspiracy

  between Blaine and John Brown Junior, I thought the

  worst. So I called the police and rushed over as quickly

  as I could. I'm afraid I may have broken a few traffic

  rules on the way.”

  “I'm glad you got here so fast,” Nancy replied. She

  gave her father a hug. “I'm fine.”

  “Blaine knocked me down,” Bess said breathlessly.

  “I'm okay, but I'm afraid Henry may be really hurt. She

  threw that big award cup at us, and it ca
ught him in the

  leg.”

  “Where is he?” Nancy's father asked.

  “We left him upstairs in the reception area,” Nancy

  answered. “We didn't want to let Blaine get away, so

  when we missed the elevator we ran down the stairs.”

  “Four flights,” Bess said again with a groan. “With

  his leg hurt, Henry really couldn't keep up,” Bess

  added. “But he was going to call the police and an

  ambulance.”

  Just then Henry appeared in the doorway to the

  office building, limping. “The police got here really

  fast,” he said.

  Nancy smiled at him. “My father called them when

  our call got cut off.”

  “Good thing,” Henry said. He flashed his famous

  grin, a little wearily. “I called an ambulance, too. I

  ought to get this dent in my leg checked out. It hurts a

  lot. At the very least, it's going to be purple by

  tomorrow. Did you catch Blaine?” he asked, wincing.

  “Yes,” Bess said. “She's right over there with the

  men in blue. Let me help you over to that bench, so

  you can sit down.” Bess put her shoulder under

  Henry's arm.

  Nancy and Mr. Drew walked over as the police took

  Blaine Warner into custody. “What's the charge, Mr.

  Drew?” the officer asked.

  “How about assault with a deadly award cup?”

  Henry called out, his face pale.

  “This is industrial espionage, Blaine,” Mr. Drew said

  gravely. “You stole information from my firm. This is a

  criminal matter, so you will be prosecuted as a thief.

  And if you or John Brown Junior used privileged

  information to threaten my clients, or coerce them into

  taking settlements—in fact, if you had any contact with

  them whatsoever—you will both be disbarred.”

  “John will post bail for me before sunrise,” she

  retorted. “And you'll have to prove the rest of it in

  court.”

  “We have all the proof we need,” Nancy said,

  looking straight at Blaine.

  “Oh, right. Miss Junior Detective here is going to

  testify against me in court,” Blaine said sarcastically.

  “Well, Williams and Brown will back me up all the way.

  After all I've done for them, it's the least they can do

  for me.”

  “Remember, miss,” one of the police officers said.

  “Anything you say can be used against you in a court of

  law.”

  “I know that, you fool,” Blaine snapped. “I'm a

  lawyer.”