Nancy told the group what she had discovered. “The question,” she said, concluding, “is why? Who would want to burn down the tent?”
“Someone trying to sabotage the Classic,” Bess said.
“Or maybe someone trying to hurt Steven Lloyd,” Ned said.
Jon looked grim. “Well, I don’t agree. I think it was someone who was trying to hurt George. Maybe even kill her.”
“But why?” Nancy asked.
“To knock her out of the competition.”
“Another cyclist, you mean?” Nancy looked doubtful. “I don’t know. Do you really think it’s possible that anyone could want to win that badly?”
“It’s possible. Anything’s possible,” Jon said.
“We’d better play it safe and keep a close eye on George,” Nancy said.
“It wouldn’t hurt,” the others said.
“No, it wouldn’t—look!” George exclaimed. In her hand was a note she had just pulled from the pocket of her windbreaker.
Nancy took it. The message was spelled out in letters cut from a magazine.
“What does it say?” Ned asked.
Nancy read it in a flat, steady voice:” “ ‘Quit the Classic, or else.’ ”
• • •
A few minutes later George had loaded her new bike into the rear of her family’s station wagon and left.
“I’m going to follow her in my car and make sure she gets home all right,” Nancy told the others.
“Want me to go with you?” Ned offered. “Or maybe Bess?”
“No, I can handle it alone,” Nancy said. “You stay and watch the racing.”
The others had driven to the velodrome in their own cars, so Nancy knew she would not have to return. As she was leaving, Jon pulled her aside. He had to stay behind to register George for a race later that evening, but he was still concerned about the note she had found in her pocket.
“Don’t worry,” Nancy told him. “It probably isn’t connected to the fire.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I can’t. But if someone really intended for George to be asphyxiated in the tent, why would they bother to hide a warning note in her wind-breaker? She’d never see it!”
“Maybe it was put there after you rescued her.”
“Well, I suppose that’s possible,” Nancy said slowly. “But we can’t draw any conclusions. Not yet, anyway.”
“So what do we do—wait for something worse to happen?”
“At the moment it’s our only option. But don’t worry. I doubt anything worse will happen.”
Nancy’s Mustang was parked in the lot reserved for competitors and their crews. As she started the engine and backed out of her space, she thought about Monique Vandervoort, the cyclist who had been glaring at George. Could she have set the fire? She had left the stadium right before George, Nancy remembered, but that proved nothing. How would she know George would follow?
Several minutes later Nancy pulled into the parking lot of a large motel called the Imperial. It was close to the velodrome, so most of the cyclists from out of town were staying there. George had pulled in just a minute or two before Nancy. She had wanted to meet some of the other cyclists and cool off with a swim in the motel pool.
The motel’s courtyard was all but deserted. Nancy looked around and spotted George walking up to the pool. She stopped to greet a girl with short dark hair, large dark eyes, and the unmistakable muscular legs of a trained cyclist.
Nancy didn’t want to butt in on their conversation, so she slowly locked her car. As she started moving toward the pool, she noticed that two more people had joined George and the dark girl. One was a lean, powerful-looking man with curly black hair. The other was a tiny woman in her thirties who had a square-shaped face.
The woman was speaking sharply to George’s companion. Nancy was still too far away to hear what she was saying, but it was obvious from the girl’s expression that she was upset.
Suddenly the girl stood up, snatched her towel, and marched angrily into the motel. The older couple followed and were trailed in turn by George, who seemed to be speaking to them in a raised voice.
Curious, Nancy walked toward the group. Before she reached them, though, the girl had disappeared inside her room. George continued her argument with the adults, but they cut it short by going inside, too. The door was slammed in George’s face.
“What’s going on?” Nancy asked, walking up to her friend. “Who was that girl?”
“Hi, Nancy. That was Tatyana Ivanova,” George replied. “She’s from the Soviet Union.”
“What was all the fuss about?”
“Did you see those two people with her?”
“Uh-huh. Who are they?”
Taking Nancy by the elbow, George led her away from Tatyana’s door. “They call themselves her chaperons, but Tatyana told me they’re actually KGB!”
Just then, Tatyana’s door snapped open. The muscular man walked out. Without looking at George or Nancy, he started back toward the pool. Nancy turned to George.
“The KGB!” she whispered. “Are you sure you heard right?”
“Yes. Tatyana told me they don’t want her to have any contact with Westerners. Can you believe it?” George said.
“I suppose so. I think they treat all their visiting athletes and artists that way.”
“It’s crazy,” George said hotly.
“I know. It’s hard for us to understand, but they see us as a threat.”
George said nothing, but Nancy could see that she was fuming. She didn’t really blame her. At the same time, though, she hoped that George would accept the situation. Further contact might get Tatyana in trouble.
Slowly the two girls walked out, passing the pool. On the way, they saw the muscular man, who was returning to Tatyana’s room with a pair of sunglasses in his hand.
“Did you see that?” George whispered when he was out of earshot. “She left her sunglasses by the pool, and they wouldn’t even let her go back to get them herself.”
A minute later Nancy pushed open the gate to the pool. “Ready to go?”
“In a minute. I want to take a quick dip,” George said. “I hope the owners won’t mind.”
“There’s no one here. I don’t think they’ll care. I’ll wait right here for you.”
Dropping into a chair, Nancy watched as George mounted the diving board and positioned herself for a dive. She slowly raised her arms as she began her approach.
Just then, Nancy noticed a cord trailing into the water. At the end of it was a radio—and it was plugged into an all-weather socket on the side of the cabana!
Nancy leaped up. “George, don’t dive!” she screamed.
But it was too late. As she yelled, George bounced off the board and went soaring into the air!
Chapter
Three
NANCY TENSED. HORRIFIED, she watched as George sliced into the water. Her form was perfect, but there was just one problem—the pool was probably electrified!
In no time, Nancy was at the water’s edge. Come on, George! Come up for air! she screamed mentally. Come up! Come up!
But George didn’t come up. Beneath the water’s wavery surface, Nancy saw her friend frog-kicking toward the aluminum ladder.
“Oh no!”
There was no time to lose. If George touched that ladder she’d be electrocuted instantly. Taking a deep breath, Nancy dove into the water fully clothed.
The water was cold, and her water-soaked clothes weighed her down, but Nancy barely noticed either. She swam furiously. When she reached George, she grabbed her friend’s ankle. Sputtering, they both surfaced at the same time.
“Nancy! What are you doing?”
“George, don’t touch that!” Nancy caught her friend’s hand as she reached for the ladder. “It could kill you!”
“Wow, you must have had too many hot dogs for lunch,” George said with a laugh. “What are you talking about?”
Treading water, Nancy ex
plained the situation. George’s eyes went wide when she saw the radio dangling into the pool.
Then she chuckled. “Nan, you dope. Don’t you remember anything from physics class? When that radio fell in the water, it shorted a fuse. We’re not in any danger.”
“Oh really?” Nancy said. “What if the fuse didn’t blow? Do you want to take that chance?”
George eyed the ladder uncertainly. “Well—I guess not.”
“Neither do I. Especially not after what happened back at the velodrome. We’ve got to figure out a way to get out of here.”
Nancy looked around. There was no one who could help them. For a moment she considered simply hauling herself out of the water without the ladder, but then she decided against it. If there was a puddle on the walk around the pool that made a connection with the ground—zap! She’d be instant boiled detective.
Then she hit upon a solution. It was simple, but would it work?
“Where are you going?” George asked.
Nancy swam toward the radio. “To get us out of here, I hope!”
As she got closer, she saw that the cord ran straight from the radio to an outdoor socket on the cabana. Reaching over, Nancy grasped the cord and gave it a sharp yank. A moment later the plug popped out of the socket.
“Phew! All clear, George. We can even use the ladder now.”
Once she was out of the pool, Nancy grabbed George’s towel and immediately darted inside the cabana. She was searching for a fuse box. It was near the door. Just as she’d suspected, the fuse had been taken out and dropped on the floor. A copper penny was in its place.
“See, what did I tell you?” she said as George came in. “If you had touched that ladder, you’d be dead right now.”
George sighed. “That’s the second time today you’ve saved me from disaster. Thanks.”
“Forget it.”
George didn’t mention the incident again, but Nancy kept thinking about it. As she patted herself dry with the towel, she tried to reason it through. Who was responsible? And why had they done it?
The most obvious suspect was the KGB agent who had carried Tatyana’s sunglasses back from the pool. He had had the opportunity. And he had a motive—to keep George from talking to Tatyana.
But Nancy didn’t buy that explanation. For one thing, murder was too extreme a solution for the KGB’s problem. For another, the KGB agent wasn’t the only one who had had the opportunity. While she and George were talking near Tatyana’s door, anyone could have set the trap.
It was even possible that it was an accident. A motel employee could have put the penny in the fuse box days—even weeks—before. Then, a passerby could have knocked the radio into the pool without being aware of it.
Maybe. Nancy glanced around. There was no one in sight—not even a maid. Then she saw something. Across the courtyard, at a window on the second story, there was movement! The curtains were slowly being pulled closed.
Shading her eyes, Nancy strained to see. The window was pretty far away, but she could just make out the figure of a girl in the center of the window before the drapes were drawn all the way. The girl had close-cropped white-blond hair.
It was Monique Vandervoort! How badly did the Dutch girl want to stay on top? Nancy wondered. Badly enough to electrify a pool?
Nancy knew she would simply have to gather more evidence. And that might mean waiting for another attempt on George’s life.
• • •
That night Nancy returned to the velodrome and stood with Ned and Bess in the infield to watch George compete. It was a warm evening, and a large crowd was in the stands. Excitement built as the racing progressed, but Nancy’s mind was elsewhere.
She felt edgy. Unsettled. Would there be another attack on George? she wondered. And if so, when? And how? She didn’t know the answers, of course, but she did know one thing—if it happened, she wanted to be there!
For her part, George didn’t seem all that concerned about what might happen. As she waited for the start of her event, she wandered around the infield, chatting easily with the other cyclists. How could she remain so cool? Nancy wondered. Didn’t she realize that she might be in danger?
Finally, George’s event began. It was the first round of the Women’s Match Sprint.
“Both riders start together on the home straight,” Jon explained. “They circle the track three times, going slowly, then they sprint the last two hundred meters. Whoever wins the sprint wins the ride, and the best of three rides wins the round.”
“Why do they go slowly at first?” Bess asked. “That seems dumb. Why not sprint right from the start?”
“It’s all tactics,” Jon said. “Watch.”
At that moment an official standing on the home straight blew his whistle. Two girls—one wearing the gray jersey of East Germany and the other the maple leaf jersey of Canada—began their ride.
A short while later, their ride over, George’s first ride was announced. Her opponent was Francesca Orsini, from Italy. As Jon stood with George at the starting line, Nancy noticed something odd. “Why isn’t George riding her new bike?”
“Because disk-wheel bikes don’t accelerate fast enough for match sprints,” Ned explained. “At least, that’s what Jon said.”
The ride began. George led the first lap, then slowed down dramatically in the second, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds at Francesca.
“Come on, George!” Bess shouted. She turned to Nancy. “If she goes any slower, she’s going to fall over!”
Nancy nodded. George was definitely creeping around the track. It looked as though she would have to pick up the pace soon.
But George didn’t. Impossibly, she went slower and slower—and slower still. Finally, to the astonishment of the spectators, both girls came to a dead halt!
“I don’t believe it! How are they doing that?” Bess exclaimed.
“Yeah, those bikes don’t have any brakes,” Ned said, echoing her amazement.
Nancy was puzzled, too. Then, looking closely, she saw that both riders were rocking their pedals back and forth, keeping themselves upright with minuscule movements of their wheels. It was a battle of nerves. George wanted Francesca to take the lead, and Francesca wanted George to keep it.
Finally, Francesca gave up. As she started forward, the crowd cheered. Nancy smiled. Leave it to George to psych out her opponent!
But George hadn’t won yet. They still had one lap to go. Nancy held her breath as the bell rang. Gradually the two picked up speed, riding high on the first turn’s incline. Could George pull it off? Could she—
Suddenly George jumped. Swinging past Francesca, she shot down the incline and zoomed down the back straight.
“Go, George!” Nancy screamed.
The crowd was on its feet. George pulled two bike lengths ahead, then three. Francesca pedaled hard, but George pedaled harder. Lowering her head to the handlebars, she sped into the final turn. At the finish line she was two seconds ahead.
• • •
Half an hour later George won her second ride against Francesca, earning a place in the quarter-finals. After riding a victory lap, her arms held high in a V, she returned to the infield.
“Where’s Jon?” Nancy asked as George packed up her gear.
“I’m not sure.”
“Maybe he left already,” Bess said.
“No. He wouldn’t leave without checking with me first,” George said.
“Besides,” Ned added, “he promised to give me a ride home.”
“Is something wrong with your car?” Bess asked.
“No, it just seemed silly to keep driving two cars here all the time since he’s staying at my house. I guess he’ll turn up.”
“I guess so,” George said, joining them. “Right now, all I want is a long, hot shower, Help me load my car, will you?”
Leaving Ned behind to wait for Jon, Nancy and Bess started toward the exit tunnel with George. As they went inside, Nancy took George’s bike and hoisted
it to her shoulder.
She was walking slightly behind the others, so at first she couldn’t see why George had stopped short as they approached the tunnel’s exit. “What’s going on?” she asked.
Then she saw for herself. Jon was standing at the end of the tunnel. A pretty blond girl had her arms around him—and they were kissing!
Chapter
Four
NANCY COULDN’T BELIEVE her eyes. Was this for real? Was Jon actually two-timing George? She glanced at her friend. George was pale. Bess had her hand on her shoulder, but it was more to hold George up than to hold her back. She looked as if she were about to faint.
In front of them, the cozy scene suddenly fell apart. Angrily, Jon pushed the girl away from him. “Stop that!” he growled.
“But, Jon!” the girl whined.
“Don’t touch me! Can’t you get it through your head? It’s over.”
“No, it isn’t! I still love you. And you’d still love me if you hadn’t lost your memory!”
Nancy relaxed. Jon wasn’t cheating on George, that was obvious. The girl had kissed him, not the other way around. But who was she? And what was she talking about?
They didn’t have to wait long for the answers. Seconds later the girl spotted them.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said, glaring at George. “Nice timing. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. You’re real good at breaking people up, aren’t you?”
George’s mouth dropped open. “Me?”
“Yes, you. Jon and I are in love, or at least we were until you came along!”
“Jon, what’s this all about?” George asked.
Jon stepped forward, fidgeting with the zipper on his windbreaker. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, George, but it is partly true. This is Debbi Howe. She and I used to go together.”
“Go together? Jon, we were practically engaged!” Debbi wailed.
“Used to?” George repeated.
“That’s right. We were both on the U.S. team for the last Winter Olympics. Debbi was a speed skater, not a skier.”
“We were very happy together, too,” Debbi added. “They did a TV story about us and everything. Then one day someone sabotaged the bindings on Jon’s skis. He took a terrible fall and banged his head. After that Jon lost his memory, and he disappeared. I thought I’d never see him again—until today.”