“Then what?”
“I mean it, Debbi.”
“Good for you,” she said. “Now, get this—I didn’t try to run down your friend. But maybe she’d better watch out from now on,” Debbi added. “If the opportunity presents itself, I just might try to hurt her.”
This time when Debbi slammed her door, Nancy didn’t stop her.
• • •
When Nancy arrived home later, she was furious with herself. Debbi had outbluffed her. She was almost sure that Jon’s ex-girlfriend had tried to hit George, but she couldn’t prove a thing.
Worse, it was her own fault. She’d lost her temper and tipped Debbi off. Right then, Debbi was probably putting together a rock-solid alibi. Even if Nancy went to the police, it wouldn’t do any good. When they questioned Debbi, the first thing she would do was prove that she’d been visiting friends in Riley City that night.
Nancy climbed out of her car and slammed the door. On her way into the house, she noticed that Steven Lloyd’s car was also parked in the driveway.
The two men were in her father’s study discussing the break-in at Steven’s office. It had only happened that morning, but to Nancy it seemed as if it were a week ago.
“Have the police got any leads?” she asked, joining them.
“Not really,” Steven said.
Nancy frowned. “The guy hasn’t called to tell you where to drop the money?”
“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “What’s he waiting for?”
Behind his desk, Carson Drew leaned back. “Count your blessings, Steven. Raising a million in cash isn’t easy on such short notice.”
“No. And I really appreciate all your help.”
Both men glanced at the blue nylon gym bag that was sitting on the desk. With a jolt, Nancy realized that it must contain the money—one million dollars.
She dropped into a leather club chair. One million dollars. That must be some program, she thought. Too bad the police didn’t have any leads yet.
Just then the telephone rang. Nancy’s father scooped up the receiver and held it to his ear. Seconds later he sat up straighter, and his eyes grew wide.
He handed the phone to Steven. “It’s our man,” he whispered. “You’ll have to listen hard. His voice is being distorted by some sort of electronic device.”
Steven took the receiver. “Hello? Yes . . . yes . . .”
The conversation was short. Nancy’s heart was pounding with excitement. Leaning forward, she put her elbows on her knees.
“Well, we’ve got instructions,” Steven said as he hung up. “He definitely wants a million.”
“Where and when?” Carson Drew asked.
Steven’s face clouded. “That’s the strange part—he didn’t say.”
“What!”
“He said he’d call back with further instructions.”
“When?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Hmm.” Nancy’s father leaned back and pressed his fingertips together, looking puzzled. “But what’s most strange is how he knew to call you here.”
“Good question,” Steven replied. “I didn’t tell anyone I was coming over, not even my secretary.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. I wrote it in my date book, but . . .”
For a moment no one spoke. Why didn’t the extortionist want the money right away? It didn’t make sense. Nancy turned the point over and over in her mind, but no explanation presented itself.
Finally, Steven cleared his throat. “Carson . . .” he began, sounding uncomfortable.
“Yes?”
“The extortionist also mentioned the courier. When the time comes, he doesn’t want me to carry the money myself.”
“Oh? Who does he want?” Nancy’s father asked.
Steven swallowed and looked down. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but he—he wants Nancy!”
Chapter
Eight
THERE WAS SILENCE for a few seconds. The only sound was the ticking of the brass clock on Carson Drew’s desk. Finally, Nancy’s father shook his head.
“Absolutely not,” he said firmly. “I won’t allow it.”
Steven leaned back in his chair, obviously relieved. “I’m glad you said that. If anything were to happen to Nancy, I would never forgive myself.”
Nancy looked at the two men. “Wait a minute. Don’t I get to say anything?”
Both men turned and stared at her.
“I want to carry the money,” she said. “For one thing, the extortionist probably sees me as insurance. He knows you won’t try anything funny because you don’t want me to get hurt. That means—”
“Nancy—”
“No, listen! That means he might get careless and slip up. I could pick up some clues. I might even see his face!”
“You know, Carson—” Steven started to say.
“I’ll be perfectly safe. You and Steven will be tailing me in a car, right, Dad? The police will be there, too.”
“Now, Nancy—”
“Please, Dad?”
Her father sighed. “I can see this is a losing battle. All right, I’ll let you do it. But I want you to promise me that you’ll drop the money and run at the first sign of trouble.”
Nancy smiled and nodded. “I’m not crazy, Dad.”
“Good. Now, Steven, are you absolutely sure you want to pay the ransom?”
“I know you think I shouldn’t,” Steven replied. “But frankly that program is worth a lot more to my company than one million dollars.”
“It’s your choice.” Carson Drew reached for the phone. “I’m going to call the police. Now that Nancy’s involved, I want them to be ready to roll at a moment’s notice.”
• • •
The next afternoon Nancy paced restlessly around the infield of the velodrome. She was as concerned about George as ever—more, really. And now added to that worry were new questions about the theft of Steven’s program.
Why did the extortionist want her to deliver the money? The reason she had given her father—that she was an “insurance policy”—made sense, but it didn’t explain everything. Also, how had the extortionist known that her father was involved in the case? How had he known to call Steven at the Drew residence?
George, meanwhile, seemed unfazed by the attempt to kill her the day before. If anything, she seemed more energetic than ever. When she lost her quarter-final ride in the Women’s Match Sprint, she shrugged it off. “I’m saving myself for the Pursuit finals tonight,” she claimed.
• • •
That evening a large crowd gathered at the velodrome. Marjorie Masters’s article about George had appeared in the River Heights Morning Record that day, and many people had come to see whether their hometown girl could defeat the reigning World Junior Champion.
But Monique Vandervoort was not going to give up her title without a struggle. As the two raced around and around the track, the Dutch girl really poured on the speed.
Anxiously, Nancy watched the scoreboard that stood at the north end of the stadium. Each time George and Monique crossed their respective starting lines, their times were displayed. George was behind, Nancy saw, but she could still recover. Could she take the lead?
The spectators cheered. They were behind George all the way. Then, at the beginning of the fifth lap, Jon called out something to George as she flew by. After that, George took off. The next split showed that she’d gained a second. She was only one and two-tenths seconds behind!
Nancy’s heart was pounding. There were three laps left to go—then two—then one. Come on, George, she cried silently. Come on!
George flashed around the final turns, but Monique was struggling, tired by her early effort. As they finished, Nancy watched the scoreboard. When the final times appeared, she let out a whoop. George had won by two-tenths of a second!
After the race, well-wishers crowded around George. Everywhere flashes exploded. George was beaming, and her smile broadened even
more when Steven Lloyd and Peter Cooper came over.
“Congratulations!” Steven said, clapping her on the back.
“Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without this bike.”
“I’m glad it helped.”
Peter cleared his throat. “Uh, speaking of the bike, I heard what happened at Big Top Burgers last night. Would you like me to keep it locked in the administrative office at night? It might be safer there.”
“Thanks. But you don’t have to worry. I found a great place to hide it when I’m not using it. No one will ever think to look there, believe me.”
“Are you sure? Because it’s no trouble to lock it up in our office if you want.”
Steven put his hand on his assistant’s shoulder. “Pete, I think we can trust George to look after the bike,” he said.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to let anyone get near that bike,” George agreed with a smile.
Peter opened his mouth to say something more, but he got cut off. At just that moment a reporter from a cycling magazine fired a question at George. At the same time, Steven pulled Nancy aside for a whispered conference.
“Still no word from the extortionist,” he said anxiously.
“Don’t worry, he’ll call soon,” Nancy assured him in a low voice.
“I hope so. I’m worried about my program.”
“And he’s worried about that million dollars. Sit tight.”
“I’m trying, but it’s tough,” Steven said. “This whole thing has me on edge.”
Nancy was on edge, too, but for another reason. George’s would-be killer was still at large. She was positive she would eventually figure out who it was, but she didn’t like waiting. It left George in constant danger.
She didn’t want to burden Steven with all that, though. After a few minutes he said good night. He was going home to wait by his telephone, he told her.
Nancy wished him luck.
• • •
Later, after calling her father and being told that the extortionist still hadn’t called yet, Nancy went to George’s house. She and Bess were going to sleep over. George needed the company, Bess had told her, and Nancy agreed. Her father could reach her at the Faynes’ house if anything happened. Besides, it would give the three of them a chance to talk.
As it turned out, however, the one who was anxious to talk was George’s mother. “Nancy, can I have a word with you?” she asked as the girls were leaving the Faynes’ kitchen.
“Sure, Mrs. Fayne,” Nancy said, holding a bowl of popcorn.
“It’s Georgia—” Louise Fayne broke off distractedly. “Oh, Nancy, will you try to persuade Georgia to drop out of the Classic? It’s so risky! I’m afraid for her!”
“She won’t listen to me, I’ve tried. You’re her mother, though. Have you told her how you feel?”
“Yes, this morning at breakfast. She said, ‘No way!’ ” Mrs. Fayne laughed weakly. “After that, I gave up. You know Georgia, she can be stubborn.”
“Yes, I know.”
• • •
Nancy bounded up the stairs to George’s room. George and Bess were sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching TV.
“Did you get more popcorn?” George asked, looking up.
“Plenty.”
“Great.” George dug into the bowl as Nancy set it down. “My mom asked you to get me to drop out of the Classic, didn’t she?”
Nancy nodded. “How did you know?”
“I just did. She and my dad were on my case at breakfast, too.”
Bess picked up the remote control and turned down the TV’s sound. “George, would it really be so bad to drop out?”
“Yes,” she replied firmly.
“But—”
“Let’s not get into that again, okay?” George pleaded. “I don’t want to fight, and besides, there’s something more important that I want to talk to you guys about.”
“What?” Nancy asked.
“Jon. His birthday’s coming up, and I need to think of a present.”
“How about a one-way ticket back to the mountains?” Bess said acidly.
“Bess!”
“I mean it. How can you trust him after you saw him kissing his old girlfriend? The guy still loves her, believe me!”
“No he doesn’t! He told me so last night in the Big Top parking lot. And then he saved my life not a minute later.”
“So? What does that prove?” Bess shot back.
The two argued on and on, Bess tearing Jon apart and George defending him. Nancy stayed out of it. She was just glad to hear that George and Jon were on good terms again.
An hour later Nancy and Bess crawled into their sleeping bags. George turned out the lights, but they all kept talking. When the conversation finally ended, the dial on the digital clock by George’s bed read 12:15 a.m.
Almost an hour later Nancy was still awake. Details of the case—Monique at the motel window, the Soviet coach’s warning, the warm hood of Debbi’s car—kept running through her mind. Next to her, Bess was breathing evenly. Across the room in her bed, George was also asleep.
Rolling onto her back, Nancy folded her hands behind her head and stared at the ceiling. The house was quiet. Through a window, she heard a light breeze pass. The oak trees on the lawn rustled gently.
Suddenly Nancy tensed. She thought she’d heard a sound, but she wasn’t sure.
Creak!
Yes, there it was again. This time there was no mistaking it.
Someone was sneaking up the stairs!
Chapter
Nine
SILENTLY, NANCY SLITHERED from her sleeping bag. Standing up, she tiptoed to the doorway and listened.
Creak!
The intruder was almost at the top of the stairs. She had to do something.
Mentally, Nancy reviewed the layout of George’s room. There was a softball bat in the corner—or was it in the closet? No good. She needed something else. The desk chair! That was it. It was right next to her sleeping bag. Tiptoeing back, she groped in the dark and found it.
She lifted the chair over her head.
Creak!
Once again Nancy tiptoed back to the door. It was very dark. She couldn’t see a thing. The door was ajar, she remembered. Feeling with her foot, she found it and pushed it open. Now the way into the hall was clear.
Anxiously, she peered into the void ahead. Should she attack now? Go for it, she told herself. Whoever’s out there can’t see, either.
Slowly, she took a step forward. Then another. And another. Then—whack! The chair hit the doorjamb overhead! Angry, Nancy tried to lower the chair, but she lost her grip. The chair fell to the floor with a crash.
“What was that?” George exclaimed in a loud voice.
Footsteps hurried down the stairs. The intruder was getting away! Nancy groped for the hall light switch. She flicked it on just as the front door slammed.
“Mr. Fayne! George! Follow me!”
Furious with herself, Nancy raced down the stairs and through the front hall. If she hurried, she could still get a look at the intruder.
Yanking the door open, she dashed out onto the front lawn. She glanced around but didn’t see anyone. Great! She’d let the intruder get away!
“Nancy?”
The front porch lights came on. Nancy blinked. Mr. Fayne’s deep voice called out again. “Nancy, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Mr. Fayne.”
“What happened?”
She walked back across the lawn. “There was an intruder in the house, but he got away.”
Just then, George, Bess, and Mrs. Fayne spilled down the stairs, shouting questions all at once. Mr. Fayne reassured them that everything was all right, but Mrs. Fayne was still frightened.
To calm her, Mr. Fayne made a thorough search of the property.
“I don’t believe you, Nan,” Bess said when Nancy had explained what happened. They were standing in the kitchen. “You actually tried to clobber the burglar with a chair?”
“Actually, I don’t think it was a burglar,” Nancy said. “I think it may have been someone who didn’t know that George had a couple of friends sleeping over tonight.”
“You mean—”
Mr. Fayne walked in, interrupting Bess. “Yes, that’s exactly what she means. And I’m afraid she may be right. Come and look at what I found outside!”
Quickly, they followed him out to the driveway. He pointed his flashlight at the front of the garage door.
Mrs. Fayne gasped. On the door was the picture of George that had been in the newspaper. It was pinned in place with a gleaming butcher knife!
• • •
The next morning Nancy set out for the Imperial Motel. She was angry. The picture on the Faynes’ garage door had been the last straw. No one had the right to terrorize innocent people and get away with it. No one!
Nancy parked in front of the bank next door to the Imperial. Her car wouldn’t be noticed there. Then, pulling a straw hat over her reddish gold hair, and putting on a pair of sunglasses, she began her surveillance.
It was a hot day, and a few people were already in the pool. Walking up to the soda machine behind the front office, Nancy pretended to study the selection. From there, she eyed the people at the pool. Debbi was not among them. No problem, she thought. She knew which room was Debbi’s.
Casually, Nancy walked past Debbi’s room. She could hear the TV but nothing else. Just then, the phone rang and Debbi picked it up, saying, “Oh, hi, Mom.”
Nancy’s heart began to thump as she listened through the door. Perfect! She could hear every word.
“Sure, I remember,” Debbi said in a sullen tone. “I had to go out last night—I couldn’t wait for your call. . . . I’m sorry. Yes, it was very late when I got back—about two. . . . Uh-huh, I’m learning a lot about racing. It could be a good sport for me with the skating. Okay, yeah. I’ll be home soon. . . . Yeah, I promise, no more late nights. . . .”
Nancy couldn’t believe her luck. She had the evidence she had come for, so she hurried back to her car.
• • •
“She did what?” Ned asked.