“Down the road warming up,” Jon replied.
A faint ray of hope touched Nancy. “Do you think there’s any way you could persuade her to drop out?”
“Yeah. After all, you’re her coach,” Ned said.
“I could give it a try,” Jon said. “I don’t think it’ll do any good, but what do I have to lose?”
A short while later George came back from her warm-up ride. Seeing Jon standing with Nancy and the others, she pointedly rode past them without a word and stopped instead by the starting line. She began talking to Tatyana.
Bad move, Nancy thought angrily. Tatyana’s coaches were standing not ten feet away, watching her! Didn’t George realize?
Jon went over to George and spoke to her for almost five minutes. Nancy saw him gesturing with his hands and pounding one fist into his other palm. George listened, saying nothing. When Jon was finished, she shook her head and rode away.
“It’s no use. She won’t drop out,” Jon reported.
Nancy’s heart sank. “That’s it, then. We’ll have to put our contingency plan into action. Did you bring the equipment, Ned?”
Ned lifted his knapsack. “Got it right here.”
“Good. Let’s get moving.”
• • •
Twenty minutes later an announcement over the loudspeaker called all the women to the starting line. Nancy and Ned were already there. Ned was in the backseat of the official car that would ride ahead of the cyclists. Nancy was in a support van that would ride behind them.
Pulling up the antenna of the walkie-talkie she was holding, Nancy punched the talk button. “Ned, can you hear me?”
Static crackled, then she heard Ned’s voice. “Loud and clear.”
“Great. I’m beginning to think this will work. The two of us should be able to keep George in sight all the way through the race.”
“Let’s hope so,” Ned replied. “I’ll check in again after the start.”
Nancy smiled. Having Ned’s help made her feel much better. She was glad she’d called him up the previous night, too. Between them they had come up with a plan to protect George until the Classic was over. Then Nancy had made the arrangements with the race officials while Ned rented the walkie-talkies.
Leaning forward in her seat, Nancy looked out the window. “Hey, it just hit me. George is riding her old bike. In fact, now that I think of it, she rode it yesterday. How come?”
“Disk wheels don’t accelerate fast enough for road racing,” Jon explained. He was driving the van. “They can be a problem if there’s any wind. You get blown across the road.”
“They act sort of like sails, huh?”
“That’s right.”
“You know, George really chose a great place to hide her disk-wheel bike. I suppose she put it there now, too,” Nancy said.
Jon chuckled. “Yeah. She’s pretty clever. And you can bet it’s there now.”
Nancy smiled. Hiding the bike in plain sight was a great way to confuse potential thieves. Just then Nancy’s thoughts were cut short. Prerace instructions were being given to the riders over the loudspeaker.
A few minutes later the race began. The course was ten kilometers long, and it started in the center of town. It cut through a housing development, went up a mile-long grade, swung through the state park, then wound back into town. The riders would go around four times.
“Watch for attacks on that long uphill grade,” Jon said as they started off.
“Attacks?” Nancy asked in alarm.
He shook his head. “Not the kind you’re thinking of. I’m talking about breakaway attempts. The main strategy in a road race is to break away with a small group. Then you can draft with them, and when you get to the sprint at the end of the race you won’t have so much competition.”
“The sprint?” Nancy stared at him in amazement. “Are you telling me that after racing forty kilometers, they actually sprint to the finish?”
Jon smiled. “You got it. Cycling isn’t a sport for slackers.”
“I guess not!”
Ahead of her, Nancy had a perfect view. At the front of the race there was a police motorcycle, followed by the official lead car, where Ned was. After that came the racers. Behind them were more motorcycles, plus support vehicles like the one she was in. A few had spare wheels—and even spare frames—on their roofs.
About halfway through the first lap, Nancy’s radio squawked. “How’s it look back there?” Ned asked.
“So far so good,” Nancy replied.
“Maybe we were worried about nothing.”
“I sure hope so, but let’s wait and see. It isn’t over yet.”
The racers tore down an incline, moving toward the town. In practically no time, they were back in the center of Summitville, zooming under the overhead banner at the start-finish line.
“Three more laps to go,” Jon said. “Not much action so far.”
There wasn’t much action on the second lap, either. On the third, however, there was a dramatic breakaway at the beginning of the long uphill grade. “There they go!” Jon said.
“Where’s George?” Nancy asked. She couldn’t pick out her friend.
“She’s stuck in the middle of the pack,” Jon announced. “Too bad. That break looks strong. By the time they hit the park, they’re going to be half a mile ahead.”
Jon was right. As Nancy watched, the gap between the breakaway riders and the field widened. A short while later, they were almost out of sight—and so was Ned.
The radio squawked. “Hope you’ve still got George in sight,” Ned said.
“Roger. I can see her clearly now. She’s moving up to the head of the field.”
“That’s good, because I—”
“Wait a minute! George is breaking away!” Nancy said, interrupting him.
“Solo?”
“Yes. She’s about fifty yards ahead of the field—sixty maybe. Can you see her?”
“No. We just came into the forest. All I can see are the lead riders.”
“Keep an eye out for her. At the rate she’s going, she should catch the breakaway group in a few minutes.”
“Let’s hope so,” Ned said anxiously.
Nancy released the talk button. Her heart was pounding.
Jon whistled softly. “That’s a gutsy move George is making.”
Nancy swallowed nervously. “If she makes it.”
Jon nodded. “She’s a strong rider, but we’ll have to wait and see.”
Nancy found Jon’s words ironic—she could barely see George at all. Then Nancy lost sight of her altogether.
“Ned, have you got George in sight yet?”
“Negative.” Ned’s voice was tense. “The break is picking up speed. She’ll have to work hard to catch up.”
For the next few minutes, Nancy waited nervously for word from Ned. It never came. Ahead of her, a police motorcycle left the support caravan, roared around the cyclists, and took off. What was going on? And why wasn’t the rider in uniform?
Finally, they were back in the center of Summitville again.
“Do you see George yet?” Nancy asked Ned.
“Negative,” the reply came back. “I guess she’s still halfway between us.”
Just then, the van crossed the start-finish line. “One more lap to go,” Jon said.
• • •
The next few minutes were agonizing. Ahead of Nancy, the field stayed together. There were no more breakaways. From Ned she learned that the leading breakaway was still intact, but George had not caught up to it. George was riding the last two laps solo! She had to be working very hard.
Finally, Nancy heard from Ned. “The breakaway just crossed the finish line,” he reported.
“Thanks.”
Nancy’s van crossed the line a few minutes later. As soon as they’d parked, she hopped out and went to find George. After a few minutes of looking, however, she still hadn’t found her. “Where is she?” she asked Ned when they met up.
“
I don’t know. Wait, there are Bess and Jon. Maybe they can tell us.”
But they hadn’t seen George, either. Bess hadn’t even seen her cross the finish line.
“Then what happened to her?” Ned asked.
Jon looked puzzled. “She wasn’t in the break, and she wasn’t with the field.”
“She didn’t finish in between them, either,” Bess said.
Nancy had a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want to believe it, but it was true—George had vanished!
Chapter
Sixteen
NANCY IMMEDIATELY BEGAN to organize a search. Going back along the route, they questioned all the spectators. Everyone said they’d seen George go by in the third lap, but no one had seen her during the fourth.
Nancy wasn’t sure that they’d ever see her again. But there was no point in telling anyone that. Having sent the others out to search, Nancy got into her car to hold a hurried conference with Ned. There were two possibilities to consider. Either George had been killed on the course, or she’d been kidnapped.
“The first possibility’s out,” Ned said reasonably.
“I agree.” Nancy nodded. “If George was killed on the course, we’d know about it already.”
“That leaves kidnapping, and that means we may still have time to save her. But how are we going to track her down?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know where to start!” Nancy said.
Then she remembered the motorcycle that had roared away from the support caravan. She grabbed Ned’s arm.
“Ned! When George broke away from the field and was riding so low, a motorcycle took off after her!”
“A policeman?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t a regular motorcycle cop. The driver wasn’t wearing a uniform.”
“All right! That’s the first decent clue we’ve had,” Ned said excitedly. “He could be our man. And if that’s true, maybe he forced George down a side street.”
“To a getaway car? That’s possible, but in that case someone would have seen them, right? It would have been reported.”
Ned drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “Maybe, but maybe not. It could have happened somewhere where no one was around.”
“True.”
“And if we can find that place, we may be able to pick up some clues.”
“Let’s go.”
Nancy started the car, and a minute later they were circling the course. They both looked right and left for deserted side streets.
“Ned, look! Over there—near that big tree stump.”
“Nancy, that’s just a path,” Ned said. “A car couldn’t get down there.”
“No, but a motorcycle could. Let’s check it out.”
Nancy slammed her own car into reverse, then backed into the path’s entrance. The Mustang fit but not by much. Branches scraped the car’s rear window.
Nancy opened her door and got out. “Come on, let’s see if we can find anything!”
The ground was dry, so there were no tire tracks to be seen. And there were no broken twigs or branches to indicate that a car had passed by recently.
They walked into the woods for about a quarter of a mile. Nothing. Ned thought it was a waste of time, but Nancy pushed on. She was certain that the trail would give them a clue to George’s whereabouts. Besides, it was the only lead they had.
Then, two hundred yards later, Nancy suddenly stopped.
“Ned!” She grabbed his arm. Sticking out from the bushes ahead of them was the rear wheel of George’s road bike! Its tire was flat, and its spokes were bent.
They ran up and pulled it out onto the path. As they did, Nancy spotted George. Her friend lay in a crumpled heap in the bushes, a large gash on the side of her head. She was breathing, Nancy saw, but she was unconscious.
As they pulled her out, Nancy silently vowed that she would find the people responsible for this and bring them to justice—no matter what!
• • •
An hour later Nancy sat in the emergency room at River Heights Hospital, waiting for a report from the doctors. She felt awful. She’d expected an attack from the side of the road, but why hadn’t she seen that anyone could just force George off the course?
Finally, a doctor in a surgical gown came into the room. George’s parents jumped up from their chairs. Nancy, Ned, Jon, and Bess crowded around, too.
“Doctor, what happened?” Mrs. Fayne asked.
“Is she going to be okay?” Jon questioned.
The doctor held up his hands. “One at a time. First, George is going to be fine. As for what happened, it appears that she was hit on the head with a heavy object.”
“Is she awake?” Mrs. Fayne asked.
“No, she’s still unconscious and probably will be for some time.”
Jon groaned.
Mr. Fayne stepped forward. “Doctor, will there be any permanent damage?”
“It’s too soon to say. She almost certainly has a concussion, but we won’t know how bad it is until we see the X rays.”
Nancy said goodbye to the others and quickly ran out to her car. She had to take some action. The time for sitting and contemplating was long past.
• • •
Nancy turned into the parking lot of the Imperial Motel. A light rain was falling. All over the courtyard, cyclists and their crews were packing cars, dashing back and forth from their rooms.
Nancy parked and switched off the engine, but she kept the windshield wipers going. Twenty yards away, the Soviet coach was standing in the door of Tatyana’s room, supervising the loading. Tatyana came out, carrying a suitcase.
At the sight of her, Nancy’s anger rose to the breaking point. It wasn’t fair, she thought. All George had wanted was to get to know Tatyana, a fellow cyclist. For that, she’d been subjected to several murder attempts and a visit to the hospital. Worse, the culprits were now getting away, and there was nothing Nancy could do with no evidence.
Chapter
Seventeen
NANCY HEADED HOME, her mind in turmoil. She owed it to George to apprehend her attacker. But where were the necessary clues and evidence?
Her frustration mounted when she arrived home. Turning into her driveway, she saw that Steven Lloyd’s car was there. Great, she thought. On top of everything else, she had to tell him that his protégée was hospitalized.
To her surprise, Steven wasn’t overly upset. In fact, once he was sure that George would be okay, he seemed to forget about her. He was preoccupied with his own troubles—the extortionist still hadn’t called back. What was holding him up? When would the program be returned?
“I tell you, Carson, this thing is driving me crazy,” he said. The three of them were sitting in Nancy’s father’s study. “If I don’t get that program back, and soon, it may not be worth anything. The thief may have sold it to someone already.”
The anguish in his voice was obvious, but Nancy didn’t know what to say. “If it helps any,” she told him, “I’ll be glad to make the next drop-off. As long as it doesn’t involve sharks!”
Steven smiled. “Thanks, but this time I intend to make the drop-off myself. I want to be sure I get my hands on the program.”
“You will.” Nancy’s father tried to console him. “Just hang on.”
Not long after that, the phone rang. It was the extortionist.
“What’s been keeping you?” Steven asked, angrily jabbing the talk button on the speaker-phone.
“Patience, Mr. Lloyd,” the electronic voice said. “There was a little problem on this end, but now it’s been cleared up. I’ll be ready to exchange your program for the money shortly. Stay by the telephone.” Click. Buzzzzz . . .
The three of them stared at the speakerphone.
“I wish I could figure out how he knows to call here,” her father said. “Did you tell anyone you were coming over?”
Steven shook his head. “No, it’s the same as before. I only wrote it down on my calendar.”
“Hmm,??
? Carson Drew mumbled, shaking his head. Then he shrugged. “Shall we go see if Hannah’s got dinner ready?”
“Sure. I hope she won’t be insulted if I don’t eat much. I’m really not hungry,” Steven said.
Nancy wasn’t hungry, either. Hannah had fixed corn chowder and sandwiches, but Nancy barely touched the food. Finally, after staring at her plate long enough, Nancy excused herself and went out to her car. Evening visiting hours at the hospital would end soon, and she wanted to check on her friend.
Twisting her car through the streets, Nancy thought about the case from every angle. Was it the KGB who had tried to kill George? And if it was, why, after so many attempts, hadn’t they succeeded? Why had they merely knocked her out and dumped her in the woods?
It didn’t make sense.
Unless it wasn’t the KGB at all. What if it was . . .
Suddenly Nancy slammed on the brakes. Excitement raced through her. She had it! Of course! Why hadn’t she seen it sooner? All along, she’d been asking herself the wrong question. The issue wasn’t why someone was trying to kill George but whether they were trying to kill her at all!
And if they weren’t, that meant—
Nancy pulled over to the side of the road and sat for a few minutes, working out the details in her head. Yes, all the pieces of the puzzle fit perfectly. The note—the pool—the car window—even the shark!
There was just one problem. She had to move fast. The culprit would be making his getaway—and soon!
Chapter
Eighteen
SHIFTING INTO GEAR again, Nancy drove to the nearest phone booth and called Ned at his house. Quickly, she explained the facts. “Meet me at the velodrome as fast as you can, okay? Oh, and Ned?”
“Yes?”
“Call my father. He’ll want to know what’s going on.”
She hung up, raced back to her car, and took off. The velodrome wasn’t far away, but it was important for her to get there as fast as she could.
When she arrived, Nancy swung into the parking lot. It was empty. Slamming her door, she raced to the entrance gate. It was open, so she went right in.