069 Running Scared Page 10

  "Nicotine? You mean like in tobacco?"

  "Right. It's a colorless liquid alkaloid. A minute amount in a glass of water can be fatal. Munk obviously studied chemistry. The lab guys say you can distill the stuff out without sophisticated equipment."

  "Oh, no," Nancy said, feeling a sense of foreboding. "Is it tasteless, too?"

  "Actually, according to the lab people, it's very bitter and unpleasant."

  "I can't see how he'd sneak it into anyone's food or drink, then," Nancy mused aloud.

  "Me, neither. Have you come up with any brilliant ideas on how we can grab Munk?"

  "I'm afraid not," Nancy said glumly.

  Sergeant Stokes was silent for a moment. "Neither have we," he said. "We're going to let Annette run. Our only hope is to draw him out that way."

  "What's the plan?" Nancy asked.

  "Zandt and I are going to be just behind the starting area by eight. That's where to find us, if you need us. We've got all the officers we can to work the marathon. They'll be strung along the course, in radio contact with us. And we've got a guy on a scooter, but I'm not sure how much good he'll be able to do. We've got strict orders from the runners association not to interfere with the top runners' progress."

  After thanking the sergeant, Nancy hung up. She quickly dressed in jeans and a shirt.

  "Breakfast time," George announced brightly, emerging from the bathroom. She was wrapped in one of the hotel's huge, fluffy bath towels and was drying her hair with another.

  Nancy gave her Stokes's news. "I don't get it. What will Munk do with nicotine?" George asked.

  Nancy shrugged. "Maybe try to poison Annette with it, though I have no idea how," she admitted.

  "Ugh!" said George, shivering. "I'm glad the cops are going to be protecting her." Patting her stomach, she said, "I'm going to burn a lot of fuel today. I need breakfast. I can be ready in five minutes. What about you guys?"

  "I'll be ready," Nancy said. "But I don't know about Bess." As Nancy headed into the bathroom, she called loudly, "Bess! Wake up!"

  "Mmmph," muttered Bess, opening one eye.

  "I heard, I heard. I'll meet you in the coffee shop in about twenty minutes, okay?"

  "Okay, but get a move on," said George, who was putting on silky blue shorts and her Heartland Marathon T-shirt with her race number, 6592, pinned to it.

  A few minutes later George and Nancy were sitting in the coffee shop. They ordered, and as soon as their breakfast was served, George dug into her huge plate of pancakes with gusto.

  "You need carbohydrates when you're going to be burning energy at the rate I will be today."

  "I know, I know," Nancy said, laughing. "You've told us often enough." Nancy did not feel hungry, though, and barely touched her bacon and eggs. Through the coffee shop's glass wall, she watched the buzzing activity in the lobby.

  "Who are all those people?" she asked George, pointing to a large group, all of whom were wearing orange Day-Glo vests with H 2 0 marked on the backs in big block letters.

  "They're the volunteers who'll be manning the water stations," George explained. "The stations are at intervals along the course. The volunteers hand out water and sports drinks as we go by. You get pretty dehydrated, you know."

  "I'll bet," Nancy said. "Running twenty-six miles must—" She broke off and stared into the lobby. "George, look."

  A middle-aged man had just staggered in through the front door, bleeding from a gash on his forehead. He was quickly helped to a chair by a couple of the volunteers.

  "Come on," Nancy said, getting up from the table. "I want to see what this is about."

  "He just sprang at me," the man was saying when Nancy and George reached him. "Hit me with a tire iron, yanked off my vest, and ran."

  "You mean the H 2 0 vest?" Nancy asked.

  The man nodded just as the hotel's doctor arrived. Nancy stepped back to give the doctor room.

  "George, that's it!" Nancy said excitedly, grabbing George's arm. "Munk is going to be at one of those stations with his own supply of doctored water. That's how he'll try to poison Annette!"

  George stared at her in horror.

  "The worst thing is," Nancy went on grimly, "there are dozens of stations. We don't have a clue as to which one he'll be at!"

  Chapter Eighteen

  "This is awful!" George exclaimed. "What can we do?"

  "I'm not sure," said Nancy. "Let's finish breakfast and talk."

  Back at the table George stared glumly down at her stack of cold pancakes.

  "How do the water stations work?" Nancy asked.

  "They have cups on a table, and the volunteers fill them from big containers. Then they hold the cups out to runners as they go by." George shot Nancy a worried glance. "You think Munk will try to slip Annette a cup of bad water?"

  "Probably," Nancy replied. "She'll be concentrating on the race. There's a good chance she'll grab the water without looking at him."

  "Hi, guys!" Bess said brightly. She sat down at the table and opened a menu. "Any news on Munk?" When Nancy explained about the nicotine, Bess looked appalled.

  "I was wondering how anyone would drink the stuff if it tastes so bad," Nancy went on. "But when you're dehydrated, you'd gulp it down before you realized what it was. By then it's too late."

  George jumped up from the table. "We'd better tell the police what's going on, right now!"

  The starting area at Daley Plaza was total bedlam when the charter bus from the hotel let off Nancy, Bess, George, and dozens of other runners. Runners swarmed all over, doing stretches, jogging in place, and finding their starting positions behind the red ribbon strung across a street bordering the plaza.

  "The top runners have their own starting point a few blocks away," George explained. "That way their start isn't hampered by the pack—that's regular runners like me."

  "I hope the police already have a man with Annette," Nancy said. "Oh—there they are." She pointed to a patrol car parked about fifty yards away. Sergeant Stokes and Detective Zandt were standing next to it.

  "I'd better join the runners," George said, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. Nancy could see that despite the danger, George was really excited about this marathon.

  "Good luck," she said, hugging George. "I know you'll do great. And look at the volunteers before you drink any water—and take just a tiny taste first. Then spit it out if it tastes bad!"

  "I will. I hope you find Munk before anyone else gets hurt," George said.

  Bess suddenly grinned, pointing over George's shoulder. "Look who's here!" she said.

  Kevin Davis, wearing a maroon ICT blazer, was making his way through the crowd toward them. Behind him, near the starting line, Nancy saw an ICT van with a cameraman perched on top, getting shots of the vast sea of runners.

  George's eyes sparkled as she turned and saw Kevin. "Hi!" she said.

  "I can't stay," Kevin said, fingering the silver charm around George's neck. "See you at the finish line, George," he said, gently squeezing her shoulder. "Good luck."

  As George went off to join the growing mob of entrants, an idea suddenly occurred to Nancy. Turning to Kevin, she said, "I need your help."

  "Now? I'm pretty busy, Nancy. Can't it wait?"

  "This is a matter of life and death," Nancy replied. "I mean that literally."

  Kevin frowned, but he let Nancy lead him over to Sergeant Stokes and Detective Zandt.

  "We found out something that might help find him," Nancy said. She told the officers about the man they suspected was Munk stealing a Day-Glo vest from a water volunteer.

  Detective Zandt listened while leaning against the door of the police car. "Let's have the men

  pay special attention to those water stations," he told his partner.

  Sergeant Stokes nodded and gave orders on the squad car radio.

  "How can I help?" Kevin asked.

  "You'll be following the lead runners, right?" Nancy asked. When he nodded, she said, "I want to ride with you
r van, along with Sergeant Stokes or Detective Zandt. That way we can grab Munk when he makes his move."

  Kevin looked dubious. "I don't know. We're crowded as it is," he explained. "There's the cameraman, a sound man, and the driver and me, plus racks of gear ..."

  His voice trailed off as he saw the determined expression on Nancy's face. "Oh, all right," he relented. "I guess I can fit you in."

  "Good," Stokes said. "I'll stay here, since this is our central communications base. Zandt, you and Nancy and her friend go with the ICT van. Take a radio and stay in touch."

  "Let's go," the detective said.

  Nancy, Bess, and the detective followed as Kevin sprinted toward his van, dodging through the crowd. Within five minutes they were all set up. Kevin and his crew manned the van's rooftop camera, and Zandt, Nancy, and Bess sat below. At the detective's request the van's rear doors were tied open, so they would have the clearest view possible of the runners and the water stations.

  "I don't think Munk will make a move until the middle of the race," said Nancy as they drove to the other starting line. "He'd want to catch

  Annette when she's likely to be tired and dehydrated and really in need of that drink."

  The detective nodded, his eyes on the runners. "I hope we'll be able to keep track of Annette in this crowd."

  Following his gaze, Nancy spotted Annette and Renee in the prime spots at the starting line. Dozens of runners stood crowded together behind them. "They won't stay all jammed together for long," Nancy said. "They'll thin out."

  A voice over a loudspeaker said, "The Heartland Marathon will begin in one minute."

  There was electricity in the air. Runners and technicians stood waiting. "Take your marks," said the amplified voice. "Get set. . ."

  The sound of the starter's gun made Nancy jump. The next thing she knew, the top runners were setting off. The van moved forward at roughly the runners' pace, and Nancy, Bess, and Detective Zandt craned their necks to keep Annette in view. Above them the cameraman was getting panoramic shots of the runners as they jockeyed for position. Kevin was speaking into a microphone.

  As Nancy had predicted, it wasn't long before some runners moved ahead. Annette established herself as the front runner, slightly ahead of Renee. The crowds lining the route cheered the runners as they passed.

  As the van reached the first water station, Nancy tried to focus on each volunteer in turn. There was no sign of Munk. At each succeeding station she felt more tense, wondering, Could this be the one?

  At the twelve-mile mark they hadn't seen Munk yet. They passed the halfway mark at just over thirteen miles. Still nothing.

  "We've been at this for over an hour," Bess said, her eyes scouring the crowds lining the course.

  "Water station up ahead on our right," Detective Zandt called.

  Nancy watched closely. The large folding table held many cups and was manned by a dozen or so volunteers. The van was ten yards ahead of Annette when Nancy saw a volunteer with longish dark hair edge forward with two paper cups in his hand. She stared to make absolutely certain . . .

  "It's him!" she said, keeping her voice down so that Munk wouldn't hear. "In front of the table!"

  At a word from Detective Zandt the van slowed to a crawl, and he, Nancy, and Bess jumped out. "Stokes? We have him spotted," Detective Zandt said into his radio as he went. He quickly gave the location.

  Nancy hit the ground running and dashed toward Munk. She was ten yards away when he saw her. For an instant his eyes locked with hers. Then he whirled and started to sprint away.

  Nancy was on him before he could get up any speed. She launched herself forward, slamming her shoulder into his legs, and he crumpled forward. Before he could get up, Detective Zandt had pinioned Munk's hands behind his back and put handcuffs on him. He jerked the man roughly to his feet.

  "Are you crazy?" Munk shouted. "I'm a volunteer here!"

  "It's all over," Nancy told him. "We know everything. . . Mr. Munk. When Gina Giraldi recovers, she'll be able to put you away for a long time."

  Calvin Munk paled, and his jaw muscles clenched. "I should have killed her when I had the chance!" he spat out. "And Annette—she deserves to die! She ruined my life! She remembered me . .. the scandal. She threatened to go public—"

  "Don't worry," Bess cut in. "Annette will pay for what she did, too."

  While the detective read Munk his rights, two squad cars pulled up on a side road, sirens wailing.

  "Why did you attack Gina Giraldi?" Nancy asked as two uniformed officers came to take Calvin Munk away. "Did she recognize you, too?"

  The man nodded. "I think so. I recognized her, from Europe. When I heard that reporter say that Gina would expose someone connected with the marathon, I couldn't take the chance that it was me. I had to shut her up first."

  "You were the one who tried to drop that huge pot on our heads!" Bess accused.

  Munk glared at her. "You were stupid not to get the message and back off." He was still ranting angrily when the patrolmen led him to their car.

  "Come on," Detective Zandt said, heading for the other squad car.

  "Where are we going?" Nancy asked.

  "To the finish line," he replied. "You want to be there when we collar Annette Lang, don't you?"

  The finish line was in Grant Park, under a decorative archway. A digital clock on top of the arch ticked off the time elapsed since the start of the race. It read 2:18. Reporters, photographers, and fans were waiting for the lead runners to appear.

  Nancy noticed Irene Neff pacing nervously near the red tape. She went over to the woman and told her about Calvin Munk. Irene's jaw dropped in amazement.

  "Renee will be upset," she said. "Charles helped to make her what she is."

  Nancy returned to where Bess, Detective Zandt, and Sergeant Stokes were standing, just beyond the reporters at the finish line.

  "The lead runners will be here in about fifteen minutes," Sergeant Stokes informed them. "Last we heard, Renee Clark and Annette Lang were neck and neck."

  "I wonder how George is doing?" said Bess.

  "She won't finish for at least an hour after the winner," Nancy said.

  Soon she heard a burst of cheering and applause, then more cheering, even closer. As the cheering grew still louder, she saw Renee Clark sprint to the tape. She looked tired and winded, but her face was lit up in a winner's smile. Behind her by a hundred yards was Annette Lang, running as hard as she could.

  Irene Neff rushed up to Renee, and the two hugged. Nancy heard Renee ask, "Where's Charles?"

  "He couldn't be here," said Irene. "I'll explain after you meet the press." Renee's beaming grin faded to a look of puzzled concern, but she let herself be led to the circle of reporters.

  As Annette crossed the finish line, cameras flashed, and there was more cheering. The detectives waited until she had caught her breath, then approached her.

  "We'd like to talk to you, Ms. Lang," said Sergeant Stokes.

  "Now? Why?" Annette asked, taken aback. "It'll have to wait—I'll be with the press for a while."

  "Do you want your arrest filmed for the evening news?" Stokes asked.

  Annette gave a short, sharp laugh. "My arrest? I'm the victim here, remember?"

  "Annette, I found out who was responsible for the threats against you," Nancy said, meeting Annette's glare. "I found out that it was you."

  "Calvin Munk is under arrest," Sergeant Stokes added. "He's talking to my men now."

  When Annette didn't say anything, Nancy said, "That's a nasty bruise on your shin. That must be from when I kicked you, after you attacked me at the Winning Margin."

  Annette gave a long sigh, "You could never understand," she said. "After all this time in the spotlight, I couldn't see myself becoming a has-been, tomorrow's trivia. I figured if I could get a shot at TV work, I'd still be a somebody."

  "How did you connect Munk and Mellor?" Nancy wanted to know.

  "His handwriting," Annette said. "He looks a lot differe
nt now from the way he did then—new hair color, clean-shaven, thinner—everything. But once I saw his writing, I saw through the rest. I knew it was him."

  Annette smiled, as if she were proud of her treachery. "He once sent me a note of congratulations for a race I won in France. The day we got here, I saw him pin a note to Renee on the message board, and I recognized the writing— it's very distinctive. I already had the plan, but I needed someone to help me, and I put the pressure on him. But I had nothing to do with Gina!" she exclaimed. "That was his doing!"

  "You still have plenty to answer for," Sergeant Stokes said, leading her to a police car. He stopped and turned to Nancy.

  "I have to hand it to you. You'd make a fine police officer."

  Nancy blushed and murmured her thanks. The police drove away with Annette, but Nancy and Bess waited for George near the huge digital clock. Kevin joined them a while later.

  More and more runners were coming across the finish line. A few collapsed and were helped up by volunteers and taken to first-aid stations.

  "There she is!" Bess screamed, pointing down the course. It was George, looking more elated than tired. At the finish line she looked up at the clock, and her face lit up.

  Bess rushed over and flung her arms around her. "Three hours, forty-seven minutes! A per-

  sonal record!" George gasped, returning Bess's hug and then doing the same with Nancy. "Munk," she said, "is he—"

  "In custody. Annette, too," Nancy assured her.

  "Hi," said Kevin, giving George a big hug. "Good work. I was thinking of making a trip to River Heights—maybe in a week," Kevin went on. "How does that sound?"

  "It sounds perfect," George told him, grinning. "I can't wait!"

  Kevin turned to Bess. "Listen, I have a friend I think you'd like to meet. Want me to call him tonight? We can all go out to dinner together."

  Bess's blue eyes shone for a second. Then she got a suspicious look on her face.

  "What does he do?"

  "He's a runner, middle-distance events—"

  "No, thanks," Bess said, cutting him off. "I'll pass."