Deadly Doubles Page 2

  It was not the time to think about that. The sun was already low in the sky. With stiff fingers Nancy worked the handkerchief free from her mouth and spat out the gag that had been thrust inside. Her mouth was dry and raw, and she could hardly swallow. Then she attacked the bonds around her ankles. No wonder they had hurt! They were made of thick wire, the ends twisted around each other, and were so tight that her ankles had already swollen slightly around them.

  At last Nancy was able to pull the wires free. She folded them carefully and looked around. Her purse! What had become of her purse?

  The dark blue pouch with its shoulder strap lay only a few yards away. So it, too, had been thrown out of the car. Nancy tried to scramble to her feet, but her legs wouldn’t hold her. The welts where the wires had been throbbed agonizingly. She crawled over to the small duffel bag and zipped it open. Her eyes narrowed.

  The bag had been searched! Nancy knew very well she had put her car keys in her change purse, but she pawed through her bag and found them loose on the bottom.

  Those men seemed like pros, but they were either new at this or careless, she thought.

  Nothing inside the purse had been taken. Nancy stowed the wires, gags, and blindfold inside and zipped the bag carefully. Then, with difficulty, she pulled herself up by holding on to a nearby tree.

  I have to make sure I look all right before I see anybody, she decided.

  If she walked slowly, she could manage. Gingerly, Nancy made her way out of the field and then along the lane and through the parking lots, leaning against cars for support. She checked her watch and was startled to see that it was only a quarter to five. The afternoon tennis matches were still going on.

  A glance at her reflection in a glass door brought Nancy up short. She was a mess! She was looking in the same door she’d gone through an eternity earlier, and she saw what she’d missed before: steel letters on the wall beside the doors. Hollins Gymnasium. This must be where the players dress. And if there’s a locker room, there are showers, Nancy thought with relief.

  She opened the door. The two security guards she saw scrutinized her government pass carefully before waving her on. Nancy made her way along the empty corridors until she found the locker room and the showers.

  Safely in one of the stalls, Nancy pulled the heavy plastic curtain shut and stripped off her clothes. She showered quickly, trying to keep her hair dry, then bathed her injured ankles in cold water for several minutes. Afterward she dried off with a towel she’d grabbed from the supply table and dressed again. Fortunately, she’d been wearing cotton socks, and when she pulled them up the swelling in her ankles didn’t show much. After applying a dab of lip gloss, Nancy made her way outside.

  Forcing herself to walk as normally as possible, Nancy went slowly toward the tennis courts. She followed some other spectators down a flagstone path to the entrance gate.

  Then she saw something that made her stop abruptly. She was so startled that it took a few moments before she realized what the woman at the gate was asking. “What? Oh, yes . . . I have a box-seat ticket. It’s here somewhere.” Even as Nancy searched through her purse and handed over her ticket for the afternoon matches, she was staring at the large display board next to the entranceway.

  It was covered with pictures of tournament players. One of them was an action shot of a player leaping into the air to return a lob.

  Except for a difference in tennis style and slightly darker hair, the girl in the photograph could have been a mirror image of Nancy herself!

  The realization struck Nancy all at once. She had been snatched coming out of the players’ dressing area, wearing clothes that could easily have been mistaken for a tennis outfit. She had been kidnapped in error, mistaken for someone else. And that person, very likely, was the young athlete pictured flying into the air to smash back her opponent’s shot!

  “Nancy!” The loud voice was unmistakably George’s, and right on top of it came Bess’s. “Nancy, where have you been? We were worried sick!”

  Her two friends were hurrying toward her from the grandstand. “Bess has been having a fit,” George said anxiously. “Especially after we phoned the hotel and the woman at the desk said she thought you’d left a couple of hours ago. What happened?”

  Around them, people were staring curiously. “Something came up. Tell you about it later,” Nancy said quickly. It wasn’t the place to share her experience, particularly if her suspicions were true. The best place for Nancy and her friends was in their box seats, where they’d be in full view of the crowd—and where Nancy would have a good view. She intended to keep a sharp eye out for the reappearance of her kidnappers.

  “Let’s go watch the tournament,” she said brightly. “How much have I missed? Any cute guys around, Bess?” Nancy hoped the question would divert Bess from any probing questions of her own.

  “Never mind that right now,” George interrupted. “Teresa Montenegro’s first game will start any minute. I don’t want to miss it.” She hurried the other two to a corner aisle and up the open wooden steps to their end box.

  “Boy, was I glad to see you,” Bess chattered, settling into her seat. “With all the security guys prowling around this place, I was beginning to be afraid . . . which is pretty silly, isn’t it?” she finished, laughing.

  “Shh!” someone in the box behind them hissed loudly.

  Nancy turned toward the court. Her mind was racing. “All the security guys prowling around”—what did that mean? As everyone else watched a well-known American player walk briskly onto the court, Nancy caught George’s arm and whispered the question to her.

  “Because of Teresa,” George whispered back. “Her country’s a dictatorship, you know. I overheard somebody say there’s been a bomb threat.”

  “Here?” Nancy asked, shocked.

  George nodded. “There even were people picketing in front of the tennis stadium. This is the first time San Carlos has ever sent an athlete to an international competition. Some big shot from her government’s coming to D.C. this week just to watch—and a lot of people don’t like it.”

  With effort, Nancy kept her face from betraying anything. The San Carlos diplomat wasn’t just coming to watch Teresa play. He would be here to meet with Senator Kilpatrick’s top-secret committee—that was what the senator had told Nancy on the phone the night before.

  All at once a roar went up from the crowd, followed by loud applause.

  A slender figure of about Nancy’s height was walking onto the court. Nancy saw the girl’s eyes flick back and forth apprehensively as she moved past the rows of spectators. Her light brown shoulder-length hair caught the last rays of the sinking sun.

  “That’s Teresa Montenegro!” George said excitedly. “Hey, she looks a little like you, Nan, don’t you think? Her mother was Irish, you know. That’s where Teresa got her light hair and blue eyes.”

  As George chattered on, a chill ran down Nancy’s spine. She had never seen Teresa before, but somehow she knew what she was thinking, knew the way she would leap in the air to return a high-bouncing shot—and knew why she was afraid.

  Teresa Montenegro was the girl in the photograph, the girl who was the image of Nancy Drew!

  Chapter Three

  “NANCY, THIS IS incredible,” Bess suddenly exclaimed, turning to Nancy. “Teresa Montenegro is almost your exact double!”

  “Almost, nothing,” George said. “Now that I look closely, she could be your twin sister!”

  Nancy’s gaze never left Teresa as she responded, “We look enough alike . . . to confuse anyone . . . even professional . . .”

  Afterward, Nancy was able to remember very little of that first match she watched Teresa play. Her eyes were too busy scanning the crowd for possible threats. Her mind was too busy piecing things together.

  First I’m abducted, and then I’m dumped because a mistake was made, Nancy thought. No, that’s not first. First there’s Senator Kilpatrick and her mysterious committee, and the senator’s calling me
to do a secret errand. Then the snatching. Now here’s Teresa looking like me—and looking scared. And the bomb threat!

  Teresa had to be the connecting link between the pieces. I have to see Teresa, and fast, Nancy decided.

  As soon as the match ended, with Teresa winning, Nancy began pushing her way out of the box.

  Before she was at the bottom of the wooden staircase, George and Bess had caught up with her. “What’s going on? Talk!” George ordered.

  “Not here! Keep up with me till we find an open space.” Nancy started to run toward the gym with the other two close behind. “Find out if Teresa’s gone in there yet,” Nancy told George, who took one look at Nancy’s taut face and obeyed. Without being told, Bess slid the binoculars off Nancy’s arm and began to watch the approaching crowd.

  “Teresa’s just leaving the field with a cute guy. They’re walking this way,” she reported just as George reappeared.

  “Great. Then we have a few minutes.” Nancy led them a short way from the gym to a deserted patch of open lawn. In a low voice and with as few words as possible, she told them about her abduction and her suspicions.

  George whistled. “Have you called the police yet? . . . You’ve got to,” she said when Nancy shook her head. “Even if Teresa’s not in danger, something’s going on! You can identify those men.”

  “From the way they acted, I think they’re professionals, but they’re inexperienced—or they’d have made sure who I was before they grabbed me. It might be a good idea to let Senator Kilpatrick know what happened before I call the police.” Nancy broke off, her eyes narrowing.

  Teresa and her companion had reached the road. They crossed it, so deep in talk that neither of them looked up. Just as well, Nancy thought. The “cute guy” was the stunning dark-haired, dark-eyed athlete who had let Nancy cut through the gym building earlier. But instead of entering the building, Teresa and the young man veered around it and headed toward the parking lots.

  Nancy turned to Bess and George. “I have to warn her. You two meet me back at the hotel. There’s a shuttle bus from here that you can take. Okay?” She sped off after Teresa and her companion.

  By the time Nancy reached the parking lot, the two athletes were already ahead by several rows of cars. Nancy saw a group of fans stop the San Carlos girl for autographs. Almost immediately the man with her pulled her away from them. Then, still holding her, he began to run toward the next lot.

  Another abduction? Nancy picked up speed. Suddenly, as they stopped beside a blue car, he released Teresa’s arm.

  Teresa abruptly turned to throw her arms around his neck.

  Nancy’s mind eased a little. From the way the two were kissing, it was clear that they were in love. It was also clear that they were in a hurry, and she thought Teresa looked a bit frightened. He unlocked the driver’s door and, instead of going around to unlock the other, motioned for Teresa to climb behind the wheel and then slide over. She obeyed.

  As the man climbed into the driver’s seat, Nancy began to run. She was able to reach her rented car and gun the motor before the athletes’ blue car nosed its way to the lot exit. But instead of turning toward the main road it swung into the lane, heading straight toward Nancy.

  It passed her and zoomed down the dirt road, traveling at high speed.

  Nancy swung her car into a tight three-point turn and took off after them.

  The two cars bounced onto the highway and headed in the direction of Alexandria. Soon they were swallowed up in homebound traffic. Nancy began a skillful game of cat and mouse, trying to stay only one or two cars behind the blue car. She couldn’t afford either to lose them or to alarm them.

  They passed the Tyson’s Corner shopping mall and the skyscrapers of Crystal City. National Airport loomed ahead of her, then lay behind. At last the blue car was rolling, exactly at the speed limit, along Washington Street.

  It turned a corner with a screech of the wheels—and swung into the driveway of the very hotel where Nancy and her friends were staying.

  Nancy followed the car into the underground garage and parked several spaces away. Was her raincoat still in the backseat? It was. She pulled it on and thrust on sunglasses. They might look ridiculous, but they’d keep Teresa’s companion from recognizing her. What Nancy had to say to Teresa she meant to say in private.

  Her hopes of getting into the elevator with the two athletes were defeated. The young man pushed the Close button as soon as he and Teresa were inside. But Nancy had noticed the mirrored back wall of the elevator car, and she watched which floor button he pushed. Hoping that the elevator would get held up at the lobby, she tore up the emergency stairs and was loitering in the third-floor corridor as the two stepped out.

  They hurried down the corridor and around a bend. As she pretended to unlock the door to one of the rooms, Nancy saw them exchange a few words. They seemed to be arguing. Teresa shook her head. Then she rose on tiptoe to kiss the young man—hard—broke off to unlock her door, and slipped inside.

  The handsome athlete strode rapidly down the hall toward Nancy. As soon as he passed her, Nancy ran to Teresa’s room, pulling her glasses and raincoat off as she did so. She knocked sharply.

  After a moment a guarded, Spanish-accented voice replied, “Who is it?”

  “Housekeeping. I have your extra towels.” Nancy was glad she’d noticed that the hotel didn’t provide many. She hoped that through the peephole her knit top would look like a maid’s uniform to Teresa.

  After what seemed like minutes, Nancy heard the sound of a dead-bolt lock being thrown. A chain clinked. Then the door opened wide enough for a stack of towels to be passed through.

  Nancy and Teresa looked straight into each other’s eyes.

  Teresa’s expression turned from surprise to fear—and then to shock as she realized the strong resemblance between them.

  At that moment a loud yell came from the direction of the elevator. It was followed instantly by the rapid fire of an automatic pistol.

  Chapter Four

  INSTANTLY NANCY SHOVED Teresa back into her room and slammed the door shut. “I’m a detective. I work for the U.S. government.” Nancy spoke in Spanish, as rapidly as she was able. If she didn’t quite work for the federal government, working for a senator was the closest thing to it. “Stay inside! Lock the door and don’t open it till I come back and say, ‘It’s Nancy. It’s okay’!”

  She saw comprehension flood Teresa’s face, and as she dashed off she heard the door lock. Nancy turned the corner and came to a complete stop in front of the elevator.

  The corridors in both directions were empty. The red lights on the plaque above the elevator showed that the car was going down, down, all the way to the garage level before it stopped.

  It was too late to catch whoever was on the elevator. Nancy scooped up the house phone on the console table opposite the elevator door. “This is an emergency! Send someone from Security to the third floor right away!”

  As she dropped the receiver Nancy detected a faint moaning. Her heart pounding, she traced the sound to a room scarcely fifteen feet away. Should she wait or take a chance?

  If someone was wounded, there was no time to lose. Nancy hammered on the door, then tried the handle.

  “Just a minute, miss!” A heavy hand closed on Nancy’s shoulder. As she jerked around, the burly man produced his badge. “Security. Suppose you explain what’s going on.”

  Quickly Nancy identified herself. “I’m a guest on the floor below. I phoned for you because I heard shots—right here by the elevator, I’m sure. And I just heard moaning from beyond this door.”

  “There’s no moaning now,” the house detective answered skeptically. Sure enough, the third floor was as quiet as a tomb. “From the second floor, are you? What were you doing up here, anyway?”

  “Visiting a friend,” Nancy said briefly. “And I did hear shots!” Rapidly Nancy scanned the walls and floor around the elevator. Suddenly she dove beneath the console table. “Look at this,”
she exclaimed as she straightened up. “It’s a spent bullet. A nine-millimeter, isn’t it?”

  The detective’s eyes narrowed. “You heard moaning? As if somebody’d been hit?”

  “I’m not sure. It was very weak, but there doesn’t seem to be any blood around here.”

  The detective knocked on the door. “Security! I’m holding my badge up to the peephole for you to see. Open the door or I’m coming in with a passkey!”

  The door opened slowly. “Oh, thank goodness. I’ve been so frightened,” a small, white-haired woman said weakly. “I tried to call the front desk to tell them, but my hands were shaking so—”

  “Tell them what?” Nancy asked gently.

  “Why, about the kidnapping—” The little woman stopped, gasping for air. Nancy steered her to a velvet chair as the detective went to the bathroom for a glass of water.

  “Drink that, and try to tell me. I’m sorry, ma’am, but it may be important.”

  “Yes, I know.” The woman sipped some water, then went on. “I’m Mrs. Sherman. Mrs. John Sherman, from Atlanta. I was taking a nap before dinner. And I heard pushing and shoving coming from the hall outside. Then somebody screamed. I suppose I shouldn’t have, but I—I opened the door a crack. I was afraid it was children playing, you know, and that one of them was hurt. So I looked out—”

  Mrs. Sherman swallowed hard. “That’s when the shots came. And I saw three men—no, four. One of them had the gun. He was pointing it at a nice young man while the two others were shoving him into the elevator.” She spread her hands. “I would have helped him if I could! But it was happening so fast—they fell into the elevator, and the door slammed, and then I—I started having a dizzy spell.”

  The detective strode to the telephone. “This is Dixon. There are a couple of patrolmen having coffee in the coffee shop. Get them up to Room Three-twenty-two pronto!” he ordered. Then he turned back to the woman and took out a pen and notepad. “Do you think you can describe the men you saw?”