Deadly Doubles Page 6

  It was three A.M.—two hours after the accident. In that time Nancy and her friends had been rescued by patrolmen in a passing police car who had seen the wreck. Dan had succeeded in convincing them that it was all a classified government matter. Unfortunately, that had involved notifying Senator Kilpatrick.

  While Dan was getting chewed out by his superiors, Senator Kilpatrick was on the telephone to Nancy’s father, who chewed her out for putting his daughter in such a dangerous position. Then Carson Drew had spoken to Nancy.

  “Dad, I’m all right,” Nancy had insisted. “Dan did a wonderful job of getting the wagon under control. He got us out before the fire could start. We’re all just fine!” Nancy said, rubbing one of several bruises.

  “Things are far from fine,” her father had interrupted. “Marilyn finally told me the whole story. I’m flying down tomorrow.”

  Soon after Carson Drew got off the phone, the much needed call came through from Ned. Nancy almost cried, she was so tired and so glad to hear his voice. But the note in hers only made Ned more worried.

  “I’m coming down with your father,” Ned said immediately.

  “Ned, you really don’t need to. I’ll take care of myself, I promise. And if I don’t, Dan will.”

  “The way he did tonight? Exactly who is that character?” Ned asked suspiciously.

  Nancy laughed. “A very smart, go-getter jock who’s a whiz kid for the local police and who—I think—is angling for a job with Senator Kilpatrick. You’d like him. And he,” Nancy added with emphasis, “likes Bess.”

  She was relieved to hear Ned laugh. “Okay, I get the message. Maybe I’m going overboard worrying, but I love you.”

  “I love you, too. And thanks for worrying. I’ll call you if I need you, I promise.”

  “How about calling ’cause you want me?” Ned asked. Nancy laughed and put down the phone, feeling much better.

  The next thing she knew, it was nine A.M., and Bess was shaking her awake. “The senator’s on the phone.”

  Nancy struggled to a sitting position, still half-asleep. “Where is everybody?”

  “George took the bus to Loudon to watch Teresa warm up for the afternoon match. Dan’s gone out to buy a newspaper. He’s already brought us breakfast. He didn’t want room service to know anyone’s in here. Nancy, come on! The senator’s practically spitting bullets!”

  Nancy reached for the phone.

  “About time!” the senator’s husky voice said crisply. “I want to see you. At the tournament. Be there by ten-thirty.”

  “Has anything more happened?” Nancy demanded.

  “I can’t talk.” The senator hung up.

  “You look awful,” Bess said frankly, reappearing with a container of orange juice and a bag of doughnuts.

  “What do you expect after we sat up talking till five?” Nancy bit into a doughnut, eyeing Bess. “I must say you’ve recovered remarkably. And you got even less sleep, I’ll bet.”

  “Dan must be good for me,” Bess said. “Nancy, go back to sleep for a little longer. You don’t have to go to the tournament this minute. Teresa’s got a whole gang of bodyguards.”

  “You mean the government finally came through?”

  “Not ours. Hers,” Bess said. “Roberto’s murder also made the headlines down there. The San Carlos government’s calling it a ‘provocative international incident.’ Their people are keeping surveillance on Teresa, and our people are keeping surveillance on them.”

  “Scratch the sleep,” Nancy said resignedly. “I’m taking a shower and going out there.”

  By ten-thirty she was out at Loudon College, just in time to join George and watch the end of Teresa’s workout. “This place is really crawling with cops today,” George reported. “All types and all nationalities. Things are getting sticky.”

  “Tell me about it,” Nancy retorted glumly, thinking about the hit list.

  “If you ask me,” George said decidedly, “Roberto’s death was deliberate political murder.”

  “I agree,” said Nancy. “But by which side? We don’t even know for sure whether forces inside or outside San Carlos are responsible.”

  One thing was certain. Keeping everything hush-hush was rapidly becoming impossible.

  Nancy looked around casually. Two college security guards were talking together at the far end of the court. Another stood near Nancy. Three U.S. government men were wandering around, looking out of place in business suits. Several Latin men were also gathered nearby. They were leaning against the wire fence, watching Nancy and George. Those must be the guards Bess had spoken of.

  Nancy shuddered. She was beginning to wonder what fate Teresa’s government had in store for her. The papers that morning had been full of rumors about how cruel and totalitarian the dictatorship was.

  “Buenos días, Nancy.” Teresa came toward Nancy and George, wiping her forehead with her wristband. She looked sad but composed. “How about hitting a few with me, George?” she invited.

  “I’ll get my tennis shoes,” George said gladly.

  Soon the two were exchanging rapid strokes.

  “Your friend’s in seventh heaven, isn’t she?” a voice said behind Nancy’s shoulder.

  Nancy spun around.

  Senator Kilpatrick stood there, elegant in a white linen dress and large brown straw hat. Beneath its shade her eyes were steely.

  “What’s wrong?” Nancy demanded, alarmed.

  “Plenty, in my opinion. Don’t worry, I don’t mean with you. Come have an early lunch with me.”

  Nancy followed the senator to a small tent, plastic-walled and air-conditioned, that opened off the main dining tent. Iced tea, salad, and dessert were waiting, but the tent was empty, and the senator’s own bodyguards stood outside.

  “Something’s going to happen, isn’t it?” Nancy asked.

  “I’m furious about what isn’t happening,” the senator corrected her. “I’m fully aware that this is a sensitive situation, but it’s difficult to have a straightforward meeting with the representatives of the San Carlos political factions—which I’m supposed to be doing right now—when I’m not allowed to mention Roberto’s name! Of course the people from San Carlos want to know what’s going on—and what can I say?

  “Especially when Roberto was known to be an opponent of the San Carlos regime and of U.S. foreign policy there,” Senator Kilpatrick continued. “That was the reason he was smuggling the list to me rather than the CIA. He met me when I was on a fact-finding mission in San Carlos a few months ago, and he trusted me. He suspected that people in authority in both our governments were, if not aiding and abetting government terrorists, at least closing their eyes to them. I don’t know if he was right, but it’s terrible not being able to investigate it!”

  “And the killings could start any time,” Nancy added gravely.

  The senator nodded. “I’ve just learned from a private source that a well-known hit man flew into Mexico from San Carlos yesterday. He’s already left Mexico, supposedly for the Bahamas. But the plane makes stops at some American territories on the way.”

  “You mean he could be on the mainland already?”

  “Right. Time’s running out.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Nancy asked.

  “I guess I’m hoping for a miracle,” Marilyn Kilpatrick said frankly. “Your father says you’ve produced those before. I’m hoping you’ll bring a fresh eye to this case, and a mind that’s not bogged down in politics and routine.”

  “There must be a way to stop the assassinations—there has to be!” Nancy hardly realized she was thinking out loud. “Every criminal makes a mistake sometime. And Roberto was no fool. He knew he was in danger, so he must have planted that list somewhere it could be found if he was . . . taken care of. If only we had a little more time.”

  But time, as the senator had said, was running out.

  They finished their lunch. Beyond the plastic wall Nancy saw George talking with some of the other players. From the
glow on George’s face, Nancy guessed they were complimenting her on her game.

  “Let’s go join her,” Senator Kilpatrick said, following Nancy’s glance. They went out and followed George to the grandstand.

  Just as George reached the gate in the high wire fence, a man came through it, heading toward the stairs to the boxes. Nancy gasped.

  “What?” Senator Kilpatrick said instantly.

  “He’s one of the guys who abducted me. Call Security!” Nancy tore off, passing George as she did so.

  Immediately George came running after her. She and Nancy raced up the steps and into the narrow aisle that separated the front and back rows of boxes.

  At the far end, the man was sliding into a bleacher seat next to a man in a hat who was reading a newspaper. The newspaper was lowered briefly.

  “I don’t know him. But the first guy’s one of the ones who snatched me!” Nancy whispered to George.

  “Get down! He knows you by sight, remember?” George whispered back. “I can pass for just another player.” As Nancy ducked, George began sauntering along the aisle.

  She had almost reached the two men when the one in the hat folded his newspaper and looked sharply in George’s direction.

  Nancy’s heart lurched. He was one of the ones who had been leaning against the fence watching Teresa’s workout! He had seen George there with Nancy!

  George must have recognized him at that same moment. She half paused, then changed direction, heading up the rows of bleachers.

  As she did so, the two men also rose and began to run after her. So did Nancy. If she can just get to the exit stairs! Nancy thought. If Senator Kilpatrick just brings help in time!

  There was no time. Everything was suddenly happening at high speed. George was running. The men were running after her. And Nancy was pounding after them, kicking off her sandals as she did so. Barefoot, panting, she scrambled after her friend—who was by now on the top row of bleachers.

  George scrambled into the announcers’ booth. Seconds later one of her pursuers was there, too. Nancy stumbled and went down, hard, on one ankle. She jerked herself up in time to see George hurtling out the other side.

  All at once, the second pursuer stopped. Something glinted in his hand. There was a faint crack-pop.

  He was shooting with a silenced gun straight at George’s head!

  As Nancy stared in horror, George did the only thing possible. With a gymnast’s skill, she started climbing the pole that supported the electric scoreboard.

  Up and up—George’s only chance, Nancy knew, was to make a run for it along the top of the billboard. If she herself could distract the pursuers—

  Gritting her teeth against the throbbing in her ankle, Nancy pulled herself upright and began to make her way rapidly along the aisle.

  There were two more faint cracking sounds. But no bullets whizzed past Nancy. She whipped around—to see George, midway across the top edge of the scoreboard, lose her balance and topple helplessly toward the ground far below.

  Chapter Eleven

  SOMEBODY SCREAMED. NANCY didn’t wait to see who. She threw herself down and rolled under the bleacher seat, dropping to the ground. It was not a long drop. She looked around at once, expecting to see George’s crumpled figure.

  George was nowhere to be seen.

  Several sets of legs raced along behind the bleachers and then stopped abruptly. Nancy crawled out and looked up, as the other spectators were looking.

  High above, a figure clung to a slanting beam. The bleacher support had broken George’s fall. George was all right—or at least right enough to grab the beam and hang on tight. Now she was working her way to safety as onlookers held their breath.

  Instinctively Nancy’s gaze swung higher. The pursuers were no longer using George for target practice. They were fleeing frantically as security guards closed in.

  The guards were too late. The assassins got away. “But at least you’re okay!” Nancy cried, running to hug George.

  George grinned weakly. “It takes more than that to get rid of me.” She brushed herself off gingerly, wincing as she did so.

  College officials insisted on having George examined by the tournament physician before they’d let her leave. Then Senator Kilpatrick herself took George and Nancy back to the hotel in her government limousine.

  “I hope this thing has bulletproof windows,” George joked. To Nancy’s secret relief, the bodyguard-driver answered quite seriously that it did.

  Instead of pulling up at the hotel entrance, the driver drove directly into the underground garage. The second bodyguard stepped out and checked carefully before allowing the senator and her guests to leave the limo. They went directly into the elevator, accompanied by both guards, and took the elevator first to the top floor, then down to Nancy’s, using a special key to keep the door from opening at an earlier stop.

  Again, one guard stepped out first and looked around before motioning to the others to follow. He was also first around the bend in the corridor—and immediately he flung out an arm to hold the women back.

  “There’s a guy hanging around outside the Drew suite, and he looks like he means business!”

  Nancy was already peering cautiously around the corner. A handsome man with a distinguished touch of gray at the temples was pacing in obvious fury. Nancy let out a glad cry and tore down the hall before the guards could stop her. “Dad!”

  Carson Drew caught her in his arms and held her tight. All he said was, “Let’s go inside,” in a controlled tone that Nancy knew too well. Quickly she unlocked the door, and they all entered.

  Carson Drew turned on the guards immediately. “I wish to speak to these ladies alone. Could you please take up posts directly outside the door?”

  The authority in his voice carried weight. So did the faint nod Senator Kilpatrick gave. The bodyguards obeyed. Carson Drew bolted the door behind them and then swung around.

  “What do you think you’re doing risking the lives of private citizens like this?” It was Marilyn Kilpatrick he was shouting at, not Nancy. “I agreed to a courier mission. Now there’s been a murder, and these girls are attacked in broad daylight. I heard what happened at the tournament,” he snapped as Nancy started to speak. “It came over the radio in the lobby. And there’s a pack of reporters down there waiting to ask questions!”

  “Dad, don’t you think you could ask George how she is first, instead of yelling?” Nancy asked diplomatically.

  Carson Drew caught himself. “I’m sorry,” he said. “How are you, George? Is there anything I can do?”

  “I’m fine, thanks. But I think I’ll go soak my aching bones in a nice hot tub.” George vanished discreetly.

  Nancy and Senator Kilpatrick exchanged glances. “Dad, have you had any lunch yet?” Nancy asked. Not waiting for an answer, she went to the door and asked the guards to order something up. Behind her, Carson Drew and the senator began to exchange words.

  “Carson, believe me, there was no way I could have foreseen that Nancy would be in danger. Or George—or Teresa Montenegro, for that matter.” Something in Marilyn Kilpatrick’s voice made Nancy’s father grow sober and attentive. “No one knew Roberto was going to try to smuggle that hit list to me. No one other than the San Carlos dictator and his hit squad knew the list existed.”

  “Except this Roberto,” Nancy’s father retorted with irritation.

  “Roberto knew because he was a member of an underground group trying to overthrow the dictatorship. A moderate group,” she stressed. “He found out somehow and got in touch with me because we’d talked when I was down there some months ago. He was afraid if the word leaked out to the more radical rebels, or here in Washington, somebody might decide that the people on the list were expendable for propaganda value. He knew he’d be putting his life on the line smuggling the list to me, and he lost his life.

  “But he didn’t think Teresa would be in danger. A young female tennis star? She’s one of the best publicity gimmicks her governme
nt has! So I thought Nancy would be perfectly safe posing as her for the few minutes that the contact would take.”

  “But Teresa’s not safe,” Nancy said aloud. “Why? And why did those guys shoot at George? Just because she played a practice game with Teresa? None of this makes sense.”

  Then she gasped. “Suppose they weren’t at the stadium to follow any of us. Suppose they’ve decided Teresa’s expendable! What you said about the people on the list—wouldn’t the murder of Teresa Montenegro, while she’s in this country and you’re having those secret peace-making sessions, be the biggest possible provocation against peace? Especially if the other side, and the U.S. government, could be blamed? Please, call the FBI and have them search the stadium.”

  In the shocked silence that followed, they all heard the door of the other bedroom open. Bess stood in the connecting doorway. Her face was glowing, but her eyes were anxious.

  “What have you been up to?” Nancy asked with effort. “Or should I say you and Dan?”

  “We’ve been driving around, sightseeing, but—” Bess stopped and her glow faded. “What is it? You know, don’t you?”

  “George was shot at, and she fell off the top of the scoreboard in the process,” Nancy said rapidly. “Don’t worry, she’s only bruised and shaken.” Then she paused and looked at Bess curiously. “What do we know?”

  “I’m upset, too. Give me a minute to catch my breath.” Bess sat down on the bed, locking her hands together.

  “Dan took me for a romantic drive around the tidal basin,” she said wanly as the others waited. “Past the monuments and the Capitol . . . you know. He had the morning off because of the business with his car last night. We ordered him a new one. Brown,” she added irrelevantly. “In the meantime he’s using a car from the police car pool.”

  “All in all, you two managed to have a pretty good morning,” Senator Kilpatrick said dryly.

  “It started out that way . . . I like Dan,” Bess wailed. “I really do. He’s strong and funny and sensitive. He says just the right things.”