013 Wings of Fear Page 6

  Bess's lips parted in dismay. "I feel terrible!"

  "So do I." Nancy sank down on the couch. "It feels as if everything's going from bad to worse. The worst thing of all is that I do suspect Sean a little. And having Jennifer know it makes me feel like a heel."

  "You can't help that," Bess said philosophically. "Just keep plugging away. You'll figure it all out. You always do."

  The rest of the evening passed without incident. Jennifer came out of her room in a few minutes. And when Nancy suggested they all go out and get something to eat, she went along with them. But she wasn't her usual self, and when they got back to the apartment she went straight to bed.

  "She's really hurting about Sean," Bess said as she and Nancy made some popcorn. Neither one of them had felt like going to bed and there was a good late movie on. "I wish there was something we could do."

  "If I could just clear him once and for all," Nancy said.

  "Well, forget about it for a while. Maybe it'll sort itself out." She fiddled with the dial until she got the right channel. "Nancy, there's something I've got to tell you."

  "You saw something on the airplane?" Nancy was instantly alert.

  "Boy, did I!"

  "Something Linda Cotilla did?"

  "Not Linda—Mark."

  It took Nancy a second to make the connection. "Mark, the copilot?"

  Bess closed her eyes and sank against the cushions of the couch. "I think Fm in love," she said, her breath escaping in a sigh.

  "You're always in love. What did this Mark do?"

  " 'This Mark' didn't do anything. Get your mind off the mystery for a few minutes. He just bought me lunch at a great restaurant not too far from the L.A. airport and told me he hoped I was staying on the same route for a while."

  Nancy had to grin. No matter where they went or what they did, Bess always seemed to find the perfect guy.

  "I guess I'd better forget the movie and turn in if I'm going to make it through another day," Bess said.

  "Yeah, me, too. I've got to talk to Blake Maxell tomorrow, and I'm not looking forward to it."

  "What's the matter with Maxell?"

  Nancy snorted. "He's suffering from grouch-itis. He really went overboard yeUing at one of the ticket agents today." Nancy described the scene between Maxell and CeUa.

  "That's nothing. Linda Cotilla makes Maxell look like a saint," Bess said as she unrolled her sleeping bag. She and Nancy flipped a coin for the

  couch, and Nancy won. "Story of my life," Bess grumbled.

  "Now wait a minute. You got the couch last night, and you said things were going great with you and Mark."

  "That's true." Bess snuggled inside her bag up to her chin. "Wait until you meet him, Nancy. He's a dream come true."

  Long after Bess had gone to sleep, Nancy lay awake and hoped Jennifer and Sean's relationship hadn't become a nightmare.

  The airport was bustling early the next afternoon. There were so many weekend travelers that Nancy had to weave her way through crowds and luggage just to get past Victory's main counter to the door to the offices.

  "I've got to see Blake Maxell," she said to herself. She was just about to go inside when Preston Talbot and Blake Maxell exited through the door.

  "Oh, Nancy," Mr. Talbot said distractedly, "this is Blake Maxell, our district manager. I was just telhng him about you and your investigation."

  "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Drew," Blake said. "Preston and I were just going to have a lunch meeting about this supposed smuggling ring," he added coolly. "Why don't you join us?"

  "Great," Nancy agreed. She wished he'd thaw out a little. But this was a perfect opportunity to pick Maxell's brain, and she wasn't going to be put off by his manner.

  The lunch meeting was to be in the airport's most luxurious restaurant. In her casual clothes, Nancy felt out of place, but she swallowed her misgivings and preceded the men into the dimly lit restaurant.

  The hostess seated them at a comer table with a view of the northeast runway. Beyond the runway, they could see the gray-green waters of Puget Sound glimmering in the afternoon sun.

  "I've told Blake all about your investigation so far," Mr. Talbot said to Nancy.

  "That's right—^and frankly, I think your theories are a little farfetched, Ms. Drew." Blake Maxell barely even glanced at her as he spoke. He reached for the menu and scanned it. "It's just not plausible," Maxell went on, still eyeing the menu. "How would anybody pull it off?"

  "I was hoping you could help me on that," Nancy said diffidently. "Mr. Talbot said you would know better than he does about who could possibly run a smuggling ring and get away with it."

  For the first time Maxell's gaze met hers. A faint smile touched his lips. "/ would?"

  "You're more involved with personnel," Nancy said, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. "And more involved with operations."

  "Ms. Drew—" He folded his menu and looked directly at her. "It sounds to me as if you're letting this idea of being a girl detective go to your head. Jennifer Bishop is a friend of yours, isn't she?"

  "Yes," Nancy said shortly.

  "And she's the one who called you in?"

  Nancy nodded.

  "Do you really think she's qualified to decide whether there's trouble at Victory Airlines?"

  "Jennifer's not the kind of person to make up stories," Nancy said as calmly as she could.

  "Ah." He sat back as if she'd revealed something damaging—but as far as Nancy could tell, she hadn't backed down at all. For some reason she found herself turning to Preston Talbot for help.

  Mr. Talbot cleared his throat. "I would like to believe you're right, Blake," he said. "But there is the matter of the note."

  "What note?"

  Talbot explained about the rock being thrown through his window.

  "That's preposterous!" Maxell said when Mr. Talbot had finished. "Why would anyone want to threaten you, Ms. Drew?"

  "Maybe they were worried I might get too close to the truth," Nancy suggested.

  Maxell's expression showed how ludicrous he thought that was.

  The waitress came and asked for their order. Maxell ordered one of the most expensive items on the menu, and Talbot, after much dehberation, ordered the same. Nancy just asked for a bowl of soup and a salad. She was worried she couldn't afford the meal.

  While they were being served, Maxell seemed to change his attitude somewhat. "If what you say is true," he began, making it clear he still thought it highly possible Nancy was exaggerating, "then we need to beef up security until we get to the bottom of this thing."

  "Good idea. How do you want to do it?" Mr. Talbot asked.

  "I'll check with Dawkins in customs. I'll have him go through every item in every bag and crate that comes into this country. Also, Grant Sweeney should personally check the unloading of the planes. I don't want anything to fall through the cracks."

  "I— uh— I wouldn't recommend Sweeney," Nancy put in.

  "Why not?" Blake Maxell asked suspiciously.

  "I think he might be involved in the smuggling."

  "Well, Sweeney's the only man I completely trust," Maxell answered.

  Although Grant Sweeney would hardly have been her choice, he was the man in charge of baggage. And Maxell had every reason to trust him.

  Just then the check arrived. "I'll get it," Blake said, snatching the tab away from Nancy when she tried to see how much she owed. "This one's on Victory."

  As they walked out, Nancy said to Maxell, "Do you think I could have a list of employees who could run a smuggUng scam without raising suspicions?"

  "I'll see what I can do, Ms. Drew. But let me make one thing clear: no matter what's going on around here, I don't want you here. If Preston wants you, fine. Stay on. But if it were up to me, the whole affair would be handled internally and then the police would be called in." His smile was faint. "I don't have a lot of faith in amateur detectives."

  He turned and left. Nancy hardly knew what to say. Even Preston Talbot seeme
d embarrassed.

  "Blake's a man of action," he said, apologizing. "He's never learned the fine art of finesse. That's why I handle the press."

  And it's a good thing, too, Nancy thought, or Victory's reputation would go right down the tubes.

  "I'd better get back to work," she said.

  "Keep me posted," Talbot answered, waving as he walked away.

  For a moment Nancy just stood in the center of the terminal. She was furious. Maxell had been rude and overbearing. And he'd been cruelly honest about what he thought of her abilities. She would have to prove herself to him!

  Nancy took the stairs down to the lower level, intending to confront Grant Sweeney once and for all. If she could get some kind of confession out of him, maybe then Maxell would have to acknowledge her worth!

  She learned that Sweeney was outside, loading a plane destined for the Orient. Her pulse quickening, Nancy wondered if it was a 747.

  Quickly she ducked out the metal doorway and onto the tarmac. The huge silver plane was parked at the gate. The door to the baggage compartment was open, the portable stairway parked alongside.

  Grant was just closing the plane's baggage compartment door when Nancy appeared at the bottom of the stairway. She waved at him, and Grant stood still for a moment. Then his face turned dark red, and he charged down the steps straight for her!

  Chapter Eleven

  NANCY TOOK A Step backward as Grant charged toward her. She held up her hands to ward him off—but instead of attacking her, he simply swept past her, bumping into her and knocking her off balance. Scrambhng to her feet, Nancy chased after him.

  "I want to talk to you!" she screamed above the noise of a departing plane.

  Sweeney ignored her. He strode rapidly toward the building. Nancy ran after him, but she was stopped for a minute by a loading truck.

  She followed Grant inside and just caught a glimpse of him disappearing at the back of the building. As Nancy dashed after him, Paul stepped in front of her.

  "Hello, beautiful," he said with a friendly grin. "Look, let's forget about Sean. I know this great httle intimate restaurant where we could have dinner. ..."

  "Sorry, Paul. I don't have the time." She tried to get past him, but he blocked her again. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

  "Trying to get your attention." His smile was innocent.

  By the time Nancy could get past him, Sweeney was long gone. She ran to his office, but the door was locked—and when she pounded on it, no one answered.

  Did that mean he was gone or just playing possum as he had the last time she knocked on his door?

  She turned back to walk to the baggage room and thought about the way Paul had de-hberately cut her off. What had he been trying to do?

  Absentmindedly Nancy wandered back into the baggage room and over to the window, her eyes on the plane Grant Sweeney had just finished loading. It was just backing away from the gate. Watching it Nancy wondered about its destination.

  As it started forward and picked up speed, Nancy's thoughts returned to Grant Sweeney. He was dangerous—and he seemed to be running scared. He looked so guilty when she had caught him loading the plane. What exactly was he up to?

  Suddenly Nancy's pulse leapt. She'd been so lost in thought that she hadn't paid much attention to what type of plane he'd been loading. Could it have been a 747?

  She hurried over to two baggage handlers. They were Paul and Sean. "Was that a seven forty-seven that just left?" Nancy asked. "It looked like it."

  Sean didn't say anything—^just tightened his lips and turned aside. Nancy had to repeat the question to Paul.

  "The flight we just loaded? Nah, that was a DC ten. Seven forty-sevens have an upper seating level. You can always tell by the two rows of windows. But a DC ten's as big as a seven forty-seven."

  "Thanks. Is there any special way you load these planes? I mean, do you have specific ones to load?"

  Sean threw several canvas bags on top of a mountainous pile in the trailer. "Come on, Nancy. What do you really want to know?" he asked.

  "I was just curious."

  "Sure you were." His tone was scathing. "You're trying to pin this smuggling thing on us!"

  ''What?" Paul was incredulous. "What smuggling thing?"

  Nancy could have strangled Sean. "Nothing that I can really talk about," she said.

  "Is that why you're hanging around here all the time? You want to prove one of us is smugghng?" Paul looked disgusted. "Well, forget it. You can just nose your way right out of here. Grant was right about you."

  "What did Grant say about me?" she asked quickly.

  "He said that you were trouble and to keep you away from him."

  "Is that why you stopped me from chasing him?" Nancy asked.

  Paul nodded almost sheepishly.

  Sean finally looked at her and walked over to her. He put his arms on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. Nancy could see how unhappy he was, but he appeared to be determined. "Look, Nancy, I know you're just doing your job. But think about Paul and me for a moment, okay? Grant Sweeney's our boss. This job means everything to us. We don't want to jeopardize it."

  "That's right," Paul said emphatically. "Whatever you're doing, just stay away from me."

  "But isn't Preston Talbot your boss, too?" Nancy asked. ''He's given me the okay. Why can't you?"

  "Because Jennifer coerced Talbot into having you help. How could he say no when you were already on your way out here? Please, Nancy, just back off."

  Nancy turned on her heel and left without another word. How could she prove to them that she needed them to help her?

  Nancy checked her watch. Sean and Paul would be getting off work soon, and Bess and Jennifer's flight should be back. Thinking she might just as well wait for them at the apartment, she headed for the stairs.

  Halfway there Nancy heard sharp staccato footsteps coming her way. Then a flight attendant with blunt-cut shoulder-length blond hair suddenly rounded the comer and ran straight into her.

  "Oh, sorry," Nancy apologized, though it really wasn't her fault. In that brief second she read the woman's nameplate: "Linda Cotilla, Senior Flight Attendant."

  "My fault," Linda answered shortly. She swept past Nancy without a glance.

  Nancy hesitated only a moment. Then she ducked around the corner and started following Linda.

  Linda kept right on going. Glad she had on soft-soled flats, Nancy walked quietly behind Linda. Nancy's heart began to pound. Linda was heading straight for Grant Sweeney's office!

  Nancy held her breath as she heard Linda's knuckles rap quietly on the door.

  To her surprise she heard a man's muffled voice answer.

  "It's me," Linda said urgently. "Hurry up! I've got to talk to you!"

  Nancy heard the latch click back. Then Sweeney said, "Are you crazy? What are you doing down here? Don't you know that girl's around?"

  "She's not the only one. There's another," Linda said anxiously. "Her name's Bess Marvin, and she's masquerading as a flight attendant. I heard it from Talbot. She's on my flight. I think she knows about the smuggUng!"

  "Shut up and get in here!" Sweeney growled. The door slammed shut.

  With her back against the wall, Nancy slowly worked her way to Sweeney's door. She could hear faint voices from within. Leaning closer to the door, she pressed her ear against the panel.

  "They're on to us," Linda was saying, her voice rising hysterically. "It's only a matter of time before it all comes down, and who do you think's going to take the blame? We are! We're the ones who'll be thrown to the wolves—^and guess who'll get away scot-free?"

  "Shut up! You want someone to hear you? Like that Drew girl?"

  "I don't care! I'm scared to death. Just—"

  Nancy didn't get a chance to hear any more. A hand suddenly clapped over her mouth, and strong arms started dragging her down the hall.

  Chapter Twelve

  Nancy struggled wildly against her captor's grip, but she couldn't get away. He pu
lled her down the hallway around the comer, and when they were out of earshot of Grant's door, he hissed, "Just what do you think you're doing?"

  Nancy went limp with relief. "Sean!" she murmured against his hand.

  Sean took his hand from her mouth, and Nancy twisted from his grasp. "What am / doing?" she demanded, her fear giving way to anger. "What are you doing? Trying to keep me from solving this mystery, or are you involved in this smuggling operation somehow?" she asked.

  Sean's jaw sagged. "Do you really think I am?"

  "I don't know!"

  "Well, I'm not," he said flatly. "But I guess you're going to have to figure that out on your own." Glancing over her shoulder, he asked, "What would you have done if Grant had come out of his office and caught you eavesdropping?"

  "Well, it wouldn't have been the first time!" Nancy snapped.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means he practically bashed my head in with a wrench the last time I went to his office. If you hadn't yanked me away just then, I might have learned something important. Linda Cotilla's in with Grant right now!"

  "Linda Cotilla!"

  "That's right. She was saying something about smuggling and how Bess and I were on to them. Look, I'll explain later."

  Nancy left Sean standing in the hallway and ran back to Grant's office. But she could hear two pairs of footsteps retreating in the distance, and when she hstened at the door, the room sounded ominously quiet. "I could scream," Nancy muttered in frustration. "They've already left."

  A very subdued Sean appeared at her elbow. Swallowing hard, he said, "I've been thinking, maybe I owe you an apology."

  "Oh, yes?" Nancy didn't feel very forgiving.

  "I was mad because you dragged Jennifer into this, and now Fve messed things up for you. I wanted to be your friend, Nancy. But I had a talk with Mr. Talbot and—"

  Nancy's eyes searched Sean's. "Mr. Talbot was the one who turned you against me?"

  "He didn't actually turn me against you. He's just worried about Victory's reputation. And when he thought about what would happen to it if something happened to you and Jennifer—" Sean shrugged.