Cutting Edge Page 6

  “Yoko worked the ice for three hours already this morning!” Tess protested.

  “The federation gives each competitor ten minutes on the ice the morning before each event,” Brian reminded her. “If my skater came early to work out, that doesn’t count against the federation allotment.”

  Annoyed, Tess consulted her wristwatch. “It’s only nine-thirteen now,” she said.

  “Not by the arena clock,” Brian grumbled. “You’d better clear the ice.”

  “One more double back camel, Elaine,” Tess instructed, ignoring the impatient coach.

  Skating backward along the railing, Elaine leaned into the ice again, so that her arm and torso made a perfect line, twirling swiftly and gracefully. The move was magical.

  “I guess the right skates really do make a difference,” George murmured.

  “Fingertips,” Tess called out. In the most delicate of movements, the skater stretched the tips of her fingers into alignment with the rest of her lithe figure. It was the perfect touch for the move. “Nice,” Tess said, smiling.

  “Excuse me,” Brian insisted, in a clipped tone. “My skater is up—now.” Snapping his fingers, Brian called for Yoko.

  The small girl stretched out her compact, muscular figure. “Please give my time to another skater,” she said calmly to Brian. “I feel that any more practice now will destroy the work I did earlier.”

  Brian stared down at Yoko, aghast. “What do feelings have to do with anything?” he demanded. “This is the American Skating Federation’s national competition, or have you forgotten? This is your chance to qualify for the world championships!”

  “I know,” Yoko said, remaining calm. “And I don’t want to burn out before I begin, Brian. I’m going to my dressing room now so I’ll have plenty of time to get ready without hurrying.”

  Brian’s face was bright red. He looked from Yoko to her brother, Ito, who sat listening in the front row. Ito’s face, too, showed complete surprise at his sister’s sudden resolve.

  “I’m out of here,” Brian finally said, in a bitter tone of voice. “Get yourself another coach!” With that, he stomped to the nearest exit ramp.

  “What’s going on?” Veronica asked Nancy as she emerged from the holding area, where she’d been lacing up her skates.

  “Yoko and her coach just had a fight. She said she didn’t want to burn out and gave up her practice time,” George told her.

  “Great! Maybe I can get it,” Veronica said eagerly.

  “I don’t think so,” Nancy said. Suzanne Jurgens had conferred with the referee and was already gliding onto the ice.

  “That’s not fair!” Veronica complained.

  Watching Suzanne, Nancy couldn’t imagine that she’d score very high in the nationals. Even though she was an excellent skater and had performed well in the compulsories, she lacked the grace and power of the other competitors.

  • • •

  “Attention please,” came a voice over the intercom about an hour later. “The ladies’ freestyle short program is about to begin. Leading off will be Yoko Hamara.”

  Nancy felt a thrill go through her as Yoko skated out of the holding area. Smiling confidently, the small skater shot out onto the ice, her powerful legs sending her forward in long graceful arcs as she waved to the crowd. Then she came to a sudden stop, crouching down. The low, long wail of a saxophone played over the sound system.

  “What a great beginning,” George murmured as Yoko gradually lengthened her body, flying into gear as the music changed to dynamic jazz. Yoko thrust herself into her free skate, totally taking charge of her routine—and of the audience.

  “Fantastic,” Nancy murmured. The petite skater was a dynamo, gyrating, spinning, leaping! Her skating was punctuated by gymnastic moves that took Nancy’s breath away!

  “How does she do that?” George wondered, awestruck.

  Nimbly, gracefully, Yoko propelled her body high up into the air, twisting and untwisting until she was a swirling blur. The crowd burst into thunderous applause.

  Yoko wasn’t finished yet. “She still has that triple toe lutz,” George reminded Nancy.

  “No one will be able to touch this performance,” Nancy said. As she spoke, she fixed her eyes on Yoko.

  “Here it comes, Nan,” George said excitedly.

  In the next second Yoko flew into the air, twisting over and over herself. The crowd held its breath, ready to let out a collective cheer.

  A second later the crowd only let out a collective gasp as Yoko’s foot slipped from under her when she landed. Nancy watched as the skater hit the ice on her back. In painful slow motion, Yoko slid across the ice, her delicate body fishtailing back and forth. Finally, with an ear-splitting crack, her head smacked right into the base of the railing!

  Chapter

  Eight

  OH, NO!” Nancy cried, her voice joining the shouts of alarm throughout the arena.

  Yoko’s music had come to a triumphant climax, but the skater herself lay frighteningly still on the ice.

  “I think she’s unconscious!” cried George, horrified.

  “Her blade came off, George,” Nancy said. “I saw it.”

  George’s eyes narrowed as she absorbed Nancy’s words. “But how could anything like that happen?” she murmured.

  “That’s what we’ve got to find out,” Nancy replied. “I have a feeling this is another act of sabotage. We’ve got to get to the bottom of this.”

  Medics and federation officials had already hurried onto the ice and were kneeling at Yoko’s side. From where Nancy and George were sitting, on the far side of the stadium from the judges’ station, Nancy couldn’t even tell if the fallen skater was breathing.

  “Come on, George,” Nancy said. Getting to her feet, she made her way past the shaken onlookers in the stands. “Let’s get down there.”

  The two girls wove their way to rinkside, and made it to a place near the holding area. The other skaters had all gathered there, watching the horrible scene unfold before them. The team of medics were lifting Yoko’s limp form onto a stretcher and carrying her toward an exit.

  Nancy craned her neck and was able to see outside as the large double doors were opened. Outside an ambulance was waiting. She guessed that the federation kept it on call for emergencies such as this one.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” came Kathy Soren’s voice over the microphone. “Ms. Hamara will receive prompt medical attention. We beg your patience for just a moment until we can resume our program. Thank you.”

  Shaking his head sadly, Gilbert Fleischman conferred with the other judges.

  “She was heading for an all-around perfect score, too, I’ll bet,” George said sadly.

  “Let’s go closer to the other skaters,” Nancy suggested. “I want to hear what they’re saying.”

  Any differences among the competitors seemed to be momentarily forgotten as they huddled together talking.

  “It could happen to any of us, at any time,” Suzanne Jurgens said weakly as Nancy and George approached the group.

  “I remember the time I broke my leg,” Elaine murmured. “It hurt like crazy. Poor Yoko.”

  “What do you think really happened?” Ann Lasser wondered out loud. “I mean, she was skating so perfectly. You don’t just mess up like that.”

  “Her blade came loose,” Nancy put in. “It was detached from the toe end of her boot.”

  The skaters all turned to Nancy. “I didn’t see that,” Suzanne said.

  “You’re right,” Elaine told Nancy. “Now that you mention it, I saw her blade swinging loose when they picked her up and put her on the stretcher.”

  “Have you ever heard of anything like that happening?” Nancy asked the group.

  “Sure,” Trish replied. “It used to happen to me all the time when I was little. I’d always forget to tighten the screws on the blade.”

  “Some skaters have two or even three sets of blades for each pair of boots,” Suzanne added. “Some blades are better
for speed, some are better for figures.”

  Ann shook her head sadly. “Yoko’s such a careful person,” she mused. “It isn’t like her not to double-check her blade screws before a competition.”

  No, Nancy thought grimly. It didn’t seem like Yoko at all. Although after the fight Yoko had had with her coach, she certainly might have been distracted and upset.

  “Are you guys sure her blade came loose?” Trish asked Nancy and Elaine. “Maybe she tripped. One little object on the surface of the ice can make for a pretty bad accident, you know. Look what happened to Ronnie the other day.”

  The conversation was interrupted by the sound of a powerful machine starting up to their left. Nancy saw the Zamboni about to resurface the ice for the next skater.

  “Oh, no!” she cried. “If there is anything out there, the Zamboni will sweep it away. We’ve got to stop the driver!”

  Suddenly she leapt up and waved to get the driver’s attention. “Stop!” she cried, leaning over the railing. “Could you just wait for a minute?” Nancy begged the man behind the wheel.

  “I got a job to do, miss,” the operator told her impatiently.

  “Talk to him, George, while I go find the referee,” Nancy said. She flew over to where the referee was standing, close to the judges’ table.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “My name is Nancy Drew, and I’m a detective. I have reason to believe that Yoko’s accident was purposely caused. May I have permission to check the ice for evidence?”

  The referee stared unblinking at Nancy. “You want to do what?” she asked.

  “I want to search the ice to see if there is any object on it that might have caused the fall,” Nancy repeated.

  “How much time will it take?” the referee asked.

  “Just a minute or two, I promise,” Nancy answered.

  The referee frowned at her for a moment, as if sizing her up. “Okay,” she finally said, “but if you’re not finished in two minutes, I’m going to have to resurface.” With that, she signaled to the Zamboni man to hold off on the resurfacing.

  “Thanks,” Nancy said.

  Yoko had been spinning tremendously fast just before she landed and fell, and Nancy realized that the screws could have traveled very far. As thousands of confused spectators watched, she crouched down, concentrating hard on finding the screws that should have been holding Yoko’s blade to her boot. Her time was just about to run out when she spied the gleam of something metal near the fiberglass guardrail. She gingerly walked over, taking care not to slip, and picked up two small screws. Then she left the ice and the Zamboni started resurfacing.

  Nancy stepped onto the rubber matting and, avoiding the referee, hurried to where George was waiting, about twenty yards from the skaters.

  “The women’s short-program skating competition will resume,” came Kathy Soren’s voice, “as soon as the ice is resurfaced.”

  “But the contest won’t resume for Yoko,” Nancy murmured sadly, joining her friend. She opened her hand and showed George the two tiny screws she had discovered on the ice. “This was what I was afraid of, George,” she said, grimly. “These screws didn’t come loose at all.”

  George’s brown eyes widened. “You mean—”

  “Look here. See how one side has grooves and the other is smooth? These screws have been filed down.”

  George met Nancy’s eyes. “Which means—”

  “That someone definitely tampered with Yoko’s skates,” Nancy said. “What happened to her this morning wasn’t an accident—it was pure sabotage. Maybe even attempted murder!”

  Chapter

  Nine

  MURDER!” George gasped, staring at the filed-down screws Nancy held in her palm. “That seems unbelievable, but it’s true, Yoko could have been killed out there.”

  “I have to go show this to someone from the federation and the referee,” Nancy said grimly. “The police, too, of course. Risking a skater’s life is a lot worse than stealing a pair of skates.”

  “Or even a circuit board,” George added, her brown eyes flashing. “Nan, do you think the Opto chips theft is connected to these incidents?”

  “I’ve had the same thought, George,” Nancy said, “but I can’t put it all together. What do stealing a corporate secret and sabotaging a skating contest have in common?”

  “There’s Kathy Soren,” George said, touching Nancy lightly on the arm and nodding in the direction of the former skating champion. Ms. Soren was joining the judges in an informal conference near their platform.

  “Let’s go show her what we found,” Nancy suggested.

  “She’s going to be shocked,” George said as they hurried in the direction of the federation official.

  “Ms. Soren,” Nancy began, walking up to her. “Can we see you for a moment, please—in private? It’s extremely urgent.”

  The former champion seemed perplexed by the request, but she excused herself. Then she stepped over to Nancy and George.

  “I found these on the ice,” Nancy explained, opening her hand to show the official the filed-down screws. “They must be the screws from Yoko’s blade because the ice was resurfaced just before she went out. But look here—they’ve been filed down so they’d come loose with enough pressure.”

  Anger crept over Ms. Soren’s face as she peered down at the small metal objects. “I see what you mean,” Ms. Soren said. “May I have these, please? I want to show them to Mr. Fleischman and the referee right away.” She held out her hand for Nancy to drop the screws in her palm. Then she strode over to where the head judge stood, talking with a referee. Nancy and George followed.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Fleischman. These young ladies just found something that you should see,” she said. “It’s very important.”

  “Oh?” Fleischman asked nervously, pointedly avoiding Nancy’s and George’s eyes. “Well, as long as you relay the information for them. I see from their passes that the young ladies are with Worldwide Sports, and I’m under very strict constraints about talking with anyone from the press corps. I don’t wish there to be even a hint of impropriety regarding my actions.”

  The skating official nodded and turned to the girls. “I’ll speak with Mr. Fleischman and the referee privately. Please wait a moment.”

  “Of course,” Nancy said politely, stepping a few feet away. When she and George were safely out of earshot, she whispered, “Mr. Fleischman certainly is making a big show of sticking to the rules.”

  “Yes,” George said with an ironic grin, “especially for a guy who was in a car with a reporter just yesterday.”

  “George,” Nancy said more intensely, “if he’s not doing the best imitation of guilt I ever saw, he’s hiding something—something big. He wouldn’t even look at us!”

  The judge, the referee, and the ASF official conferred a moment longer before Kathy Soren walked back over to Nancy and George. “Mr. Fleischman told me to tell you that they’ll look into this matter,” she said, her manner more formal than it had been before.

  “Will you be contacting the police?” Nancy asked.

  “Yes, we will,” she answered hesitantly. Then all at once she let out a big breath, as if lowering her guard. “To be honest, girls, Mr. Fleischman feels we should keep the matter under wraps for a while, to avoid any unpleasant publicity,” she confided to them. “My opinion is that the police should be contacted without delay. Since this is an ASF event, I’m taking the responsibility for contacting them.”

  “Good,” Nancy said. “You’d better hang on to the screws then.”

  “I will,” Ms. Soren said with a tense nod. “Now please excuse me.”

  As Nancy and George walked back to their seats, George shook her head in frustration. “Things are pretty heavy around here,” she said grimly.

  “That’s an understatement,” Nancy agreed, sitting down to wait for the contest to resume. During the delay in the action, the recently repaired Optoboard was entertaining the crowd. Right now it was flashing cuts of various amusin
g interviews with the women singles skaters.

  The image of Suzanne Jurgens disappeared from the screen, followed by a picture of Veronica Taylor seated on a sofa, talking to Kevin.

  “Kevin!” Nancy said, touching George’s shoulder. But George’s attention was already riveted on the Optoboard. She and seven thousand other people watched Kevin and Veronica as they talked casually.

  “What do I like to do when I’m not on the ice? Oh, let’s see—I guess my favorite thing is being interviewed,” Veronica said, laughing.

  “That little twerp is flirting again,” George grumbled.

  Nancy had to agree with her friend’s assessment. Veronica’s behavior was far from subtle.

  “Of course, I like going out to dinner and dancing, too. In fact, if you’d like to arrange some time on the dance floor—” Veronica tilted her head coyly and fixed Kevin with her intense dark eyes.

  Kevin cleared his throat, gave a little laugh, then went on to the next question.

  “Give me a break.” George rolled her eyes, and the Optoboard changed to a clip of downtown Montgomery, with pictures of the sports complex under construction.

  “Let’s go get a cold drink, Nancy,” George suggested.

  “Good idea,” Nancy agreed.

  They got up from their seats and walked through the archway that led to the concessions. After the girls paid for two sodas, they sauntered over to the wall across from the concession stand to drink them.

  “George,” Nancy said quietly. “I can’t figure out who’s responsible for what’s going on around here.”

  “If you can’t, I definitely can’t,” George replied, shaking her head helplessly.

  “Obviously, someone is trying to sabotage the female skaters,” Nancy continued. “And somebody actually pulled off a major theft, one that can cost the Fiber-Op Corporation millions.”

  George nodded. “I bet the technology behind the Opto chips will be used in everything in a few years.”

  Nancy nodded. “Let’s just think of who might be trying to hurt the skaters for a minute,” she said. “Who have the victims been so far? Veronica—she had the paper-clip accident and the note.”