013 Wings of Fear Page 7

  Nancy leaned against the wall. "Didn't it ever occur to you that he was trying to put a wedge between us?"

  "Mr. Talbot?" Sean said in disbelief.

  "If he's behind the smuggling ring, then it would be to his advantage to keep you from siding with me."

  Sean managed a harsh laugh. "I don't believe any of this."

  "Believe it," Nancy said. "Talbot and Sweeney are probably working together—and they mean business." It was such a relief to be able to trust Sean again! Nancy felt as if a weight had been Hfted from her shoulders.

  Sean exhaled heavily. "If Talbot's really the man behind the smuggling ring, it makes me sick. This whole management training program was his idea. But what'U happen to the program if he's exposed?"

  "I don't know." Nancy was genuinely sorry she

  had thought the management trainee program had been the basis for bringing new recruits into the smuggling ring. Maybe Mr. Talbot had brought in Rod Fullerton, but other management trainees— like Sean, and probably Celia— were completely innocent. "If the management program has been successful, I don't see why the next person in charge won't keep it going," Nancy added.

  Sean forced a weak smile. "Okay, enough feeling sorry for myself. How can I help?"

  Glancing thoughtfully at Grant's door, Nancy said, "We've got to prove Talbot's in on this, and we need to find how customs is being bypassed and what kind of contraband is being brought in."

  "Whew. You don't ask for much, do you?"

  "That's what it's going to take to get to the bottom of this," Nancy said grimly. "Are you with me?"

  "All the way," Sean agreed, his blue eyes telling her again how sorry he was. "You want to search the planes when they come in?"

  "No, I can't search all the planes," Nancy said, feeling frustrated. "I thought the smugglers were just using seven forty-sevens, but now I don't know ..." Her voice trailed off as her mind spun ahead. "Celia gave me a ton of printouts. Maybe the answers are in those sheets."

  Checking his watch, Sean said, "Look, I just have to go back and punch out." He glanced at Nancy. "If you'd Uke some help, you and I could head back to Jennifer's apartment and go through the printouts together." "Terrific!" Nancy said.

  "This is no use," Nancy said back in Jennifer's apartment. She got up from her chair and stretched. "We could go over these all day and all night and still not come up with anything!"

  "There must be something special in here about a seven forty-seven," Sean said, shaking his head.

  Nancy turned to stare at Sean, her mind racing. "Talk about not being able to see the forest for the trees," she said. "That's the problem! We just assumed seven forty-seven referred to the airplane type."

  Sean looked at her as if she were crazy.

  "What if it isn't a plane at all? What if seven forty-seven stands for a flight number or something?"

  It was Sean's turn to stare. "That plane that Grant loaded this afternoon," he said slowly. "It was a DC ten, but what was its flight number?"

  Nancy shuflled through the printouts on the table and scanned the Ust of DC 10s, but none of them had the flight number 747.

  "I was wrong," she said, disappointed. Then her eye caught something else—^and a chill slid up her spine. "Oh, Sean!" she said, hardly daring to believe her eyes.

  "What?"

  "That flight, the one that Grant was loading? It got into Seattle airport this morning at seven forty-seven!"

  "Let me see that!'* Sean said.

  He looked over her shoulder, reading down the list. "And it came from Malaysia," he said. "Do you suppose something was on that flight?"

  "The plane had already been unloaded. I bet Grant was just making sure all the contraband was out of it. When I showed up, he panicked." Nancy paced around the kitchen. "And you know what else I think? I think that seven forty-seven is how they tag flights for smuggling."

  "How do you mean?"

  "Suppose it's a code. It's how the smugglers know which flight to use to ship their goods. That number could be anything: plane type, departure or arrival time, maybe even flight number!"

  "I think you've cracked the code, Nancy! You've done it!" Sean exclaimed.

  In his exuberance, he caught her up in a big bear hug. "Now you can blow this investigation wide open. Wait till I tell Jennifer!"

  Suddenly the front door slammed shut. Nancy and Sean looked around to see Jennifer and Bess come into the kitchen.

  "Wait until you tell Jennifer what?" Jennifer asked in a brittle voice as she stared at the two of them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jennifer!" Sean said, dropping his arms from around Nancy.

  Jennifer just stared at him, the color leaving her face. "Don't mind me," she said in a flat, trembling voice. "Go right ahead with what you were doing. It's a free country." She twisted around and started walking stiffly toward the bedroom.

  "Jennifer!" Sean called, walking after her. But she slammed the door in his face.

  Bess's brows were sky-high. "Well," she said, sinking into one of the kitchen chairs.

  "This is too much." Nancy was divided between disbelief and frustration. "You're not going to tell me you think Sean and I are interested in each other, are you?"

  Bess shook her head. "I know you better than that, Nancy. But it was a terrible day. Linda Cotilla was even worse than before. And then Jen and I had to stay late and do paperwork." She gave Nancy and Sean a crooked smile. "I think seeing you two together was kind of the last straw."

  "I'll talk to her," Sean said, starting for Jennifer's room. "I owe her an apology for the other night anyway."

  "Guess what? We think we've figured out what seven forty-seven means," Nancy said to Bess.

  "You mean it's not the auplane?"

  As Nancy started to tell Bess about their findings, Jennifer came back into the room. It was obvious that she'd been crying, but she tried to pretend nothing was wrong.

  Nancy couldn't bear to have her friend think she had been trying to steal Sean. "Hey, Jen," she said. "Sean came here to see you. You know that."

  Jennifer didn't answer. Sean stepped closer to her. "Come on, Jen," he said in a low voice. "Let's get out of here so we can talk. I'm sorry about the other night. Nancy and I had a talk today, and I realized a few things about you and me, too."

  Jennifer didn't seem to know what to do, but when Sean steered her toward the door, she made no protest.

  "I hope they get things worked out," Bess said.

  "Me, too. I wish I could convince Jennifer that Ned*s the only guy I'm interested in."

  "Maybe Sean'U convince her," Bess said with a smile. "So what's the deal with him, anyway? Why is he off the suspect list?"

  "He was so destroyed by what I told him that I knew he wasn't involved. He doesn't want to beheve Mr. Talbot is behind all this, but it's hard not to suspect him."

  Bess kicked off her shoes, moaned, and rubbed her feet. "Well, I'm glad Sean's on our side. I just wish I could get Linda Cotilla off my back. The woman is an absolute witch!"

  "Hold on to your socks, Bess— Linda's involved in the smuggling ring, too."

  "What? You're kidding!"

  Nancy repeated what she'd overheard of the conversation between Grant and Linda. "I'd like to find out what she's up to," Nancy finished. "I think I'll book a seat on your flight tomorrow and see for myself. I'll have to wear a disguise, though. You've got a ton of clothes, Bess. Let me wear that black sweater-and-skirt outfit you brought. Then I'll have to figure out something to do with my hair."

  "My black sweater and skirt? You'll swim in them!" Bess declared. Then she caught herself. "Oh, I get it. That's the idea."

  "But what'll I do about this hair?"

  "I think I've got the answer for you," Bess said, grinning. "Linda will never recognize you! Just give me the keys to the car."

  "Bess—" Nancy said.

  Then the door opened, and Jennifer and Sean came back inside. From the expressions on their faces it was clear they'd worked out t
heir problems.

  "Sorry, Nancy," Jennifer said, darting her an apologetic glance. "I was just upset. I overreacted."

  "It's already forgotten," Nancy assured her. "I'm just glad we're all on the same side again. Now we can get down to business."

  "Speaking of business, Jennifer," Bess said, "how would you and Sean like to do a little shopping with me? I've got to pick up a few things for Nancy."

  "What kind of things?" Jennifer asked, following Bess to the door.

  "You'll see," she answered mysteriously, and the three of them left together.

  A few minutes after they'd gone, Miranda came in looking totally worn out. "That's my last flight for a few days," she said. "I'm going to go to bed and sleep for a week!" She said good night and staggered off to her room.

  To occupy her time, Nancy made a Hst of all inbound Victory flights that met the 747 code requirements. She was just finishing up when Bess, Jennifer, and Sean returned. Bess was holding a large brown paper bag.

  "Bess has got the perfect disguise for you," Jennifer said enthusiastically.

  "I can hardly wait," Nancy answered dryly.

  Bess began pulling all kinds of things from the sack: costume jewelry, a black lace headband with a huge bow, a pair of black stockings, and a can of some kind of spray that she instantly began to shake.

  "What is that?" Nancy eyed the can suspiciously.

  "Your new hair color."

  "Oh, no!" Nancy backed away. "Fm not dying my hair. No way!"

  "It's glitter spray. It'll artificially darken your hair and fill it full of gold glitter. You can wash it out when you get home tomorrow."

  "Are you crazy? I'll look as though I'm auditioning for a rock video!"

  "Well, you won't look Uke you. You can wear dark glasses," Bess said, holding up her hands when Nancy started to protest further. "Look, you're the detective, right? Well, I'm the fashion expert. This time you listen to me."

  It was still dark outside when Nancy, Bess, and Jennifer had gotten up to create the "new" Nancy Drew.

  "There," Bess said. Nancy uncovered her eyes to see the result. Her hair waved to her shoulders

  in a bushy curtain. The spray had darkened it to an auburn shade and spangled it with flecks of gold.

  Bess pulled the headband on next and tilted the black lace bow jauntily to one side.

  "What do you think?" Bess asked as Nancy examined herself critically.

  "Let's see," Nancy said, turning around. Bess's black sweater practically swallowed her up. Lx)ng gold earrings dangled from her ears, and a heavy V-shaped choker encircled her throat.

  Striking a pose, Nancy said, "Coffee, tea, or—"

  "Murder," Jennifer broke in, coming from the living room. Her face was white. In her hand was a newspaper. She thrust it in front of Nancy's nose. "Look! The brakes on Rod FuUerton's car gave out!"

  '*What?'' Nancy grabbed the newspaper and skimmed the article. The police had investigated the fatal accident that had taken Rod FuUerton's hfe and had linked it to faulty brakes.

  "Read it on the plane!" Bess said, handing Nancy her dark glasses. "We've got to get going. Now."

  Rather than risk detection by using her pass to board the plane, Nancy bought a ticket under the name Ms. N. Nickerson. Wait until Ned hears about this! she thought with a laugh.

  People kept staring at her as she walked along. Nancy glanced into one of the mirrors beside the airport's Vapor Trail Cafe. With scarlet lipstick, red heels, black nylons, the oversize black sweater and skirt, and her wild new hair, Nancy's own father wouldn't have recognized her!

  Nancy checked in and boarded the plane. She threw her overnight bag with a change of clothes into an overhead storage bin. She planned to take a different flight back to Seattle—and she couldn't wait to get into her comfortable black cords and flats in Los Angeles.

  Nancy looked for Linda Cotilla, but she didn't see her. She decided the flight attendant must be in the back galley.

  Nancy's aisle seat was about halfway down the coach section of the 727. The 727 was much smaller than the 747s, but it was roomy, anyway. The chair beside her was empty, but the window seat was occupied by a businessman. He looked her over from head to toe, then snapped open his newspaper in silent disapproval.

  Amused, Nancy picked up a magazine and began leafing through it. When all the passengers had been seated, Linda came out of the back galley, walked to the front of the plane, and picked up the microphone.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to flight two thirty-three, nonstop to Los Angeles. We will be departing in about five minutes. Please make sure your seats and tray tables are in an upright position and fasten your seat belts for takeoff."

  Settling into the seat, Nancy heaved a sigh of contentment. She had wanted to take a trip somewhere. A day flight to Los Angeles and back was better than nothing. She was going to get her chance to meet Bess's Mark, too, when the flight landed.

  Linda walked slowly down the aisle to check everyone's seat, and suddenly stopped right in front of Nancy.

  "You!" Linda exclaimed angrily. "What are you doing on this flight?"

  Chapter Fourteen

  So THE JIG was up. Nancy slowly lifted her eyes, meeting Linda's furious stare. But Linda's gaze was focused past Nancy's head on the person seated behind her.

  "Hi, Linda," a male voice said easily. "Something wrong with my taking a flight to L.A.?"

  Linda drew a deep breath, said, "Of course not," and attempted a smile. But Nancy saw the way she strode toward the galley, her steps jerky and agitated.

  Nancy pretended to drop her magazine in the aisle. When she bent to pick it up, she twisted slightly and glanced backward. The man in the seat behind her was no one she had ever seen before.

  Who was he? Another member of the smuggling gang?

  Once in the air Nancy observed Linda. Twice she dropped a passenger's cup, and when she served breakfast trays, her hands were so unsteady that the trays shook. If Linda hadn't been the senior flight attendant, she would certainly have been fired, Nancy thought.

  In the Los Angeles airport Nancy met Bess and Jennifer at Victory's Mile High Room, a private room for employees of the airline and special frequent flyers.

  "I saw Linda head in another direction, so we're safe in here," Jennifer said. "Come on, Nancy. There's a restroom where you can change—^it even has a shower."

  After washing and drying her hair, she changed out of Bess's clothes and pulled on her own.

  Feehng more Uke herself in the black cords and turquoise shirt, she rejoined the others and was introduced to a young man dressed in a black Victory uniform.

  "This is Mark," Bess said with a proud smile.

  Mark pulled out a chair for Nancy. "What a transformation!" he said. "I saw you when you got on the plane."

  For some reason Nancy blushed. "I was—er— working undercover."

  Mark's mouth twitched. Nancy was glad to see

  he had a sense of humor. "Bess said you were a detective."

  "That's right. In fact, that's why I called her to come to Seattle," Jennifer put in. "Nancy's the best."

  "Tell me all about you and Victory Airlines," Nancy said encouragingly to Mark, hoping to get a fresh perspective on the case.

  Mark was more than happy to tell her about his job and how he'd come to work for Victory. While he talked, Bess watched him with adoring eyes.

  "Has either of you ever been in any kind of danger in the air?" Nancy asked Jennifer and Mark.

  Jennifer shook her head, but Mark nodded. "Once," he admitted. "We were flying through some really tough weather, and the hydraulic line to the rudder snapped. We lost pressure to the wings and brakes and had to make a flaps-up landing."

  "Flaps-up landing?" It sounded bad.

  "Normally, when a plane approaches the runway to land, the pilot lowers the flaps on the wings. The flaps add drag and slow the plane down. As soon as the wheels hit the runway, the brakes are applied, and the plane gradually comes to a stop.


  "In a flaps-up landing, with no brakes, the plane approaches the runway/o^r. As soon as the wheels come down and the plane lands, you just have to ride with it until it comes to a stop on its own,"

  "What if you run out of runway?" Nancy asked.

  Mark smiled. "That's the problem. There aren't many runways long enough to make that kind of landing. When the plane runs out of landing strip, it just keeps heading forward across a field or asphalt to whatever's in front of it. You'd just better hope there's nothing there."

  "Like other planes," Nancy said.

  "Or buildings."

  "Does Puget Sound Airport have a runway long enough to handle that kind of emergency landing?" Bess asked, the possibilities widening her eyes.

  "The northeast runway is five thousand feet long. It's the longest one we've got."

  Nancy recalled that that was the runway she had seen from the window of the restaurant Preston Talbot and Blake Maxell had taken her to. It was also the runway used for most of the jumbo jets.

  The talk turned more general as they ate lunch in the Mile High Room. After dessert Mark, Jennifer, and Bess went back to the plane. Nancy's flight took off a little later than the Victory flight. As she flew back to Seattle, Nancy went over the case in her mind and decided she'd like to talk to Linda alone.

  Back in Seattle, near Victory's counter, Nancy looked for Bess and Jennifer. But the first person she saw was Linda Cotilla. And Linda was in a furious conversation with Grant Sweeney!

  Nancy ducked behind a pillar and tried to move closer to where Linda and Grant were standing.

  As soon as she got within earshot, though, Grant suddenly stalked off. Linda stood still for several moments, then walked away in the other direction.

  What's going on? Nancy wondered. Did they see me?

  As surreptitiously as possible she started after Linda, following her to the Vapor Trail Caf6. When Linda took a seat at a quiet table in the comer, Nancy slipped inside and stood in a sheltered spot by the counter. She wasn't really surprised when Grant Sweeney strolled in and sat down in the seat across from Linda.