This Side of Evil Read online

  “Ned!” Nancy exclaimed. “That’s no can of hairspray! It’s—”

  Nancy and Ned watched helplessly as the gloved runner whirled around, grabbed George’s arm with one hand, and pushed the can toward George’s face.

  Stumbling, George raised her hands and rubbed her eyes. Then she took two steps and collapsed.

  Chapter Twelve

  “IT LOOKS LIKE tear gas or something!” Nancy yelled. On the track, George was gasping frantically and tearing at her eyes.

  Ned jumped up, knocking his chair over, and bolted for the door. In an instant he was clattering down the long, steep stairway toward the field far below. Nancy followed as fast as she could. Ned was a super-fast runner, though, and he was rapidly outdistancing her. Already he had reached the lowest tier of seats.

  Down on the track, George was struggling to sit up. The attacker bent over her for a moment, and then George fell back, not moving.

  The runner bent over and hoisted the now-limp George into a fireman’s carry, straightening up with difficulty. Once the attacker was standing upright, George’s weight seemed to be an easier burden. Carrying George, the white-jacketed figure shuffled to a nearby tunnel and disappeared.

  Ned finally reached the end of the aisle and vaulted over the rail and onto the track. At a dead run he raced across the field toward the exit where George and her attacker had vanished. But just as Ned reached the mouth of the tunnel, Nancy heard the echoing screech of car tires, and her heart sank. Running was no use anymore—George was gone.

  George was gone! Suddenly the reality of it hit Nancy. George had been kidnapped! Where was she being taken? Who had taken her?

  Her heart pounding painfully, Nancy jogged down the track to the spot where George had fallen. There was something on the track: the empty can and a syringe. Nancy shook her head. There was no use looking for fingerprints on the can or the syringe—the white gloves would have taken care of that. Like everything else in this case, the kidnapping had been carefully planned and beautifully executed. There was no doubt about it. They were dealing with a first-rate criminal mind, and so far it had defeated them at every turn. It was almost as if they were playing some sort of game.

  But it was a deadly game now. There was a life at stake. George’s life.

  Ned ran back to Nancy, panting. From the look on his face, Nancy knew he hadn’t seen a thing.

  “It’s no use,” he gasped, out of breath. “Whoever it was—had everything planned perfectly. All I could see was a pair of taillights disappearing around the corner. I didn’t even see the car. The garage was too dark.”

  “Well, we know one thing,” Nancy said. “The kidnapper had to be a man. George is no featherweight.”

  “Not so fast,” Ned cautioned. “A woman could have managed to carry her with that fireman’s carry. All the weight is over your back and legs. You could carry me if you had to.” He shook his head. “No, it still could be a woman, Nancy.”

  “Whoever it is, he—or she—is a pro,” Nancy said, picking up the syringe carefully. “This was probably loaded with some kind of quick-acting sedative. Once George was blinded by the tear gas, she was knocked out with this.”

  “Now what?” Ned asked as they made their way back up to the press box to pick up Ned’s camera. “Do we call the police and report a kidnapping?”

  “Only if we have to,” Nancy replied grimly. “We know more about this case than the police could find out in a week. But there is one person we have to check out, and on the double.”

  “Oh?” Ned asked. “Who’s that?”

  Soberly Nancy looked at Ned. “Who knew we were going to be here this afternoon?”

  Ned shook his head. “Nobody. Except Lake Sinclair, that is. She had to because she arranged the passes for us.”

  “Right. And remember the first time we met her? She was wearing a white jogging suit, just like the top the attacker had on. There was a weight room in her condo, too. If it was a woman who kidnapped George, it could have been Lake.”

  “Passes?” Lake gasped in surprise. She was standing in the middle of her kitchen, surrounded by trays and platters of food. “I didn’t arrange any passes for you. I meant to, but I didn’t have time. I’ve been too busy getting ready for my party tonight.”

  “If you didn’t, then who did?” Ned asked.

  “The blackmailer, of course,” Nancy said wearily. “Remember the letter I got? Obviously, he’s made good on his threat to hurt you or George.”

  “If you need proof that I wasn’t involved,” Lake added, picking up a tray of tiny sandwiches, “ask anyone here.” She turned to a white-aproned caterer who was working behind her at the stove. “Tell these people where I’ve been all morning, Philippe.”

  “She’s been right here in the kitchen, mademoiselle,” Philippe answered in surprise. “Of course.”

  “Well, that’s that,” Nancy said. It was nearly two, and she and Ned had just gotten back to the apartment. “It’s obvious that Lake really didn’t have anything to do with George’s disappearance.” She looked around the apartment. It seemed so empty without George.

  Nancy picked up the phone. “I’d better let Ms. Amberton know what’s happened.” She was still out, so Nancy left another message to tell her that George had disappeared.

  Nancy put the phone down with a sigh. “I guess there’s nothing to do now but wait.” She stretched wearily out on the sofa, her hands behind her head. “The kidnapper’s bound to get in touch with us, sooner or later.”

  “Well, while we’re waiting,” Ned said, “I vote for a sandwich. We never even ate lunch. How about it?”

  “I think there are some cold cuts in the refrigerator,” Nancy said. “And some soda.”

  They had just settled down to the salami sandwiches Ned had made when there was a knock on the door.

  “Delivery service,” someone called.

  “We’re not expecting anything,” Nancy said to Ned in a low voice.

  Cautiously Ned went to the door and opened it as far as the chain would allow. “It is a delivery,” he reported. “A plastic box.”

  “Where’d you get this?” Nancy asked, coming up behind Ned.

  The boy shrugged. “Don’t know,” he replied. “It came to the office just a little while ago, with instructions to deliver immediately.” He thrust a clipboard at Ned. “Sign here, please.”

  Nancy looked at the box Ned held in his hand. “That looks like a videocassette!” she exclaimed.

  Ned opened the box. “It is a tape.” He looked at the VCR sitting on top of the television set. “I’ll put it in.”

  Nancy adjusted the television set as Ned put the tape on. They both sat down on the sofa with the remote control and Ned flicked it on.

  For a moment the screen was filled with silvery snow. Then the image cleared and Nancy could see George. She was seated, tied to a chair. She was pale and obviously groggy, but her eyes were open and filled with terror. There was a smear of blood on her cheek.

  “Oh, no,” Nancy moaned. “Poor George!” She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. It was hypnotizing.

  Ned stared at the screen, his fists clenched, trying to speak. No words would come out. On the tape, a thickly muffled voice said, “Well, Nancy Drew, did you enjoy the view from the press box?” Nancy couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman, but there was no disguising the triumph in it.

  The kidnapper chuckled. “Wasn’t that an interesting show? Of course, now that I have your friend, I have to decide what to do with her. I have lots of choices, but I haven’t made up my mind—yet. But if you’ll go out to Sainte-Hélene’s Island now, to the museum at the Old Fort, I’ll get in touch with you. Wait there to hear from me.” There was a moment of silence, and then the chuckle came again. The screen went black.

  Shakily, Nancy got to her feet. “Oh, Ned,” she whispered. “This is so awful. And I feel responsible.”

  Ned put his arm around her shoulders. “I feel pretty awful, too,” he said in
a low voice. “But you can’t blame yourself.”

  For a few moments Nancy let Ned’s comforting arms surround her. Then she pulled back. “Well, we can’t think about that now,” she said in a determined voice. “We’ve got to think about George and how to get her back. Come on. Let’s go to the Old Fort.”

  The Old Fort wasn’t a fort at all, Nancy and Ned discovered. Instead it was a protected grassy area on Saint-Hélene’s Island that was used as an arsenal back in 1822. Also on the island were some of the pavilions left over from Expo ’67. They’d been turned into shops and restaurants and cafes, along with swimming pools, gardens—even an aquarium.

  But Nancy and Ned didn’t care to shop or to see the sights. They hurried directly to the museum, a two-story building that housed displays tracing the history of New France and Canada through the early days. It was filled with weapons, brightly colored military uniforms, and a large model of what Montreal was like in 1760.

  Nancy paced nervously back and forth in the lobby. “What’s the kidnapper going to do with her?”

  “I don’t know,” Ned said sympathetically and glanced at the phone at the information desk. “Do you suppose the kidnapper will call?”

  “That’s a possibility,” Nancy said. “But with this guy, you can’t tell. He might try anything! Or she,” she added, remembering that the kidnapper could be a woman.

  It was nearly five o’clock, and Nancy was beginning to feel desperate. What would happen if the museum closed and the kidnapper hadn’t contacted them yet? But just then the telephone on the desk rang. The woman who answered it looked around at the few people left in the lobby.

  “Is there someone here named Nancy Drew?” she asked in a thick French accent.

  Nancy jumped for the phone, with Ned right beside her. The kidnapper laughed, a grating sound that echoed in Nancy’s ear. “Are you and your friend enjoying the museum?” the voice asked.

  “What have you done with George?” Nancy demanded. “Where is she?”

  “Ah, so the famous detective is stumped at last!” the voice exclaimed, obviously pleased. “Well, Nancy Drew, you’ll just have to wait until I’m ready to tell you where she is—and I’m not ready yet.” The voice dropped, and there was an edge to it that made Nancy’s blood run cold. “But you can be sure of one thing, my dear detective.”

  “What’s that?” Nancy whispered.

  “George Fayne is going to die. And you and Ned are, too. The game is mine, my friend, and I get to make up the rules!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  THERE WAS NOTHING for Nancy and Ned to do but go back to the apartment. They didn’t dare go out to dinner in case the kidnapper called. Instead, they ordered a pizza and ate it without really tasting it. They watched television without really seeing it, and neither of them said a word.

  The phone startled them both when it rang. Nancy jumped to answer it while Ned turned down the TV. But it wasn’t the kidnapper—it was Annette LeBeau. Nancy sighed nervously. She didn’t want to tie up the line.

  “I’ve been out of town for a few days,” Annette said, “and when I got back this evening I received the strangest phone call.”

  “A phone call?” Nancy asked.

  “Yes. Someone—I’m not sure whether it was a man or a woman—wanted me to call you with a message.” Nancy heard a rustling of paper. “I wrote it down so I could give it to you exactly.”

  With growing excitement, Nancy reached for a pencil. The message had to be from the kidnapper. “Okay,” she said eagerly. “Let’s hear it.”

  “ ‘Nancy and Ned are going to have a lovely day sightseeing tomorrow,’ ” Annette read. “ ‘The view from Mont-Royal is the best in the city. The Chalet is the place to wait.’ ” She cleared her throat. “Do you mind if I ask you what this is all about?” she added curiously.

  Nancy’s jaw tightened. “Our blackmailer has added a new crime to his repertoire,” she said grimly. “Kidnapping.”

  “Kidnapping!”

  “Our friend George Fayne was kidnapped this morning from Olympic Stadium.”

  “Have you called the police?”

  “No, not yet,” Nancy replied. “But if we don’t have any leads by tomorrow, we may have to.”

  “Well, if I can help in any way, just let me know,” Annette said. “The resources of the station are at your disposal, if they would help.”

  Nancy thanked Annette and put down the telephone. Then she remembered to call Ms. Amberton to update her. After hanging up she said to Ned slowly, “You know, this whole thing feels like some sort of scavenger hunt. It’s as if we’ve been following a trail of clues that somebody deliberately laid out for us. And George is the grand prize.” She looked down at her notes. “Tomorrow, we’re supposed to look for clues at the top of Mont-Royal.”

  Nancy and Ned spent most of the next day, Sunday, in the mountaintop park, in the center of the city. But it was as fruitless as the afternoon they spent on Sainte-Hélene’s Island. No call, nothing.

  The view was stunning, though. They could pick out the Cherbourg Building in the middle of the other skyscrapers in downtown Montreal. To their left was the oval of Olympic Stadium. The distance made it look tiny.

  But Nancy and Ned spent the entire, endless day sitting on the terrace in the Chalet near the pay phone. They kept going over and over the details of the case.

  “I feel so helpless,” Nancy told Ned. It was five-thirty in the afternoon and getting cool. She pulled her yellow cardigan closer around her. “I feel like a puppet on a string, jumping whenever the kidnapper says jump. I’m sure this creep is our blackmailer, too,” she added bitterly.

  Ned shaded his eyes from the late-afternoon sun as he looked toward the river. He pointed to the wharves. “You know what,” he said. “Those big warehouses along the river would make a great hiding place. I wonder if George is in one of those buildings along the docks.”

  Nancy leaned both elbows on the table, shrugging. “I’ve decided,” she said, “that the kidnapper-blackmailer is sending us on these wild-goose chases just to keep us busy.”

  “Maybe we were getting too close,” Ned suggested. “Maybe the blackmailer got nervous.”

  “Exactly where are we?” Nancy asked thoughtfully. “We’ve eliminated Emile Dandridge and Lake Sinclair as suspects, we’ve established that—”

  The telephone on the wall rang, interrupting her.

  “It’s the kidnapper!” Nancy exclaimed, dashing for it. “I’m sure of it!”

  But when she picked up the phone, she was greeted by Ashley Amberton’s voice. “I just received a telephone message, instructing me to call you at this number,” Ms. Amberton said. “We’re supposed to be in my office in exactly thirty minutes,” she said. “I’m at home now, but I’ll meet you there in a half hour. You’ll receive another message when we get to the office.”

  Nancy looked at her watch. “We’re on our way,” she said.

  “Oh, and Nancy—there’s more to the message. Something very odd.”

  “What is it?” Nancy asked.

  “It says, ‘Playing blindman’s buff has been fun, but the game’s getting boring. Isn’t it time you cried uncle?’ ”

  The Sunday afternoon traffic was heavier than Nancy had expected, and it was nearly six-thirty when Nancy and Ned finally got to Ashley Amberton’s office.

  “You just missed the call,” she told them, greeting Nancy and shaking hands with Ned. Nancy noticed that her left hand was bandaged. She wondered what had happened.

  “What did the kidnapper say?” Nancy asked eagerly.

  “Here’s the message,” Ms. Amberton said, giving it to Nancy with a chilly smile. “I copied it down exactly.”

  “What does it say, Nan?” Ned asked.

  “ ‘Your friend is all packed up and ready to go at the Cherbourg Wharf,’ ” Nancy read out loud. “ ‘If you don’t find her by midnight, she’s going to be taking a short ocean trip—straight down.’ ”

  Ashley Amberton glanced at her
watch. “I’ve taken the liberty,” she said, “of arranging for the company helicopter to fly you over to the wharf. It’s waiting for you on the roof right now. Traffic is heavy at this hour, and the helicopter will have you on the wharf in no time at all. Since you’ll be flying in, you won’t have to worry about the gates, which are locked, of course. It’s a high-security area.”

  “What about the warehouse?” Nancy asked. “Is it locked, too?”

  Ms. Amberton opened her desk drawer. “This should do the trick.” She handed Nancy a ring of keys. One was marked Warehouse.

  Nancy thrust the keys into the pocket of her flower-printed skirt. “Thanks,” she said. She and Ned followed Ms. Amberton to the elevator.

  Up on the roof the helicopter was ready to go. Its rotor blades turned lazily as the pilot warmed the engine. When he saw them coming, he gunned the engine and the rotors began to spin more quickly. The stiff wind almost blew Nancy over as she ran across the roof, Ned right behind her.

  “One more thing,” Ashley Amberton said as the pilot reached down to give Nancy a hand. “As soon as you find her, I want you to bring your friend here so that I know she’s safe. I’ll stay here and work.”

  “We will,” Nancy promised. “Will you please call the police and have them meet us at the warehouse? We’ll need help searching.” The older woman nodded. “And thanks again for everything you’ve done.”

  “You’ve got nothing to thank me for,” Ms. Amberton said with a smile. “Now hurry! You’ve got to get over to the wharf fast, before your friend is murdered!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE HELICOPTER FLEW out over the choppy surface of the Saint Lawrence River, carrying Nancy and Ned to the Cherbourg Wharf. Darkness was falling, and the lights of Montreal were flickering on like a web of sparkling diamonds far below. It was like riding a magic carpet, Nancy thought. It might have even been fun if she hadn’t kept thinking about the kidnapper’s ominous message. At midnight, George would be killed! But at least, thanks to Ms. Amberton, they weren’t wasting time just trying to get to the wharf. That left more time to look for George. She checked her watch. It was just after seven. In the seat beside her, Ned was looking out the window.