The Wrong Chemistry Read online

  In the darkness the rustling sounded again behind her. Nancy’s pulse pounded in her neck. Was there someone following her? The rustling stopped, but to her horror, Nancy heard a squeaking sound. It could only mean one thing: There had to be mice—or rats, even—in the tunnel with her.

  She stopped and reached for the penlight, at the same time telling herself to stay calm. The rats weren’t going to attack her, especially if she kept moving. She shone the thin beam ahead of her down the corridor.

  Almost running now, she stumbled along the corridor. Her shoes made so much noise against the rough stones she couldn’t tell if the rats were running with her. Stay calm, she told herself. You’ve been in worse situations. It wasn’t a very comforting thought.

  A rough stone caught the toe of one shoe. Before she could throw out a hand to stop herself, Nancy tripped and sprawled out, face forward, on the damp tunnel floor. The penlight flew from her hand and skidded over the stones. The faint light wavered and died as the tunnel was plunged into total darkness.

  Nancy scrambled to her feet. With a sinking heart, she realized she had to keep moving. Unless . . . Trying to squelch her rising panic, she felt in her purse. She took out the map and folded it in half over and over until she had formed a little column of paper. Then she began to twist, until she had made a sort of paper candle. She dipped into her purse for the matchbook she had picked up when she and Ned and Angela were talking in the cafeteria. There were only two matches.

  Cautiously, Nancy struck the first match. She heard a hiss and smelled sulfur, but nothing happened. She tried it again. Still the match wouldn’t light. Blindly, she touched the match with her fingertip and felt the cardboard stem. She must have knocked the tip off when she struck it.

  She had only one match now. She tore it out of the book and struck it on the flint strip. A tiny flame sprang up in front of her face. With great care, she touched it to the folded map and a glow grew into a light just big enough to see by. Holding up her hand to shield the makeshift candle from a draft, she scrambled through the corridor as quickly as she could.

  The paper burned quickly. Soon there were only a few inches left. Then Nancy felt the ground even out under her feet. Something glinted dully off to her left. Breathlessly, she ran toward it. Just as she reached the source of light, the flame hit her fingers. She dropped the burning paper, and it fizzled on the cement. The darkness fell around her like a curtain, but it didn’t matter now. She knew she was in the dorm basement.

  Groping toward the dim reflection, Nancy found the door to the basement elevator. She tried the handle, but it didn’t turn. This door hadn’t been used lately; the elevator shaft was still sealed.

  Nancy realized there might not be a way to get into the dorm from the tunnel. If not, she would have to retrace her steps back the way she had come, with no light this time, taking her chances with the rats. It wasn’t something she looked forward to.

  Nancy closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. Now she was panicking, she thought. From the ceiling to her left she spotted a very faint crack of light. Feeling her way in its direction, she banged her leg badly on something cold and hard. Cursing herself, she rubbed the sore leg, then explored whatever it was she’d bumped into.

  Iron stairs! Leading up out of the tunnel. Relief flooded through her as she clambered up them. The glimmer of light she had noticed before formed the outline of a box now—a hatchway cover, Nancy realized. Holding her hands above her head, she fumbled for the latch. Her fingers scraped along the ceiling but finally she found it. She threw it to one side and pushed.

  Light flooded the stairway. Squinting against the sudden shock of it, Nancy scrambled out and threw the trapdoor shut.

  She was on a quiet lawn, outside the dorm. Resting for a moment, Nancy tried to quiet her pounding heart. Only a few yards from her was the tall, wrought iron fence that surrounded Emerson. Through the fence she could see the thick line of trees that separated the POE headquarters from the college.

  As she rounded the corner of the dorm, Nancy was more determined than ever to speak to Josef Maszak. The tunnel was the thief’s most logical escape route, it had obviously been used recently, and it led almost to Maszak’s door. One of those facts could be a coincidence—but all three? Nancy didn’t think so.

  Emerson’s main entrance lay about one hundred yards away. And halfway between it and Nancy was Professor Maszak’s house.

  She marched up Maszak’s steps and knocked briskly on the door. A face peered out through the curtains. Nancy lifted up her hand to knock again when the door swung open.

  Maszak stared at Nancy. “Yes, Ms. Drew?”

  “Professor Maszak,” Nancy began boldly, “I have some questions, and I think you’re the only one with the answers.”

  Maszak stepped back. “Please come in.”

  Nancy walked into a dim living room and sat in the chair he indicated. Maszak made no move to sit. Instead, he stood between her and the door.

  “Well?”

  Nancy took a deep breath. “Suppose we start with Jamison College,” she said. “And the mysterious growth of that bacteria.”

  At Nancy’s question, Maszak’s face turned a deathly shade of white. Then he lunged for her, his hands outstretched. Maszak was going to strangle Nancy!

  Chapter

  Twelve

  NANCY PUT HER HANDS UP to protect herself. Maszak must have realized what he was about to do, because he pulled back, then threw himself into a chair facing her. He stared at Nancy in stunned surprise.

  “The Jamison experiment—how did you find out?”

  “I am a detective,” Nancy said wryly.

  As Nancy watched, Maszak’s expression had changed from defiant anger to helpless defeat. He slumped deeper in his chair, and all his usual bluster faded. The professor looked drawn, even sickly.

  “It was a brilliant discovery. And I couldn’t pass up experiments with CLT. Yes, some of the CLT had come in contact with the bacteria and produced the abnormal growth. I’ve been terrified someone here would find out. Then you walked into my office, and I knew you were going to be trouble. I knew you’d uncover the theft.”

  “That’s what I came here for,” Nancy said.

  Maszak shook his head impatiently. “No, not this theft. I mean the theft at Jamison.”

  The theft at Jamison? Nancy hid her confusion. “Well, the Jamison newspapers put two and two together for me,” she bluffed.

  “Ah, yes. Of course,” the professor said sadly.

  “Maybe you’d better start at the beginning,” Nancy suggested, trying to sound as if she knew what Maszak was talking about.

  Maszak nodded. “I came to America because of my wife’s illness,” he began. “It was very difficult to get all the necessary permission to teach here. Finally, because of my specialty, we were approved.

  “We spent two and a half happy years at Jamison. Linda, my wife, was being treated successfully at the hospital. And I loved teaching.”

  “That wasn’t the first time you began working with growth hormones, was it?” Nancy guessed.

  “No, I worked with them in Hungary. It was the first time I’d had such success, however. And then, just as things were ready to take off, someone stole the CLT.”

  “But no one ever knew what happened at Jamison,” Nancy said, frowning. “Not even Dean Jarvis here at Emerson.”

  “No, he knew nothing.” Maszak sighed. “It was terrible. I walked into my lab at Jamison one morning and the place was a shambles. Whoever broke in had torn the lab apart. The department head wanted to keep it quiet, though he requested a thorough list of everything that was stolen. Of course, I omitted the loss of the CLT.”

  “But if you didn’t take it, why would you cover up the theft?” Nancy asked. “You might have stopped the thief then.”

  “I thought I would lose my job,” the professor said miserably. “I was afraid because of my mistake with the bacteria that people would think I was extremely careless to have the CLT
stolen, too. I couldn’t afford to take the risk.”

  “No one would have blamed you for something beyond your control,” Nancy assured him.

  “Maybe, maybe not.” Maszak shrugged. “I’m not used to your freedom here. I couldn’t take the chance.” He fell silent.

  Nancy waited for him to continue. “Is that why you left Jamison?” she prompted.

  “Yes. When Emerson applied for a visiting scientist, I asked to come here. But the thefts followed me.”

  Nancy was almost convinced that Maszak was telling the truth. Why would he risk his whole career and livelihood by stealing the CLT? Still, there was one thing that nagged at her. Nancy hesitated: “Professor, can you explain the argument I overheard you having yesterday on the pay phone?”

  The professor reddened. “I was talking to the accountant at the hospital. Emerson hasn’t sent the papers for us to be reimbursed by our health insurance yet. I owe a lot of money to the hospital still, but I don’t think I should have to pay it with my money when my insurance covers it. The hospital will be paid eventually, but they want their money now. It’s a mess.”

  Maszak could be accused of poor judgment, Nancy thought, but he didn’t have to steal the CLT for money. He had insurance.

  Nancy looked at Maszak, rumpled and slumped in his chair. She needed more information. Something still didn’t make sense.

  “Tell me, professor, how did you get involved with Bangs’ group?” she asked innocently.

  “Bangs’ group? What group?” The professor looked genuinely blank.

  “I mean POE,” Nancy said slowly. “Philip Bangs was at Jamison at the same time the bacteria was discovered growing abnormally and the CLT was stolen. I don’t think it’s coincidence that he’s here now, at the same time as the Emerson thefts.”

  Professor Maszak gave Nancy a startled look. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” Nancy replied patiently, “that Bangs is known for fighting technology that threatens the environment. He might feel the CLT threatens the future safety of animals. He might be after you to try to prevent you from continuing your experiments.”

  Maszak stared at her, and then a smile began to spread across his face. He was actually laughing!

  “Ms. Drew,” he said when he had gotten ahold of himself, “CLT doesn’t harm the animals. It is only used to stimulate growth in cells. That’s all.”

  Nancy was determined. “Professor, someone has tried very hard to get rid of me. There must be more to CLT than even you are aware of. Would you come with me to the lab? Maybe you’ll see something I’ve missed.”

  Maszak gladly accompanied Nancy to the science building. Together, they combed the lab, though neither Maszak nor Nancy was sure what to look for.

  “Look for anything that seems out of place,” Nancy advised the professor as she stood in the walk-in freezer. “Or anything you’ve never seen before.”

  She scanned the third shelf from the bottom, where the CLT containers had been kept. She spotted a short, curly black hair frozen onto a shelf. Carefully, she chipped it off.

  “I might take this to the police to be analyzed,” she murmured. “Though it could belong to anyone—a student, a janitor, someone who had never even entered the lab.”

  “It is good to be thorough,” the professor agreed.

  “Do you have an envelope?” Nancy asked.

  “An envelope? I must have an envelope somewhere.” The professor looked around him helplessly. “I never realized I had so many papers.”

  “Here, let me look,” Nancy offered. She began rummaging through his drawers.

  They were crammed with test papers, lab books, copies of scientific articles. Nancy smiled to herself.

  As she opened another drawer, Nancy noticed a piece of Maszak’s stationery lying right on the top where it couldn’t be missed. She picked it up by one corner. She was positive it hadn’t been there before. In the center of the page, an address in Caracas, Venezuela, and three numbers had been neatly typed.

  “Professor Maszak,” Nancy asked, looking up, “what’s this?”

  Maszak looked at the paper in her hand. “I don’t know,” he answered. “I’m sure I’ve never seen it before.”

  Nancy looked at him questioningly. A man as messy as the professor couldn’t really be trusted to remember which papers were his.

  “No, I’m sure I’ve never seen it,” Maszak said. He stared at the paper. “That is a date,” he went on, “written European style, day first, month second.” He frowned. “It’s tomorrow’s date. Why would someone put that in my drawer?”

  Nancy looked at him thoughtfully. “It’s my guess, professor, that the paper was planted by the thief.”

  “But why?” Maszak looked thoroughly puzzled.

  “We don’t know that yet,” Nancy told him. “But if something were to happen tomorrow, maybe something dangerous or illegal, and this paper was found in your desk, it might be enough evidence to incriminate you.”

  Maszak shook his head impatiently. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  Nancy grinned. “You can’t frame someone with false information,” she explained. “We have to assume this address has some real meaning. Now all we have to do is find out what that is—before tomorrow.”

  Maszak rubbed a hand over his forehead. “I’ll be ruined. No one will ever hire me again.”

  Nancy placed a reassuring hand on Maszak’s shoulder. “I don’t know exactly how yet,” she said, “but I’m convinced I can solve this whole puzzle.”

  She checked her watch. It was already midafternoon. “I’ve got to hurry, but don’t worry,” she told him. “I won’t let anyone ruin your career.”

  Nancy left Maszak in his lab and hurried back to her dorm to pick up her car. Then she sped to Omega Chi to find Ned. Mike, Jan, and Amber Thomas were in the living room.

  Jan and Amber sprang up as soon as they saw Nancy. “Thank goodness,” Jan cried. “Ned called, and we didn’t know how to reach you.”

  Mike struggled to stand up with his cane. “He said he was going to go over there,” Mike said excitedly. “To POE headquarters. He thinks he’s going to find Angela and bring her back.”

  “Is he there now?” Nancy asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Mike admitted. “He could be there, or he might still be at basketball practice . . .” His voice trailed off. “Do you think I should go over there to see what’s up?” he asked Nancy.

  Nancy made a quick decision. “I have something to do first,” she said, trying to soothe him. “If Ned already went to see Angela, he would have come right back. And besides, we don’t know if he went there yet.”

  “I could find him,” Mike suggested.

  Walking with his cane, Nancy thought, Mike would be more of a problem than a help.

  Her thoughts must have showed, for Mike suddenly looked embarrassed. “Just say the word, Nancy, and I’ll do anything. If my best friend’s in trouble, I’ll help any way I can.”

  “You can help right now. I need directions to the police station in town,” Nancy said.

  Amber jumped up. “I know where it is. I have a friend who works there. Why don’t Jan and I go with you?”

  “Great,” Nancy said enthusiastically. “And Mike, you wait here for Ned.”

  The three girls piled into the car and headed for town. Nancy was forcing herself not to worry about Ned. The information she needed now was crucial. Oh, Ned, she thought sadly, why couldn’t you have waited until tomorrow to go to POE headquarters?

  If Nancy’s instincts were right, POE could be very dangerous. Even fatal.

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  AS THEY SPED TOWARD TOWN, Nancy tried to focus on the task ahead. The key to the mystery could be that address in Caracas. When she found out what it meant she would have the last answer to her questions. And the police had a computer that could give her that information.

  The police station was a sprawling stone building in the center of Emersonville
. Nancy parked and the three girls climbed the long low steps and hurried into the bustling receiving room.

  Nancy racked her brain for some way to get access to the computer without giving away the case. At that moment, a handsome young sergeant with black hair strolled through the area.

  “Joe!” Amber gave him a quick hug before turning to Nancy and Jan.

  “This is Joe Ross,” she said. “He’ll help you, Nancy.”

  Joe flashed them a dazzling smile and ushered them down the hall. He was very handsome, Nancy decided. She glanced at Amber and saw the soft look in her lovely eyes. Clearly, Joe Ross was more than just a friend.

  Joe held the computer room door open for them. “Jan says you need information about a foreign address,” he said to Nancy. “But I don’t see why you need the police.”

  Jan knew Nancy was a detective, but she didn’t know Nancy was working on a case. With a quick glance at Amber and Joe, Nancy decided she had to break her cover to get the information she needed. Quickly she admitted she was really at Emerson to investigate a theft, leaving out details of Maszak’s top secret experiment.

  “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more about the case,” Nancy said sincerely, “but believe me, it’s a matter of life or death. You can call the River Heights police to verify what I’m saying.”

  Joe looked abashed. “I’ll have to,” he admitted, “or I’ll catch it.”

  He left the room to make the call. In a few minutes he was back. “Okay,” he said, turning to Nancy. “I’ll help. What do you need?”

  Nancy handed him a piece of paper. “I need to know who or what is at this address.”