Danger for Hire (8 page)

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Authors: Carolyn Keene

BOOK: Danger for Hire
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“Not until you say why you're following me.” The voice belonged to Adam Reeves.

“I can't—
aagh!
—breathe!”

Adam relaxed his grip. Nancy's toes met the ground, but he didn't let her go. She gulped in air. What should she say? If she blew it, Adam might kill her on the spot.

She decided to stick to the truth—part of it, anyway. “You worked at two of the warehouses that got robbed. Of course I'm following you—what did you expect?”

“Standard procedure, huh?” Adam mocked. He tightened his grip a notch. “You'll have to do better, Nancy.”

“Okay.” Nancy's windpipe hurt. She recited some facts. “You've got high balances on your credit cards. Your car payments are six hundred and forty-six dollars a month. You're planning to open a business, but you've got nothing in the bank. Get the idea?”

Adam suddenly released her, and Nancy slumped to the ground, gasping. But in a moment she was back on her feet and facing him with a cold stare.

“How do you know that stuff?” he demanded.

It was amazing how easily you could put someone off balance with a little research and intuition.

“Never mind how I know,” she said, sounding more assertive than she felt. “You're in a lot of trouble, Adam.”

“Baloney. That's not what
he
says.”

“He?”

Adam caught himself. “Never mind who. Get to the point.”

“The point is, my evidence shows that you're involved in something illegal. You'd better start cooperating.”

Adam sneered. “You don't have anything solid on me.”

Nancy was stuck. He was right. Surprising a confession out of him depended upon convincing him that she knew the whole story. But she didn't. Worried, she tried a new tack.

“Okay, Adam, I'll go easy. Just tell me where you did time.” She mentally crossed her fingers.

Adam staggered back a step, as if struck. Nancy couldn't believe her luck. She had guessed right. A little more pressure and he might confess!

“You've done crimes before. And that choke hold—it's a mugger's move. Was that your game?”

“No! I—” Once more he stopped himself. He had amazing composure, Nancy realized in dismay. “You can't prove any of this.”

Not yet, she couldn't. But she thought she knew how to. If only she could get his fingerprints.

Her eyes still locked on Adam's, Nancy reached behind her and began to open her car door.

Adam's hand shot out and shoved the door closed.

“Hey!” he growled. “I'm not done with you yet.”

“Sorry,” Nancy said sarcastically. “Look, since we aren't getting anywhere with this conversation, let's drop it.”

For a moment Adam didn't move. Nancy was afraid he would grab her again, but he must have decided against it. Perhaps, she thought, he was remembering his date in the restaurant. What would she think if she was watching? With a hostile glare, he brushed past her and went back inside.

Nancy breathed a sigh of relief and got into her car. She wanted to get out of there—fast!

At home she immediately dusted the door of her car with a fine black powder.

• • •

“Nice fingerprints!” Chief McGinnis complimented her the next morning. “Almost a complete set, too. Where'd you get them?”

“From the door of my car,” Nancy explained.

“Let's run 'em through the computer and see what turns up,” the chief said.

Fifteen minutes later an officer came in with a manila folder. The chief opened it, scanned the contents, then handed it to Nancy.

“Well,” she said when she had looked it over, “that explains where Adam disappeared to for six months. If you'll excuse me, Chief, I think I'll have a little talk with Tom Hayward about this.”

• • •

“Prison?”
Tom Hayward said, astonished. “A Hayward guard?”

“For grand larceny,” Nancy affirmed. “Adam stole a car.”

Tom shook his head. “But how can this be? We screen our employees thoroughly. We check for things like this. They take lie detector tests.”

“An experienced liar can beat the detector,” Nancy pointed out.

“But not that easily,” Tom replied. “There's usually enough doubt about the results to disqualify the candidate.”

“So how did Adam slip through?” Nancy wondered.

“That's what I'm going to find out,” Tom
resolved. “It may take some doing, though. Adam was hired more than a year ago.”

“Anything you find out will be a help,” Nancy told him.

Tom tossed the fingerprint report onto the broad expanse of his glass-topped desk. His office was very large. Its corner windows overlooked green countryside and a man-made pond. In the pond a powerful waterjet shot an arc of water high into the air. Rainbow hues danced in the mist.

“I'll have to fire Adam, of course,” Tom said.

“Wouldn't you rather leave him on duty so you can keep track of him?” Nancy suggested.

Tom brightened. “Good idea. We'll keep him off the streets.”

“McGinnis will blanket the area with patrols tonight, right?” Tom inquired.

Nancy replied, “Yes, and I'll be watching our three main suspects.”

“Three at once? How?” Tom wondered.

“Adam will be on duty at the CD warehouse,” Nancy said. “My assistant has Neil Masterson's house under observation. That's two. As for Stanley Loomis, I'll follow him myself.”

“I'm going with you,” Tom announced.

Nancy was surprised. “You don't have to. I can cover him—with the help of some friends, of course.”

“I believe you, but even so, I'm going. I'm tired of sitting around waiting for the next robbery to happen,” Tom said with conviction. “I need to get involved.”

“Fine with me,” Nancy agreed. “It means I can give my friends Bess and George the night off. I'll pick you up here at sundown. Wear dark clothes in case we wind up on foot.”

“No problem.”

Just then the phone on Tom's desk trilled. He snatched up the handset. “Yes?” A pause. “Okay, put him on—”

The conversation lasted only a minute, but it was long enough to propel Tom out of his plush leather desk chair. He paced back and forth behind his desk, a worried look on his face. Concerned, Nancy watched as the phone cord stretched to its limit.

“Yeah . . . yeah . . . Can't you? No . . . okay . . . I see. Well, keep me informed.”

Hanging up, he sank back into his chair with a weary sigh.

“Bad news?” Nancy asked.

“The worst,” Tom said. “That was our banker in Chicago. The price of Hayward
Security stock has dropped another three and a half points. I have now lost three quarters of a million bucks. In one week.”

“I'm sorry,” Nancy said, stunned. “Let's hope we get some positive results tonight.”

• • •

Nancy spent the rest of the day filling in the details on Adam Reeves. She read the court records of his trial, interviewed his neighbors, and phoned his ex-boss at the gas station. She found nothing unusual, though.

That evening she picked up Tom as arranged. Nancy got the feeling that he was itching for some action. He was tense and likely to be disappointed, she knew. For the most part surveillance was a passive activity.

Stanley Loomis worked late. At eight o'clock he drove to a steak house. At eight fifty-five he stopped at a video store and rented a movie. Then he drove home.

Nancy and Tom watched his house from her car for another hour or so. The lights were off except in the living room, where the bluish flicker of the TV could be seen through the window. At ten forty-five the lights went out. All was quiet.

“There's nothing happening here,” Tom
said after a few more minutes. “Let's head down to the warehouse district.”

“Fine by me,” Nancy said. “We can check with the chief.”

The warehouse district was quiet, too, according to the officers in a police car they stopped. Tom was impatient.

“They're around here somewhere. I can feel it!” he exclaimed, hitting Nancy's dashboard with his fist. “What do you say we check under the Interstate bridge?” Tom said.

“That's almost out of the district. There's nothing in that area except some scrap metal yards,” Nancy countered.

“Exactly. See, I figure the gang hangs out somewhere near the warehouse district, not in it. They wait until they're sure the ‘heat' has cooled, and then they move in.”

“Sure,” Nancy agreed, looking at Tom with increased respect. He was very sharp! “Why didn't I think of that? Let's go.”

From a distance the bridge was a graceful, looping M outlined in lights. Up close it was a soaring steel dinosaur lumbering into the river on colossal concrete legs. Nancy coasted slowly through the wasteland that lay under the span. Wrecked cars and garbage were strewn about.

On the far side was a collection of auto salvagers, concrete mixing plants, and scrapyards. Twisted chain link fences wandered along the roadside.

“Looks deserted,” Nancy remarked uneasily.

“Maybe, maybe not. Let's drive around,” Tom suggested.

Yellow anticrime lights turned the area into something from a nightmare. Nancy turned left near a scrap metal yard.

“There!
See him?” Tom exclaimed suddenly, pointing.

Nancy snapped her head around. Leaning against a chain link fence near the open gateway to the scrapyard was a figure in black. A rubber Wolfman mask was pulled over his head.

“Yes!” Nancy twisted the wheel and swung toward him. As her headlights swept over him, the Wolfman darted inside the yard. Strange, she thought. Hadn't he seen them approaching sooner?

“Let's go!” Tom said. “We can catch him!”

“Shouldn't we call—”

“There are two of us. We can corner him!” Tom had his door open already. As Nancy
braked to a halt, he leaped out and dashed into the yard in pursuit of the Wolfman.

Nancy grabbed her keys and followed. She was worried. Tom was taking a terrible risk.

On the other hand they now had one of the robbers cornered. The chain link fence was twelve feet high and topped with barbed wire. No way was the Wolfman going anywhere. This was their best break yet, she knew.

Inside, she looked around. There was no sign of either Tom or their prey. Which direction should she go?

“Nancy! Up on the scaffolding!” Tom called from somewhere nearby.

She turned toward the scrapyard's office building. It was an old wooden structure two stories high. Metal scaffolding enveloped it. Then she saw the Wolfman darting up a ladder.

“I see him!” she called.

Nancy raced to the ladder. Should she follow? She looked around. Still no sign of Tom. He was probably on the opposite side of the building, she realized, closing in on the Wolfman from the other direction.

She decided to risk it. This time she was not facing her adversary alone. Nimbly she sped
up the ladder. No Wolfman. She scrambled up another ladder and found herself on the roof. The stairwell enclosure in the middle of the roof provided the only cover. The Wolfman had to be hiding behind it!

Nancy's heart was pounding. Quietly she tiptoed to the edge of the roof and looked down. On the ground two stories below her was a collection of scrap metal. Razor-sharp edges glinted in the half light.

“Tom?” she called. Where was he?

Suddenly two hands smashed into her back. With a scream, she went hurtling off the platform toward the jagged metal below!

Chapter

Eleven

A
S
N
ANCY FELL
, a picture of her father flashed into her mind. He's going to be furious with me, she thought.

Then her fall was broken against a pair of strong arms, and she slid easily to the ground. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn't dead.

“I—I can't believe you were standing here!” she said to Tom. Another few inches and she would have been sliced to ribbons by the scrap metal.

He was amazingly calm. He said, “It's a lucky thing I was!”

“Thank you. I thought you were up on the scaffolding, too!”

She wanted to stay right there with his arms around her for a few minutes, but a troubling thought had struck her. “The guy in the wolf mask is still up on the roof.”

“You're right,” Tom agreed. “Look, we'd better call the police.”

She raked back her hair with her fingers. “You don't want to trap him anymore?”

“Not after what just happened to you.”

Before they were halfway to her Mustang, they heard an engine roar to life. A second later a low-slung car shot around the corner of the building.

“Look out!” Nancy yelled. Grabbing Tom, she pulled him out of the way. Together they tumbled to the ground.

The car shot past them and sped through the gate. Its lights were off, including the license plate bulb, so Nancy missed the number. She sprang to her feet, but by the time she had run into the street, the car was turning a distant corner. She saw its lights snap on as it did.

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