Let’s Talk Terror (13 page)

“Yikes!” George cried. “Get me out of here!”

“We can't leave without Marcy,” Nancy said.

George took a deep breath. “Well, which way do we go?” she asked.

“Let's try that way,” Nancy said, picking a direction at random. The girls trudged down the tunnel, carefully shining the light near their feet to keep away any furry inhabitants.

Soon they came to a place where another tunnel joined the first. “I see something!” Nancy cried, running to an object in her flashlight beam.

It was a woman's gold bracelet. “That's Marcy's,” George said shakily. “I remember her wearing it on the show with Dr. Helen.”

“Me, too,” Nancy confirmed. “Jack must have taken her this way. Let's—”

Just then a loud bang echoed through the tunnel, and Nancy felt something whiz by her ear. “Duck, George!” Nancy yelled. “He's shooting at us!”

H
ER HEART POUNDING,
Nancy quickly switched off her flashlight, plunging the tunnel into darkness. “George! Are you okay?” Nancy whispered to her friend.

“I guess,” George replied shakily.

“Get out of here!” came Jack Cole's angry voice from the darkness ahead. “Leave us alone! If you don't, I swear I'll kill her!”

“He means it, Nancy,” came Marcy's terrified voice.

Nancy estimated that Marcy and Jack were about thirty feet ahead off to the right. And strangely, their voices sounded as if they were coming from someplace elevated. She squinted, and her eyes began to adjust to the dark. There was a dim light far ahead—another entrance, no doubt.

Nancy moved closer to them until she could make out Jack and Marcy's silhouettes. They were up on a catwalk, about ten feet above the ground. Nancy guessed the walk was for workers who needed access to the pipes on the ceiling of the tunnel. Marcy was in front of him, and he had an arm wrapped around her throat. In his other hand, Nancy saw the deadly shape of a pistol.

“You've convinced me, Jack,” Nancy said grimly. “We're getting out of here.” Making sure her footsteps sounded heavily, she began walking away.

George spun around, confused, and Nancy grabbed her arm, whispering, “Keep him involved, George. I'm going up the ladder we came down and then I'll go down that other ladder—behind them.”

“Right,” George whispered back. Loudly enough for Jack to hear, she said, “I'm going, too, Jack. But I wish you'd explain a few things to me before I do.”

“I don't owe you or anybody an explanation,” Jack growled.

“I know you don't,” Nancy heard George say as she continued backing away. “But it's so amazing how you pulled this off. How did you do it?”

“It wasn't hard,” Jack bragged.

“Not hard?” George said in disbelief. “To
put a bomb threat on a TelePrompTer with a studio full of people?”

A bitter laugh erupted from Jack. “That was a piece of cake,” he said. “As production stage manager, I just sent everyone else off on urgent errands. I did the same thing with Brenda Fox and the detective, the day I set the fire. Karen told me how Nancy Drew had been nosing around at the magazine, so I set her up by writing a note from an intern.”

As he was speaking, Nancy climbed back up the ladder, stomping loudly as she went. “George, I'm leaving,” she called back after her.

“If you want Marcy dead,” Jack warned, “call the police.”

“I won't,” Nancy yelled.

Nancy climbed out into the late afternoon sunshine. She pointed herself in the direction she knew the tunnel ran and began walking. Soon her path was blocked by a six-foot-high concrete wall. Nancy hoisted herself up onto it.

On the far side was a large parking area for track maintenance vehicles. The area appeared deserted, but at the other end of it, Nancy saw the other opening to the tunnel. It looked exactly like the one she and George had gone down. Quickly she hurried over to it. This gate, too, had been smashed open. Nancy
wondered if Jack was responsible or if some other vandal had broken the lock.

She climbed down, walking stealthily so she wouldn't make any noise. As she descended, she could hear George still talking. Nancy began sneaking along the side of the tunnel, edging toward the ladder to the catwalk.

“What about the stolen sign-in sheets and signing the other one with a phony name? What was the idea of that?” George was asking.

“It was to throw you and your friend off the trail,” Jack gloated. “To make you think someone had come in from outside. It worked, too!”

“You were working with Karen Kristoff, weren't you?” George was asking. “I don't understand that.”

“Karen came up with the plan in the first place, but she didn't have the nerve to take it all the way,” Jack said. “All she wanted was to get Marcy off the show and set herself up as the replacement. I had bigger ideas. Right, Marcy? We'll be together from now on. Now that I've rescued you from all that, you'll be able to be your real self again.”

Marcy's answer was a broken sob.

“We'll be happy together,” he went on, his voice an eerie whine. “Trust me. I understand you—I care about you! I may not be a big-time
producer like Vic Molina, but I've loved you since we were kids.”

Nancy kept moving forward along the pitch-black of the side of the tunnel. Only George, who was doing a brilliant job of diverting Jack's attention, had any idea she was edging closer.

“How did you find out Nancy was investigating?” George asked him.

“I overheard the cop talking about it in the lobby after the bomb threat,” Jack said. “Then I warned Nancy good. Anyone else who had seen that smashed-up mirror would have gotten off the case quick. Your friend is too stubborn. Now get out of here!”

“Wait, I'm still curious. You must have been working overtime for weeks,” George said. “Were you the one who wrote the note on the back of Marcy's picture and then tore it up?”

“Yes, that was me,” Jack replied. “I hate those pictures of her that make her look so glamorous. She's a regular, neighborhood girl, not the VIP everyone thinks they know. Isn't that right, Marcy?”

“Y-yes, Jack,” came Marcy's terrified reply.

Nancy had climbed onto the catwalk and was almost within striking distance now. If George could just keep his attention a little bit longer . . .

“So that's why you did all this?” George asked. “For love?”

“I love Marcy, and Marcy loves me,” Jack shrieked. “She doesn't realize it yet, but she will. And if she won't—well, I'll tell you one thing—that crumb Molina will never see her alive again. If I can't have her, no one will!”

“No, Jack, no,” Marcy murmured. “Please, you're very sick. You need help.”

Nancy silently advanced another step, coming behind Jack and Marcy.

“Shut up, Marcy!” Jack snarled. “You denied our love for so long, maybe you don't deserve to live.” Nancy saw him raise the gun.

There was no time for hesitation. Swiftly, Nancy's right leg shot out, knocking Jack off balance.

“Wha—you—” he muttered through gritted teeth as he fell to his knees on the catwalk, letting go of Marcy.

“Nancy, no!” Marcy screamed. “He'll kill us both!”

Nancy couldn't turn back now. A second kick to Jack's arm knocked the gun from his hand and sent it clattering to the floor of the tunnel.

“Why, you—” Jack growled. He lunged at Nancy. Grabbing her throat hard, he made Nancy see stars as he pushed her back against the rail of the catwalk.

She couldn't breathe. He pushed harder and harder against her throat.

“Goodbye, Nancy,” Jack told her through gritted teeth.

Nancy gathered all her remaining strength and kicked her leg up and into Jack's chest. He staggered backward, and by the time he'd recovered, Nancy was ready for him again. One more lightning kick sent Jack reeling back again. His head thumped hard against the concrete wall. As if in slow motion, he slid to the floor of the catwalk, where he lay in a heap, unconscious.

Still watching Jack, Nancy put out a hand to Marcy and helped her to her feet. “Nancy, thank you,” Marcy murmured, clutching her hand.

George had run up to them and climbed onto the catwalk. “Is he dead, Nancy?” she asked with a shudder.

“No,” Nancy answered quietly, checking Jack's pulse. “But he won't bother anybody for a while. George, help Marcy down from here, okay?” Nancy gestured for her friends to step around Jack's body.

“Listen! I hear something,” George said, stopping on the rungs of the catwalk ladder.

Her eyes riveted on Jack, Nancy listened intently. A siren was getting louder.

“Thank goodness,” Marcy gasped, climbing down the ladder. “The police.”

Soon Lieutenant Dunne, along with about a
dozen of his officers, were clambering down the ladder into the tunnel, their powerful hand-held lights illuminating the darkness. Susan was with them.

“Anybody hurt?” the lieutenant asked, hurrying over to Nancy and the others, his men close behind.

“Only Jack Cole,” Nancy told him. “He was going to kill Marcy. That's his gun down there.”

“Cuff him, Phil,” the man told one of the uniformed officers. “And get the ambulance people down here with a stretcher.”

Jack was regaining consciousness now but lacked the strength to resist. “Are you happy, Marcy?” he asked bitterly. “Happy about what you made me do? You ruined me!”

Marcy's hand flew to her cheek as, horrified, she stepped farther away from him.

“Marcy didn't cause any of this, Jack,” Nancy corrected him. “People are responsible for their own actions.”

“He'll have years and years to figure all that out,” the lieutenant told them. “Because this fellow will be spending a long time out of harm's way.”

Following Lieutenant Dunne and the others up out of the tunnel, Nancy watched a still tearful Marcy fall into Susan's arms.

“If it weren't for Nancy and George, Susan,”
she said, gulping back tears, “I wouldn't have made it!”

• • •

“Dinner at Belmondo's. Wow!” George said, standing in Susan's entry hall.

“I have Marcy's publicity shot and a pen all ready,” Nancy said, patting her shoulder bag. “Tonight we'll get that autograph for Bess.”

During the day Nancy and her friends had run errands, and had even managed to go jogging along Lake Michigan before returning to Susan's apartment to change for the evening. A phone message from Lieutenant Dunne had informed them that the fingerprints on the marker had been identified as Jack's.

Now Susan stood behind Nancy and George, smoothing her glossy black hair. “Marcy is incredibly grateful, and so are the Sterns,” she said.

“Well, I have no problem being treated to dinner,” Nancy said cheerfully. “Everybody ready?”

The girls stepped out of the apartment and walked to Susan's car. “It's not far,” Susan told them, getting in and starting the engine.

Soon Nancy and the others were entering a futuristic skyscraper to ride an elevator to the very top. Emerging from the elevator, they found themselves in an elegant restaurant with
an ultramodern decor in ivory and black, with soft lighting.

“This is definitely my kind of place,” George said, smiling.

“We're with the Marcy Robbins party,” Nancy told the maitre d', who had stepped over to seat them.

“Yes, miss,” he answered politely. “Right this way. They're in the Sun Room.”

He led Nancy and her friends to a glassed-in enclosure that looked out on the whole city. Chicago's millions of lights glittered like jewels.

“Nancy!” Marcy called, standing and waving as soon as she caught sight of her. “Susan! George!”

Beaming, the talk show host greeted them all with kisses. To Nancy's surprise, Vic Molina stood beside her. He, too, greeted the girls with a warm kiss on the cheek.

“Marcy told me everything,” he said appreciatively. “Thank goodness for you—all three of you.”

Nancy's face must have shown surprise, because Marcy let out a laugh. “You're wondering what Vic is doing here? Well, guess what? We're dating again!”

Vic put his arm around Marcy's waist and pulled her gently toward him. “She was kind enough to forgive me for being such a jerk,” he said.

Marcy smiled happily and explained, “This whole incident has really helped me to put things in perspective. It's time to get my priorities straight. Career is important, but so are the people you love.”

“But you're suing her,” George blurted out to Vic.

“I
was
,” he said. “But not anymore. I've dropped all claims against the show. But one of these days, if they're ever available, I'll team up with the Sterns on another project. I like the way they work.” He smiled at them all. “See, nearly losing Marcy made me realize how much I really care about her.”