Never Say Die (12 page)

“Is she awake?” Mrs. Fayne asked.

“No, she's still unconscious and probably will be for some time.”

Jon groaned.

Mr. Fayne stepped forward. “Doctor, will there be any permanent damage?”

“It's too soon to say. She almost certainly has a concussion, but we won't know how bad it is until we see the X rays.”

Nancy said goodbye to the others and quickly ran out to her car. She had to take some action. The time for sitting and contemplating was long past.

• • •

Nancy turned into the parking lot of the Imperial Motel. A light rain was falling. All over the courtyard, cyclists and their crews were packing cars, dashing back and forth from their rooms.

Nancy parked and switched off the engine, but she kept the windshield wipers going. Twenty yards away, the Soviet coach was standing in the door of Tatyana's room, supervising the loading. Tatyana came out, carrying a suitcase.

At the sight of her, Nancy's anger rose to the breaking point. It wasn't fair, she thought. All George had wanted was to get to know Tatyana, a fellow cyclist. For that, she'd been subjected to several murder attempts and a visit to the hospital. Worse, the culprits were now getting away, and there was nothing Nancy could do with no evidence.

N
ANCY HEADED HOME
, her mind in turmoil. She owed it to George to apprehend her attacker. But where were the necessary clues and evidence?

Her frustration mounted when she arrived home. Turning into her driveway, she saw that Steven Lloyd's car was there. Great, she thought. On top of everything else, she had to tell him that his protégée was hospitalized.

To her surprise, Steven wasn't overly upset. In fact, once he was sure that George would be okay, he seemed to forget about her. He was preoccupied with his own troubles—the extortionist still hadn't called back. What was
holding him up? When would the program be returned?

“I tell you, Carson, this thing is driving me crazy,” he said. The three of them were sitting in Nancy's father's study. “If I don't get that program back, and soon, it may not be worth anything. The thief may have sold it to someone already.”

The anguish in his voice was obvious, but Nancy didn't know what to say. “If it helps any,” she told him, “I'll be glad to make the next drop-off. As long as it doesn't involve sharks!”

Steven smiled. “Thanks, but this time I intend to make the drop-off myself. I want to be sure I get my hands on the program.”

“You will.” Nancy's father tried to console him. “Just hang on.”

Not long after that, the phone rang. It was the extortionist.

“What's been keeping you?” Steven asked, angrily jabbing the talk button on the speaker-phone.

“Patience, Mr. Lloyd,” the electronic voice said. “There was a little problem on this end, but now it's been cleared up. I'll be ready to exchange your program for the money shortly. Stay by the telephone.”
Click. Buzzzzz . . .

The three of them stared at the speakerphone.

“I wish I could figure out how he knows to call here,” her father said. “Did you tell anyone you were coming over?”

Steven shook his head. “No, it's the same as before. I only wrote it down on my calendar.”

“Hmm,” Carson Drew mumbled, shaking his head. Then he shrugged. “Shall we go see if Hannah's got dinner ready?”

“Sure. I hope she won't be insulted if I don't eat much. I'm really not hungry,” Steven said.

Nancy wasn't hungry, either. Hannah had fixed corn chowder and sandwiches, but Nancy barely touched the food. Finally, after staring at her plate long enough, Nancy excused herself and went out to her car. Evening visiting hours at the hospital would end soon, and she wanted to check on her friend.

Twisting her car through the streets, Nancy thought about the case from every angle. Was it the KGB who had tried to kill George? And if it was, why, after so many attempts, hadn't they succeeded? Why had they merely knocked her out and dumped her in the woods?

It didn't make sense.

Unless it wasn't the KGB at all. What if it was . . .

Suddenly Nancy slammed on the brakes. Excitement raced through her. She had it! Of course! Why hadn't she seen it sooner? All along, she'd been asking herself the wrong question. The issue wasn't
why
someone was trying to kill George but
whether
they were trying to kill her at all!

And if they weren't, that meant—

Nancy pulled over to the side of the road and sat for a few minutes, working out the details in her head. Yes, all the pieces of the puzzle fit perfectly. The note—the pool—the car window—even the shark!

There was just one problem. She had to move fast. The culprit would be making his getaway—and soon!

S
HIFTING INTO GEAR
again, Nancy drove to the nearest phone booth and called Ned at his house. Quickly, she explained the facts. “Meet me at the velodrome as fast as you can, okay? Oh, and Ned?”

“Yes?”

“Call my father. He'll want to know what's going on.”

She hung up, raced back to her car, and took off. The velodrome wasn't far away, but it was important for her to get there as fast as she could.

When she arrived, Nancy swung into the parking lot. It was empty. Slamming her door, she
raced to the entrance gate. It was open, so she went right in.

She raced through the entrance tunnel. Inside, the track and infield were illuminated by several floodlights. Quickly she went to the raised judges' platform in the middle of the infield. Its underside was masked by a canvas curtain. She pulled it aside.

Good. George's bike was still there, chained to a support post. It was a strange place to hide it, but clever. Nancy couldn't understand how George could put it in such an obvious spot without anyone seeing her take it out or put it back. Apparently, though, no one did. The bike was safer there than it would be in her own garage.

Nancy was about to leave the infield when she heard footsteps echoing in the exit tunnel. It had to be George's attacker. Nancy needed to hide. Facing him now wasn't part of her plan.

Ducking under the judges' platform, she crouched next to the bike and waited. Several minutes passed. She heard scraping sounds nearby, and then there was silence. Then footsteps crunched slowly on the gravel around the platform. Nancy's heart began to hammer like a drum. Suddenly the canvas was ripped roughly aside.

“You! What are you doing under there?” Peter Cooper growled when he saw Nancy.

“Resting?” Nancy answered.

“What?”

“Well, it was raining, and—”

“Never mind. Get out of there!”

Nancy crawled out from under the platform and stood up. Peter was holding a large chain cutter in his hand. At his feet was a bulging duffel bag. He was obviously packed for a trip.

Nancy was torn. Part of her wanted to run, and part of her wanted to stall. Facing him without a backup was a bad idea, but she really didn't have a choice.

She decided to stall. It wouldn't take Ned long to arrive, and while she waited she could try for a confession.

“So, how's the extortion business these days?” she asked mildly.

“Extortion? What are you talking about?” Peter replied coldly.

“I should have figured out what was going on when I went to Steven's office with my father,” she said.

Peter dropped the chain cutter and folded his arms. “You're not making a lot of sense, Nancy,” he said, looking at her severely.

“Oh, no? Well, I'll explain. It starts with the password to Steven's program. Passwords are very hard to guess, and even with a code-busting program you have to work for hours. I think you did crack it eventually, though—on the night
you put George's bike together in Steven's office.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but something must have gone wrong with your plan,” Nancy went on. “Maybe Steven came down the hall just after you'd copied his program and deleted it from his disk. Anyway, you had to hide your copy, and you did—inside one of George's disk wheels.”

Peter shook his head. “That's an amusing story, Nancy, but you're forgetting something. Everyone knows that program was stolen on the night
after
George got her bike.”

“No, it wasn't. You just made it look that way when you went back the following night, turned off the alarm system, and smashed down Steven's door.”

“I did all that, did I?” He looked unconcerned.

Nancy plunged on. “Yes, you did all that. We figured it couldn't be an inside job, because it looked so professional. In reality, though, it was both—inside
and
professional.”

“You've concocted quite a scenario, Nancy,” he said. “But that's all it is—a scenario. You have no proof. If you go to the police, they'll say your imagination is working overtime. They'll say you're upset about your friend.”

“George. Oh yes, I almost forgot about George,” Nancy said. “That's the part that stumped me the most. All week I thought someone was trying to kill her, but I was wrong.”

“Oh?”

Nancy was getting angry now. “You weren't trying to kill her—not deliberately. All you wanted was to get your hands on her bike.”

Peter laughed harshly. “Now you really sound crazy.”

“Was I crazy when you tried to take the bike on the first day of the Classic? You remember—when George complained that the seat needed to be adjusted?”

“No, but so what?”

“Well, you weren't able to get the bike that time because Jon fixed the seat. So later you tried to get it by creating a diversion. You set the tent on fire, with George inside.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“Is it? I don't think so. I think you were foiled because Bess stayed inside the velodrome to guard the bike. Later that afternoon, you tried again at the Imperial Motel.”

Peter said nothing.

“The whole week went by like that,” Nancy said, her fury rising. “Time after time you tried to get the bike. Like at Big Top Burgers or with the guard dogs—it didn't matter. You needed that bike, and you needed it bad.

“Finally,” she said, “George found a new place to hide the bike. You searched her house that night but found nothing. It wasn't there. Then you decided to force the location out of her—which you did this morning. Afterward,
you hit her on the head with a rock and left her in the woods.”

“That's enough,” Peter barked. His mouth was drawn in a tight line. “You think you're so smart. You think you've got it all worked out, but tell me this—how are you going to prove it?”

“Simple. I'm going to take the wheels off that bike.”

“Don't make me laugh. You don't know that there's anything in there.”

“No?” Nancy glanced at the chain cutters. “Then what are
you
doing here?”

Suddenly, Peter lunged. The bluffing was over. Nancy dodged out of his way, but before she could run two steps he tripped her. When she looked up from the ground, Peter's duffel bag was unzipped. He was standing over her with a revolver in his hand.

He grabbed her roughly by the arm. “Why did you have to poke your nose into it, huh? I ought to—”

He jerked her roughly to her feet. She wanted to scream but didn't. The next second he pulled her close to him and pressed the cold barrel of the revolver deep into her cheek.

“Let me go!”

“No way, Detective Drew. You're never going to tell anyone what you know.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked. “Feed me to the shark again?”

He laughed coldly. “Too bad it didn't finish
you off that night. This time I'll find a better way to get you out of my way. But first—”