The Wrong Chemistry (3 page)

“Uh—sorry, Dad.” Nancy shook herself. “It's—well, there isn't much information here after all.”

“Looks like you have your work cut out for you,” Nancy heard her father say. “But that's nothing new.”

“I guess not,” Nancy answered, smiling wryly.
“Look, Dad, I've got to go. It looks like this case is going to be harder than I thought.”

Hanging up, Nancy stared at the piece of paper in her hand. She hadn't wanted to worry her father, but the envelope wasn't from Dean Jarvis.

Instead, it was a warning, hastily scrawled in bold red ink. “Go home, Nancy Drew. CLT is
not
in your future.”

Nancy quickly ran back into the hall, but there was no sign of the messenger who'd delivered the threat. Making her way down to the lounge, she tried to remember what the person had looked like.

She questioned the girl at the front desk, but she hadn't seen anyone who matched the sketchy description Nancy gave either enter or leave the building. In fact, the look the girl gave Nancy as she questioned her made her blush.

“Listen, if you remember anything, let me know. You can leave a note at the desk,” Nancy said.

“Sure,” the girl said, rolling her eyes.

It wasn't the best start to an investigation. Already, just minutes into the case, Nancy had missed an important clue by not paying attention to what was happening around her. It wouldn't happen again.

She had to admit that part of her mind was still on Ned. Why had he been so angry with her
earlier? Well, if she couldn't figure Ned out, at least she could track down the missing CLT.

Squaring her shoulders, she set off for the science labs a quarter mile away toward the center of the campus. A steady stream of students poured from the building entrance, jostling and shouting, obviously in high spirits at the end of the day. Nancy waded through them to the big glass double doors.

An unattended desk stood on one side of the almost deserted lobby. Pausing at the elevator banks, Nancy checked the directory. Professor Maszak's lab was on the third floor.

When the elevator doors opened on the third floor, Nancy found herself face-to-face with a security guard seated behind a desk.

“Signature and ID,” he said automatically, without looking up from his magazine. “But classes are over for the day.”

“I'm not here for class,” she replied to the brim of his cap. “And I don't have an ID. I'm here to see Professor Josef Maszak.”

The guard glanced up sharply. “What did you say your name was?”

He reached for the sheet she had just signed. “Nancy Drew. Wait a minute.” The guard checked another piece of paper. “Right—you've got clearance.” Then he went back to reading. “Last door on your right,” he mumbled.

Nancy raised her eyebrows. Some security! The guard hadn't even tried to verify who she was. It obviously wasn't very difficult for anyone to get into the building. She hoped the lab itself was better protected.

Nancy found the door easily and knocked.

“It's open,” someone called.

Great security, Nancy thought again as she entered a large, bright room dominated by huge picture windows. Long lab desks, each with a sink and gas outlets, faced the chalkboard in the front of the room. Three or four students were still there, bent over the tables.

“Excuse me,” Nancy ventured. “Is Professor Maszak here?”

A freckle-faced boy gestured to a door on his left. A large combination lock was mounted on the wall next to it, but the door was slightly ajar.

“Right there, in his office,” the boy said.

Nancy pushed into a much smaller room strewn with lab equipment. Professor Maszak sat on a high stool behind a counter busily doing paperwork. His bush of salt-and-pepper hair obscured his face.

“You're late,” he barked.

“I didn't know I was expected,” Nancy said pleasantly.

The professor started. He raised his head, his light brown eyes widening in alarm. Color rushed into his face.

“Who do you think you are, sneaking up on me like that? How did you get in here?”

“It wasn't very hard,” Nancy said pointedly. “Dean Jarvis said this room was always under lock and key.”

Maszak had the grace to look embarrassed. “I left it open only for a minute,” he said, defending himself. “I was expecting my assistant, Sara,” he muttered. “I thought you were she.”

“I'm Nancy Drew.”

“Oh, now I remember. I
was
expecting you,” the fiftyish Maszak said gruffly.

He got up, wiping his hands on a dirty lab coat, and closed the door. “Jarvis told me he'd called you in to investigate.” He eyed Nancy closely. “You don't look much like a famous detective.”

Nancy ignored the remark and surveyed the room. A ten-foot fish tank ran along the right wall and several open-wire cages covered the left. An industrial-size freezer filled the back of the room. Maszak motioned Nancy over to the fish tank.

“This,” he announced proudly, “is my experiment.”

The tank held carp of all sizes, but one very large fish swam along the bottom of the tank. Nancy bent closer. The fish was enormous.

Professor Maszak's eyes followed hers. “My
pride and joy,” he said. “How old do you think he is?”

Nancy had no idea how to judge the age of a fish. “A year?” she guessed.

Maszak snorted. “Six months,” he said proudly. “Can you believe it?”

Smiling slightly, Nancy went to examine the cages. Each one held several mice, which ranged from normal size to several exceptionally large ones.

“I take it CLT is some kind of growth drug,” she remarked.

“You're very quick,” the professor said. “That's precisely what it is.”

Nancy stared at him. What kind of “top secret” experiment was this? First, there was hardly any security around the lab, and then the professor practically boasted about his so-called secret experiment.

“I don't understand,” Nancy told him. “I thought this was all restricted information. It can't be as simple as a chemical to grow bigger fish and mice.”

Maszak laughed. “Some people get a little carried away with the cloak-and-dagger stuff,” he said, returning to his papers and shuffling them. “CLT is a rare, extremely expensive chemical. There are others that give much the same results.”

“And it isn't dangerous?” Nancy asked, feeling more and more confused.

The professor snorted. “If you drink it, it'll give you a stomachache. But if you mean, is it potentially lethal, the answer is no.”

“The dean told me that both times the CLT was stolen, it was taken at a very crucial time during your experiment.”

“Well, yes,” Maszak said, “but not during the experiment,
before
it. I treat the CLT in a special way that only I have the formula for. It's a lengthy process. After it's treated, I put the finished product in the freezer. That was when the CLT was stolen.”

Maszak threw open the freezer door. On the lower shelf, Nancy saw a large metal cylinder that nearly filled the freezer.

Nancy whistled in surprise. “It's huge! I guess I thought they'd be smaller.”

“The amounts are very small,” Maszak explained. “The CLT itself is sealed in small plastic tubes. The container helps keep it at the right temperature. I got a canister in this delivery,” he continued. “My first delivery was two canisters, and one of them was stolen. My second delivery was only one canister and it was stolen. But I did do work with the one canister that wasn't stolen.”

“And now you're about to complete the third treatment?” Nancy asked.

Maszak eyed her with grudging admiration. “As you guessed,” he said, gesturing to a mass of test tubes set up at the other counter from where he had been doing his paperwork, “I'm in the final stages of treatment now.”

Nancy examined the tubes and beakers on the central counter. They meant nothing to her. Maszak could be telling the truth, or giving her the runaround to hide his real purpose. Without some hard facts about the experiment, there was no way for her to know for sure.

A noise came from the outer lab. Frowning, Maszak hurried to the door. Nancy followed him.

The students she'd seen before had left the lab, but in their place was a girl with brown hair who was standing at a lab table near the windows. She was holding a beaker up to the light. Her scarf and bag had been thrown over a nearby chair, but she still had her coat on.

“You're late again, Sara!” Maszak exclaimed. “Nancy, this is my assistant, Sara Hughes.”

As the girl whirled around, a look of fear flashed across her plump face.

“I—I know I'm late,” she stuttered, “but I can finish this up in a minute.”

Maszak nodded curtly. “Nancy is here to interview me for the paper. She may want to ask you some questions, too.”

The girl looked guardedly at Nancy. “Well, I
have to get this done right away. I don't have time for questions.”

Sara turned back to the setup on the table and gently scooped some dull gray powder into a small measuring spoon.

“At least take off your coat,” Maszak said.

Still balancing the spoon in her right hand, Sara began to unbutton her coat with her left hand. She shrugged her shoulders vigorously, trying to slip the coat off.

“Sara, watch yourself,” Maszak cautioned. “Remember what you've got in your hands!”

Nancy had an impulse to help, but as she came up behind Sara, the girl suddenly twisted sharply, then stumbled. As she reached to steady herself, the spoon fell from her hand. The gray powder landed in the beaker with a small fizz.

“Watch out!” Maszak cried.

The beaker exploded, sending splinters of glass flying everywhere!

C
LOSING HER EYES
, Nancy threw up her hands to cover her face. She heard Professor Maszak yell to Sara to protect herself as pieces of glass clattered to the floor. Sara gave a little cry, and Nancy heard her footsteps as she rushed out of the room.

When Nancy opened her eyes, the professor was staring after Sara with a rueful expression. He bent to pick up the larger fragments from the floor.

Nancy bent down to help him. “What
was
that?” she asked.

Maszak sighed. “Nothing. A stupid mistake.”

Nancy arched an eyebrow.

“Sara is supervising two class experiments at once. She wasn't paying attention, and she dropped part of one into part of the other. They didn't agree with each other.”

“To put it mildly,” Nancy murmured. “Shouldn't she take better precautions with explosives?”

“Neither is explosive by itself. The powder is zinc,” the professor said. “And there was hydrochloric acid in the beaker.” The professor was silent for a moment, studying the glass fragments nestled in his palm. “But you're right. They shouldn't have been near each other. I'm afraid Sara has been a little distracted lately. I'll have to speak to her about it.” He didn't seem to be looking forward to their conversation.

“I have to get ready for a dinner date,” Nancy told him, hoping Ned was still speaking to her. “But if I need to ask any more questions, where can I reach you?”

“Here or at home. I live in Adams Cottage, near the main gate. But I'm usually here.”

Nancy thanked the professor and left the lab. She decided to head back to the dorm to see if Dean Jarvis had sent the information he'd promised or to check if Ned called. Nothing. She'd have to check with both of them later.

Nancy flopped on her bed and tried to concentrate
on the case, but her thoughts kept coming back to Ned. She hated it when they fought, especially when there wasn't any real reason for it. She decided then and there to do whatever it took to make up with Ned.

After a quick shower, Nancy slipped on her blue silk dress—Ned's favorite. In that dress she could smooth out their problems. The soft fabric flowed smoothly over her hips. She brushed back her thick hair, which looked more gold than red in the artificial light, and was just running some clear gloss over her lips when the telephone rang. Nancy's heart leapt.

“Nancy, this is Mike O'Shea. I hope I didn't disturb you.”

“No, not at all.” Nancy swallowed her disappointment. She'd have to call Ned as soon as Mike hung up. “What's up?”

“Well,” Mike said, hesitating, “it's Ned. He ran out of here an hour ago, on his way to the dining hall. He said it was an emergency and asked me to let you know where he was if he wasn't back by now.”

So much for the dress! Nancy thought. “Thanks, Mike,” she said into the phone. “I'll look for him in the dining hall right away.”

What kind of emergency? Nancy wondered as she found her way to the campus dining hall. A steady stream of students walked in and out of the modern glass-and-chrome building. Inside
the cafeteria, each student shouted to be heard over rock music blaring through loudspeakers.