Update On Crime (2 page)

Marilyn's composure was absolute as she continued with the newscast. Nancy wondered how the woman could stay so frosty-cool under the circumstances.

Reaching for the phone again, Nancy quickly dialed another telephone number for the station that Otto Liski had given her. It took several minutes for him to come to the phone—obviously things were hectic behind the scenes at the station. When he finally came on the line, he sounded harried.

“Nancy—I'm glad you called,” Liski said distractedly. “Hal's okay, but we had to cut the broadcast signal because someone slipped in a weird tape that almost got on the air.”

“Weird?” Nancy echoed. “In what way?”

“It was a tape of someone in disguise threatening Hal's life,” Liski said. “It kind of shook him up, so he left for the night.”

“I'll be right over,” Nancy said quickly.

“It can wait until tomorrow,” Liski told her. “I've locked the tape up. Besides, if you came over without explanation, the staff here might not buy the intern cover we've arranged for you.”

Mr. Liski was right, Nancy realized. After thanking the producer for his information, she hung up the phone.

“What happened to Hal?” Bess asked anxiously.

“He's okay,” Nancy reassured her. “They had to cut the broadcast to prevent some kind of threatening tape from being aired. I'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out the details.”

“Call me at the restaurant and let me know what happened,” Bess said.

A short while later, Nancy said good night to Bess, then carried the shopping bags with her new wardrobe up to her room. But as she put the clothes away, her mind wasn't on fashion. Someone was out to get Hal Taylor. Nancy only hoped she could find out who it was before the person did any serious harm.

• • •

Bright and early Thursday morning Nancy pulled her blue Mustang into the Channel 9 parking lot.

The news station was housed in an old-fashioned brick building, with graceful white columns
ringing the main entrance. Only the battery of antennae and satellite dishes on the roof made it look like a television station.

As she parked next to a Channel 9 news van, Nancy noticed a young man standing beside the van's open sliding door. He appeared to be in his early twenties, and he was struggling under the weight of the camera he was unloading from the van.

Nancy got out of her Mustang, then smoothed the beige woolen skirt she had on beneath her coat. She was also wearing the navy blazer she and Bess had picked out the day before. “Can I give you a hand?” she asked, smiling at the freckle-faced guy. “I'm Nancy Drew, the new intern.”

“Marcus Snipes, and thanks a lot,” the young man said gratefully. He handed her a stack of videotapes, then balanced the camera on his shoulder. “I'm an intern, too. You have no idea how
heavy
this stuff gets after a while.”

Marcus led the way up the steps to the station's lobby, where a receptionist checked Nancy's ID and handed her an identification badge and a parking sticker for her car.

“That'll get you in and out of the station,” Marcus explained. “Security's been pretty tight here since all the trouble started.”

“Trouble like last night's broadcast?” Nancy asked. Marcus nodded. “What exactly happened?” she prodded.

Marcus lowered his voice as they walked down a long hallway. “Some kind of tape threatening
Hal Taylor was played over the preview monitor—that's a closed-circuit TV that shows what's about to go over the air,” he explained.

“What was the crash that we heard?” Nancy asked.

“The producer saw the tape coming over the monitor,” Marcus said. “He moved so fast to cut the broadcast that he knocked over a tripod.”

At least that hadn't been anything dangerous, Nancy thought. “Do you have any idea what was on the tape?”

Marcus shook his head. “No, but whatever it was had Hal pretty shaken up.” He glanced around uneasily as they approached the entrance to the newsroom. “All I know is they're saying it had to be an inside job. Only someone with easy access to the station could have rigged something like that.”

As Nancy followed Marcus into the newsroom, she paused for a moment to look around. The large, brightly lit room bustled with activity. Along one wall, an assignment editor was posting story assignments on a chalkboard. Here and there at the desks in the center of the room, reporters were hunched over computers, intently pounding out their stories. Others strode toward a row of tiny booths at the far end of the room.

“Those are the editing booths—that's where they put the news stories together,” Marcus explained, following Nancy's gaze. “The reporter lays down the sound track, then the videotape editor adds the pictures and natural sound from the tape we shoot out in the field.”

Nancy was impressed by the energy level in the room. “It looks so exciting,” she said.

“It
is
exciting,” Marcus agreed as he took the pile of tapes back from Nancy. “Ever since I was a little kid I knew I wanted to work in TV. And now I'm doing it!” After showing her where to hang her coat, he pointed across the newsroom to an office that was separated from the newsroom by a glass wall. “That's Otto Liski's office over there—he's the news producer. Good luck on your first day.” With a smile, he was off to the other side of the newsroom.

I'll need a lot more than luck, Nancy thought, heading toward the producer's office. She looked through the glass wall and recognized Hal Taylor, who was sprawled in an armchair next to a messy desk. A tall, rangy man in his midthirties was sitting on the edge of the desk. Nancy guessed that he must be Otto Liski. He was questioning a curly haired young woman who stood before him. She seemed to be on the verge of tears.

“We're not accusing you of anything, Valerie,” Nancy heard Otto Liski say through the open doorway. “We just want to know how that tape could have been slipped in.”

“I swear I don't know,” Valerie said, burying her face in her hands. “It just appeared somehow in the pile scheduled for broadcast. I thought it was a last-minute story.”

“Mr. Liski?” Nancy interrupted, pausing in the doorway. The producer looked up as she stepped into the office. “I'm Nancy Drew, the new intern,” she said, emphasizing the word
intern
slightly. Only Otto Liski and Hal Taylor were to know of her true mission at the station.

Mr. Liski brightened at the sight of Nancy. “Yes! Good to see you. That'll be all, Valerie,” he said to the girl, who looked relieved as she hastened out of the office. The producer closed the door behind her.

“Hal Taylor, this is Nancy Drew. She's the private detective I told you about,” Mr. Liski said.

Hal grinned and shook Nancy's hand. She couldn't help noticing his famous dimples.

“You're pretty young and gorgeous to be a private eye, aren't you?” he said.

Nancy felt her pulse quicken involuntarily as she looked into his crystal green eyes. Hal Taylor certainly has looks and charm to spare, she thought.

“Nancy's solved a number of important cases—soon to include this one, I hope,” Mr. Liski explained.

“Then I'm glad you're here.” Hal's grin faded as he gestured toward a videotape sitting on the desk. “This stuffs really getting out of hand.”

“Is that the threatening tape from last night?” Nancy asked.

Hal looked surprised. “I see you already know about that,” he said.

“We're trying to keep this incident very quiet, along with the other threats Hal's been receiving,” Otto Liski told Nancy. “That's why I was glad when your father recommended calling you. We're trying to avoid contacting the police at this
point. Having the public know would only make Hal more of a target.”

“I agree,” Nancy replied, sitting down on a chair that was next to the desk. “When did the threats start?”

Hal leaned forward and clasped his hands together on the desk. “It's hard to say
exactly
when they started. I mean, periodically I get a few crank calls and letters. When you're a public figure, that kind of stuff comes with the territory,” he explained. “But about four weeks ago I started getting letters from someone who seemed to know a lot about me. Where I live, personal habits, that sort of thing. Those are the letters.” Hal gestured toward a stack of envelopes next to the tape.

Picking up the letters, Nancy flipped through them. “All typed on the same stationery,” she observed. “And there's no postmark. That means they didn't arrive through the mail.”

Mr. Liski nodded. “That brings up the most disturbing thing of all. Tell her, Hal.”

The anchorman glanced at the letters. “I found them everywhere. On my car windshield, inside my office here at the station—I even found one on the anchor desk,” Hal said. “Whoever he is, he could be someone I work next to every day.”

Nancy's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You say
he.
Is there any reason to suspect it's not a woman?”

Hal Taylor shrugged and shook his head. “I just didn't think of the possibility that it could be a woman. But then, it's hard to think of the idea
that
anyone
here could be behind such a thing.”

“And you're sure there's a connection between the letters and last night's threat?” Nancy asked.

“The threat on the tape sounded just like the letters,” Hal said. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes wearily. “Here I am, famous investigative reporter—and I can't even figure out who has it in for me.”

Nancy glanced at the videotape on the desk. “The first thing I'd like to do is take a look at the tape,” she said.

Mr. Liski nodded briskly. “I'll have Valerie play it for you,” he said, standing up. “She's the production assistant who was in charge of the tape feed booth last night.”

• • •

Otto Liski led Nancy through the crowded newsroom. “As our new ‘intern,' you'll have free range of the station,” he explained quietly to Nancy. “But I warn you—interns are practically slave labor around here, so don't be surprised if you have to do a lot of running, fetching, and carrying.”

Liski paused next to one of the desks in the large newsroom, where the curly haired girl he had been talking to when Nancy arrived was sitting. A name plaque on her desk read Valerie Gibson.

“Nancy's going to be Hal's personal assistant,” the producer explained to Valerie. “Why don't you show her the tape from last night so that she knows what's been going on here.” He handed Valerie the tape that had been on his desk.

Valerie nodded glumly. She led Nancy down several hallways until they reached a tiny booth that was jammed with monitors and a control panel.

“I can't believe Otto's making me play this tape again,” Valerie moaned. “He and Hal must still blame me for what happened.”

“I don't think so,” Nancy said gently. She decided to change the subject. “Can you tell me how this feed booth works?”

Valerie explained her job, which was to collect all of the tapes containing the daily news stories. “When we're ready to go on the air, I take each story tape from the stack and put it in here,” she said, gesturing toward a bulky tape deck. “This machine sends the story to the control room. From there they press a switch that sends it over the air.”

Nancy held up the tape from Otto's office. It was labeled Auto Crash. “And somehow this tape got into the pile?” she asked.

Valerie nodded grimly. “I thought it was a late-breaking story about some accident. Did
I
get a big surprise!” she said, shaking her head with frustration. She flipped a toggle switch on one of the machines. “I just have to rewind what's in here before we play the tape.” The machine made a loud, gibberish-type noise as it rewound.

“Did you notice anyone else around this booth last night?” Nancy asked.

Valerie shrugged. “Things get pretty hectic around here right before airtime,” she explained.
“Lots of people come and go. I do remember Marilyn Morgan coming into the booth at one point. She was yelling about a glitch—that's a sloppy edit—in one of her stories. Ever since she and Hal broke up, she's always upset about something.”

Nancy looked at Valerie in surprise. “Broke up? I thought Hal and Marilyn were a real item.”

“Were
is right,” Valerie replied. “They had some kind of big blowup about six weeks ago. Marilyn took it pretty hard, I guess. Anyway, I took her story tape back to the editor, but he couldn't find the glitch she was complaining about.”

If there
was
a glitch, Nancy thought. “So you left Marilyn alone in here?” she asked.

“Yeah, she was gone when I got back,” Valerie said. “The only other person I remember seeing was one of the engineers, Bill Steghorn. He was working on some wires in the hallway.” The whirring sound of the machine stopped. “Now we're ready,” she announced.

Valerie switched off the booth's overhead light, then popped the tape into the machine. At once a dark-robed figure appeared on screen, its face hidden by a hideous mask. Then the room was pierced by a strange, menacing voice. The voice growled, “Leave the station, Hal Taylor—
or die!”