Very Deadly Yours (8 page)

But it was just the clue Nancy had been looking for. Nancy could hardly believe her good luck. The mystery man won't read this in time,
so I won't be able to catch him with this girl, she thought. But if
I
can meet her, she may turn out to be the key to the whole mystery!

“Where's your friend?”

Nancy jumped, startled out of her thoughts. Bill was standing beside her desk.

“Bill! Hi,” Nancy said. “I'm just going down to the lobby to meet her now.”

But she never got there. When the elevator door slid open, Nancy was almost knocked down by a woman who careened blindly toward her. It was Dawn, the receptionist from downstairs—but there was something terribly wrong with her.

Dawn's eyes were wide with terror, and her face was white. She veered crazily into the middle of the newsroom.

“Someone just called and said there's a bomb in the building! It's set to go off any second!” she shrieked.

F
OR AN INSTANT
the newsroom was completely silent. Then one person screamed—and everyone leaped from his seat and moved to the elevators where Nancy was standing.

“Move!” one reporter snarled at her as he reached past her to push the elevator button. “The stupid thing is stuck!” he said, pounding on the button. Behind him, people were trying to move forward.

Nancy tried to stand where she was, but the force of the crowd was sucking her along. She knew that if things didn't calm down, someone would be hurt—long before any bomb could go off. Elbowing her way to one side of the room,
she scrambled onto a desk and whistled piercingly.

There was a momentary lull as people turned to look at her. Nancy didn't waste any time.

“We've got to calm down or no one will make it out of here in one piece!” she shouted. To her relief, she saw that everyone was focused on her and listening. “Now,” she said, “the stairs are safer than the elevators in case a fire should break out. We need to form lines and go down that way.
Carefully.”

“She's right.” It was Mr. Whittaker, pushing his way to the front of the crowd. “I just called security, and they're asking everyone to evacuate the building by the stairs. The police are on their way over. Now, if you'll all just file out in an orderly manner, there shouldn't be any problems.”

He propped open the door leading to the stairway. “Good,” he said after listening a minute. “The other floors are already on their way down. Let's start down now,” Mr. Whittaker said, and gave Nancy a gentle shove on the shoulder.

Out on the landing, she glanced nervously around her. She hadn't realized so many people worked in the building. What seemed like an endless parade was snaking its way down—agonizingly slowly.

In the dim light, the procession on the stairs had a ghostly quality. No one was saying much.
“The mayor's press secretary is supposed to be calling me right now,” one woman remarked in a doleful voice as she checked her watch. “I hope they're not mad.”

Nancy turned her mind from the scene and thought about her two friends. Had Bess and George arrived by now? Were they in the building somewhere—maybe even taking the elevator up to Nancy's floor? Or had someone managed to keep them from going inside? Nancy knew Bess would be worried about her.

Nancy was also wondering if the bomb threat was just another “coincidence.” The timing seemed so convenient. Just after she had finally managed to reach Bess, Dawn had gotten the phone call warning her about the bomb. Could it be that someone had called Dawn just to make sure Bess couldn't come and check out the staff?

At least that meant there probably
wasn't
a bomb in the building, Nancy thought. Then a harsh, clanging bell jangled loudly just above her head.

“It's the bomb! It's about to go off!” screamed a man's voice on the flight of stairs above—and Bill Stark came hurtling down the stairs.

“Let me out of here!” he moaned, trying to force his way to the front of the line. “We're all going to die!”

Abruptly the bell stopped ringing, but Bill didn't stop panicking. He was struggling so fiercely to get down that he knocked one woman
over. “I've got to get out of this place!” he moaned again.

“Stop that, Bill!” Nancy ordered as he came abreast of her. She grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to look at her. The others stared at this small drama, shaking their heads as they continued to file down the steps.

Bill was struggling against her hands. “It's no good,” he whimpered. “We'll die like rats in here! We'll be buried alive—”

Nancy gritted her teeth. She gripped his shoulder even more tightly, so he couldn't get away. “It's probably just a threat, not a real bomb,” she said. “You're just making it harder on everyone.”

“Sorry,” he muttered after a minute.

“It's okay,” Nancy said in a friendlier voice. “Can you make it down okay now?”

“I—I think so. Thanks, Nancy.” He seemed embarrassed. Head down, he slipped back into line without saying anything more.

There were four flights to walk down from the newsroom, and then they were outside. Walking into the fresh, misty air felt like stepping out of prison. Nancy turned her face gratefully toward the sky to meet the light rain, and smiled. They'd made it!

“Nancy, there you are!” came Bess's voice at her elbow. George was right behind her cousin. “We were worried sick about you! When we got here, the security guards wouldn't let us in, and
they wouldn't tell us why, either. We kept badgering them and badgering them until one of them finally told us what was going on. Then we were sorry we'd asked. Are you sure you're okay?”

“I don't
think
I've blown up yet,” Nancy assured her, smiling. “But listen, Bess. This bomb scare may actually be a blessing in disguise. With everyone on the staff outside here, it'll be easier to see if you recognize anyone. Let's sort of stroll around.”

Casually the three girls began walking through the different clusters of
Record
staffers.

Now that people felt safer, the atmosphere had turned festive despite the light rain. People stood around in little groups, laughing and talking as though they were at a party. “This is like being let out of school early!” Nancy heard a woman say as she walked by. “You're right,” another woman answered.
“Now
I wouldn't mind seeing the place blow up.”

The arrival of a bomb squad, two wailing police cars, and a fire engine only seemed to heighten the excitement. “Stand back, please. Stand back, please,” the police kept saying patiently as they tried to push their way through the crowds that were trying eagerly to see what was going on.

When several dark-suited figures had disappeared into the building—with two German shepherds panting and straining at their leashes
—an expectant silence fell over the crowd. In a few minutes a man with a megaphone came out to the front door.

“The building will be closed for the rest of the day,” he announced. “Mr. Whittaker has asked me to tell you that all nonessential personnel are free to go home. The printing of the paper will take place at our annex across the street.”

There was a murmur from the crowd. “Hmmm. I wonder
if I'm
essential,” joked Lucy Price, who was standing near Nancy. “I don't think I'll wait around to find out.”

Already the crowd was thinning out. Nancy turned to Bess. “Any luck?” she asked.

“Not yet. I keep thinking I recognize people and then realize it's because I saw them here yesterday. I might as well keep trying until everyone's left, though.”

The crowd had thinned out so fast that almost everyone was gone. “I'm sorry, Nan,” Bess said at last. “I just don't see Mr. Wrong.”

Nancy sighed. “That would have made things too easy, I guess. Thanks for trying, though.”

“How's Ned doing?” George asked.

“Oh—” Nancy poured out her story once again. “I'm just so happy he's regained consciousness. He looks pretty bad, and the doctor's not sure whether he'll be able to play sports this fall. But I'm sure the worst is behind him. I wish I felt as optimistic about the case.”

“I'm sure you'll get a break soon,” Bess said
comfortingly. “I just wish I had never answered that dumb ad. If it hadn't been for me, none of this would have happened.

“On the other hand,” Bess said more cheerfully, “if I hadn't answered the ad, some sicko would still be out there scaring people—only he wouldn't have Nancy Drew on his trail. Someday, when you've caught him, River Heights will thank me for having been so stupid.”

Nancy had to laugh at that.

“Bess said you were going to look through the files in the morgue,” said George. “Did anything turn up?”

“I'm not sure. Maybe. But—I almost forgot in all this excitement—I got the most incredible phone call just before we came down! Bess, I think I may have heard from the girl
you
were supposed to be.”

“You'd better be careful,” Bess said soberly when Nancy had described the strange message she'd received upstairs. “What if this girl
did
somehow cause the Glove's death?”

“That's what I hope I'll find out,” said Nancy. “I'm going to meet her tonight.”

“Want some company?” George asked. “You'd better say yes because this could be dangerous. It just doesn't make sense for you to go alone.”

“Okay,” Nancy said. “Well, I've got the rest of the day off—and I guess I can't give you a tour of the place. So let's go get something to eat.”

• • •

“Uh, Nan?” said George later that night. “I don't
see
a coffee shop on Fortieth and East. Are you sure that's what that girl said?” George slowed down and pulled over to the curb.

“Absolutely. I wrote it down while she was talking.” Nancy peered out of George's windshield. It was true. There wasn't a coffee shop in sight. “She must have made a mistake! My first real break in this case, and it gets messed up like this!”

“Should we head back home?” asked Bess hopefully.

“No. Absolutely not,” replied Nancy. “I'm going to wait here. She may still show up.”

“Unless she gave you the wrong address, and now she's waiting at a coffee shop somewhere else,” George pointed out.

“Oh, no. You may be right.” Nancy paused for a minute. “Well, look,” she said, undoing her seat belt. “I'll wait here for half an hour. You guys drive around and see if you can find a coffee shop on any other corner around here. If you do—and
especially
if you see a blond girl dressed in white at one of them—come right back and get me.”

It's a little hard to believe there's a coffee shop anywhere around here, she thought as she positioned herself in the middle of the sidewalk. Fortieth and East was squarely in the middle of the warehouse district. There was nothing around but empty, dark buildings and cars
parked like silent spectators in rows along the curb.

It was dark now. And Nancy was starting to feel conspicuous standing alone in the middle of a sidewalk at night. But after ten minutes she heard the welcome sound of a car driving toward her. She squinted toward its headlights. Then she heard footsteps behind her.

Before Nancy could turn, something smashed into the back of her head.

The blow knocked her out instantly. She didn't even feel it as someone dragged her to the edge of the road and draped her, facedown, over the curb.

B
ESS
, I'
M
OKAY,”
Nancy protested for the fifth time. “I had a good night's sleep. I had breakfast and lunch in bed. The swelling's down. I feel great!”