002 Deadly Intent (12 page)

T
HE HOSTESS TURNED
away, and Nancy tugged at Alan’s sleeve. “We’ve got to hurry! When no one’s looking, go up to the next floor and see what you can find. Look for another staircase. I’m going to check out the downstairs, but so many people have access to it, I think the top floors are our best bet.”

Alan grabbed Nancy’s hand and squeezed it warmly. When the coast was clear, he headed for the stairs.

In the basement, Nancy found an open space with two wall telephones and a shabby sofa. Off this area were two tiny restrooms and a closed door. The door opened easily. Behind it was a
large boiler, water pipes, a central heating unit, old kitchenware, and a walk-in refrigerator. Wall shelves were lined with cans of Chinese ingredients. But there was no sign of either the two prisoners or a shipment of records.

Nancy raced back up the steps. Then, unnoticed, she went up the next flight. She found Alan standing at the edge of the second-floor dining room. “No luck” was the meaning of the look they gave each other.

Waiters were carrying food to the customers from a dumbwaiter that was positioned on one wall. The staircase Nancy had come up ended there, and she saw no exits that could have led to the third floor. She surveyed the ceiling, looking for a trap door.

Nothing.

Alan gave her a helpless shrug. “Maybe people going upstairs use
that.”
He pointed to a dumbwaiter, half-concealed by a partition.

Nancy gave him a look. “I suppose, if you’re prepared to tie yourself up like a pretzel.”

“Sorry. It was a dumb suggestion.” Alan sighed. “But how else do you get to those top floors?”

“There’s got to be a way. They can’t possibly move heavy loads of record albums down on a dumbwaiter.”
Not to mention moving down a body—or two bodies.

Don’t think of Barton and Bess as “bodies,”
Nancy scolded herself, but she sensed Alan was thinking the same thing. She glanced at her watch. It was coming on to ten o’clock, scarcely more than half an hour before pickup. If nothing had gone wrong, Bess and Barton were alive and somewhere in the building. But where?

Nancy looked around once more at the people enjoying their dinners under a tapestry depicting a serene waterfall. It hurt her to watch life going on as usual while Bess’s and Barton’s lives were still at stake.

The tapestry! Suddenly Nancy realized what she’d missed on her first look around the room. “Follow me,” she whispered urgently to Alan. She moved toward the tapestry, which decorated the wall opposite the windows she’d seen when she’d gotten out of the taxi. As she and Alan crossed the room she discreetly put a hand to her left ear and removed one of her blue teardrop earrings, which she then dropped into her shirt pocket.

“Excuse me,” she said to a couple at one of the tables beneath the woven wall hanging, then gestured toward Alan. “My friend and I had dinner at this table earlier in the evening, and I think I might have dropped an earring. Do you mind if I take a look?”

“Go right ahead,” said a silver-haired man, getting up from his chair to allow Nancy to look behind the table.

Quickly, she bent down and grasped one of the bottom corners of the tapestry. When she lifted it up, she saw a window. That was it! The rear of the building faced the next street. There was probably a second entrance at the back. All she had to do was go around to the next block to find the door to the top two floors.

“What are you doing?” the man asked. “How could your earring possibly get behind the tapestry?”

“I’m sorry. No time to explain.” Nancy took Alan’s arm and tore down the stairs and out of the building, leaving the man to stare after them.

• • •

The plain brown truck sat outside the other side of the building, the cab doors open. “All ready to load in the albums,” George hissed to Nancy as she and the others peered around the corner of the block.

“Not just the albums,” Nancy said with grave apprehension. “We can’t wait for the police any longer. We’ve got to move in right now.”

“But what about that heavyset man at the door?” Roger said. “He might be armed.”

At that moment, the guard stubbed out the end of the cigarette he’d been smoking and pulled open the door he had been standing in front of. A short man in dark clothes came out carrying a large crate.

“Dave!” Nancy whispered. “With a load of albums!”

“But they’re early. They weren’t supposed to start until ten-thirty,” Alan said.

“I know,” Nancy replied grimly. “We’ve got even less time than we thought. Where on earth is Sergeant Wald? When Dave brings down the last box, Bess and Barton are through.” Dave put the crate into the truck. Behind him, a taller heavyset man came out with another crate, and then a third man emerged. The tall man fit the description the Radio City Music Hall guards had given of the man who had been Dave’s partner.

“Okay, guys, listen up,” Nancy said, gathering everyone around. “We have to put Dave and his pals out of commission for a while. There are more of us than them, so if we take them by surprise, it shouldn’t be too tough. Once we’re inside, we’ll break into groups to look for Bess and Barton.”

“What if more of those creeps are inside?” Mark Bailey asked.

“Then we’d better pray their hands are full of crates and that we’re faster than they are,” Nancy replied uneasily. “Now, I’m going to go ask Mr. Muscles over there for a cigarette.” She pointed toward the guard. “While he’s holding the match for me, I’m going to practice a new move we learned in karate.”

Nancy rounded the corner, walking slowly toward the guarded door.

The guard watched Nancy’s progress down the
narrow, empty side street. He shifted uneasily when she made eye contact and gave him a tentative smile.

“Can you spare a smoke?” she asked, hoping her voice sounded normal.

Arching a bushy eyebrow, the guard looked down the block, which was home to a handful of grocery stores that were closed for the night. Then he put a hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a red and white box. After giving Nancy a cigarette, he fished around in another pocket for a book of matches.

Nancy was close enough to make out the L-tailed dragon on the matchbook. James Li again. She put the cigarette in her mouth. The guard held a lit match with one hand, cupping the other around the flame as Nancy bent forward and edged the tip of the cigarette toward the light. Then, in one brisk, split-second movement, she smashed the heel of her hand into the guard’s chin. He didn’t even have a chance to shout before he fell to the pavement.

“Ned, Roger,” she called out. “Quick. Give me a hand.” They hoisted the unconscious guard into the back of the truck. Then they waited behind the door to the building. When Dave and his cohorts reappeared, they jumped them.

Dave fought free from the surprise attack. Nancy brought her right arm up for a blow, but he caught hold and pinned it behind her back, twisting painfully. By then, though, the others
had appeared. George and Alan helped Nancy overpower Dave, while Linda, Mark, and Jim gave Roger and Ned a hand in carrying the other two, still kicking and fighting, into the back of the truck.

They finally shoved Dave in too and slammed the back door shut. With her left arm, Nancy snapped closed several padlocks that were attached to it, imprisoning the four men in their own vehicle. “There. That ought to hold them for a while.” Nancy allowed herself a second to inspect her twisted right shoulder. She could hardly lift her arm, and she massaged the soreness with her other hand.

“Nancy, you’re hurt!” George observed anxiously.

“It’s not that bad.” Nancy said, steeling herself against the pain.

“Are you sure?”

Nancy managed a stiff smile in spite of the throbbing in her shoulder. “Okay,” she said, “someone better wait down here for the police while we go in. Alan, will you volunteer?”

“I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Good. If you have any trouble, yell. The rest of you, follow me.”

Inside, they groped their way up two dark, narrow flights of stairs and then split up, Ned and George exploring the third floor with Nancy, the musicians taking the top level.

“What a place to get stuck in without a flashlight,”
George muttered as their group inched forward blindly.

With Ned and George behind her, Nancy guided herself along the wall of what apparently was a narrow hallway. Suddenly her hand slid around a corner. The hallway had ended. “I think we’re in a big room,” Nancy whispered. “There’s got to be a light switch somewhere near here.”

“Pay dirt!” came Ned’s voice, as fluorescent overhead lamps illuminated a huge loft space.

“Wow!” Nancy looked around her in amazement. The loft was filled with the best, most modern recording equipment available.

“Nancy! Ned! George!” It was Roger calling from above them down the staircase. “We found them! Hurry!”

The recording equipment forgotten, the three friends followed Roger’s voice, racing upstairs and through another loft littered with cartons like the ones Dave and his cohorts had been carrying.

“In here!” Roger peered out from a smaller room partitioned off at the very back of the loft.

“Nancy!” cried Bess as Linda, Mark, and Jim finished untying the ropes that had bound her and Barton. “George! Ned!” Bess was on her feet, hugging them all at once. “I can’t believe you found us! I thought I was never going to see any of you again!”

Nancy pulled Bess close with her left arm,
warm tears of relief trickling down both friends’ cheeks. Nancy squeezed her as hard as she could. “Oh, Bess, thank heavens we got here in time!”

“I’ll say,” Barton Novak agreed tremulously. The members of Bent Fender were having their own reunion.

“Barton, are you okay? Did they hurt you?” Linda asked.

“Well, spending two days tied to a chair isn’t my idea of a vacation.” Barton grinned.

Bess was less ready to laugh off their near brush with death. “Oh, Nan, to think I didn’t believe a single word you told me,” she cried. “Barton was in this awful place, just like you said, and they were going to kill us . . .” Her sentence dissolved into sobs.

“It’s okay, Bess,” Nancy consoled her. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“No it’s not. I was so rotten to you. How can you ever forgive me. I apologize a million, trillion times.”

“Hey, no need.”

“Boy, just wait until I get my hands on that double-crossing liar Alan Wales.”

“Wait a minute, Bess,” Nancy said, surprising herself. “Don’t be so hard on the guy. His biggest crime was just being swept away by his dreams.”

“I don’t know, Nancy. Those dreams almost got Barton and me murdered!” Bess paused. “So where is the rat, anyway?”

“Downstairs waiting for the police.”

“You’re very much mistaken,” an unfamiliar male voice boomed out behind Nancy. “The police are downstairs in the basement, locked to the pipes with their own handcuffs.”

Nancy whirled around to see a small man dressed in a neat gray suit, with a dark hat pulled low over his face. He held a gun. And the gun was pointed directly at Nancy!

The man smiled a bone-chilling, evil smile. “James Li at your service,” he announced. “The next person who moves is dead.”

M
AY I EXTEND
my congratulations, Miss Drew? You almost put a damper on my little party. Almost, but not quite.” James Li gave a demonic laugh. “It is Miss Drew, isn’t it?” He touched the tip of her nose with the cold, hard barrel of his gun.

The tap of high-heeled shoes sounded on the bare floor behind James Li. “That’s Nancy Drew all right.” Vivian stepped out of the shadows, Dave by her side. “This’ll teach you to go poking around in business that doesn’t concern you,” she said.

Nancy remained silent, not giving Vivian the satisfaction of an answer.

“It’s a pity my little warning the other night failed to scare you off,” Li offered,

“That knife-throwing act was yours?” Nancy asked, an edge of bitterness to her voice.

“Through one of my boys.”

“Lucky for me he missed.”