Authors: Carolyn Keene
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Large type books, #Juvenile Fiction, #Mystery and detective stories, #Mysteries & Detective Stories
She knew what it was even before she heard one of the agents breathe the word behind her shoulder.
“Microdot!”
Chapter Sixteen
N
ANCY KNEW SHE
would never forget that frightful night. The stretch limousine must have had a souped-up motor, because the ride away from the airport was a blurred montage of headlights, nightlit monuments, and the Capitol dome glowing like a beacon in the distance.
The federal agent at the wheel did not volunteer where they were headed. Nancy didn’t ask. She was well aware that if time hadn’t been so urgent, she and her friends wouldn’t have been allowed to go along.
Sometime during the evening, a light rain had begun to fall. The dark streets gleamed, and raindrops streaked the windshield. Nancy stole a glance at her watch. Time was running out!
The limousine tore past the White House. A group of demonstrators huddled forlornly with umbrellas and banners on the far side of the street, under the watchful eye of police.
“Protesting the dictatorship in my country,” Teresa said emotionlessly. Her hands were clasped tightly, her face like stone.
At last the limo turned into the entrance to a garage. An armed guard at the entry booth checked the driver’s ID. They parked in a cavernous, almost empty enclosure that was brightly lit. Their footsteps echoed as they walked across the concrete, and Nancy noticed that their escorts held guns in their hands.
The driver punched a coded sequence of numbers into an electronic device beside a heavy steel door. For a moment a tiny beam of red light swept their faces. Then, noiselessly, the door slid open.
Surrounded by their armed guard, Nancy and her friends stepped inside into a bright, hospital-white corridor. The steel door slid shut again, and another door concealed in the opposite wall slid open.
Then they were crowded together into a small, futuristic elevator car, which sped upward.
When they stepped out, Nancy fought back a giggle. Unconsciously she’d been expecting a science-fiction laboratory of some kind. But the room they entered was a cross between a drab office and her high school chemistry lab.
The electronics technicians who were waiting for them, though, were all business. As soon as the federal man produced the tiny
i
dot from the poster, it was whisked beneath a high-powered microscope.
Nancy, Teresa, Bess, and George were ushered into a small office and told to stay there.
“Make yourselves some coffee if you want to. There may be something around here to go with it,” the man in the lab jacket added. He went out, shutting the office door behind him.
“None of us has had any dinner yet, come to think of it,” George said in a flat voice. “Not that it matters.”
Bess tasted the coffee that was left in the glass pot and made a face. “This is awful.” She emptied the pot, washed it, refilled it, and turned on the machine. Nancy rummaged in the small cupboard for the “something” the scientist had referred to. Her stomach felt like lead, but she had to keep her hands busy. She found a box of crackers and a jar of cheese spread and began making snacks for everyone.
George paced between the window and the door. Teresa sat on a plaid daybed, looking like a statue.
The coffeepot steamed, sending out the strong, comforting smell of brewing coffee. The clock ticked away. Eleven-thirty. Midnight. One
A.M.
Two
A.M.
“Why don’t they tell us something?” Nancy exclaimed at last.
“Remember the old saying, no news is good news.” Bess pressed a third mug of coffee into Nancy’s hand.
Nancy set it down so hard that the scalding liquid splashed her wrist. “I can’t stand this. I have to know!”
She opened the office door. At once a young woman in a lab coat appeared. “I’m sorry. It’s really much better if you stay in there.”
“Tell me something!” Nancy pleaded.
“You were right. It
was
a microdot—a piece of film. The list is on it. We still haven’t been able to crack the code, but all the mechanics of protection have been set up. Agents in all the major cities of the U.S. are standing ready to provide protection for the people on that list as soon as the names are decoded. And now I must get back to my computer!”
She vanished again.
“A lot of good protection will do if it comes too late,” George muttered as Nancy made her report.
Teresa’s eyes were closed, and her lips moved silently.
Three
A.M.
Four.
Bess had fallen asleep. Even George was drowsing. Nancy struggled against the heaviness in her eyelids.
She thought she was awake, but all the same the faint creak as the office door opened made her jump. Dan stood silhouetted in the doorway, his face one broad grin.
“It’s okay. They’ve cracked the code. The FBI has gone to everybody’s rescue.” Dan went over and kissed Bess awake. “Come on, honey. I’m taking you girls home.”
As they headed for the elevator an older man came toward them. He was dressed in an immaculate navy-blue suit, but his tie was askew. “Which one of you is Nancy Drew?” he asked.
Nancy stepped forward, and he shook her hand firmly. “A fine job. Senator Kilpatrick said you were good, and she was right. Thanks to you, a lot of people are going to sleep better from now on.”
“Has El Morro been caught?” Nancy asked at once.
“You’ll be hearing all about it in the morning. I understand the senator’s planning a news conference.” The agent smiled warmly and went back to his office.
The limousine repeated its ride through the Washington streets. “Stop a minute,” Dan ordered as it passed an all-night fast-food restaurant. He went in and returned with bags of hamburgers, french fries, and sodas.
When they reached the hotel, they carried them up to their suite. Dan intended to sleep on the sitting-room sofa again, and Teresa would have the other bed in Nancy’s room. Her chaperon was still being detained for questioning.
By the time they finished eating, the first streaks of light were in the eastern sky.
“I can’t go to sleep now! Can you find out—have all the people on the list been warned in time?” Nancy asked Dan.
Dan telephoned Senator Kilpatrick’s office and in a few minutes turned back to Nancy jubilantly.
“It’s okay! We got to ’em in time! So far El Morro’s escaped capture, but there’s a dragnet out for him. At eight o’clock this morning the senator’s going to go on the air to announce that San Carlos’s president-for-life has fled his palace. The revolution is underway, but Senator Kilpatrick has been able to help those political leaders she’s been meeting with work out a coalition government.”
“So there’s no reason for El Morro to hang around here, especially if he’s just a hired assassin,” George commented.
“Right. There are a lot of people watching for him at the airports. He’ll probably head for home, wherever that is, as soon as the senator announces that all five people on the hit list are now under U.S. government protection. Then we’ll nab him.”
Nancy jerked upright. “
Five
people?”
“Sure.” Dan rattled them off.
“But there were supposed to be six! Roberto told Senator Kilpatrick there were six!”
“You probably just heard wrong,” Dan said kindly.
“We didn’t! Dan, I beg you, call the lab! Ask if a name could have been taken off the list!” Dan shook his head, but he picked up the phone anyway.
When he turned back to Nancy, his face had changed. “You were right. There are indications that something was deleted. Probably some kind of accident when the dot was brought through a radar check. They’re putting a crew to work again right now.”
Already the gray in the sky was growing paler. Nancy looked at her watch. There wasn’t enough time!
What could the sixth name on the list have been? Suppose it hadn’t been taken off by accident or by mistake?
Who was the most prominent person in the United States working for the peaceful overthrow of the San Carlos dictator?
The realization struck Nancy like a blow. Senator Marilyn Kilpatrick—the person Roberto had been trying to smuggle information to! Senator Kilpatrick, who in a few more hours would be announcing the dictator’s flight and the transition of power!
Roberto must have been planning to let Senator Kilpatrick be murdered. Maybe he figured that with her out of the way there’d be no one to finger him. Certainly his San Carlos associates would have killed him if they discovered he’d sold out.
It was the only thing Nancy could come up with to explain the missing name. But the main thing was to save the senator. What Roberto had brought to the U.S. was a
photo
of the hit list. The killer had the
original
list—and the senator’s name was still on it!
“We’ve got to warn the senator!” Nancy shouted to Dan. “She’s the sixth person, I’m sure of it. Call her, quick!”
Dan’s jaw dropped. “I don’t know where she is! Nobody seems to. She doesn’t think she’s in any danger, so she slipped her guards and went out for an early breakfast somewhere with your father.”
Chapter Seventeen
T
HE WORLD SEEMED
to turn upside down in front of Nancy’s eyes. Then it righted itself. Just as at that moment on the tennis court, she saw the danger and knew the only thing to do.
“George! Call the senator’s office. Tell them she’s on the hit list. Dan, come on!” Nancy dashed for the door.
George was already on the phone.
“Where are we going?” Dan demanded as he and Nancy ran down the corridor.
“To find my dad. I know the places he likes to eat in D.C.” Not waiting for the elevator, Nancy lunged for the emergency stairs and went down them two at a time.
Dan reached his car and unlocked the doors. “I’m driving,” Nancy announced. “You get on the phone with the feds,” she ordered Dan.
Dan tossed over the keys and jumped into the passenger seat. The phone beeped as Nancy jerked the car out of its parking space and catapulted it up the runway.
She was barely conscious of Dan’s voice speaking tersely into the phone receiver. Nancy’s eyes were on the road, which was already gilded with sunlight. Her mind clicked along like a computer.
She knew that Senator Kilpatrick had scheduled an eight o’clock video press conference in her office. That meant Carson Drew must have taken her to eat somewhere nearby. Someplace he liked near the Capitol and the Senate Office Building. Someplace he knew would be very quiet and private.
“Tell the feds to check the Monocle! And the American Café!” Nancy shouted.
She floored the gas pedal as she roared north on Washington Street. Horns honked. Somewhere behind them a siren sounded.
Dan broke his phone connection and beeped his own police station. He identified himself and his car license number crisply. “Requesting black-and-white on our tail. Repeat, request escort immediately.” Dan gave a code number that Nancy guessed meant urgent security business.
Almost at once the police car fell into place behind them, its siren magically clearing the way in front. “Heading into D.C.,” Dan said into the telephone as Nancy shot onto the road leading to the Arlington Memorial Bridge. And then, “Where to?”
“I don’t know.” All Nancy knew was that
something
was driving
her
, as if the car and her subconscious had one common will. “The Watergate, I guess. Just in case. It’s closest—”
Golden sun sparkled on the Potomac and on the white marble of the statues as they tore across the bridge. The Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts shimmered peacefully in the sunlight. The curved lines of the Watergate’s many balconies glistened.
They careened to a stop at the hotel entrance, and Dan leaned out. “Seen Senator Kilpatrick this morning?” he called to a uniformed doorman.
“Negative. Nobody important stirring around here yet. I just checked.” The doorman indicated a tiny radio concealed in his hand.
Dan waved to him and pulled his head in again. “Government security, undercover, on account of the San Carlos crowd in town,” he told Nancy.
The phone beeped. Dan flipped the loudspeaker button, so the voice echoed tinnily through the car. “Negative on American Café and Monocle. Lady’s own guards can’t find her. She pulled a cute stunt and shook them. Don’t know who she’s with, but they must have wanted to be real private.”
Privacy was one thing, but Nancy had a feeling El Morro was not as easy to elude as the senator’s own security people.
Suddenly Nancy let out a cry. Her right hand found the emergency brake and jerked it free as her right foot slammed down again on the gas pedal.
The car leaped forward.
“Where?”
Dan yelled.
“The Hay-Adams Hotel! Dad was there last trip—the first time he’d seen it since it was restored. He said something about how beautiful it was, and convenient—and what a good place to have a conference, because you couldn’t be overheard by other tables—”
“Got that?” Dan shouted into the phone. “Left at the next corner, then right at the next light,” he ordered Nancy.
Nancy followed his instructions. Out of nowhere, another police car appeared and fell in before them, clearing their way. Nancy’s hands were frozen on the steering wheel. She took the right turn on two tires.
They raced through central Washington. The historic Hay-Adams Hotel loomed ahead of them. Nancy screeched to a stop, burning rubber against the curb.
As fast as Dan and the other police were getting out of their cars, Nancy was faster. She raced across the sidewalk, almost knocking down two people who were in her way. Then she ran through the entrance doors, through the lobby, and past a sign directing patrons to a breakfast buffet. Nancy’s lungs burned as she exploded into the high-ceilinged serenity of the Victorian restaurant.
Her eyes swept the room. Suddenly she thought her heart would burst with gratitude. There was Senator Kilpatrick, in a pale gray suit, reaching for her attaché case as Carson Drew rose to pull out her chair.
Something dazzled, the way something had dazzled at the tennis court—