Deadly Doubles (8 page)

At the far end, the man was sliding into a bleacher seat next to a man in a hat who was reading a newspaper. The newspaper was lowered briefly.

“I don’t know him. But the first guy’s one of the ones who snatched me!” Nancy whispered to George.

“Get down! He knows you by sight, remember?” George whispered back. “I can pass for just another player.” As Nancy ducked, George began sauntering along the aisle.

She had almost reached the two men when the one in the hat folded his newspaper and looked sharply in George’s direction.

Nancy’s heart lurched. He was one of the ones who had been leaning against the fence watching Teresa’s workout! He had seen George there with Nancy!

George must have recognized him at that same moment. She half paused, then changed direction, heading up the rows of bleachers.

As she did so, the two men also rose and began to run after her. So did Nancy. If she can just get to the exit stairs! Nancy thought. If Senator Kilpatrick just brings help in time!

There
was
no time. Everything was suddenly happening at high speed. George was running. The men were running after her. And Nancy was pounding after them, kicking off her sandals as she did so. Barefoot, panting, she scrambled after her friend—who was by now on the top row of bleachers.

George scrambled into the announcers’ booth. Seconds later one of her pursuers was there, too. Nancy stumbled and went down, hard, on one ankle. She jerked herself up in time to see George hurtling out the other side.

All at once, the second pursuer stopped. Something glinted in his hand. There was a faint crack-pop.

He was shooting with a silenced gun straight at George’s head!

As Nancy stared in horror, George did the only thing possible. With a gymnast’s skill, she started climbing the pole that supported the electric scoreboard.

Up and up—George’s only chance, Nancy knew, was to make a run for it along the top of the billboard. If she herself could distract the pursuers—

Gritting her teeth against the throbbing in her ankle, Nancy pulled herself upright and began to make her way rapidly along the aisle.

There were two more faint cracking sounds. But no bullets whizzed past Nancy. She whipped around—to see George, midway across the top edge of the scoreboard, lose her balance and topple helplessly toward the ground far below.

Chapter Eleven

S
OMEBODY SCREAMED.
N
ANCY
didn’t wait to see who. She threw herself down and rolled under the bleacher seat, dropping to the ground. It was not a long drop. She looked around at once, expecting to see George’s crumpled figure.

George was nowhere to be seen.

Several sets of legs raced along behind the bleachers and then stopped abruptly. Nancy crawled out and looked up, as the other spectators were looking.

High above, a figure clung to a slanting beam. The bleacher support had broken George’s fall. George was all right—or at least right enough to grab the beam and hang on tight. Now she was working her way to safety as onlookers held their breath.

Instinctively Nancy’s gaze swung higher. The pursuers were no longer using George for target practice. They were fleeing frantically as security guards closed in.

The guards were too late. The assassins got away. “But at least you’re okay!” Nancy cried, running to hug George.

George grinned weakly. “It takes more than that to get rid of me.” She brushed herself off gingerly, wincing as she did so.

College officials insisted on having George examined by the tournament physician before they’d let her leave. Then Senator Kilpatrick herself took George and Nancy back to the hotel in her government limousine.

“I hope this thing has bulletproof windows,” George joked. To Nancy’s secret relief, the bodyguard-driver answered quite seriously that it did.

Instead of pulling up at the hotel entrance, the driver drove directly into the underground garage. The second bodyguard stepped out and checked carefully before allowing the senator and her guests to leave the limo. They went directly into the elevator, accompanied by both guards, and took the elevator first to the top floor, then down to Nancy’s, using a special key to keep the door from opening at an earlier stop.

Again, one guard stepped out first and looked around before motioning to the others to follow. He was also first around the bend in the corridor—and immediately he flung out an arm to hold the women back.

“There’s a guy hanging around outside the Drew suite, and he looks like he means business!”

Nancy was already peering cautiously around the corner. A handsome man with a distinguished touch of gray at the temples was pacing in obvious fury. Nancy let out a glad cry and tore down the hall before the guards could stop her.
“Dad!”

Carson Drew caught her in his arms and held her tight. All he said was, “Let’s go inside,” in a controlled tone that Nancy knew too well. Quickly she unlocked the door, and they all entered.

Carson Drew turned on the guards immediately. “I wish to speak to these ladies alone. Could you please take up posts directly outside the door?”

The authority in his voice carried weight. So did the faint nod Senator Kilpatrick gave. The bodyguards obeyed. Carson Drew bolted the door behind them and then swung around.

“What do you think you’re doing risking the lives of private citizens like this?”
It was Marilyn Kilpatrick he was shouting at, not Nancy. “I agreed to a courier mission. Now there’s been a murder, and these girls are attacked in broad daylight. I heard what happened at the tournament,” he snapped as Nancy started to speak. “It came over the radio in the lobby. And there’s a pack of reporters down there waiting to ask questions!”

“Dad, don’t you think you could ask George how she is first, instead of yelling?” Nancy asked diplomatically.

Carson Drew caught himself. “I’m sorry,” he said. “How are you, George? Is there anything I can do?”

“I’m fine, thanks. But I think I’ll go soak my aching bones in a nice hot tub.” George vanished discreetly.

Nancy and Senator Kilpatrick exchanged glances. “Dad, have you had any lunch yet?” Nancy asked. Not waiting for an answer, she went to the door and asked the guards to order something up. Behind her, Carson Drew and the senator began to exchange words.

“Carson, believe me, there was
no way
I could have foreseen that Nancy would be in danger. Or George—or Teresa Montenegro, for that matter.” Something in Marilyn Kilpatrick’s voice made Nancy’s father grow sober and attentive. “
No one
knew Roberto was going to try to smuggle that hit list to me. No one other than the San Carlos dictator and his hit squad knew the list existed.”

“Except this Roberto,” Nancy’s father retorted with irritation.

“Roberto knew because he was a member of an underground group trying to overthrow the dictatorship. A
moderate
group,” she stressed. “He found out somehow and got in touch with me because we’d talked when I was down there some months ago. He was afraid if the word leaked out to the more radical rebels, or here in Washington, somebody might decide that the people on the list were expendable for propaganda value. He knew he’d be putting his life on the line smuggling the list to me, and he lost his life.

“But he didn’t think Teresa would be in danger. A young female tennis star? She’s one of the best publicity gimmicks her government has! So I thought Nancy would be perfectly safe posing as her for the few minutes that the contact would take.”

“But Teresa’s
not
safe,” Nancy said aloud. “Why? And why did those guys shoot at George? Just because she played a practice game with Teresa? None of this makes sense.”

Then she gasped. “Suppose they weren’t at the stadium to follow any of us. Suppose they’ve decided
Teresa’s
expendable! What you said about the people on the list—wouldn’t the murder of Teresa Montenegro, while she’s in this country and you’re having those secret peace-making sessions, be the biggest possible provocation
against
peace? Especially if the other side, and the U.S. government, could be blamed? Please, call the FBI and have them search the stadium.”

In the shocked silence that followed, they all heard the door of the other bedroom open. Bess stood in the connecting doorway. Her face was glowing, but her eyes were anxious.

“What have you been up to?” Nancy asked with effort. “Or should I say you and Dan?”

“We’ve been driving around, sightseeing, but—” Bess stopped and her glow faded. “What is it? You know, don’t you?”

“George was shot at, and she fell off the top of the scoreboard in the process,” Nancy said rapidly. “Don’t worry, she’s only bruised and shaken.” Then she paused and looked at Bess curiously. “What do we know?”

“I’m upset, too. Give me a minute to catch my breath.” Bess sat down on the bed, locking her hands together.

“Dan took me for a romantic drive around the tidal basin,” she said wanly as the others waited. “Past the monuments and the Capitol . . . you know. He had the morning off because of the business with his car last night. We ordered him a new one. Brown,” she added irrelevantly. “In the meantime he’s using a car from the police car pool.”

“All in all, you two managed to have a pretty good morning,” Senator Kilpatrick said dryly.

“It started out that way . . . I
like
Dan,” Bess wailed. “I really do. He’s strong and funny and sensitive. He says just the right things.”

“Or at least what you want to hear.” Now George appeared in the connecting door, wrapped in a terry-cloth robe and turban.

“George, that’s not fair . . .” Bess swallowed. “Senator, when he saw there were guards here he dropped me off and went to find you. We heard on the police radio that the airport police collared a pickpocket at the airport last night. He tried to bargain his way into a lighter charge by supplying information. He saw somebody arrive on a plane from the Bahamas. Somebody called El Morro.”

Bess wasn’t finished speaking, but at that moment a cry burst from the senator’s lips. They all looked at her, but it was to Carson Drew she turned.

“Carson, that man’s one of the most wanted terrorists on Interpol’s list. He has a reputation for eliminating anyone who stumbles on to any clues to his existence, whether his current employers want him to or not. I’m sure he was one of the men who tried to kill George!”

Chapter Twelve

“
N
ANCY,
I
CAN’T
help worrying about you. I’m your father,” Carson Drew said with a faint smile. Then his face grew serious.

“I’m proud of you for many things, and one of them is the way you never let personal sacrifice or danger deter you from doing what you believe is right. Or from helping someone who is in need. I admit there are times when I want to jump in and protect you from the consequences. And there would probably be more of them if I always knew what you were up to while you were up to it!

“I guess now I rely on my respect for your good sense and judgment. The trouble is, I also know that all the sense and judgment in the world can’t always save us from the consequences of other people’s actions.”

“I know,” Nancy whispered. “That’s the way I’ve felt over Roberto’s death. So helpless. And so—responsible for not having been able to protect him from it.”

The Drews were alone in Nancy’s hotel bedroom. Senator Kilpatrick, outraged that the news of El Morro’s presence in the country had not reached her sooner, had been driven to her office in search of further information. She had left one of her bodyguards on duty. He was outside the door to the suite now. Bess was fussing over George in the other bedroom.

“Don’t feel guilty,” Carson Drew said sternly. “You’re a human being, Nancy, not a computer or a comic-book heroine! Even computers can only act on the data that they have. Can you think now of anything you’d have done differently with Roberto, given what you knew then?” Nancy shook her head. “Then if you gave it your best shot, that’s all anyone has a right to expect of you, even yourself.”

Carson Drew tilted Nancy’s chin up, making her look at him. “I meant what I said about being proud of you. I do understand why you do what you do. And I approve.”

Nancy hugged him.

Just as her father’s arms tightened around her in response, the telephone rang.

“I’ll get it,” Bess called. And then, “Nan, pick the phone up. Quick!”

The voice that came to Nancy was barely distinguishable as Teresa’s. “I must see you alone. Can I come to your room right away?”

“Of course! I’ll unlock the door between—”

“
No
. Go to your window. Quickly.” The phone went dead.

“What is it?” Carson Drew asked at once.

“It’s Teresa. She’s in trouble, and if she sees you she won’t talk. Dad, go to your own room—fast.” Nancy fairly pushed him out. Then she ran to her window and threw it open wide.

A moment later a figure scrambled down the fire escape. It was Teresa, unrecognizable in a painter’s cap and a maid’s uniform.

Nancy pulled her in. “Teresa, what—”

“Shh!” Teresa slammed the window shut and pulled the drapes. “I sent Seńora Ramirez out for souvenirs and postcards so I could get away. I remembered I saw these clothes in the service room yesterday, and I borrowed them. They are a good disguise, yes? No one will recognize me if I go out? I went up to the next floor and came down the fire escape. We must talk quickly. She may be back already.”

“If she’d come back and found you missing, we’d have heard the shouting,” Nancy said frankly. “Teresa, why do you need to go out?”

“I found a note in my locker when I went to change after practice,” Teresa said.

Nancy’s heart sank. If a note could be smuggled in there, so could a bomb!

“The note is from a—a
compadre
of Roberto’s in the underground. He must see me. I am marked to die, and so are others.” She lapsed into frightened Spanish. “Many others, not just the six—”