Into Thin Air (13 page)

L
ET ME SEE THAT
,” Nancy said, taking the note from Mark to read the rest of it. “ ‘Meet us at the landfill—nine tonight. Bring the key. No cops, no tricks, or your friends are history.' ”

Nancy swallowed hard. “We blew it, Mark,” she said. “We should never have left them here alone.”

“This is my fault,” Mark moaned. “I should never have dragged you into this case.”

“No, it's not your fault,” Nancy reassured him. “I should have seen this coming. They had to come back here to get the key.”

“Hey, you didn't know Wilson was going to be let out early!” Mark grabbed Nancy by the shoulders. “Anyway, don't worry. We'll save them.”

Before Nancy could stop him, Mark dashed upstairs. In a moment he was back down. Grinning at Nancy, he bent over, lifted his trouser leg, and revealed an ankle holster with a gun in it!

Nancy put her hands on her hips. “Are you out of your mind? What are you doing with a gun?”

“Don't you have one?” Mark asked, surprised.

“No way,” Nancy answered. “As far as I'm concerned, guns cause more trouble than they're worth. Like right now, for instance. The letter says no tricks. Let's not give Johnson an excuse to hurt Bess and George.”

“But they'll kill all of us, Nancy!” Mark protested. “We've got to be prepared.”

“There are better ways to prepare than carrying a gun, Mark. Please leave it behind,” Nancy told him. “Most times, guns wind up hurting the wrong people. I'm going to call Chief McGinnis and tell him what's going on. There's only one way out of that landfill. The police will nab Johnson—and Linda—after we meet with them.”

Mark shook his head. “I still can't believe she's involved in this,” he said. “I guess love really is blind, huh?”

“Sometimes,” Nancy replied. “Just try to keep your eyes open tonight, when you and Linda come face-to-face. Remember, you're
on opposite sides of the law now.” With that, she went up to Mark's apartment and called police headquarters.

Chief McGinnis was glad to hear from Nancy. “I've left three messages at your home,” he told her. “Where've you been?”

Nancy told the chief about Bess and George's kidnapping.

The chief gave a heavy sigh. “You'd better go ahead with the rendezvous,” he told her.

“The note said ‘no cops,' ” Nancy warned.

“Don't worry. You won't see us, but we'll be there. In force,” said the chief. “And, Nancy, be careful. Johnson is as dangerous as they come.”

• • •

Several hours later as dusk fell over River Heights, Nancy and Mark headed out to the landfill. Nancy tried to brief her partner on how to handle himself.

“I've been in situations like this before,” she explained matter-of-factly. “The main thing is, don't make them mad. Find out what they want, what their plan is, then stay alert for your moment. And remember, we don't have to overpower them ourselves. The police will be waiting for them. All we have to do is survive.” Not necessarily an easy task, Nancy reminded herself.

Soon, the landfill loomed ahead of them, its steep slopes grass covered and eerie. The night
was dark, with only dim light from the moon filtering down through windswept clouds.

“Should we leave your car here at the bottom of the hill and sneak up on them?” Mark asked. They had reached the spot where they'd hidden on the night of the auction, while the two men above had set fire to Johnson's desk.

“No way,” Nancy said. “They know we're coming at nine. There's no way we could possibly get the jump on them.”

“We should have gotten here earlier,” Mark muttered.

“No, it's better this way,” Nancy told him. “Let's not look for a fight. Please, Mark,” she begged, seeing the reluctance on his face. “Don't screw this up by trying to be a hero.”

Mark bit his lip. “Can't I at least watch for them to let down their guard?”

Nancy blew out a breath. “Just don't go off half-cocked, okay?” she said.

“Right.” Mark stared into the darkness ahead of them. “Flashlights up ahead,” he announced, as the car wound around the terraced hillside.

Nancy braked to a stop at the edge of the landfill. The hill sloped down steeply. A car was parked at the edge. In front of it stood a man Nancy guessed had to be Christopher Johnson. He held a flashlight in one hand, and a gun in the other.

“Welcome to my scenic rendezvous,” he
said with a debonair gesture as they emerged from the car. “You'll find it has quite a view—and if you don't breathe, you can almost ignore the smell.”

“It smells, all right,” Mark retorted angrily. “Just like this scheme of yours.”

“Cool it, Mark,” Nancy whispered out of the side of her mouth. Johnson looked just as he had in the window of Artie Wilson's apartment. The mustache, she could see at this distance, was real, probably grown after the helicopter explosion. The flat cap sat on his head at a jaunty angle.

Glancing at Mark, she could see that his eyes were riveted on Johnson's gun. Johnson also caught Mark's gaze. “I wouldn't try anything rash,” he advised. “My darling fiancée, Linda, is right behind you, and she has a very nasty weapon in her hands.”

Sure enough, behind them and about fifty feet away stood Linda Bates, toting what looked like an Uzi submachine gun. At her feet were three people, all bound and gagged.

Wait a minute, thought Nancy. Three? Then she saw who was next to Bess and George—Hal Slade!

“Surprised, huh, Nancy? Well, Slade was getting too nosy,” Linda called out. She gave a nasty laugh, then ambled nearer to Mark.

“So you were engaged to Johnson this whole time?” he asked, sounding outraged.

“Poor baby,” she said, pouting a little. “I'm sorry I had to deceive you. You're handsome when you're angry, though.”

To his credit, Mark held his tongue, but there was fury and betrayal in his eyes.

“Did you bring the key?” Johnson asked Nancy, all business.

Nancy reached into her pocket and brought it out. “Is this the one you had in mind?” she asked, holding it up for them to see.

“You're a very good detective, young lady,” Johnson told her. “Linda and I both thought there could be nothing safer than stashing the key at the Bradfords'. You proved us wrong. Now toss it over.”

Nancy did as she was told. Glittering in the silver moonlight, it fell to the ground and Johnson picked it up. “Thanks,” he said cheerfully.

“Now what?” Nancy asked, glancing at the three bound bodies and trying not to sound as nervous as she felt. Bess and George were staying as still as they could, and the police were probably moving into position. If she could just stall Johnson and Linda for another five minutes.

Johnson walked closer, with Linda at his side. “Now we tie you and this young man up, just like your friends, and drive you back to the Bradford house. There, you remain until somebody finds you. By then, we'll be safely
out of the country with the brand-new passports Artie Wilson is making for us tonight. The bank opens at nine—how considerate of them to be open on Saturdays—and our flight leaves at ten-thirty. Now if you'll both turn around—”

He picked a coil of rope off the ground and approached Nancy.

Nancy caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and glanced sideways at Mark. His hands were at his sides, and he was clenching his fists. There was a wild, glazed look in his eyes.

Mark, no! she thought.

As Johnson approached, Mark leaped at him, knocking him backward onto the ground. Mark, still standing, reached for his pants leg.

Nancy gasped in horror. Mark had brought the gun! Glancing behind her, Nancy saw Linda running toward them.

“Mark, you're covered!” Nancy screamed.

Mark wasn't listening. He was tripping all over himself. The gun was stuck in its holster. Mark fell to the ground with a thud, just as Linda was about to hit him with her Uzi. She pointed the muzzle at his nose. Johnson moved forward and quickly disarmed him.

“Nancy, why didn't you help me?” Mark demanded.

“Because I don't want to die!” she shot back furiously.

“Unfortunately,” Johnson said, “that's just what's going to happen now that you've broken our terms. Obviously I cannot count on you to cooperate. Cover me, Linda.”

Johnson went about his task with a vengeance, tying both Mark and Nancy so tightly that it hurt them just to breathe. Johnson and Linda dragged their five prisoners to Nancy's Mustang, crowding them all inside.

Nancy was in the driver's seat, with Bess's feet in her face. George was splayed across the back seat, Mark's legs were sticking up over the back seat, and Slade, in an impossibly contorted position, stared at Nancy from the passenger seat. All had been gagged as well as bound.

Johnson closed the car doors. Reaching in through the open driver's window, he started the engine. “Bon voyage, all of you,” he said, putting the car into Drive and releasing the parking brake.

Nancy felt the Mustang roll forward, and she knew it was heading straight toward the edge of the hill. If they went over, they didn't have a chance!

N
ANCY COULDN'T BREATHE.
The blood roared furiously in her ears, and her eyes were riveted to the spot about a hundred feet away, where the hill dropped sharply off into the darkness of the garbage-filled dump. It was going to be a long, frightening, deadly trip down.

The other passengers squirmed in terror, frantically trying to work free of the ropes that bound them. Something rose up in Nancy—a stubborn, absolute refusal to die. She looked down at the Mustang's automatic gearshift, on the floor between her and Slade, and struggled with the ropes that held her wrists.

The car kept rolling at a slow, steady pace, gradually picking up speed. Any second now,
it would go over the edge, and there would be nothing Nancy or anybody else could do.

Nancy twisted down into the seat. It was a painful, contorted position, but her head was only inches from the gearshift. Summoning up all her strength and twisting against the ropes, she banged the side of it with the top of her head, pushing the button that freed the shift. At the same time, she tried to push the shift back one notch.

With a terrible screech of the automatic transmission, the Mustang threw itself into reverse. Nancy was hurled against the dashboard.

The car was on the very edge, and no ground was visible in front of them. The fatal drop yawned below, but the car pulled back from the edge, driving in a crazy circle, then another, round and round.

Nancy was sure her last effort had been useless, that they would end up going over anyway, when suddenly the Mustang rammed into a parked bulldozer with a sickening crash. The car stopped moving. The engine sputtered and died.

Then—silence. They were safe!

Nancy looked around her. Bess and George were stirring in the back seat. They seemed to be all right. But Mark and Hal Slade looked unconscious, probably from the jolt when the car crashed against the bulldozer.

Nancy hoped they weren't seriously hurt, but there was nothing she could do right then, bound and gagged as she was. If only the police would arrive!

Sirens answered Nancy's silent plea. The sounds came nearer and nearer. Soon, Chief McGinnis's worried face poked through the window. Nancy had never been happier to see him.

“Well, now, what do we have here?” the chief said jovially. He opened the door and started freeing Nancy and the others.

“Did you get them, Chief?” Nancy asked as soon as the gag was removed from her mouth.

“Johnson and the girl? We got them, all right.” McGinnis beamed. “Sorry we weren't here sooner, but there was an accident on the road. We got Wilson, too—the old guy is back behind bars, and this time I don't think he'll be out for a while. Thanks, Nancy. We couldn't have done it without you.”

Nancy blushed and changed the subject. “Better call a doctor,” she told him. “The two guys are out cold.”

Chief McGinnis radioed in the call for help, then reached over and checked Mark's and Slade's pulses. “They'll be all right,” he assured the girls. “No blood anywhere, and they're breathing. They probably have concussions.”

Nancy shook her head and threw the chief a
weary smile. “Now, why is it always the men who faint when the going gets tough?”

YOUNG DETECTIVE SOLVES

BIZARRE CASE OF LIVING DEAD!

A
Today's Times
Exclusive

by Brenda Carlton

River Heights has a new star detective. He's golden-haired, blue-eyed, twenty-two-year-old Mark Rubin, and he's just cracked the biggest case of his career.

Last night at the town landfill, Rubin cleverly trapped criminal Christopher Johnson and his accomplice, Linda Bates, who had kidnapped two local teenage girls. Rubin was able to turn the tables on the crooks, who fled into the waiting arms of the River Heights police.