Recipe for Murder (12 page)

A very tousled Bess pulled open the door. “This had better be good,” she mumbled.

“The recipe,” Nancy said. “Do you remember the proportions on the chocolate cake recipe? The one we talked about? Right at the top there were twenty-nine pounds of salt, and only seven of sugar.”

“Am I dull, or what? I don't get it,” Bess said with a yawn.

“Today's July twenty-ninth. It's the seventh month and the twenty-ninth day. It must have something to do with today's date!”

Bess rubbed her eyes. “So what's going on today?”

“I don't know. But I intend to find out. I'm going to try to reach Jacques Bonet. This time I'm going to ask him straight out what his involvement is.”

She phoned Jacques's hotel room, but there was no answer. She called directory assistance for Claude DuPres's home number and was lucky enough to get it. She dialed the number
and was surprised when the chef answered on the second ring.

“Hello,” he said. “Claude DuPres speaking.”

“Chef DuPres, it's Nancy Drew. I—uh, I was really trying to get hold of Jacques Bonet. I need to talk to him as soon as possible.”

“Oh? Well, I'm afraid you will have to wait a few days. Jacques is out of town.”

Nancy's heart sank. “Out of town? Do you know where?”

“He is in Washington, D.C. He left yesterday.”

“The Washington dinner!” Nancy gasped. “Of course!” Suddenly it all made sense. All along Chef DuPres and Jacques Bonet had talked about this important dinner. She'd even wanted to know more about it herself. But what was going to happen there?

“Ms. Drew?” Chef DuPres asked. “Are you there?”

“Yes, Chef DuPres. Please, I don't have time to say more. I've got to contact Jacques.”

“Ms. Drew! Please—a moment. Does this have anything to do with the threats against my life?”

Nancy was anxious to get off the phone. “I think so. But I won't know for certain until I talk to Jacques.”

“Wait a moment. I will give you the address of the hotel where the dinner is taking place.
Jacques should be there.” Chef DuPres told her the street address of a hotel in Georgetown, a prestigious section of Washington, D.C.

Something else clicked in Nancy's mind. As soon as she was off the phone, she wrote down as much as she could recall of that first recipe. She couldn't remember the rest of the proportions, but she did remember the preparation and cooking times—and they corresponded to the street address of the hotel!

Nancy's hand was shaking slightly as she dialed Jacques's hotel in Washington. “Carlisle Hotel,” a woman answered.

“Please connect me with Jacques Bonet's room,” Nancy said.

“One moment.”

The line rang on and on. “I'm sorry,” the desk clerk said, coming back on the line. “Mr. Bonet isn't in. Would you like to leave a message?”

“No. Thanks anyway.”

There was only one thing left to do—go to Georgetown herself! Picking up the phone again, she dialed Ned's room. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” she told him. “We've got some traveling to do.”

“I'm awake and dressed, I'll have you know. What traveling?”

“I'll let you know at breakfast. The coffee shop in five minutes?”

“I'll be there.”

Ned was waiting for her when she arrived. “So what's up?” he asked as they were shown to their table.

Nancy leaned forward on her elbows. “Today is July twenty-ninth. This is the date of the Washington dinner, the one where Jacques Bonet is taking Chef DuPres's place. Remember the chocolate cake recipe? The one we looked at in your room? The top two proportions were seven and twenty-nine?”

“The date of the dinner,” Ned said and whistled.

“And that's not all. The address of the dinner corresponds to the preparation and cooking times.”

“So where are we traveling?”

“To Washington, D.C. If my hunch is right, Jacques Bonet is right in the thick of things—whether he knows it or not!”

“What time is this dinner?” Ned asked.

“Claude said it's scheduled for seven-thirty. Ned, some very important international heads of state are going to be there. We won't be able to get in!”

“Call your father,” Ned suggested. “We're going to need his help.”

It took only a few phone calls for Carson Drew to contact Senator Kilpatrick, one of his personal friends, and pave the way for Nancy and Ned.

“Be careful,” Carson told his only daughter.

“Always, Dad.”

As Nancy tossed a few items in her purse, she brought Bess and George up to date on what was happening. “So I need you two to drive us to the airport,” she finished. “Then come back and tell the local police about what's happening with Slesak and Colville. I'm sure they're both on their way to Washington.”

“Don't worry, we'll take care of it. We just need to get you to the airport in time,” said George.

George pushed the speed limit all the way to the airport. As they entered the terminal they heard their flight being called.

“Can we still get on the flight that's just leaving for Washington?” Nancy asked the ticket agent anxiously.

The agent punched up her records on the computer. “There are a few seats left,” she said.

In record time the ticket agent collected their money and pointed them toward the gate. Nancy and Ned buckled in just as the plane started taxiing.

• • •

The airplane's tires touched down in Washington just as Ned's watch flicked to six-thirty. With rush-hour crowds it seemed to take forever for a taxi to arrive, but at last a bright yellow cab pulled up in front of them. “Where to?” the cabbie asked.

Nancy gave him the address of the hotel.

The cabbie drove to the outside gates of a
stately gray stone hotel. The entrance was cordoned off by ropes—and secret service men were everywhere.

Nancy walked up to the front door. “My name's Nancy Drew,” she said, showing her identification to the first agent she encountered. “Senator Kilpatrick was going to call and— ”

“It's all right, Ms. Drew. Both of you come along with me,” he said. “Senator Kilpatrick relayed your message. You're to go straight inside. I'll take you.”

“Thank you,” Nancy said with relief.

They entered the main door of the hotel. Beyond the guards were rooms full of people—some of them very famous. “May we see the head chef, Jacques Bonet?” she asked their escort. “He's the reason we're here.”

“I know,” the agent said. “We've already been alerted about Slesak and Colville.” He led them quickly to the back of the hotel.

The kitchen was huge and modern, with stainless steel counters, tiled walls, and what looked like hundreds of workers. Nancy glanced around anxiously, trying to pick Jacques out from the sea of white-coated chefs.

“Nancy!”

She spun around. Jacques was blinking at her in astonishment.

“What are
you
doing here?” he asked.

“Jacques, we need to talk to you. Privately.”

He looked from Nancy to Ned, then back again. “What is it?”

“Paul Slesak and a cohort of his, someone named Colville, kidnapped us last night and tried to drown us in a lake.”

“What?”

“They're involved in something big—something that has to do with this dinner. I'd say they're transferring political secrets, wouldn't you?”

Jacques glanced around, then pulled her and Ned to the side of the room, away from listening ears. “Why should I know?”

“Because you stole Slesak's recipes from him,” Ned put in, watching Bonet's face closely. “You obviously knew something was going on.”

Nancy held her breath. For a moment she didn't think Jacques was going to confide in them. Then he smiled crookedly and muttered, “So you found me out. Guess I'm not as clever as I thought I was.”

“How are you involved?” Nancy asked.

He lifted his palms. “The truth is, I already knew about Slesak and Colville and their attempt to kidnap you.”

“How?” Nancy asked.

“You reported it to the police, and they reported to federal agents. It was only a matter of time until they reported to me.” He clasped Nancy's hand in his. “Congratulations.
You, Nancy Drew, have learned my secret.”

“Which is?” she asked a trifle dazedly.

“That I'm working undercover with federal agents to crack open a ring of spies selling international secrets to the highest bidder. I'm not just a chef. I'm also a CIA agent!”

N
ANCY
'
S MOUTH DROPPED
open. “You're an undercover agent for our government?”

Jacques inclined his head. “An intelligence agent.”

“So you were on to Slesak all along?”

“I had my suspicions.”

Jacques glanced around the kitchen again, then led Nancy and Ned toward another door. “I might as well tell you everything,” he said. “Slesak has networks of people working for him. Informants in every country. Some of the people
at this dinner tonight are more interested in gathering information against their enemies than in promoting peace. You can bet Slesak and Colville will show up here. They've got information to sell.”

“So that's what the recipes are all about,” Nancy said.

Jacques nodded. “The proportions and ingredients list important dates and places—for instance, this dinner. But we believe the code also reveals specific information concerning one country or another. In the wrong hands it could be lethal.”

“Military information?” Nancy guessed.

“Among other things. Our government is working on cracking the trickier parts of the code.” Jacques smiled wryly. “I stole the information from Slesak and pretended to be a buyer who wasn't interested in paying. I wanted to flush him out. But it backfired, and he turned on you.

“Thank you both for bringing me this information—but believe me, we were already primed and waiting for Slesak to show.”

“You don't expect us to just leave, do you?” Nancy asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“So which are you really?” Ned asked, as Jacques pushed them toward the door. “A chef, or a spy?”

“A little of both.” Jacques's smile was almost cruel. “I like excitement. Being a chef isn't quite enough of a challenge.”

They had almost reached the side entrance when several men hurried to Jacques's side. “An unscheduled delivery van is outside,” one said quietly. “But it's empty.”

“Slesak.” Nancy breathed out loud. “He's loose.”

Jacques's face grew dark with annoyance. “Get them out of here,” he commanded, jerking his head at Nancy and Ned.

“We can't. We've blocked the entrances,” another man said.

“Stay here. I'll be right back.”

Nancy hovered near the corner, watching as Jacques strode off after the two men. She was secretly delighted. “Slesak can't get inside past this security,” she said.

“I wouldn't think so,” Ned said.

After a few moments Nancy said, “What do you think's going on out there?”

“I don't know, but I'll go look,” Ned said.

“I'm coming with you.”

“One of us should stay here in case Jacques comes back.” Ned sounded as if his mind were made up.

Nancy stood and watched him go. She felt uneasy all by herself. She decided to check out what was on the other side of the kitchen. She pushed open the swinging door—and was immediately
accosted by a bevy of federal agents. “Get her out of here!” one of them yelled, and Nancy was shoved into another room.

Nancy turned around and was amazed to see that she was in the ballroom. “I wish Ned were with me,” she said, hearing her voice echo hollowly back at her.

Nancy paced the floor, growing more and more restless. She was starting up a central marble staircase that led to a balcony when the main door suddenly swung inward and Jacques appeared.

“I thought I told you to stay where you were! Where's Ned?”

“Looking for you,” Nancy told him, coming back down the stairs. “Listen, we might have some information that could help. I heard Colville say something about a double cross. Do you think he's planning to sell fake documents to someone?”

Jacques seemed to be thinking hard. “All I know is that Colville was Slesak's contact on this job,” he said after a minute. “We don't know who's buying the information, but as soon as we nab Colville and Slesak, it won't matter anyhow.”

“You've been tracking Slesak a long time, haven't you?”

“For years. Slesak has used his cover as a chef to get himself on the staff of many important political dinners. And not just in this country.
When he settled at Claude's school, 1 began to wonder what was going on. Then 1 realized that he needed the school's reputation because he was losing his own.”