The Secret at Solaire (10 page)

Nancy fought with all her strength, but in a matter of seconds, a gag was slipped into her mouth and her wrists were bound behind her. She continued to struggle, determined to at least see her captor's face, but her hopes faded as a blindfold was tied quickly over her eyes.

Then Nancy was slung up over someone's shoulder, and the person began to carry her somewhere. Light passed through the blindfold, and Nancy knew they'd left the dark interior of the mission. Finally, Nancy heard some sort of door open, and she was tossed onto a hard wooden surface. The door shut again, and footsteps hurried away.

For a long time, everything was silent, except for the sounds of the faraway shootout and the
clapping crowd. Nancy strained uselessly against the ropes.

The next thing she heard was the sound of the horses whinnying. Where am I? Nancy wondered. A barn? A stable?

Then the floor beneath her rocked suddenly, and Nancy felt herself roll against something hard. The horses nickered, and a man gave a gruff call. Then the floor beneath her began to move again.

The stagecoach! Nancy realized. I must be on the floor of the coach. Where was it going to take her? She remembered the actor she'd met earlier saying he was going to hold up a stage, and she prayed it would be the same one. Maybe she could get help.

But the stagecoach rolled on and on, and Nancy didn't hear any more voices. It didn't seem as if they were driving into the middle of a movie set, and they hadn't turned onto the main street of the town. Nancy's heart sank. She was probably being taken somewhere off the grounds of Old Tucson and into the surrounding mountains.

Her hopes grew even fainter as the stage came to a quick halt and she heard Hank Meader's voice. “Make sure the stunt works,” he ordered someone. “When you hear the gunshot, that will be the signal. Release the pin and steer the horses to the right. You'll have plenty of room to turn and get them stopped.”

“What about the stage?” the other man asked.

“The stagecoach will be set on fire,” Hank replied. “It's in the script. And then it will roll down the cliff. Old Tucson is going to have one less stagecoach in its stable.”

Nancy couldn't believe what she was hearing. The stagecoach would be set on fire with her in it!

“Goodbye, Ms. Drew,” Hank Meader said, sounding closer. “Think of it this way. You'll be the first guest at Spa Solaire to die in a stagecoach disaster.”

“Stagecoach scene, take one!” a woman's voice called.

Lying in the bottom of the stagecoach, gagged, blindfolded, and bound, Nancy desperately did her best to make noise and call attention to herself. She had to stop this scene before the coach was set on fire!

Suddenly, Nancy heard the sound of a whip being cracked in the air. The driver of the coach called out a command to the team of horses. Nancy jounced hard across the floor as the coach began to roll.

There has to be a way out of this, she thought frantically. She knew there was a door to the coach. She just had to find a way to open it, but she was totally unable to move.

Nancy told herself that she had to try. Scooting her body across the floor, she managed to
get to her knees. The coach rattled on. It was hard to keep her balance, but Nancy used her elbows to search for the side of the coach. After what seemed like endless minutes of probing in the dark, she felt a thin line of cool air on her face. She'd found the door! Now all she had to do was find a way to open it.

Nancy angled her body so that her feet pressed against the door. Then she kicked at it as hard as she could. The door didn't move.

Nancy heard the driver crack the whip again, and the horses' hooves pounded against the dirt, breaking into a headlong gallop. Soon the driver would release the pin, and the horses would be driven off. The coach would roll free and someone would set it on fire. Using every ounce of strength she had, Nancy kicked at the door again. This time she felt a rush of air. The door was open!

Nancy's heart raced. Did she have the courage for what she had to do next? She had no choice. She had to throw herself from the moving stagecoach.

Nancy struggled toward the door, then froze. How could she throw herself from a racing stagecoach?

Then the signal shot cracked through the air, louder even than the sound of the horses' hooves.

Without a second thought, Nancy hurled
herself through the open coach door. She landed in soft dirt, rolling over and over.

She heard someone rush to her side, and then a baffled man's voice, asking, “What—?”

“Never mind what,” said a crisp woman's voice. “Let's get these ropes off her.”

Seconds later, the blindfold fell away. The gag and ropes soon followed. Nancy sat up and slowly began to rub the feeling back into her wrists and ankles. She was sore and covered with dirt, but relieved to be alive.

“Who are you?” asked the man who'd cut the ropes. “And what were you doing in my movie?”

“I was in a movie?” Nancy asked. Somehow, that fact hadn't quite sunk in.

“Not for long,” the woman said, smiling. “I'm afraid there's no rational explanation in our story for having a teenage girl tied up in the back of the coach. Sorry, but we probably won't be using your footage.” She held out her hand to Nancy. “I'm Bonnie Walker, the producer. Are you all right?”

“Fine, I think,” Nancy said shakily, getting to her feet.

“What happened to you?” demanded a familiar voice. It was Alain, with Bess and George right behind him. “We've been looking all over for you,” the trainer added.

“The one we ought to be looking for is Hank
Meader,” Nancy informed him, brushing herself off. “He put me in that stagecoach.”

Bess's faced paled. “I just saw Hank heading for the parking lot.”

“We've got to catch him,” Nancy said quickly. “Bess, can you go get security and call the police? George, let's go!”

Nancy and George set off at a run, ignoring Alain's demands for an explanation.

Every bone in Nancy's body ached by the time she and George reached the parking lot. The fall from the stagecoach had left her entire body bruised. But she forced herself on, determined to stop Hank.

Ahead of her, she spotted Hank in the driver's seat of one of the Solaire vans. Nancy's heart sank as she heard the engine turn over.

“He's getting away!” Alain said.

In her mad rush to the parking lot, Nancy hadn't even noticed that the trainer was following them, but since he was, maybe she could get him to help. “Alain, please,” she said. “I need the keys to the station wagon.”

“I can't give you the keys,” he replied at once.

Nancy watched helplessly as the van started up and Hank pulled out of the parking space. Fortunately, there was a line of other cars ahead of him, also on their way out.

She turned to Alain again. “You don't understand,”
she said pleadingly. “Hank is a blackmailer, a kidnapper, and he nearly committed murder today. We've got to catch him!”

Alain pulled the car keys from his pocket and grabbed Nancy by the arm. “Well, then, let's go,” he said, starting toward the station wagon.

This wasn't what Nancy had planned. Alain could be in cahoots with Hank. There was no way she was going to get into a car with him.

She signaled to George, who had overheard the conversation. Quickly, George dropped to the ground. “Oww!” she cried. “I think I sprained my ankle!”

Alain paused and looked down at George in concern. But before the trainer could even ask what was wrong, George's foot shot out, sweeping Alain's feet from under him.

The keys flew from Alain's hand. Nancy scooped them up instantly and ran to the car with George right behind her. The two of them got in and locked the doors. “I'm afraid to look,” Nancy said to George, starting the engine. “Is Hank still in the parking lot?”

“He's about two cars away from the entrance,” George reported. “But there's no one behind him. We ought to be able to catch him.”

Nancy backed up as fast as she dared, then sped out of the parking lot.

Something large flew into Nancy's line of vision, and suddenly Nancy was face-to-face
with Alain, who had jumped onto the hood of the car.

Nancy was so alarmed to see Alain scowling angrily at her that she slammed on the brakes, hard. Alain's furious expression turned to one of panic as the sudden force of the brakes threw him from the hood of the car.

Nancy threw the car into park and looked over at George. “Do you think he's hurt?” she said, her eyes wide with fear.

Quickly, the two girls jumped out of the car and ran around to the front. Alain was lying motionless on the ground.

Worriedly, Nancy bent over the fallen trainer. All of a sudden, Alain jumped up and grabbed Nancy by the shoulders.

“You're a crazy, stupid kid,” he cried, shaking her. “What do you think you're doing, getting in my way?”

“Your
way!” Nancy said indignantly as she pulled away from Alain.

George took a step toward Alain and said, “Don't put a hand on her!”

Nancy watched, helpless, as Hank's van shot forward, then turned right.

“Then keep out of my way,” Alain retorted. “The Roziers hired
me
as their bodyguard. Someone was blackmailing them for the last year, and then the blackmailer started demanding more money—or else. When the Roziers didn't comply, the sabotage at the spa started. Jacqueline feared for their lives. She figured that the blackmailer had to be either on the spa grounds or working with someone on the inside. That's when Laurent contacted me, and they put on all that extra security.”

Nancy was surprised to hear that Alain had been hired as a bodyguard, but it did explain why his actions had seemed so suspicious to her. She wasn't completely sure that the trainer was telling the truth, and a glance over at George told Nancy that her friend felt the same way.

“I caught on to Hank Meader's tricks right away,” Alain continued. “I've been following him for weeks, trying to catch him in the act. But then
you
had to foul everything up, Nancy Drew.”

“I knew you weren't a real trainer,” George said.

“No, but my father was one,” Alain said, “for a college football team. I grew up in France with an exercise regimen that makes Solaire's routine look like an afternoon nap. And I'm a pretty good amateur detective, too.”

“Spare us,” George murmured.

“I tried,” Alain went on. “But you kept getting in the way, Nancy Drew. I never expected you to try anything as crazy as breaking into Hank Meader's house. What did you think you were doing?”

“Trying to find Kim Foster,” Nancy replied evenly. “Did you even realize she's been kidnapped?”

“Why don't we all stop arguing and try to help each other?” George said. “Hank Meader just pulled out of the parking lot.”

Without another word, Alain, Nancy, and George all piled back into the Solaire station wagon. “Go to the left,” Alain told Nancy, “and then north on Silverbell.”

“Why?” Nancy asked. She knew George was right. She and Alain ought to be sharing information and helping each other, but she still found it hard to trust him.

“Because,” Alain said, with an obvious attempt at patience, “that's where Hank Meader has another house.”

“Are you sure?” Nancy asked.

“Positive.”

Nancy followed Alain's precise directions to a narrow dirt road on the north side of the Tucson Mountains, about fifteen miles outside the city.

“This is more like a footpath than a road,”
George observed as Nancy slowed the car to negotiate the overgrown trail. Carefully, she steered around a large rock, then gasped as the front wheel sank into a small ditch.

“Keep going,” Alain said. “The car will pull through.”

Nancy rode the car out of the ditch. Darkness was falling fast. She peered out through the windshield.

“Does anyone really live up here?” she asked. “I don't see a single house. Who could deal with this road every day?”

“The road isn't a problem for a pickup truck,” Alain pointed out, “which is what Hank normally drives. Keep going. He's farther into the mountains.”

“Have you actually been to this place?” George asked, frowning.

“I drove up here one day last week,” Alain said. “I just walked around the outside of the place.” He gave Nancy a wry glance. “Unlike some people, I'm not fond of breaking and entering.”

“It was necessary,” Nancy said evenly. “Anyway, I didn't break in—the window was open. And I found proof that Hank was at the falls the day Kim Foster disappeared. I think he kidnapped her because she knew he was sabotaging the spa.”

“You may be right,” Alain said quietly. “I had suspicions about that myself, because
Hank mysteriously had to go into town that day. I just hope we're not too late now.”

Nancy winced as the car dipped down into another deep rut and rumbled out. The road bent sharply to the right and seemed to narrow even more.

“There!” Alain said suddenly.

Nancy hit the brakes. “Where?” she asked, peering out into the darkness. “I don't see a thing, except lots of cacti.”

“Turn the lights off,” Alain said. “Unless you
want
Hank to see you. Actually, maybe we'd better walk the rest of the way. If he's there, he'd hear the car. Pull off the road.”

“What road?” Nancy muttered, but she did as Alain had asked. “Are you sure there's a house up here?” she asked.

“It's about a quarter of a mile past where the road bends to the right,” Alain said, getting out of the station wagon.

Nancy and George followed Alain as he made his way through high grasses and prickly pear cacti. I sure hope we can trust this guy, Nancy thought with a shiver. Because if Alain wasn't telling the truth, she and George were alone with him in one of the most deserted spots she'd ever seen.