Nancy hated to split up, but she saw no other way. "You've got to go back and keep an eye on the emeralds. I'll go up to Sugarloaf to get Captain Brant. The police may not listen to me, but they will listen to him."
Ned nodded reluctantly. "Okay, boss lady. But you'd better be careful. Ribeiro's bound to figure out where you're headed, and he might be desperate enough to come after you."
"Oh, Ned." Nancy put her arms around him and kissed him. ''You're the one who should be careful. I'm giving you the dangerous job. I'm sorry."
"I'll be fine." Ned smiled into her eyes, and Nancy tried to swallow her uneasiness.
They parted, diving into the festive crowd, and Nancy began to thread her way toward the cable-car landing.
This isn't going to be easy, she thought after several breathless minutes. The crowd was so dense that it could take hours to reach the landing.
Dodging a drunken reveler, Nancy headed for a side street. She'd have to take a detour. It was better than trying to get through a solid mass of people.
The narrow alley she found herself in was less crowded, but by no means clear. The air was still and heavy away from the waterfront, and Nancy peeled off her sweatshirt. Taking a deep breath, she shoved her way past a crowd of masked children.
Several minutes later Nancy realized she had dropped her sweatshirt. With nothing but her bright yellow cotton T-shirt on, she was starting to feel chilled.
What was worse, she was lost, hopelessly lost. Taking all the side alleys to avoid the crowds, she had completely lost her sense of direction. And Ned had the map.
She stopped at a newsstand to catch her breath and ask for directions. 'Tor favor, una mapa," Nancy tried in Spanish.
The fat proprietor looked at her stonily. ''No mapa," he said. He obviously didn't appreciate having to work while everyone else went to Carnival, and he was going to let Nancy know about it,
''Importante!" Nancy added in desperation. She had to get to Sugarloaf—and fast.
The shopkeeper stared at her and, grunting with the exertion, reached a grabby map from one of the dusty upper shelves.
Nancy figured she was about ten minutes away from the cable-car landing. At least she hadn't gone too much off the track in her wandering.
"Thanks!" she yelled over her shoulder at the sullen shopkeeper as she left the dingy store.
As she moved into the street, she caught sight of a figure in a white uniform out of the comer of her eye. Ribeiro! He had found her somehow! Nancy cursed her luck. She'd have to lose him and hope that he didn't figure out where she was going.
Nancy ducked around a comer and found herself in the midst of a garish group of dancing people. She crouched under the wing of a large man dressed like a bird and managed to stay hidden in the group as they moved through the street, dancing and singing.
But when they turned up a wide avenue, which would take Nancy away from the landing, she left their protecting numbers and hurried forward.
Head down, she fought her way through the surging mass of people. She seemed to be the only one heading for the cable cars—everyone else was going to the center of town.
Not looking carefully, Nancy ran smack into someone. She tried to raise her head but could only stare at a white ship's uniform. Strong arms seized her and pinned her arms to her sides.
Now I'm dead! thought Nancy.
Chapter Fifteen
NANCY STRUGGLED, TRYING to break free. Then, suddenly, she was released and lcx)ked up.
"Hey, blue eyes, what's the matter? You look like you just saw a ghost!"
Nancy stared. ''Randy!" she gasped. ''What are you doing here?"
''Why do you keep asking me that? It's fate, pure and simple. Now, more to the point, what are you doing here? Is someone chasing you?''
"Ribeiro. I thought you were Ribeiro. I thought I was about to be killed!"
''You've figured something out!" Randy's
green eyes gleamed with excitement. Surprised, Nancy stared at him.
"How did you guess that?" she asked.
"No guessing, Watson. Deduction," Randy said smoothly. "Why else would he bother to chase after you? You either have something that he wants, or you know something he doesn't want you to. Right?"
"Impressive!" Nancy raised her eyebrows. "You're absolutely right. I figured out what he's been looking for. It's a cache of emeralds that he and Mrs. da Silva's husband stole together. I know where they are. Unfortunately, so does Ribeiro."
Randy grabbed her arm. "You know where they are?" he cried. The passing crowd turned, looking interested. Randy grimaced and pulled Nancy into the shelter of a shop doorway. "Have you seen them?" he went on in a lower voice. "Where are they?"
Nancy pulled her arm away. Suddenly, she felt acutely uneasy. Why was he so excited? "Randy," she said, making it into a joke, "it sounds as if you've got a vested interest in those emeralds yourself."
"Me?" Randy threw back his head and laughed. "Come on, Nancy! I've just never been close to that much money before. It's natural curiosity. But you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. So where were you running to just now?"
Maybe it was just natural curiosity. "Up to the restaurant on Sugarloaf/' Nancy told him. "Captain Brant's up there, with Dad and Mrs. da Silva."
"Mrs. da Silva's back? Well, well. Want company?''
Nancy didn't. "Um, actually, Ned and I got separated," she improvised, "and I've got to find him first. Guess I should try the hotel."
"I'll go with you," Randy said, taking her arm again. "You might need the protection."
"Wait a minute!" Nancy cried. She was getting more and more uneasy. "Randy, you still haven't answered my question. What are you doing here? Why aren't you in the hospital?"
"I never checked in," Randy said, shrugging. "I was feeling fine. Whoever tried to kill me with that dart miscalculated his dosage. Curare can be lethal in concentrated form, but when diluted, it works as a muscle relaxant. There was only enough on the dart to relax me—all the way to unconsciousness." He grinned, rubbing his neck reminiscently.
Bong! Alarm bells started going off in Nancy's head. Why hadn't she seen it earlier?
She flashed on Randy slapping at a mosquito as they walked into the deserted dining room. Then on herself in sick bay, holding Randy's dinner jacket. The curare on the lip of the pocket—like the smear on Nancy's hand when she'd touched the dart. That stain on
Randy's jacket pocket could mean only one thing.
Randy must have been carrying the dart in his pocket and then stuck it into his neck while pretending to slap at a mosquito. The curare had taken effect quickly, and within five minutes Randy was unconscious. No wonder Nancy hadn't been able to figure out where the shot could have come from. It hadn't come from anywhere at all.
Randy had drugged himself!
It was all clear. The letter to R, the things Ribeiro should have known about but didn't, the doublecross that Nina da Silva denied . . .
He must have drugged himself to divert my suspicion from him, Nancy thought. And he's been manipulating me from the start.
Nancy suddenly realized Randy was after her, and that realization must have shown on her face because Randy was gazing quizzically at her. "What's up?" he asked. "Something wrong?"
"Uh—no," Nancy said quickly. "I just remembered something I have to do. Look, Randy, I'll be fine on my own. And you really can't be feeling so great yet."
"Don't worry about me," Randy reassured her. "I can keep up!"
"No!" Nancy said quickly. She had to think fast. "I mean—well, to tell you the truth, Ned's jealous. I don't think he'll be happy to see me with you."
There was a pause, then Randy shrugged. "Well, okay," he said.
"See you later!'' Nancy waved and walked away. Her knees were shaking, but she managed not to let it show.
Where to first? she wondered. The police won't believe me if I tell them this story. I don't have any evidence! No, I've got to get up to Sugarloaf —it's the only option. Randy mi
ght even go there himself, now that he knows we've found Mrs. da Silva. They could be in real danger. I'll just have to beat him there!
Nancy began to walk toward the dark mass of Sugarloaf's cone.
She stopped on a street corner to let a procession of yellow-robed people go by. Probably members of a religious sect, she guessed. As they marched, they chanted an eerie dirge, punctuated with heart-rending wails. Nancy tapped her foot impatiently against the curb, waiting for them to pass.
When they had finally gone by, Nancy ran across the street to a man who was selling noise-makers from a big cardboard box.
She was about to ask him for directions to Sugarloaf when, mirrored in a darkened shop window, she caught a flash of white in the crowd-She spun around, and saw a man in a ship's uniform. His cap of sun-streaked golden hair glowed in the light of a street lamp. As she stared, he grinned knowingly at her.
It was Randy. He was following her.
Nancy's blood hammered in her ears. So he knew she knew. I should have guessed something was up when he let me go so easily, she realized.
Now he not only knew where Nancy was headed, but it was getting pretty obvious he had something in mind—something special for her. He was trying to scare her by following her. Nancy had to admit he was doing a good job.
She must stand out like a beacon in her bright yellow T-shirt. What an idiot she was to have lost her sweatshirt! She could have kicked herself. How could she escape him?
Then, looking down at her shirt, Nancy had a sudden inspiration.
Putting on a burst of speed, she raced down the block, turned left, ran down another block, turned left again, and slowed to a rapid walk. There—she had doubled back and was retracing her own steps. Now she had to get someplace where her yellow blouse wouldn't advertise her presence.
After another minute or two, Nancy caught sight of the little yellow-robed band as it wended its way toward the bay.
She hurried forward, pausing for a moment to snatch a gaily colored square of cloth from an old woman who was waving it in the air. Nancy pressed a handful of coins into the old woman's outstretched palm. "Thanks!" she called as she
began to knot the cloth around her reddish gold hair. Then she ran on, turning once to see the old woman staring after her, mouth agape.
Pushing and ducking, Nancy made her way to the heart of the group of chanters. Not one of them seemed to notice her arrival. So far, so good. With her black jeans out of sight, her hair covered, and her yellow shirt matching the chanters' robes, it would be almost impossible for anyone on the sidewalk to spot her.
When she dared to look up at the crowds, Randy was nowhere in sight. She was surprised to see that her group had crossed a wide boulevard already, and was almost at the end of the bay, where the waterfront gave way to the beach. Sugarloaf towered on her left. She'd made it.
Nancy detached herself from the group and jogged down the curve of the beach to the cable-car landing, pulling off her headscarf as she ran. She knew she was conspicuous against the white sand, but she couldn't worry about that now. She just had to get up to the top of the mountain.
The landing was deserted. One car sat in the loading bay; the other must be up at the top already. Nancy knocked on the door of the lighted switch, booth, and a tiny elderly man opened it and looked suspiciously at her.
"Please—I have to get to the restaurant," she said.
The Operator didn't move. Pulling out some money, Nancy pressed it into his hand, pointing up the slope and then at herself in hopes that he would understand the urgency of her gestures.
"Car leaves in ten minutes," the man said suddenly.
So he did understand her! "This is an emergency,'' Nancy said. "I know it's inconvenient, but please—people's lives may be at stake!"
"Car leaves in ten minutes," he repeated. "We wait for more passengers."
Nancy wanted to scream. Time was ticking away. Randy could be here any minute! She tried again. "Look, I'll pay you for your time," she offered. "I've got a traveler's check right here."
The operator looked over Nancy's shoulder, off into the distance. "Okay, get in," he finally said. "Pay up top." He waved her toward the cable car.
"Thank you very much," Nancy said fervently. She opened the door and climbed into the car. The operator stood by the switch in a waiting attitude.
Impatiently, Nancy leaned out the window. "Hey, what are we waiting for?" she called.
The operator looked at her as if she were a little slow on the uptake. "Other passenger," he explained in a patient voice.
"Other passenger! "But you just said—" Nancy began. She never finished the sentence. She didn't have to.
Her question was answered for her as the doors shut behind the other passenger, who'd just climbed on board.
It was Randy Wolfe!
Chapter Sixteen
NANCY LUNGED FOR the door, but Randy was too quick for her. He stepped in front of it and barred the way with his hands. "What's your hurry, blue eyes?'' he said, mocking her.
Nancy spun around, filling up her lungs to scream. Maybe there was still time to get the cable-car operator's attention! But her scream was cut short, coming out as a muffled squeak, as Randy caught her around the waist and, with a sharp blow to her midriflf, sent the breath whooshing out of her.
Through a haze of pain, Nancy could see the car operator watching them. Randy still held her in a close embrace. She moved her leg to kick him, but he stomped viciously on her foot, drawing an involuntary groan from her.
Pinning her arms behind her back with one hand, Randy raised his other to give the operator a reassuring wave. To Nancy's horror, the man waved back, then disappeared into his booth. She was on her own!
"He thinks we've just patched up a lovers' quarrel," Randy murmured, his mouth stretching in a ruthless grin. It distorted his handsome face, making him look like a hungry shark.
"Ah, ah—no tricks," he cautioned as Nancy tensed for a karate kick. He shook his sleeve, and a switchblade dropped into his palm. He clicked it open and held the point to the comer of Nancy's jaw. "I'm sure you remember this little toy."
"You won't get away with this, you know," Nancy said through clenched teeth. "Murder is a heavy charge, Randy, and you're going to have an awfully hard time explaining my corpse to my father once we arrive at the restaurant." There was a hum of electricity. Suddenly the lights flickered on, and the car began to lurch out of the loading bay. Nancy fought down fear. "Why don't you quit while you're ahead?"
There was a dull thud outside—on the roof?— and the car rocked heavily from side to side, banging against the concrete lip of the platform.
Nancy couldn't control her start. She peered at the windows, trying to see what was outside, but the darkness turned the lighted car into a huge mirrored box. Everywhere she looked, all she could see was Randy's face!
His knowing leer broadened. "These cable cars are not too safe," he said nastily. "Rickety as old tin cans. People say it's as much as your life is worth to ride this line—the couplings are so rusty that a good strong breeze could knock these cars right off the cable. Now, wouldn't that be a tragic accident?"
A sick feeling grew inside Nancy, but she forced herself to speak calmly. "No matter what you do to me, Randy, you're through. Ned knows everything, and he's already gone to the police."
"You're trying to bluff me," Randy sneered. "But it won't work. I know you didn't get a chance to speak to Ned after we met up, and I know he won't put all the pieces together like you did. He's not as smart as you, blue eyes. You know, you are very intelligent. I like your style. A smart little snoop. Too bad it's going to get you killed."
"Even without me, the emeralds are already out of your reach," Nancy lied. If she could only keep him talking long enough, maybe she could form some plan to get herself out of this mess! "Ned has material evidence. Oh, yes, we retrieved an emerald, did I forget to tell you? The police are probably heading out to the Emerald
Queen right now. By th
e time you get there, they'll have confiscated everything of value. Unless you have a plan to stop them?" She put a deliberately contemptuous tone into her question.
Randy's grin faltered for an instant, and the point of the knife jerked against Nancy's jaw, making her gasp.
"Sorry about that," Randy murmured. He laughed without humor. ''You shouldn't try to upset me, you know. It isn't healthy.
"As for the police," he went on, his voice growing sure again, "I'm not worried about them. There's a Carnival going on here, didn't you notice? It's the biggest holiday of the year, and if I know Rio—and I do—the cops will be out whooping it up with everybody else. Your boyfriend" —he laid an unpleasant stress on the word—"isn't likely to find anyone at home when he calls in at precinct headquarters."
A cold fist closed around Nancy's heart. For the first time, she felt the approaching chill of despair. What if she couldn't fool Randy?
Snap out of it, Nancy! she berated herself. There's always a chance. Just keep him talking— as long as he talks, you stay alive.
She forced her muscles to unknot a little. Randy's grip tightened around her waist. She gave him a pained look. "You're hurting me," she complained. "Can I sit down?"
"Poor thing," Randy taunted her, but he did let go of her waist. Just as quickly, though, he grabbed her thick hair and twisted his hand in it, pulling her head back. "All right, sit."
He's trying to intimidate me any way he can, Nancy realized. He's worried that I might try to escape, so he's making sure I don't believe I can. Which means that he isn't so sure of himself as he seems! Maybe I can use that.
Sitting up as straight as she could with his grip on her hair, Nancy looked at Randy's reflection in the window of the car and let a little smile play on her lips. "So tell me," she said. "How did you do it all? The box full of black widows in Mrs. da Silva's room—the note with my flowers—the 'accident' that was no accident in Paranagua—it must have been a lot of work."