She opened the office door. At once a young woman in a lab coat appeared. “I’m sorry. It’s really much better if you stay in there.”
“Tell me something!” Nancy pleaded.
“You were right. It was a microdot—a piece of film. The list is on it. We still haven’t been able to crack the code, but all the mechanics of protection have been set up. Agents in all the major cities of the U.S. are standing ready to provide protection for the people on that list as soon as the names are decoded. And now I must get back to my computer!”
She vanished again.
“A lot of good protection will do if it comes too late,” George muttered as Nancy made her report.
Teresa’s eyes were closed, and her lips moved silently.
Three A.M. Four.
Bess had fallen asleep. Even George was drowsing. Nancy struggled against the heaviness in her eyelids.
She thought she was awake, but all the same the faint creak as the office door opened made her jump. Dan stood silhouetted in the doorway, his face one broad grin.
“It’s okay. They’ve cracked the code. The FBI has gone to everybody’s rescue.” Dan went over and kissed Bess awake. “Come on, honey. I’m taking you girls home.”
As they headed for the elevator an older man came toward them. He was dressed in an immaculate navy-blue suit, but his tie was askew. “Which one of you is Nancy Drew?” he asked.
Nancy stepped forward, and he shook her hand firmly. “A fine job. Senator Kilpatrick said you were good, and she was right. Thanks to you, a lot of people are going to sleep better from now on.”
“Has El Morro been caught?” Nancy asked at once.
“You’ll be hearing all about it in the morning. I understand the senator’s planning a news conference.” The agent smiled warmly and went back to his office.
The limousine repeated its ride through the Washington streets. “Stop a minute,” Dan ordered as it passed an all-night fast-food restaurant. He went in and returned with bags of hamburgers, french fries, and sodas.
When they reached the hotel, they carried them up to their suite. Dan intended to sleep on the sitting-room sofa again, and Teresa would have the other bed in Nancy’s room. Her chaperon was still being detained for questioning.
By the time they finished eating, the first streaks of light were in the eastern sky.
“I can’t go to sleep now! Can you find out—have all the people on the list been warned in time?” Nancy asked Dan.
Dan telephoned Senator Kilpatrick’s office and in a few minutes turned back to Nancy jubilantly.
“It’s okay! We got to ’em in time! So far El Morro’s escaped capture, but there’s a dragnet out for him. At eight o’clock this morning the senator’s going to go on the air to announce that San Carlos’s president-for-life has fled his palace. The revolution is underway, but Senator Kilpatrick has been able to help those political leaders she’s been meeting with work out a coalition government.”
“So there’s no reason for El Morro to hang around here, especially if he’s just a hired assassin,” George commented.
“Right. There are a lot of people watching for him at the airports. He’ll probably head for home, wherever that is, as soon as the senator announces that all five people on the hit list are now under U.S. government protection. Then we’ll nab him.”
Nancy jerked upright. “Five people?”
“Sure.” Dan rattled them off.
“But there were supposed to be six! Roberto told Senator Kilpatrick there were six!”
“You probably just heard wrong,” Dan said kindly.
“We didn’t! Dan, I beg you, call the lab! Ask if a name could have been taken off the list!” Dan shook his head, but he picked up the phone anyway.
When he turned back to Nancy, his face had changed. “You were right. There are indications that something was deleted. Probably some kind of accident when the dot was brought through a radar check. They’re putting a crew to work again right now.”
Already the gray in the sky was growing paler. Nancy looked at her watch. There wasn’t enough time!
What could the sixth name on the list have been? Suppose it hadn’t been taken off by accident or by mistake?
Who was the most prominent person in the United States working for the peaceful overthrow of the San Carlos dictator?
The realization struck Nancy like a blow. Senator Marilyn Kilpatrick—the person Roberto had been trying to smuggle information to! Senator Kilpatrick, who in a few more hours would be announcing the dictator’s flight and the transition of power!
Roberto must have been planning to let Senator Kilpatrick be murdered. Maybe he figured that with her out of the way there’d be no one to finger him. Certainly his San Carlos associates would have killed him if they discovered he’d sold out.
It was the only thing Nancy could come up with to explain the missing name. But the main thing was to save the senator. What Roberto had brought to the U.S. was a photo of the hit list. The killer had the original list—and the senator’s name was still on it!
“We’ve got to warn the senator!” Nancy shouted to Dan. “She’s the sixth person, I’m sure of it. Call her, quick!”
Dan’s jaw dropped. “I don’t know where she is! Nobody seems to. She doesn’t think she’s in any danger, so she slipped her guards and went out for an early breakfast somewhere with your father.”
Chapter Seventeen
THE WORLD SEEMED to turn upside down in front of Nancy’s eyes. Then it righted itself. Just as at that moment on the tennis court, she saw the danger and knew the only thing to do.
“George! Call the senator’s office. Tell them she’s on the hit list. Dan, come on!” Nancy dashed for the door.
George was already on the phone.
“Where are we going?” Dan demanded as he and Nancy ran down the corridor.
“To find my dad. I know the places he likes to eat in D.C.” Not waiting for the elevator, Nancy lunged for the emergency stairs and went down them two at a time.
Dan reached his car and unlocked the doors. “I’m driving,” Nancy announced. “You get on the phone with the feds,” she ordered Dan.
Dan tossed over the keys and jumped into the passenger seat. The phone beeped as Nancy jerked the car out of its parking space and catapulted it up the runway.
She was barely conscious of Dan’s voice speaking tersely into the phone receiver. Nancy’s eyes were on the road, which was already gilded with sunlight. Her mind clicked along like a computer.
She knew that Senator Kilpatrick had scheduled an eight o’clock video press conference in her office. That meant Carson Drew must have taken her to eat somewhere nearby. Someplace he liked near the Capitol and the Senate Office Building. Someplace he knew would be very quiet and private.
“Tell the feds to check the Monocle! And the American Café!” Nancy shouted.
She floored the gas pedal as she roared north on Washington Street. Horns honked. Somewhere behind them a siren sounded.
Dan broke his phone connection and beeped his own police station. He identified himself and his car license number crisply. “Requesting black-and-white on our tail. Repeat, request escort immediately.” Dan gave a code number that Nancy guessed meant urgent security business.
Almost at once the police car fell into place behind them, its siren magically clearing the way in front. “Heading into D.C.,” Dan said into the telephone as Nancy shot onto the road leading to the Arlington Memorial Bridge. And then, “Where to?”
“I don’t know.” All Nancy knew was that something was driving her, as if the car and her subconscious had one common will. “The Watergate, I guess. Just in case. It’s closest—”
Golden sun sparkled on the Potomac and on the white marble of the statues as they tore across the bridge. The Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts shimmered peacefully in the sunlight. The curved lines of the Watergate’s many balconies glistened.
They careened to a stop at the hot
el entrance, and Dan leaned out. “Seen Senator Kilpatrick this morning?” he called to a uniformed doorman.
“Negative. Nobody important stirring around here yet. I just checked.” The doorman indicated a tiny radio concealed in his hand.
Dan waved to him and pulled his head in again. “Government security, undercover, on account of the San Carlos crowd in town,” he told Nancy.
The phone beeped. Dan flipped the loudspeaker button, so the voice echoed tinnily through the car. “Negative on American Café and Monocle. Lady’s own guards can’t find her. She pulled a cute stunt and shook them. Don’t know who she’s with, but they must have wanted to be real private.”
Privacy was one thing, but Nancy had a feeling El Morro was not as easy to elude as the senator’s own security people.
Suddenly Nancy let out a cry. Her right hand found the emergency brake and jerked it free as her right foot slammed down again on the gas pedal.
The car leaped forward.
“Where?” Dan yelled.
“The Hay-Adams Hotel! Dad was there last trip—the first time he’d seen it since it was restored. He said something about how beautiful it was, and convenient—and what a good place to have a conference, because you couldn’t be overheard by other tables—”
“Got that?” Dan shouted into the phone. “Left at the next corner, then right at the next light,” he ordered Nancy.
Nancy followed his instructions. Out of nowhere, another police car appeared and fell in before them, clearing their way. Nancy’s hands were frozen on the steering wheel. She took the right turn on two tires.
They raced through central Washington. The historic Hay-Adams Hotel loomed ahead of them. Nancy screeched to a stop, burning rubber against the curb.
As fast as Dan and the other police were getting out of their cars, Nancy was faster. She raced across the sidewalk, almost knocking down two people who were in her way. Then she ran through the entrance doors, through the lobby, and past a sign directing patrons to a breakfast buffet. Nancy’s lungs burned as she exploded into the high-ceilinged serenity of the Victorian restaurant.
Her eyes swept the room. Suddenly she thought her heart would burst with gratitude. There was Senator Kilpatrick, in a pale gray suit, reaching for her attaché case as Carson Drew rose to pull out her chair.
Something dazzled, the way something had dazzled at the tennis court—
Nancy did not risk the split-second to look for the location of the gun barrel.
“Dad! Get down!” she screamed.
Chapter Eighteen
COMMUNICATION BETWEEN THE Drews was as good as always. Instantly Carson Drew threw himself forward, directly against Senator Kilpatrick. He knocked her to the ground and rolled with her beneath the table just as the shots rang out.
The bullets hit the crystal goblets on the table. They gave a high musical ping as they shattered.
Somebody screamed.
Within seconds police were everywhere. But the room was shadowy. As police raced in the direction from which the shots had come, Nancy saw a dark figure leap away.
“Dan!” Nancy grabbed his arm.
As Dan swung around, the figure came running straight toward Nancy. The gun was still in his hand. Suddenly, it swung down toward her.
On a table beside Nancy was a vase of red roses. Almost of its own volition, Nancy’s hand snatched up the vase and flung it into the assassin’s face.
The gun fired upward, exploding crystal drops of a chandelier. At the same moment, Dan leaped forward in a flying tackle.
Soon four burly policemen were cuffing the assassin and reading him his rights. The crimson splotches on the carpet were rose petals, not blood.
Nancy ran into her father’s arms.
That night, a jubilant party gathered in Senator Kilpatrick’s box to watch Teresa Montenegro’s triumphant victory in the International Semi-Pro Women’s Tennis Tournament. They had kept their excitement under control during the earlier part of the day, in deference to Teresa’s feelings. But now, with Teresa on the court playing her heart out, it could break free.
“At least I arrived in time for the celebrating,” Ned Nickerson said, hugging Nancy as Teresa prepared for her last game. “I wish I could have helped you out earlier.”
“It helps having you here right now,” Nancy said happily. “I’m so glad you came. It’s not just anyone who would fly all the way to D.C. just for a tennis match.”
Ned had phoned as soon as Senator Kilpatrick’s delayed press conference had gone off the air. The senator, visibly shaken but resolute, had told the world the full story of how Nancy Drew had saved her life at the Hay-Adams Hotel. She had also announced that thanks to Nancy’s quick thinking and the fine cooperation of various federal and local law-enforcement agencies, the notorious hired killer, El Morro, had been arrested.
Several lesser terrorists had also been caught up in the federal agents’ sweep of various American cities. The U.S. government and the vast majority of people in San Carlos were jubilant. The San Carlos dictator had fled to someplace unknown in South America.
Bess, snuggling in Dan’s arms, caught Nancy’s eye and giggled. “Everything’s working out well for everybody,” she said contentedly. “Did you hear that Dan’s leaving the police and taking a permanent job on Senator Kilpatrick’s staff? He’ll have to spend a lot of time back in our home state now!”
“We’ve heard about it three times in the past hour,” George said, grinning.
“Even Seńora Ramirez has gotten what she deserved,” Bess continued happily. Teresa’s chaperon was being extradited to San Carlos, where the new provisional government would investigate her strong ties to the former dictator.
“But not everything has worked out,” Nancy added, her face growing sober. Involuntarily her eyes went toward the tennis court. As far as the cheering crowd knew, Teresa Montenegro, about to win the tournament with one of her sizzling backhand returns, was on top of the world. But there were so many things the crowd didn’t know.
“I should have suspected something,” Teresa said to Nancy quietly when they were finally alone together in the locker room. “There was always a part of Roberto that was unreachable. A side of him I didn’t understand. I told myself it was because I was still so young. Now I see that he wanted to protect me by not letting me know too much.”
She glanced at Nancy, then away. “He must have been committed to the revolution, you know. That was why he did what he did. He must have thought that if an American senator was assassinated by orders of the dictator, then the U.S. government would have to come in on the rebels’ side.”
Nancy didn’t answer. She was afraid Roberto’s reasons had not been so noble. There had been large amounts of money found among his things at the hotel. That was one of the things Senator Kilpatrick had not announced and Teresa didn’t know about. Apparently Roberto really had been acting as a double agent. It still wasn’t clear whether he had been murdered on orders of the dictator or of the rebels.
“But he did protect you,” Nancy said gently.
“Yes, and so did you,” Teresa replied gravely. “I hope we shall be friends for a long time.”
That was another thing Senator Kilpatrick had not yet announced. Thanks to fast action by her, with help from Carson Drew, Teresa had been granted asylum in the United States.
George came into the locker room. “Hey, you guys, haven’t you gotten your stories straight yet? The press is waiting, and so’s the senator.”
“Coming.” Teresa gave her hair a quick shake into place and went out to meet her public, her head high.
Appropriately, Teresa’s press conference was held at a table in the Hollins Gymnasium, right under an American flag. Almost immediately, a reporter asked Teresa what her plans were, since civil war had broken out in her country.
Teresa glanced at Senator Kilpatrick, who stepped to the microphone. “I’m happy to announce that Teresa Montenegro has requested and been granted U.S. asylum. She will enter
professional tennis in a few months—as an American player! America can be very proud to have her.”
“What about your San Carlos coach who was murdered?” a reporter shouted. “He was more than just your coach, wasn’t he?”
Everyone around Teresa stiffened. But Teresa’s head was high. “He was my good friend. I am . . . honored . . . to have had him as my coach, my friend. And to have these new friends who are here with me.”
Her eyes traveled around the circle—the senator, Carson Drew, Dan and Bess, George. Last of all, Nancy, whose hand was linked with Ned’s. Their eyes met. Nancy knew that Teresa’s mind, like hers, was whirling back over the terror-filled events of the past few days.
“I am very lucky just to be alive,” Teresa said simply. “And that is due most of all to my friend, the—what do you call it? Superstar? The superstar detective, Nancy Drew!”
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Carolyn Keene, Deadly Doubles