Read Don't Look Twice Page 10


  “Bernard, where are we going in that boat?” she asked, keeping her voice calm and level.

  “I don’t know,” Bernard muttered. “We have to get far away. I need to think—I need time.”

  He turned to her, his face contorted with fear. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” he blurted out. “No one was supposed to know. If the shipment had only been on time, I would have been able to remove the Rembrandt before the show was hung—before that stupid security system was put in. I could have made enough money to open my own gallery—and no one would have had to get hurt!”

  Stall him, Nancy thought. “What about the other smugglers?” she asked. “Who are they?”

  “I don’t know.” Bernard laughed shrilly. “I’m not even sure how they found me. I got a phone call, asking me if I was interested in making some fast money. All I know is that they are very professional. They planned the whole thing with me by telephone and telegram. I never met them face-to-face.”

  “Telegram?” Nancy was surprised. “Isn’t that kind of risky? Didn’t anybody else see these telegrams?”

  “No one else reading the telegrams would have ever known what they really said,” Bernard told her. “They were all coded.”

  Nancy remembered the series of telegrams in the Pieters file. She’d been reading criminal evidence and hadn’t even known it!

  “But who were those men inside the house? The ones who kidnapped me and Denise?” Nancy continued after a moment.

  “They had also been contacted by phone. We were all hired—all puppets,” Bernard said.

  Nancy shook her head. It was an intricate scheme, but it had gone badly awry. “Where are the smugglers now?” she asked.

  “In Europe—I don’t expect I’ll ever meet them,” Bernard told her. “This is only one of their operations.

  “They already had a buyer for this Rembrandt,” he went on, hefting the steel case. “They just needed me as their middleman. Unless, of course, I found a new buyer who would pay a better price.”

  “Who would buy such a recognizable piece of stolen property?” Nancy had to keep him talking. Ned must have gotten to the police by now. Would they get there in time, though?

  Bernard hadn’t even heard her question. “Franz was the name of the one who contacted me. He insisted we kidnap the Mason girl,” he said suddenly. His voice was bitter. “I thought it was stupid from the start, but he didn’t trust me to get the key to the new security system. He insisted that the only way to get Jonathan to cooperate was to kidnap his daughter. After they sold the Rembrandt, they would return the girl.”

  Bernard was talking faster now, explaining his actions. He seemed to want her to understand how things had gotten so out of control.

  “They contacted me when they found out we were importing the Pieters show. They took care of smuggling the Rembrandt out of Holland. I was supposed to get it to another middleman, who would sell it. It was supposed to be so easy!”

  Then he suddenly became very agitated. “That’s enough talking,” he said furiously. “It’s time to go. Now! Get in the boat!”

  Suddenly the lakeshore was bathed in light. One after another, floodlights were snapped on.

  “Bernard Corbett,” said a commanding voice through a megaphone. “It’s all over. Come forward with your hands up.”

  It was the police! They had arrived!

  Chapter

  Seventeen

  IT WASN’T OVER YET, Nancy knew.

  “Get in the boat!” Bernard commanded from between clenched teeth. This time, the barrel of the gun was pressed against Nancy’s temple.

  Bernard threw the steel case into the little boat and followed Nancy in. Once inside, he turned his back on her to push against the ice.

  “Help me push,” he snarled at her.

  Nancy’s mind was whirling. She could feel the boat already working itself free. What could she do? She felt the swell of the giant lake beneath her. She looked at the shore, trying to see if they were coming for them, but the floodlights blinded her.

  Then Nancy’s eye fell on the steel case with the Rembrandt inside. She could hit Bernard over the head with it and make a dash for the shore. Slowly she moved her hand toward the case.

  At last the handle was in her hand, but her grip had been weak, and it rattled to the bottom of the boat. The lid flew open. Bernard spun around—and both of them stared in shock.

  There was nothing inside the case! The Rembrandt was gone!

  Bernard fell to his knees. “Where is it? Where did you put it?”

  Nancy was shocked. If the Rembrandt wasn’t here, where was it? Had Bernard been duped by his partners in crime?

  With a broken moan, Bernard dropped his head into his hands. The gun clattered to the bottom of the boat.

  Nancy snatched the gun and threw it into the lake. Then she stood up and moved her arms slowly to signal the police.

  Now it really was all over.

  • • •

  Two hours later Nancy and Ned sat in the office of Detective Martin Ohanian of the Chicago police force. Denise had been there earlier, too, but Ohanian had released her into the care of her parents.

  Nancy took a sip of hot tea. She could have used some food as well, but all the station had was a vending machine full of candy bars. Hungry as she was, she decided to pass on those.

  Ned had already told Nancy how he had been chased in the car by one of the kidnappers. It seemed that an unmarked police car had seen the two cars speed by and had pulled them both over.

  “Nancy, you should have seen the officer’s face when I started talking about kidnappers and stolen paintings,” Ned said with a grin. “He thought I was out of my mind. But when I mentioned international art smugglers, he knew enough to tell Detective Ohanian here about me.

  “Detective Ohanian heard me out, got together a couple of squad cars—and the rest is history,” Ned finished. He leaned back in his chair.

  “Not quite,” Nancy said with a laugh. “How did you find me out on the lake? And what happened to the other kidnapper?”

  Detective Ohanian took up the tale. “Ned was able to bring us as far as the lighthouse and the hideout. When we got to the lighthouse we found Denise Mason trying to work her way toward Lake Shore Drive. She told us that you were out by the lake with Bernard Corbett.

  “We knew that there was only one kidnapper unaccounted for,” Ohanian went on, “and he was probably guarding the hideout. We were right. He surrendered without a struggle after I told him his pal was already in custody. Then we came out to get you.”

  “Was I glad to see you!” Nancy exclaimed. “Lucky for me Ned was able to convince you that he was telling the truth.”

  “Yes, well, I must admit the story was a little hard to swallow,” the burly detective answered. “Two kidnappings and a stolen Rembrandt. No one had even bothered to come to us until today.” He looked at Nancy sternly. She gave him a guilty grin.

  Then Ohanian smiled and added, “Of course, eventually I would have figured it all out, especially after I found the Rembrandt.”

  “You found it?” gasped Nancy. “Where?” She had forgotten all about the missing masterpiece.

  “Again, that was thanks to the car chase we interrupted. Corbett’s partner was trying to go solo. He had it rolled up on his backseat when we pulled him over.”

  Ohanian leaned forward. “I don’t think you have any idea what you’ve stumbled into, Miss Drew. This ring is really big. Thanks to you, we may be able to bring in everyone.”

  “What are you going to do?” Nancy asked curiously.

  “Well,” Ohanian said with a pleased grin, “I think we’re on our way to convincing Bernard Corbett to help us out. With him on our side, and the Rembrandt as the bait, we should be able to run a sting, snag the ringleaders, and put an end to this racket.”

  “Well, good luck,” Nancy told him. “I wish I could be in on it—it sounds exciting.”

  “Nancy!” Ned groaned.

&nbs
p; Ohanian stood up and held out his hand. “You’ve already helped us enough, Miss Drew.” A sudden babble of voices erupted outside his office door.

  The door flew open then, and George rushed in, followed by Dave Spector and Nella and Bob Sampson. Bob must have just returned from his trip to Detroit, Nancy guessed.

  “They told us we’d have to wait until you came out, but I couldn’t wait. Are you okay? What happened?” George cried.

  “Did you get Bernard?” Dave put in.

  “What about Denise? Is she safe?” Nella added.

  “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Bob Sampson was saying plaintively.

  Nancy held up her hands, laughing. “One at a time, please!” She turned to Ohanian. “Are we free to go home now?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Go, and thanks again.”

  Nancy turned back to her friends. “Okay, let’s go,” she said. “But I absolutely refuse to tell anybody anything until I get fed!”

  • • •

  “I forgot how much fun this was!” shouted Nella Sampson over the cheering of the crowd. “Pass the popcorn.”

  Nancy, George, the Sampsons, and the Masons all sat together in the bleachers. It was Monday night, and the last quarter of the second game in the tournament had just begun. The score was tied at 98, and the Eagles had the ball.

  “I wish Denise would take it easy,” Mrs. Mason fretted. “I tried to talk her out of cheering this game, but she practically jumped down my throat.”

  “This is the big tournament. I knew she wouldn’t give it up for anything. She’s stubborn, like her father.” Mr. Mason smiled at his wife. He was obviously proud of the fact that Denise took after him in this way.

  Mrs. Mason pursed her lips. “Well, I certainly agree that you are one stubborn man, Jonathan Mason. I can’t believe you spoke up for Bernard after what he did.”

  “Bernard is ambitious more than he is bad,” Mr. Mason replied, frowning thoughtfully. “I don’t think I can ever forgive him for kidnapping Denise, but I do understand what drove him to get involved in this smuggling escapade. And after all, he is cooperating on the sting, and soon the leaders of the smuggling ring will be behind bars.”

  “The smuggling team spent a lot of time researching perfect candidates for their scheme,” Nancy put in. “They’d pinpoint disgruntled assistants like Bernard and tempt them with a quick way out, a way to finance their own dreams.”

  Just then the crowd exploded into wild cheering and foot stomping. Ned had just stolen the ball and scored.

  Nancy watched as Denise and the other cheerleaders threw their pom-poms up in the air. Then the buzzer sounded. The game was over. The Wildcats had won the tournament!

  Emerson fans poured down the bleachers and onto the court. Nancy stood up. She was still unsure of what was going on between her, Ned, and Denise, but she would have to face the other two sometime. It might as well be now.

  “Nan, come on.” George grabbed Nancy’s arm and playfully pulled her down the bleachers. “It’s time to really celebrate now!”

  They reached the court as part of the wave of spectators. The team had Ned and Dave on their shoulders, and together they cut the net from the basket. Chaos ruled on the court. Nancy couldn’t help but join in the cheering. She was excited and proud for the Wildcats—and for Ned.

  Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she turned around to see Denise.

  “Nancy, I’ve been looking for you,” Denise said. She gave Nancy a big hug.

  At that moment Nancy realized how much she liked Denise. The cheerleader had spirit and intelligence. The terrifying ordeal they had gone through together had helped Nancy get past the barrier of jealousy she had felt.

  Yes, despite Ned’s feelings, whatever they were, and despite her own insecurities, she couldn’t help feeling a rush of affection for Denise. She found herself grinning broadly at the cheerleader. “Hey, it’s great to see you,” she said.

  Just then they were surrounded by the Sampsons, the Masons, George, Ned, and Dave.

  “Hey, let’s have a victory dinner!” cried a jubilant Jonathan Mason. “Everyone’s invited to our house.”

  Everybody cheered the idea, but Ned shook his head. “It sounds great, Mr. Mason,” he said, “but you’ll have to count Nancy and me out. We’ve already got other plans.”

  Nancy was pleased and surprised. Finally she and Ned would get to spend time alone together!

  Most of the noisy crowd had gone by the time Ned and Nancy left the gym. Ned took Nancy’s hand in his.

  “So, what was this plan we had, Ned?” she asked.

  “Well, I actually do have a plan.” Ned held up his hand for a passing taxi, which stopped for them. “But it’s a surprise,” he added as they climbed in.

  They pulled up about ten minutes later in front of a familiar part of Lake Shore Drive. Nancy looked around and gulped. It was right near the place where she had been dumped on the beach.

  “Where are we going?” she asked curiously.

  “You’ll see, you’ll see,” said Ned. He was grinning. They came to a door and he opened it for her. “After you,” he said with a sweeping bow.

  “Bonjour, monsieur, mademoiselle.” A handsome man in a tuxedo approached them. “Welcome to Le Coq d’Or.”

  Le Coq d’Or! Nancy was thrilled. Ned must have remembered the name from when she had told him about her adventure, and he had remembered that she wanted to eat there.

  “Do you have a reservation?” the man asked.

  “Yes, we do,” said Ned.

  Just then the young hostess who had been so nice to Nancy hurried up to them. “Hi. I see you’ve found your boyfriend,” she said with a smile. “I’m so glad!”

  The meal was fantastic. First they had bowls of creamy potato-and-leek soup and then green salads with tangy vinaigrette dressing. Nancy chose broiled salmon for her entrée while Ned had a filet mignon.

  They talked about the case and whatever else they felt like talking about. It felt so good to be with Ned that Nancy didn’t even want to bring up the whole Denise issue. But as she pushed the last bite of her broiled salmon around her plate, she knew that she needed to clear the air.

  “Are you interested in dessert?” asked their waiter. “I can bring the dessert cart around.”

  “As long as it has a lot of chocolate things on it,” said Ned.

  The waiter smiled. “I don’t think monsieur will be disappointed with the selection. We have chocolate mousse cake and also a double-fudge brownie cake with vanilla ice cream. That can be topped with hot fudge or caramel sauce.”

  “Ummm,” said Nancy. “How about two forks and that last one, with fudge sauce, please.”

  “Very good, mademoiselle.”

  The waiter returned with the dessert. Nancy watched Ned’s face light up as he savored the first bite.

  She took a deep breath. “Ned, I want to talk to you about Denise.”

  Ned’s fork stopped on its way to his mouth. Nancy rushed on.

  “I need to know what’s going on with you two. She told me that she likes you, and I know that you like her.”

  “Right. So?” Ned asked, lowering his fork to the plate. A startled expression was creeping over his face.

  “So, I don’t know where that puts me,” Nancy finally stated. She hung her head.

  There was a long silence. Finally Ned’s soft voice broke it.

  “Oh, Nancy,” he said, taking her hand. “You should know that you mean the world to me. I like Denise. She’s great. But she’s just a friend. I love you and only you.”

  “Really?” A smile crept across Nancy’s face.

  “Really and truly.” Ned tousled Nancy’s hair. “Now, eat some of this dessert—unless you want me to polish off the whole thing.”

  Ned really did love her! She had been foolish ever to have doubted him. Nancy could feel happy tears pool in her eyes, but she blinked them back.

  “Not on your life, Nickerson,” she said, grabbing her own fork. ?
??Not on your life!”

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Simon Pulse

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  Copyright © 1991 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  ISBN: 978-0-6717-0032-4 (pbk)

  ISBN: 978-1-4814-2824-8 (eBook)

  NANCY DREW and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  THE NANCY DREW FILES is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

 


 

  Carolyn Keene, Don't Look Twice

 


 

 
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