“Don’t worry, Susan,” Nancy reassured her. “We’ve already got a taped confession. Now, about Jack. Tell me everything.”
Before Susan could begin, though, Nancy heard a siren approaching, then a car screech to a halt in front of Marcy’s house. In a matter of seconds, Lieutenant Dunne burst through the front door. He ran over to Nancy. “Everything all right?” he asked, looking from Nancy to Susan. “Somebody called the officer I had assigned here and told him I wanted him to report to headquarters.”
“Marcy’s been kidnapped by Jack Cole,” Nancy said quickly. “He’s the one who set the fire and made the bomb threat, too. Karen Kristoff made the phone threats, as I told you. She’s in the car out front, with George, and we’ve got a taped confession from her.”
“What?” The lieutenant looked every bit as stunned as he must have felt. “I—well, I—good work, Nancy. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Lieutenant,” Nancy told him. “We need to work together now. We’ve got to save Marcy.”
Susan began by telling them what had happened. “When I showed up, Jack was here with Marcy. I don’t know what was going on, but when he saw me, he pulled a gun.”
“He’s armed and dangerous,” Dunne told one of the officers who had come up behind him and heard the last part of the conversation. “Check to see if Ms. Robbins’s car is here. Then get the license number and make of Jack Cole’s car right away.”
“It’s a dark gray hatchback, Lieutenant,” Susan said. “With a dent in the front right fender.”
“You heard her,” Dunne said to his officers. “Put out an all-points bulletin for Marcy Robbins, traveling with a Caucasian male, thin build, brown hair, light eyes. I want them found—fast! Oh, and see that gold coupe over there? Ms. Karen Kristoff is inside. Take her down to headquarters and book her.”
The officers took off as Dunne turned to the girls. “You were saying?” he asked Susan, pulling out a pad and pencil to make notes.
“He made Marcy get rope and tape for him, and then he tied me up. He said he and Marcy were in love with each other and were going to go away together. She looked terrified.”
Nancy put a comforting hand on Susan’s shoulder. “Did he say anything else, Susan?” she asked. “Anything that could help us figure out where he took her?”
Susan concentrated hard, biting her lip. Then she shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I don’t remember his exact words at all.”
“Maybe they’ll come back to you later,” Dunne suggested. “I’ll want to get more details later, Miss Ling. Right now, I have to get to work.”
Nancy and Susan said goodbye to the lieutenant and walked out onto the sidewalk, where George approached them. “The police told me what happened. I can’t believe it! What are we going to do?”
“You have your car here, right, Susan?” Nancy asked.
“I sure do,” Susan replied.
“Let’s all get in it and talk,” Nancy said.
Susan led them to her car. “They wouldn’t still be anywhere near here,” Susan said once they settled themselves inside. “He would have taken her far away.”
“Not necessarily,” Nancy said, thinking hard. “But I bet you’re right about one thing. They’re nowhere near here. Let’s think, guys. Jack is in love with Marcy, he’s obsessed with her. He thinks if he can get her to leave her show, she’ll finally come back to him.”
“Okay, so far so good,” George agreed. “They stop taping the show, and a new host is hired. Marcy’s career is in ruins. Now what?”
“Jack hears that Marcy’s heartbroken. Now’s his chance,” Nancy said, leaning forward eagerly. “He can be the one to console her! So he goes to her and tells her how he feels—how he’s felt all along . . .”
“But she doesn’t feel the same about him,” George added.
Susan chimed in. “So he goes crazy and tells her he’s going to take her away to their own dark little world. That’s when I walked in.”
Nancy gasped, and grabbed Susan’s elbow hard. “Susan!” she said, her heart racing. “What you just said—were those Jack’s words? Their own dark little world.”
“I think so,” Susan murmured.
Nancy’s eyes lit up. “I think I know where Jack’s taken Marcy!”
“Where?” George asked excitedly.
“To the underground tunnels they used to hang out in when they were growing up,” Nancy said. “He told me about them backstage at the celebrity auction. He said they were in Cicero.”
“Cicero, here we come,” Susan said, revving the engine and pulling the car into the street.
“Of course,” George remarked. “That’s exactly where he would take her. To a place they shared. It’s romantic but creepy at the same time.”
“With a heavy emphasis on the creepy,” Susan added as she took the ramp for the expressway.
When they reached Cicero, Nancy saw that it was a neighborhood of modest clapboard houses bunched closely together. There didn’t seem to be anything extraordinary about it, as far as Nancy could tell.
Then she saw something she recognized. “The racetrack!” she shouted. “Jack told me a tunnel entrance was there!”
Quickly Susan pointed the car toward the track. Five blocks later they passed a narrow alleyway, and Susan jammed on the brakes. “Look!” she cried, pointing. “That’s Jack’s car! See the dent?”
They pulled over and ran to the car, which was locked and empty. “Susan, go call the police. Tell Lieutenant Dunne to hurry, okay?”
“Right, Nan,” Susan said.
“George, doesn’t that building on the other side of the fence look like a stable?” Nancy said, pointing toward the end of the alley where a chain-link fence ran beside what appeared to be the back end of the racetrack. “Jack told me that the tunnel was near a stable,” she explained, her voice pitched high with excitement.
“We’ll need a flashlight,” she said then. “Have you got one in the car, Susan?”
“Aren’t you lucky? We gofers carry everything,” Susan said with a grin, popping open the trunk and giving Nancy a sturdy, powerful flashlight. “Good luck, you two,” she said as she got in the driver’s seat and drove off to find a phone.
“Come on, George,” Nancy said, heading for the fence, the flashlight in her hand.
“What do the tunnel entrances look like, Nan?” George asked.
“I don’t know,” Nancy said, as she squirmed through a gap in the fence. Once inside, she led her friend toward the stable. There were a lot of people at the track, but all their attention was on the race in progress. In the distance, Nancy heard the announcer’s voice and the cheers as the horses raced for the finish.
Luckily, there was no one right around them. They peeked in an open doorway. The building was a stable—but an old, unused one. “At least we won’t be seen,” Nancy said.
Hay covered the ground around the stable and the dry particles drifted up with the dry dirt. “Ick, Nan, this is disgusting,” George said, brushing at her already dusty clothes.
“George, I have a feeling the tunnels are going to be worse, but they’ll be wet probably,” Nancy warned her friend. “Hey, what’s that?”
When they rounded the far corner of the stable, Nancy saw a small, fenced-in area about eight feet around. Inside the fence was an iron hatchway. Lifting the lid, they saw a ladder leading down. “Looks like a tunnel entrance to me,” George said. “You go first, Nan.”
“Thanks a lot,” Nancy said cheerfully. Holding the flashlight in one hand, she descended the ladder into the darkness.
“What’s it like down there?” George asked, peering over the edge of the entrance.
“Dark. Musty,” Nancy answered. She didn’t mention the rat she saw skittering across the beam of the flashlight.
“I’m coming down, too,” George said, climbing onto the ladder.
Nancy scanned the area around her with her light. The tunnel was large, with huge pipes suspended from the concrete ceiling. It se
emed to go far into the distance, meeting up with other tunnels at both ends. “I don’t see any other ladders,” Nancy murmured as two more rats behind her let out a squeal and scampered away into the darkness.
“Yikes!” George cried. “Get me out of here!”
“We can’t leave without Marcy,” Nancy said.
George took a deep breath. “Well, which way do we go?” she asked.
“Let’s try that way,” Nancy said, picking a direction at random. The girls trudged down the tunnel, carefully shining the light near their feet to keep away any furry inhabitants.
Soon they came to a place where another tunnel joined the first. “I see something!” Nancy cried, running to an object in her flashlight beam.
It was a woman’s gold bracelet. “That’s Marcy’s,” George said shakily. “I remember her wearing it on the show with Dr. Helen.”
“Me, too,” Nancy confirmed. “Jack must have taken her this way. Let’s—”
Just then a loud bang echoed through the tunnel, and Nancy felt something whiz by her ear. “Duck, George!” Nancy yelled. “He’s shooting at us!”
Chapter
Fifteen
HER HEART POUNDING, Nancy quickly switched off her flashlight, plunging the tunnel into darkness. “George! Are you okay?” Nancy whispered to her friend.
“I guess,” George replied shakily.
“Get out of here!” came Jack Cole’s angry voice from the darkness ahead. “Leave us alone! If you don’t, I swear I’ll kill her!”
“He means it, Nancy,” came Marcy’s terrified voice.
Nancy estimated that Marcy and Jack were about thirty feet ahead off to the right. And strangely, their voices sounded as if they were coming from someplace elevated. She squinted, and her eyes began to adjust to the dark. There was a dim light far ahead—another entrance, no doubt.
Nancy moved closer to them until she could make out Jack and Marcy’s silhouettes. They were up on a catwalk, about ten feet above the ground. Nancy guessed the walk was for workers who needed access to the pipes on the ceiling of the tunnel. Marcy was in front of him, and he had an arm wrapped around her throat. In his other hand, Nancy saw the deadly shape of a pistol.
“You’ve convinced me, Jack,” Nancy said grimly. “We’re getting out of here.” Making sure her footsteps sounded heavily, she began walking away.
George spun around, confused, and Nancy grabbed her arm, whispering, “Keep him involved, George. I’m going up the ladder we came down and then I’ll go down that other ladder—behind them.”
“Right,” George whispered back. Loudly enough for Jack to hear, she said, “I’m going, too, Jack. But I wish you’d explain a few things to me before I do.”
“I don’t owe you or anybody an explanation,” Jack growled.
“I know you don’t,” Nancy heard George say as she continued backing away. “But it’s so amazing how you pulled this off. How did you do it?”
“It wasn’t hard,” Jack bragged.
“Not hard?” George said in disbelief. “To put a bomb threat on a TelePrompTer with a studio full of people?”
A bitter laugh erupted from Jack. “That was a piece of cake,” he said. “As production stage manager, I just sent everyone else off on urgent errands. I did the same thing with Brenda Fox and the detective, the day I set the fire. Karen told me how Nancy Drew had been nosing around at the magazine, so I set her up by writing a note from an intern.”
As he was speaking, Nancy climbed back up the ladder, stomping loudly as she went. “George, I’m leaving,” she called back after her.
“If you want Marcy dead,” Jack warned, “call the police.”
“I won’t,” Nancy yelled.
Nancy climbed out into the late afternoon sunshine. She pointed herself in the direction she knew the tunnel ran and began walking. Soon her path was blocked by a six-foot-high concrete wall. Nancy hoisted herself up onto it.
On the far side was a large parking area for track maintenance vehicles. The area appeared deserted, but at the other end of it, Nancy saw the other opening to the tunnel. It looked exactly like the one she and George had gone down. Quickly she hurried over to it. This gate, too, had been smashed open. Nancy wondered if Jack was responsible or if some other vandal had broken the lock.
She climbed down, walking stealthily so she wouldn’t make any noise. As she descended, she could hear George still talking. Nancy began sneaking along the side of the tunnel, edging toward the ladder to the catwalk.
“What about the stolen sign-in sheets and signing the other one with a phony name? What was the idea of that?” George was asking.
“It was to throw you and your friend off the trail,” Jack gloated. “To make you think someone had come in from outside. It worked, too!”
“You were working with Karen Kristoff, weren’t you?” George was asking. “I don’t understand that.”
“Karen came up with the plan in the first place, but she didn’t have the nerve to take it all the way,” Jack said. “All she wanted was to get Marcy off the show and set herself up as the replacement. I had bigger ideas. Right, Marcy? We’ll be together from now on. Now that I’ve rescued you from all that, you’ll be able to be your real self again.”
Marcy’s answer was a broken sob.
“We’ll be happy together,” he went on, his voice an eerie whine. “Trust me. I understand you—I care about you! I may not be a big-time producer like Vic Molina, but I’ve loved you since we were kids.”
Nancy kept moving forward along the pitch-black of the side of the tunnel. Only George, who was doing a brilliant job of diverting Jack’s attention, had any idea she was edging closer.
“How did you find out Nancy was investigating?” George asked him.
“I overheard the cop talking about it in the lobby after the bomb threat,” Jack said. “Then I warned Nancy good. Anyone else who had seen that smashed-up mirror would have gotten off the case quick. Your friend is too stubborn. Now get out of here!”
“Wait, I’m still curious. You must have been working overtime for weeks,” George said. “Were you the one who wrote the note on the back of Marcy’s picture and then tore it up?”
“Yes, that was me,” Jack replied. “I hate those pictures of her that make her look so glamorous. She’s a regular, neighborhood girl, not the VIP everyone thinks they know. Isn’t that right, Marcy?”
“Y-yes, Jack,” came Marcy’s terrified reply.
Nancy had climbed onto the catwalk and was almost within striking distance now. If George could just keep his attention a little bit longer . . .
“So that’s why you did all this?” George asked. “For love?”
“I love Marcy, and Marcy loves me,” Jack shrieked. “She doesn’t realize it yet, but she will. And if she won’t—well, I’ll tell you one thing—that crumb Molina will never see her alive again. If I can’t have her, no one will!”
“No, Jack, no,” Marcy murmured. “Please, you’re very sick. You need help.”
Nancy silently advanced another step, coming behind Jack and Marcy.
“Shut up, Marcy!” Jack snarled. “You denied our love for so long, maybe you don’t deserve to live.” Nancy saw him raise the gun.
There was no time for hesitation. Swiftly, Nancy’s right leg shot out, knocking Jack off balance.
“Wha—you—” he muttered through gritted teeth as he fell to his knees on the catwalk, letting go of Marcy.
“Nancy, no!” Marcy screamed. “He’ll kill us both!”
Nancy couldn’t turn back now. A second kick to Jack’s arm knocked the gun from his hand and sent it clattering to the floor of the tunnel.
“Why, you—” Jack growled. He lunged at Nancy. Grabbing her throat hard, he made Nancy see stars as he pushed her back against the rail of the catwalk.
She couldn’t breathe. He pushed harder and harder against her throat.
“Goodbye, Nancy,” Jack told her through gritted teeth.
Nancy gathered
all her remaining strength and kicked her leg up and into Jack’s chest. He staggered backward, and by the time he’d recovered, Nancy was ready for him again. One more lightning kick sent Jack reeling back again. His head thumped hard against the concrete wall. As if in slow motion, he slid to the floor of the catwalk, where he lay in a heap, unconscious.
Still watching Jack, Nancy put out a hand to Marcy and helped her to her feet. “Nancy, thank you,” Marcy murmured, clutching her hand.
George had run up to them and climbed onto the catwalk. “Is he dead, Nancy?” she asked with a shudder.
“No,” Nancy answered quietly, checking Jack’s pulse. “But he won’t bother anybody for a while. George, help Marcy down from here, okay?” Nancy gestured for her friends to step around Jack’s body.
“Listen! I hear something,” George said, stopping on the rungs of the catwalk ladder.
Her eyes riveted on Jack, Nancy listened intently. A siren was getting louder.
“Thank goodness,” Marcy gasped, climbing down the ladder. “The police.”
Soon Lieutenant Dunne, along with about a dozen of his officers, were clambering down the ladder into the tunnel, their powerful hand-held lights illuminating the darkness. Susan was with them.
“Anybody hurt?” the lieutenant asked, hurrying over to Nancy and the others, his men close behind.
“Only Jack Cole,” Nancy told him. “He was going to kill Marcy. That’s his gun down there.”
“Cuff him, Phil,” the man told one of the uniformed officers. “And get the ambulance people down here with a stretcher.”
Jack was regaining consciousness now but lacked the strength to resist. “Are you happy, Marcy?” he asked bitterly. “Happy about what you made me do? You ruined me!”
Marcy’s hand flew to her cheek as, horrified, she stepped farther away from him.
“Marcy didn’t cause any of this, Jack,” Nancy corrected him. “People are responsible for their own actions.”
“He’ll have years and years to figure all that out,” the lieutenant told them. “Because this fellow will be spending a long time out of harm’s way.”