“Hi,” she said, shaking Ms. Masters’s hand. “Just give me a minute to stretch out, okay? I don’t want to get stiff.”
George and the reporter ended up talking for twenty minutes. When they were done, Ms. Masters held up her camera case. “How about some pictures?” she asked.
“Fine,” George replied.
“I noticed a good backdrop on my way into the stadium. Can we take some shots out there?”
George glanced apprehensively at her new bike. “Uh, that’s a problem. You see, my bike is valuable, and I don’t want to leave it untended. Normally I’d give it to Jon to watch, but he went off to get some lunch.”
Nancy was about to offer to watch the bike herself when Peter Cooper suddenly spoke up. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay here and guard it for you.”
“Thanks, Peter, but that’s not necessary,” George told him. “I’m sure you have more important things to do.”
“It’s no problem, really. Go and have your picture taken,” he insisted, reaching eagerly for the bike.
“Wait a minute,” Ms. Masters said. “I have an idea. Why don’t you bring the bike along, George? We’ll include it in the shots.”
“Good idea!” George agreed.
The group walked outside. There, at a grassy area at one end of the stadium, George began to pose. Peter Cooper excused himself. He had other business to look after, he said.
“That’s great, George. Okay, now turn away from the sun a little more,” the reporter directed.
“How’s this?” George asked, swiveling with her bike.
“Fine, fine—now smile!”
Ms. Masters resumed shooting. As she did, Nancy stood back and absently studied the grass. Just then, a shadow appeared next to hers. She looked up. It was Ned.
“Hi. What’s up?” he asked. “You’ve got a frown on your face.”
Nancy smiled. “Nothing’s up. I was just thinking.”
“About what happened to George yesterday?”
“Yes, that and what happened to Steven Lloyd this morning.”
Quickly she filled him in on the break-in at Lloyd Software Systems.
Ned whistled when she was finished. “Wow, it looks bad for Steven. And for George, too. She’ll be devastated if she loses her sponsor.”
“Not half as devastated as she’ll be if she gets killed,” Nancy remarked.
Ned cocked his head. “Does that mean you think the note, the burning tent, and the radio in the pool are all connected?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Nancy admitted. “They might be, but then again it all might be a coincidence—”
She stopped. A sixth sense was warning her that something was urgently wrong. But what was it?
Everything in sight looked normal. George and Ms. Masters were shooting photos. Behind them was the backdrop the reporter had chosen—a row of pine trees. Behind the pine trees rose a row of towering aluminum flagpoles, from which were flown the flags from the participating nations. Behind the flagpoles were the spectator stands.
The flagpoles. That was it! One of them, the one directly behind George, was out of line. It was leaning. No, it was falling—toward George!
Chapter
Six
GEORGE! LOOK OUT!” Nancy shouted.
George did not move. The flagpole was behind her, and she couldn’t see it falling. “What?” she asked.
It was too late to explain. It was also too late to get to George. Nancy screamed.
Ned had already broken into a run. His long basketball player’s legs churned at blinding speed. In a second he had tackled George, and the two of them were in a heap on the grass five feet away. George’s bike was also clear of the pole.
The pole crashed to the ground, narrowly missing Ms. Masters. The reporter, who had been looking through her camera lens until that moment, looked up and fainted.
“Oh no,” Nancy said. She didn’t know what to do first. Quickly, she rushed over to the reporter. She was out cold.
“Ned, are you and George okay?” she shouted.
“Uh, fine—I think,” Ned answered.
“Take care of this lady, will you? I’ve got to check something out!”
Rising to her feet, Nancy sprinted across the grass. When it fell, the flagpole had knocked over the pine tree directly in front of it. Nancy leaped through the gap in the line of shrubbery and looked around.
There was no one in sight. Naturally, she told herself. Why should the culprit hang around?
Conducting a search was pointless, she knew. Right then the culprit was probably busy melting into the crowd. Instead, she bent down to examine the base of the fallen flagpole.
It was just as she had expected. Normally, the base was bolted to a concrete footing with four large steel nuts, but now the nuts were off. A wrench lay nearby.
Stepping back through the gap, Nancy went over to Ned and George, They were with Ms. Masters, who was sitting up, her head tucked between her knees. “Is she okay?” Nancy asked.
“She’ll be all right,” Ned told her. “What did you find back there?”
“It was deliberate. Someone unbolted the base, shoved the pole, then ran, using that line of pine trees as a screen.”
“Huh. I guess that means—”
“Yes,” Nancy finished for him. “There’s no doubt about it anymore. Someone is definitely trying to kill George!”
• • •
Two hours later George won her semifinal ride in the Women’s 3000-Meter Individual Pursuit. Afterward, as Nancy helped load George’s gear into the station wagon, she mentally reviewed everything that had happened that afternoon.
Unfortunately, no new clues had developed from the flagpole incident. The spectators in the stands high above the scene had not noticed anything suspicious, according to the police. Neither had anyone who was outside the stadium.
Nancy had hoped the reporter’s film might yield a clue, but that too had been a dead end. When Nancy phoned Ms. Masters later, the reporter told her that the newly developed pictures showed nothing but George, her bike, and the solid row of pine trees in the background.
It was mildly frustrating. Still, now she knew that the warning note and the incidents at the tent, the pool, and the flagpole were linked. Nancy became absolutely determined to find the culprit.
But where to begin with no clues? Nancy felt frustrated and totally helpless.
When George’s car was loaded, Nancy, Ned, George, and Jon drove to Big Top Burgers in River Heights for dinner. Bess met them there. She had been to the dentist that afternoon and had not been at the velodrome.
“How’d it go today?” she asked her cousin after they had ordered and begun to eat.
“Great,” George said, sliding into the booth. “Thanks to the bike, I won the semi in pursuit. And guess who I’m up against in the final?”
“Who?”
“Monique Vandervoort, the World Junior Champion!” George said proudly.
“Wow, that’s great! Sounds like it was a pretty exciting day,” Bess remarked.
“Yeah, it was exciting, all right,” Jon said sourly.
An uncomfortable silence fell. Everyone was thinking about the flagpole incident and what it meant, Nancy knew.
“Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” Bess asked after a minute.
“Nothing’s going on,” George mumbled, poking at her food.
“Oh yeah? Then why the long faces?” Bess demanded.
Briefly, Nancy filled her in. When Nancy was finished, Bess folded her napkin and slapped it down on the tabletop.
“I don’t believe you! How can you take this so calmly, George? Someone is trying to kill you, don’t you understand that?”
George nodded. “Sure, but what do you expect me to do about it?”
“Drop out of the Classic. Now—tonight.”
For a moment no one spoke. Bess had said what was on everyone’s mind but what everyone had been afraid to suggest.
“Forget it,”
George said at last. “I’m not dropping out.”
“What?” Bess cried, her voice ringing with disbelief.
“I said, I’m staying in the competition. I’ve been training for it for months. Jon came all the way to River Heights just to coach me. I’d be crazy to quit.”
“You’re crazy to keep going,” Bess argued. “I’m not saying that you should give up cycling forever. All I’m saying is that you should stop for this week.”
“No way.”
“George, listen to me—”
“No, you listen to me!” she interrupted. “If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s a quitter. I’m not going to act like a coward just because somebody’s trying to scare me a little.”
The cousins glared at each other. It was an impasse. Bess wasn’t going to back down, and neither was George.
“Ooh!” Bess smacked the table in fury. She turned to Jon. “Would you please talk some sense into her?”
Everyone looked at Jon.
“Uh, I don’t know what to say. I mean, I’d hate to see George quit, but I don’t see any other choice.”
“Jon!” George cried.
“Well, I don’t!”
“I can’t believe this! I can’t believe you’re siding with Bess!”
“George, all the training in the world is useless if you’re dead,” Jon reasoned.
“But I’m alive! I’m not dead! What do you want me to do, sit at home all day by myself?” she asked, beginning to cry.
“Come on. Why would I want that?” Jon asked.
“Why? Why else?” George said, choking back a sob. “So you can be with Debbi!”
Quickly George pushed out of the booth and stood up. Her sleeve brushed a water glass, and it fell to the floor. Everyone in the restaurant turned to look.
Silence descended, and in the sudden quiet George’s sobs echoed loudly. But only for a moment. A second later she was gone.
“Great. Now you’ve done it,” Ned said, snapping at Bess as the exit door swung closed.
“Don’t blame me,” Bess fired back. “I’m not the one who’s two-timing!”
At that, Jon quietly left the booth and went after George. As she watched him go, Nancy frowned. Would he be able to patch things up between them?
Watching through the window, she saw Jon catch up with George in the parking lot. They began to talk. To Nancy’s relief, she could see George slowly begin to relax. After a few minutes, she even smiled and threw her arms around him.
Nancy relaxed, too. At least she didn’t have to worry about George and Jon anymore, she thought. Her only problem now was getting the boxing gloves off Ned and Bess. They were still arguing.
Suddenly Ned broke off in the middle of what he was saying. He grabbed Nancy’s arm. “Look outside!” he said.
Nancy again turned her gaze toward the window. A smiling Jon was walking back toward the restaurant, and George was walking toward her car.
“Yes, I already—”
“Look!”
Then she saw it. A pair of headlights snapped from low to high. Then suddenly she heard squealing tires. A car accelerated and was heading straight for George!
Chapter
Seven
WHAT HAPPENED NEXT was difficult to follow. The car gunning for George was also pointed right at the window. In the dusky twilight the glare from its headlights made it difficult for Nancy to see.
For a moment George was silhouetted alone in the light. Then, as the car zoomed closer, a second silhouette flew into the picture and shoved George out of the way—Jon!
Nancy’s heart skipped a beat. “Come on, let’s go!” she said to Ned and Bess.
As they scrambled from their seats, the car swerved to the right, missing Jon by inches. The next second it shot past the restaurant window and sped out of view. Nancy heard its tires shriek as it turned into the road.
Outside, Nancy sprinted to the end of the entrance drive, hoping to get a better look at the car.
But all she spotted were the red taillights as they disappeared around a distant corner. The license plate was also a blur.
Disappointed, she walked back to check on Jon and George. Both of them would be bruised, but otherwise they were okay. A small crowd was gathering around them.
“That was a close call,” Jon said, wiping the dirt from his hands.
George put her arms around him. “Too close! If anything had happened to you—”
“Luckily, nothing did,” Ned commented. “What I want to know is, who was driving that thing? Did anyone get a look?”
Jon shook his head. “Not me.”
George shook her head, too. “I was looking at Jon.”
Nancy, Ned, and Bess hadn’t seen who it was, neither. Nor had anyone else in the restaurant. Nancy questioned people in the crowd, but all of them had either been looking somewhere else or, like her, had been blinded by the glare of the car’s headlights in the window.
“Whoever planned that attack was either very lucky or very smart,” Nancy remarked.
“Are you sure it was planned?” Jon asked.
“Well, it wasn’t an accident!”
Suddenly George cried, “Wait a minute—check out my car!”
Everyone turned. The station wagon’s rear gate was wide open. Together, Nancy, Ned, George, Jon, and Bess ran across the lot.
George got there first. “Oh, thank goodness! My bike is still there!”
“Yeah, but the car’s in pretty bad shape,” Ned said with a frown.
It certainly was. The rear window had been smashed, and there were scratches in the paint around the rear door lock.
“Looks like someone was trying to steal the bike,” Jon said.
“Maybe,” Nancy replied.
“Only maybe?” Bess asked.
“It’s equally possible that whoever it was saw George leave the restaurant and smashed the window to make it look like a theft attempt.”
“You know, I did hear glass breaking as I came out,” George said.
“I don’t get it,” Jon put in. “If the crook wasn’t trying to steal the bike, then what was he trying to do?”
“Sabotage it,” Nancy said grimly.
Ned nodded. “That would explain the scratches around the lock. At first the killer tried to break in, but then, when he saw George, he changed his plan—to a hit-and-run.”
Bess shivered.
“So who was it?” George asked after a minute had passed.
“I’m not sure,” Nancy said tightly. “But there’s one way we might be able to find out. Ned, can you come with me? I may need your help.”
• • •
Ten minutes later Nancy pulled her Mustang into the parking lot of the Imperial Motel. Every single space was occupied.
“Good. This should be easy,” she said.
“What are you going to do?” Ned asked her.
Nancy parked near the front office. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
Climbing out, she walked over to the first row of parked cars. One by one, she placed her hand on the hoods.
Ned joined her. “I get it. You’re feeling for warm engines.”
“Uh-huh. If someone wanted to tamper with George’s bike, it would probably be someone who’s staying here. I want to see if any of these cars have been driven recently.”
Down the row she went, pausing at each hood. The parking spaces were numbered, and Nancy noticed that each number corresponded to the room closest to it.
“This one’s warm,” Ned said. His hand was on the hood of a subcompact.
Nancy felt it. “Yes, but not warm enough. That car was really going fast when it hit the road. That engine was hot!”
Finally, Nancy jerked her hand back sharply from a sizzling hood. Stepping back, she surveyed the car. It was a station wagon. Black lettering decorated its doors, and a dog cage filled the rear compartment. It was Debbi Howe’s car!
“Room one fifty-five,” Ned said.
The door was right in front of them. Th
e windows were dark. Marching up to the door, Nancy rapped loudly. A muffled voice answered from inside, and a minute later the door swung open.
Debbi was wearing a blue cotton nightgown, and she looked at Nancy and Ned sleepily. But her nightgown wasn’t wrinkled, and Nancy noticed her hair wasn’t tousled, either.
“What do you two want?” Debbi asked.
“We want to talk to you.”
“Forget it. I’m going back to sleep.”
“Really?” Nancy couldn’t keep the impatience from her voice. “If you were asleep, just who was driving your car?”
Debbi scowled at her. “What is this, some kind of joke?”
“No,” Nancy said. “The hood of your car is red hot. It’s been driven recently.”
“So? What if it was?”
Nancy narrowed her eyes. “Someone tried to run George Fayne down tonight.”
“Look, smarty,” Debbi hissed. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but whatever it is, I don’t like it. Why don’t you just get lost?”
“Not until I get some answers.” The door was closing, but Nancy stopped it with her foot. “Were you or weren’t you in the parking lot of Big Top Burgers tonight?”
“I wasn’t.”
Nancy pressed her point. “Then how did your car engine get so hot?”
“Look, if you must know, I drove over to Riley City to see some friends,” Debbi confessed. “I just got back.”
That would explain where her car had been, but was she telling the truth? “You can prove you were there?” Nancy asked.
“Yes. But why should I?”
“Because—” Nancy stopped, not sure what to say next.
“Because you think I was somewhere else, right? Well, let me tell you something. I don’t care what you think. You’re not the police. If you were, I’d prove to you that I was in Riley City. But you’re not, so leave me alone!”
With that, she started to shut the door again, but once more Nancy stopped her.
“Look, Debbi,” she said angrily, “someone tried to run George down tonight. At the very least, I think you know who it was.”
“So?”
“So, I suggest you confess. If you’re honest now, things will be easier later. But if you lie—”