"Is she going to be all night on that thing?" Nancy heard him ask George, as he tapped his foot impatiently. "I need to make an important call."
"There are more phones on the next level," George told him, as she pointed up the ramp.
"My car is right over there," the man snapped. "I want to use this phone. I don't want to walk all the way up there when there's a perfectly good phone here."
Nancy covered her ear so she could hear Sam.
"Are you coming back here?" Sam asked Nancy.
"No. Sam, I'm heading for Brady Crossing. I think the gang is going to split up. Can you send a unit out there?"
"Nan, I'll do my best, but this weather is creating problems. We've got tie-ups on all major roads. Right now, every available car is assigned."
"Please try," Nancy said. "Or you could call the train dispatcher. They must have a two-way radio in the engine." She dropped her voice.
"Sam, Shelley Lawson's ruthless. And I think she's running this show. Be careful!"
"Hurry up, lady," said the leprechaun, eavesdropping on Nancy's conversation. "I have a ruthless girlfriend v^ho's already furious because I'm late picking her up from work."
"Nan," Sam said, "you be careful. I'll try to get someone out there. And I'll try to get the dispatcher to radio the train. But the railroad may not agree to stop the train on a hunch." The frustration in his voice was obvious.
"Will you kiss him good-bye and get off that phone!" yelled the leprechaun.
"Thanks, Sam," Nancy said. "'Bye."
"Well, it's about time!" the man said.
"If we weren't pushed for time, I'd stand right there and heckle him while he talks to his ruthless girlfriend," George muttered as they hurried toward Nancy's car. "Where to now?"
"Do you remember where Kamla's car was parked?" asked Nancy.
"Yeah, C-2 section, and I already looked while you were on the phone. It's gone. And so is Shelley's hot little number. Come to think of it, I wonder how Kamla got hers to run. She said she didn't have the five hundred to fix it."
"No, but it was worth a lot more than five hundred to our friends upstairs to get it running. If my hunch is right, somebody worked on that car or spent the cash to have it fixed."
George gave Nancy a quizzical look. "Fm not tracking," she said. "Explain."
"Look at it from Shelley's point of view," Nancy said. "If Kamla is running from the law, supposedly after kidnapping Jeremy, and her car, which is known for its bad behavior, stalls on the railroad tracks . . . and a train is coming . . ."
George shuddered. "So they had it fixed just so they could drive it to Brady Crossing, where it would be totaled with her in it. I can't believe anyone would be so heartless."
"They've already killed Farmer," Nancy reminded her, "probably so that Shelley could take over this scheme. And setting up Kamla will take the heat oflf them. Spending five hundred bucks to fix Kamla's car is no big deal when you're looking at collecting a million bucks—five hundred thousand each from Wright and Jodi. It's peanuts."
Another group from the party came streaming out of the elevator just as George and Nancy got into the Mustang.
"Georgie!" a man called out. "Georgie! Wait up a minute!" Heavy footsteps thudded on the concrete floor, and George's friend Duke squatted down by the passenger side so his face, crowned by his enormous cowboy hat, was framed in the window. "I never got my dance with you," he said, grinning. "Is that any way to treat a friend?"
"Sorry," George said. "Give me a call at home,
Duke. We're in a real big hurry." She glanceo at her watch and turned to Nancy. "It's ten to twelve," she said.
"Big hurry?" Duke asked. "You got a heavy date or something?" His speech was slurred, and his eyes looked as if he'd had one beer too many.
"We've got a heavy date with a train," George said. "Move, Duke, so we can get out of here!"
"You don't want to hurry anywhere in this weather," he countered, leaning farther in through the window. "It's nasty out there. Freezing rain. Sleet. Who's your friend, Georgie? Why's she looking so mad?"
George rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. "Give me patience," she muttered. "Duke Avery, meet Nancy Drew." She unceremoniously pushed his elbow off the window frame and turned to Nancy.
"Good-bye, Duke. Let's go. Nan." Nancy didn't respond.
"Nan," George said quickly. "What's the matter?"
"This." Nancy turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. She tried it again. No response.
"Dead battery?" George wrinkled her forehead.
"Can't be—it's almost brand-new!" Nancy replied angrily. "We'll never make it to Brady Crossing! Not now!"
There was a polite cough from behind George. "Pleased to meet you, Nancy Drew," Duke said, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Any friend of Georgie's is a friend of mine. And by the way, I'm a licensed mechanic. Why don't y'let me take a look under the hood? Could be something minor." Even while he was talking he was moving around to the front of the car.
"Thanks," Nancy said. "I appreciate the offer." Her frustration was apparent as she opened the door and got out. George climbed out of the passenger side and joined the two of them.
Duke was standing in front of the Mustang, hood up, shaking his head. "Can't believe this would happen in a high-class place like this," he said. He looked over at Nancy. "Almost new battery?" he repeated.
She nodded.
"No battery is more accurate," he said, pointing to the gaping hole where the battery should have been.
Chapter Fifteen
NANCY POUNDED HER FIST on the fender. "That woman thinks of everything!" she said angrily. "I should have guessed that she'd mess up my car—just in case we escaped!" Duke gave her a quizzical glance. "Escaped?" "She knew exactly what to go for," George said, ignoring Duke's question. "She got a good look at your car in Wright's driveway. No question about who took it."
"You know a woman who steals batteries?" Duke said. "Man, oh man, now I've heard everything." He dropped the hood and snapped it into place. "Well, gals," he drawled, "looks like you're not going anywhere in this car." He took off his cowboy hat and waved it with a flourish in front of them, almost losing his balance with the gesture. "Oops! Duke's chauffeur service is at your service! Where would you like to go? The night is young. You want t'go look for this woman that stole your battery? Fd kind of like to get a look at her myself."
Nancy looked at her watch. It was a few minutes before midnight. "Duke," she said, "what we'd really like to do is borrow your car. We need to have a vehicle tonight—now!"
Duke looked at her with a half grin on his face. "Life and death situation, right?"
"That's exactly what it is," Nancy replied. "And we don't have much time. Where do you live?"
Duke pointed off to the north. "Oh, about ten minutes from here. But I don't have a car. Will a truck do?"
"Perfect!" Nancy said.
"So y'all are going to give me a ride home and take my truck, right?"
"Right, if you give me permission," Nancy replied with a grin.
Duke reached into his pockets and pulled out a key ring, dangling it in front of Nancy. "I'll give you permission if you promise me you'll keep it away from the Battery Lady," he said, stifling a yawn. "I'm ready for a nap. Tell you what. You can be my designated driver. I'll even give you permission to use my new cellular phone."
"Deal!" Nancy said, taking the keys and giving him a smile. "You may be saving someone's life. What's your address?"
"Number 2251 Lester Circle. My truck's parked right down here. It's that big white one." He lumbered off down the row with Nancy and George at his heels.
"What time is it?" Nancy asked George, when they got on the road. Duke's head was resting on George's shoulder, and he was snoring softly. Driving conditions were terrible. The streets were iced over, and the freezing rain had not abated. Nancy's impatience was evident.
"Twelve-ten," George said.
"Pray that the train will be late," Nancy said
grimly, "or we'll never make it." She pulled into the driveway of Duke's house.
"Duke," George said, reaching across him and opening the passenger door. "Wake up. You're home. Thanks for the loan of your truck."
"You're welcome," he said groggily. "Bring it back in the morning."
"We will," George promised.
"With a battery," he added, wagging his finger at her.
"With a battery," George replied.
They were backing out of the driveway when Duke hurried off the porch, waving his arms.
"What now?" Nancy said, applying the brakes.
Duke, fully awakened by the weather, rushed up to the truck. "My house key is on that key ring," he said to Nancy.
She turned off the ignition and handed him the keys. "Please hurry," she begged, feeling more and more frustrated.
A few minutes later George and Nancy were heading for County Road 5 and Brady Crossing. The windshield wipers beat an annoying rhythmic pulse that only smeared the frozen slush across the glass and reminded them of the passing minutes. They were out of the city now, and the gloomy flat fields stretched out on both sides, with deep ditches defining the roadway. Once, when Nancy touched the brake as a startled opossum scurried across the road, the truck went into a skid on the glazed surface. Expertly, she steered into the skid, then managed to pull the truck back on course without a major mishap.
"Nice recovery," George said, gripping the dashboard. "Let's see . . . if the train goes through town at twelve thirty-two, I figure it won't get to Brady Crossing until about twelve thirty-seven. If the storm has slowed it down, it might be twelve forty." She squinted at her watch in the light from the dashboard. "By my watch, we have about eight minutes till twelve thirty-seven. What's the plan?"
Nancy glanced over at her. "The terrain is so flat here, we'll be able to see the train coming from a few miles down. I figure that they'll park Kamla's car on the tracks . . ." She shuddered.
"With Kamla in it."
"Yes. Probably propped up in the driver's seat but unconscious."
"Nan." George paused, as if her thought was too terrible to voice. "Do you think that they've already killed her?"
Nancy shook her head. "No, forensic science is too good these days. The coroner could determine if she was dead before the train hit, and that would put Shelley and her friends back on the suspect list. They can't set up Kamla to be the kidnapper if she's already dead in her car." Nancy sighed. "I think Shelley will give her a shot, the same as she did with us, and probably cover for any traces of a sedative that the coroner might find in an autopsy by putting a bottle of pills in Kamla's purse. That way it will look like she took the drug voluntarily. And thanks to her henchman Frank, Shelley assumes that we're not around to blow her plans."
"Okay," George said, "here's what we'll do. You get as close to the track as you can without being on it, so I can jump out and pull Kamla from the driver's seat. Then—"
"No way!" Nancy protested. "I can't put you in jeopardy, too. I'll go for Kamla."
"Nan, use your head. We're talking seconds, not minutes. I can have my seat belt undone and my hand on the door handle before you even stop the truck. You can't do that. Just get me as close to the driver's side of Kamla's car as you can."
Nancy groaned and bit her lip. Tears glazed her eyes as she looked over at George, with only the sound of the wipers and the wind interrupting the silence. Finally, Nancy spoke. "I should have had you drive," she said quietly.
"We're agreed, then? I get Kamla."
"Agreed. But, George, be careful. I ... I don't want to . . ." Her voice choked. "I don't want to lose two friends."
"Nan, I promise you. I plan to be around to see Shelley Lawson in court."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Nancy smiled. "Me, too. That will be one happy day," she said. "We're only a couple of miles away now. Can you see anything?"
George rolled down the window and peered into the night, protecting her face from the biting wind with her hand. The sleet had stopped, so visibility had improved, but the sky was black with the promise of more. She stared out across the barren fields, straining to see any sign of the train. "Listen," she whispered. "Is that the wind I'm hearing or the Midnight Flyer?" The truck's powerful engine blurred the night sounds, and George involuntarily closed her eyes, as if shutting off her sight would make her hearing more acute. "It's the horn! I'm sure! I can't see it yet, but I can hear it!"
She felt the truck lurch forward as Nancy pressed down on the gas pedal, racing against the lonely wail of the train's siren. They rode in silence, each girl intent on the job at hand.
"I can see the headlight now," George said calmly.
Nancy glanced to her right. From miles down the track, the sweeping white light of the train's headlight swung across the dark fields, disappearing into the dark sky, only to reappear on the ground seconds later. "We're close," she said. "Look! Up ahead!"
George stared down the two-lane road. A feeble red glow came from the taillights of a vehicle on the tracks, and both girls knew, even without being close enough to identify it, that the car belonged to Kamla.
"I don't see a police car," Nancy said. And then to herself, "Oh, please, Sam, have one on the way!" Her heart thudded in her chest as she fought to keep the big truck on the icy pavement. Increased speed had also increased the loss of traction. "George, time to call 911. Get us an ambulance and a squad car."
"Right!" George picked up Duke's new cellular phone from the tray and completed the call quickly. "Lucky for us he has this new toy," she said.
"There's another car up there," Nancy said, "on the other side of the tracks." She pointed at two large red taillights that shone like beacons compared to Kamla's. "A big car. Look at the exhaust. Motor's running, lights are on!"
"Shelley's goons," George muttered.
"Yes, and those sleazebags are going to take off—once they're sure their plan is going to work."
"Their plan isn't going to work," George said, unfastening her seat belt. She made sure the door was unlocked and gripped the handle firmly. "I'm ready."
The train itself was visible now, still several miles down the track, but approaching relentlessly, with its circling white light casting an eerie glow on the landscape and its haunting siren piercing the frigid air.
"They're pulling away!" Nancy yelled. "They saw our lights coming at them!"
"Nan!" George's voice was a whisper, as she stared at the approaching train. "It's coming too fast! We're not going to make it."
"Yes, we are!" Nancy said grimly, glancing at the train. "Don't get out! Belt up!" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I hope they've belted Kamla in."
George held her breath and fastened her seat belt while Nancy slowed the truck enough to maneuver it into position behind the small gray car on the tracks. The truck's reduction in speed seemed to m^agnify the acceleration of the train, which was bearing down on them.
"Brace yourself, George, we're going across!"
With teeth clenched in determination, and both hands tightly gripping the wheel, Nancy stepped on the gas, aiming straight for the back bumper of Kamla's car.
Chapter Sixteen
ONLY THEIR SEAT BELTS kept Nancy and George from hitting the windshield as the truck slammed into the small car, pushing it ahead of them to safety on the other side of the tracks. The back end of the big truck shimmied with the rush of air created as the Midnight Flyer roared through.
Nancy laid her head down on the wheel. "Made it," she whispered. "Are you okay?"
"I'm okay. My nerves will never be the same, but I'm okay." With a trembling hand, George reached for the door handle. "Let's get Kamla."
Kamla's car had veered off to the right on impact and was perched on the edge of a drainage ditch, its damaged rear end badly crumpled.
Nancy ran to the driver's side door and wrenched it open. Kamla was propped up behind the steering wheel and had been belted in. Her face was drained of color, and a bump was forming on h
er forehead where, Nancy assumed, her head had flopped forward and hit the wheel. She was very still.
"Is she—" George couldn't bring herself even to ask the question.
Nancy felt for a pulse. It was there, weak but steady. "She's alive," she said, nodding.
"I'll get a blanket," George said, running back to the truck.
Nancy took Kamla's small icy hand between both of hers, rubbing it to give warmth. Then she unfastened the seat belt and lifted Kamla so that George could wrap a blanket around her. Together, they carried Kamla to the warmth of the truck and laid her out on the seat and waited for the ambulance to arrive.
"I'll get her purse and personal stuff out of the car," Nancy said. "The police will have it towed as evidence. The truck has only a little dent."
Leaving George with Kamla, Nancy walked the short distance to the car. The overhead light wasn't working, so she slid in under the steering wheel and felt around on the passenger side for a handbag. Kamla's large tapestry bag was on the floor, and Nancy grasped the bone handles and pulled it up to the seat. That was when she heard it.
A cough. A short muted raspy cough. Just one. Almost hke someone clearing his throat. The sound was coming from the backseat.
Nancy leapt out of the car and pushed the release on the seat, tilting it forward. And then she stood, staring down at the small, crumpled figure on the floor. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she turned back to the truck.
"I need another blanket!" she yelled to George. "Jeremy's in the car! Hurry!"
In moments George was at the car. She and Nancy debated lifting Jeremy from the floor to the backseat but decided to tuck a blanket around him and leave him where he was.
"He didn't have a seat belt on," George said, frowning. "If he was on the seat and thrown to the floor on impact, he may have broken bones."
Nancy nodded. "Yes, but he's alive! That's the important thing."
"I wish that ambulance would come," George said. "I'm going back to Kamla."
Stolen Affections Page 9
