Date With Deception

by Carolyn Keene

  “Well, I learned that Jetstream is convinced Gary leaked the plans,” Nancy told him, as they threaded their way between sunbathers stretched out on colorful beach towels.

  “But you?” Sasha asked, picking up his towel and drying himself. “Are you convinced?”

  Nancy dried off, too. “I have a lot of doubts,” she said, tossing her towel down and taking her coin purse out of her beach bag. “Jetstream should, too. After all, they’re still working on the plane. If Gary’s not the leak, and Aviane gets hold of any plans after this, Jetstream’s really going to look pretty foolish.”

  Sasha nodded. “The trick is to learn exactly what has been leaked and what might be leaked in the future,” he said as they walked on. “I would start with the plans themselves.”

  “So would I,” Nancy agreed. “If I could get my hands on them.”

  “You see?” he asked with a grin. “We think alike. I told you I love mysteries. You should let me help you.”

  “Thanks, but you’ve got your hands full with the rehearsals,” she said. “I saw you dance this morning, Sasha, and I don’t think Dmitri needs to worry about you disgracing your country. You’re wonderful.”

  “Thank you. A compliment from you means a lot.” They were climbing over a dune, and Sasha reached out for Nancy’s hand. “Nancy,” he said. “You must let me tell you something. I have met a lot of girls on my travels, and I admit, I have flirted a lot.”

  Nancy swallowed. His blue eyes were so serious. She knew she should stop him now, before he said anything he might regret, but something held her back for a moment. Maybe I just want to hear him flatter me, she thought guiltily. Maybe I just like the attention!

  “I admit, too, that I have flirted with you,” Sasha went on. “But it was not in fun, like the others. Nancy, I am—”

  “Sasha, wait.” Nancy freed her hand and took a deep breath. It was time to set him straight. “I like you a lot,” she said, “but I have a boyfriend. Back in River Heights. His name is Ned, and we’ve been together for a long time.”

  “Are you getting bored with him, maybe?” Sasha asked hopefully.

  Nancy shook her head, almost wishing she had a different answer for him. “No, I’m not. I like you and I want to have fun, Sasha, but I think you should find someone else to flirt with.”

  “So.” Sasha stood still, thinking a minute. Then he nodded, his light brown hair shining in the sun. “I think you want me to back off*. Okay. I will.” He reached out and draped his towel around Nancy’s neck, pulling her a little closer to him. “For now I will back off,” he said. “But not forever.”

  With another grin, he turned and sprinted up the beach toward the concession stand. Nancy followed more slowly, his towel still around her neck. The conversation hadn’t gone exactly the way she’d planned. She had the feeling Sasha wasn’t convinced about her feelings for Ned. Well, that’s his problem, she thought. At least she’d told him.

  The concession stand was busy, and Nancy found most of the others from the institute there. Everybody seemed to have gotten hungry at the same time. Bess was there, drinking a diet soda and talking with the two Canadian dancers they had driven to the beach. Both guys, of course.

  Sasha had just joined Marina and Dmitri, who were standing with Jacques, the dancer from France. Dmitri hadn’t been swimming, but he was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Maybe he’s unbending a little, Nancy thought with a smile.

  Tying Sasha’s towel around her waist, Nancy got in line and bought a soda and three hot dogs. Two were for her, and the third was for Sasha. When she turned around, she didn’t see him. The two men were gone, too, but she did catch a glimpse of Marina, dressed in a rose-colored swimsuit, heading for the parking area. They must be leaving. It was funny that Sasha hadn’t told her.

  Hungrily, Nancy wolfed down one hot dog in about five bites. Balancing the other two and the can of soda, she started after Marina.

  When she got to the parking area, she saw Marina and Sasha standing beside a bank of pay phones. Their gestures told her they were having a heated discussion of some kind. Sasha glanced up, spotted Nancy, and beckoned her over.

  “Are you going?” Nancy called. She stepped onto the hot asphalt. As she winced at the sudden pain in her bare feet, she heard a scream.

  Marina was screaming and staring directly at Nancy, an expression of horror on her beautiful face.

  Then Nancy heard the car. It was off to her left, moving straight at her, coming fast. She could tell from the sound that it wouldn’t stop.

  Chapter

  Six

  DROPPING THE SODA, Nancy dove for the sand, the hot dogs flying out of her hands and arcing away. The sharp grains bit into her bare legs and arms as she skidded over the sand. Tumbling, she heard another scream and thought it must be Marina again. Then, finally, she heard the car brake. It screeched hideously, showering her with more sand before it finally came to a stop.

  Breathing hard, Nancy slowly got to her feet. The car was exactly where she’d been standing seconds before, the soda can flattened under its right front wheel.

  The car doors flew open, and Dmitri and Jacques scrambled out. They were shouting in a mixture of English, Russian, and French.

  “Nancy!” Sasha called, hurrying over to her. “Are you okay?”

  “Scratched up a bit,” she said. “But okay. What happened?”

  Dmitri, Jacques, and Marina joined them, and the chaperon spoke quickly in Russian, gesturing toward the car a lot.

  “He’s too upset to think properly in English,” Marina told Nancy. “He says that the car just took off.”

  “I felt it, too,” Jacques said. “It simply surged forward.”

  “I’ve heard of that happening,” Nancy said, brushing sand off her arms. “I think you’d better leave the car here. I can take you wherever you were going.”

  “Dmitri was giving me a ride back to the institute,” Jacques put in quickly. “I have an extra rehearsal this afternoon.”

  Nancy shrugged. “I’ll give you a ride. Mr. Kolchak, if you call the rental company, they’ll come for this car and give you another one.”

  “Yes,” Dmitri said. “I will do exactly that. I must apologize, Miss Drew. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

  “Yes, and please don’t apologize,” Nancy said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  Looking at Dmitri and Jacques, Nancy did wonder—had it really been an accident? She thought cars that went out of control had all been recalled. Was there another faulty batch of them on the road, or had the “accident” been deliberate?

  • • •

  “Just an accident, definitely,” Bess said. “Really, Nancy, I can’t believe Jacques is involved in espionage.”

  Nancy and Bess had taken Jacques to the institute before dropping Dmitri, Sasha, and Marina off at their house. Now they were on their way back to Eloise’s.

  “He does seem to spend a lot of time with Marina and Dmitri, even though—as far as I know—they never met before this program started,” Nancy reasoned out loud. “And I told you how they stopped talking the second they saw me at the rehearsal.”

  “So? Maybe they were just gossiping and didn’t want you to hear.”

  “Dmitri used to be a pilot, Bess. He knows planes. And Sasha said they were going to France next. Who knows? Maybe Dmitri will be taking some Jetstream plans with him. And why was Dmitri giving Jacques a ride back, anyway? It’s very unlike him to leave Sasha and Marina alone for even a few minutes.”

  “Hold it,” Bess interrupted. “There could be other explanations, you know. Maybe Marina and Jacques are interested in each other—maybe that’s why he hangs around the Soviets so much. They’re not the only ones going to France next—all the dancers are. Jacques did have a rehearsal this afternoon—I heard Dana telling him to be back early. Maybe Dmitri was just being nice.”

  “I know, I know,” Nancy agreed.

  “Besides,” Bess went on, “the car accident happened after you told Sasha about y
our visit to Jetstream. What are you saying? That Sasha told Dmitri and then Dmitri and Jacques decided to scare you?”

  Nancy shook her head. She wasn’t sure. Her idea that Dmitri and Jacques were go-betweens for Bill Fairgate (or someone at Jetstream) and Aviane did seem kind of farfetched. But the theory was possible, and as long as it was possible, she decided she’d better be careful. More than a soda can might get crushed the next time.

  When Nancy and Bess got home, they found Eileen Martin sitting with Eloise in the white, sunny kitchen. The two women were drinking iced tea and going over a sample program of the institute’s opening performance.

  “Nancy, Bess!” Eloise stood up, a look of concern on her face. “Eileen told me about Gary. I simply can’t believe it. George must be so upset.”

  “She is,” Nancy agreed. “Is she back yet?”

  “No, but she called just a little bit ago,” Eloise said. “She told me to tell you that she and Gary uncovered something.”

  “Does that mean they’re trying to investigate this themselves?” Eileen asked.

  “Well, Gary’s reputation is on the line,” Nancy said, wondering what he and George had found out about Bill Fairgate. “And he’s out of a job. He must feel he has to do something.”

  Eileen nodded, frowning. “I can understand that,” she said. “But I’m not so sure it’s a wise idea. He might get himself into more trouble.”

  “How could he get into more trouble than he’s already in?” Bess asked, taking two glasses from the cupboard and pouring Nancy and herself some tea.

  “Because if he’s not the leak,” Nancy explained, “then whoever is might do just about anything to stop Gary from finding that out.”

  Bess looked worried, but Eileen laughed. “Heavens, I didn’t mean it that way!” she said. “I just meant that Gary should probably have a detective do his investigating for him, that’s all.”

  “He does,” Bess said. “He’s got Nancy. If anyone can get to the bottom of this, she can.”

  “I’m sure she can. It’s just that Jetstream thinks it’s already gotten to the bottom of the question.” Eileen smiled at Nancy. “You must think they’re wrong.”

  “I’m not sure of anything yet,” Nancy said, taking a sip of tea. “But I’m going to keep on digging until I am sure.”

  Eileen left a few minutes later, and soon after that, George and Gary arrived in Gary’s car.

  “Guess what?” George said excitedly as the two of them burst into the kitchen. “Bill Fairgate’s really into the stock market.”

  “One of my buddies, another pilot,” Gary said, “told me that Fairgate’s always giving him tips, telling him what stocks are up or down and what to invest in.” He slapped the table in satisfaction. “It’s got to be him!”

  Nancy tried to smile, but she knew Gary’s information wasn’t really incriminating. So Bill Fairgate liked to play the stock market. It might show that he was eager to make lots of money, but it certainly wasn’t illegal. Gary was just eager to place the blame on the first likely person to come along. Not that Nancy could blame him.

  “What is it, Nan?” George asked, frowning. “Don’t tell me you don’t think this is important.”

  Nancy sighed. Things would be a lot easier if Gary wasn’t George’s boyfriend. George was on his side, of course, but Nancy had to try to keep an open mind.

  “It could be important,” Nancy said. “But we need a lot more before we can accuse Bill Fairgate of anything. It would be nice if he’d just invested a huge amount of money,” she added with a smile.

  “We can try to find that out,” Gary said.

  “Okay,” Nancy agreed. “But I keep thinking we’re starting in the middle instead of the beginning. I wish there was some way to see the Jetstar plans. If we could figure out what was leaked, we might be able to figure out who leaked it.”

  “Maybe this will help,” Eloise said. She’d been listening quietly, clearing off the table, and now she held up that day’s newspaper. “ ‘Jetstream Fends Off Challenge in Race for Skies,’ ” she read.

  Everyone crowded around Eloise as she read the article aloud. “ ‘Aviane, France’s leading designer-manufacturer of jet planes, said in a surprise announcement today that it is nearing completion of a plane it hopes will corner the highly lucrative market of small, privately owned business jets.

  “ ‘Aviane didn’t reveal the plans for its plane, but it did say that the new jet contains innovations that are sure to have similar businesses scrambling to catch up.

  “ ‘It is well-known that Jetstream, a local company and a fierce competitor of Aviane’s, has been developing a similar plane for almost three years. Asked about the possibility of industrial espionage, a spokesman for Jetstream refused to comment, saying only that its plane, the Jetstar, would be ready for the market in the very near future. The spokesman also said that Jetstream had full confidence in its ability to head off Aviane’s challenge.’ ”

  Eloise shook her head. “I guess it doesn’t really tell us much.”

  “Except that Jetstream’s closed the book on me,” Gary commented bitterly.

  “This reporter,” Nancy said, looking at the paper. “Susan Wexler. She sounds like she suspects something. I wonder if I could talk to her.”

  “Well, she lives right here in the Hamptons,” Eloise told her. “I met her once. She’s a very nice young woman. Let me get her number for you.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Eloise. Maybe I can meet with her tonight.” Nancy thought a minute. “We’re taking Sasha and Marina to the Lobster Tank tonight. Maybe Susan Wexler can meet us there.”

  “I don’t think Gary and I are in the mood for a place with loud rock music,” George said.

  “Oh, you have to come!” Bess said.

  “Maybe you should,” Nancy agreed. “It hasn’t exactly been a great day for you. Maybe some music will help you forget for a while.”

  “Right,” Bess said. “It’ll be fun, you’ll see. A lot of people from the institute will be there.”

  George laughed wryly. “Yves Goulard, too?”

  “Well, naturally,” Bess said with a conspiratorial grin. “That’s why it’s going to be so much fun.”

  • • •

  Nancy drove George, Gary, and Bess to the Lobster Tank in her little rented Honda, stopping off at the house where the Soviet dancers were staying. The plan had been for Bess to borrow Dmitri’s car to drive Sasha and Marina to the club, but Dmitri wouldn’t allow that.

  “I will take Sasha and Marina,” he declared, drawing his beetling brows together. “They should not go out unsupervised.”

  “Wow, you’d think Dmitri was a KGB agent or something, the way he watches those two,” Bess commented.

  Nancy nodded, glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure Dmitri was still behind her. He had gotten a new rental car, a dark blue sedan. He was still there. Nancy turned her gaze away almost instantly. Dmitri’s high beams practically blinded her. “Maybe he is KGB. Maybe he’s afraid they’ll defect,” she suggested, smiling.

  The Lobster Tank wasn’t fancy; it was in a plain, weather-beaten building and served only pretzels and soda. It did have live music, though, and plenty of room to dance, and it was one of the most popular clubs in the Hamptons. The band that night was called Blackjack, and by the time Nancy arrived, the place was jumping.

  “Oh, look, everybody from the institute’s here,” Bess said excitedly. She pointed out a pretty, petite girl with dark blond hair who was dancing with a handsome guy with a sullen face. “There’s Emily Terner, and her boyfriend, Keith—cute, but kind of a jerk. And there’s Jacques. . . . And there’s Yves!” Bess waved to the handsome, dark-eyed accompanist. Smoothing back her blond hair, she started across the dance floor toward him, moving in time to the music.

  Gary took George’s hand. “Come on,” he said, “let’s dance. Maybe Nancy and Bess are right, that it’ll take our minds off this rotten day.”

  Sasha, looking great in jeans and
a black T-shirt, turned to Nancy, smiling. “This is a wonderful place!” he shouted over the music. “I’m going to dance until I drop!”

  Even Marina looked excited at the scene. She stood tapping her foot to the pulsing beat of the music, and when Sasha grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the floor, she threw back her head and laughed with pleasure.

  Nancy hid her surprise that Sasha hadn’t asked her to dance. Oh, well, why should she mind? Anyway, she had other things to think about.

  Dmitri sat down by himself at an empty table and glowered as his charges enjoyed themselves on the dance floor. Nancy’s interest was caught for a second by Jacques as he approached Dmitri’s table, but the French dancer merely smiled and walked on by.

  Nancy bought a soda and checked her watch. She’d reached the reporter, Susan Wexler, who’d been eager to talk about Jetstream—especially after Nancy had told her that a Jetstream pilot would be part of the group. She wouldn’t be there for another half hour, so Nancy found a table and sat down to watch the action.

  The place was packed. After twenty minutes, Nancy lost track of almost everyone except Sasha. He was easy to spot, moving through the crowd, dancing with just about everyone. He danced as well to rock as to ballet music, and Nancy had trouble keeping her eyes off him. At least, she thought, he’s been keeping his promise about backing off.

  Sasha whirled in time to the music and caught Nancy staring at him. He grinned and waved—and then he winked.

  Nancy shook her head, smiling to herself. Sasha might be backing off, but he wasn’t giving up. Nancy had the feeling he’d be at her side before long, so she decided to take a quick walk outside. She could use some fresh air.

  The Lobster Tank was right at the edge of an inlet, and the breeze felt sticky with salt but cool. Nancy was thinking about Jetstream, when she noticed a piece of paper stuck under the windshield wiper of her car.

  Probably from the Lobster Tank, she thought, advertising a new band or something. She pulled the paper off and looked at it.

  Scrawled across the back of a flyer, in black Magic Marker, was her name. Underneath it was a warning: “Stop now your investigation of Jetstream or you will regret it. Curious detectives do not die of old age.”