Into Thin Air

by Carolyn Keene

  Nancy nodded. “It was a well-planned getaway,” she said. “First Johnson built a bomb with a timer. While he was in the air, he changed his clothing and left his old clothes on board, soaked in animal blood. He came over the fields low and bailed out onto a haystack. The helicopter kept going until the bomb blew it up. That way Johnson didn’t have to have a body. After the fuss died down, Johnson made his way to River Heights.”

  Chief McGinnis nodded with satisfaction. “It’s all beginning to make sense,” he said. “Let me fill in a few missing details for you. Johnson was in the naval air corps when he was a young man. He knew how to fly a chopper, and he had experience with all kinds of explosive devices.”

  “Whew!” George said. “He sounds more like a guerrilla fighter than a real estate executive.”

  “That’s not such a wild comparison,” McGinnis replied. His brow wrinkled with concern. “In fact, it’s very appropriate. Let me give you all a word of warning. Christopher Johnson is a ruthless customer. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants.”

  “We’ll be okay,” Mark assured him.

  “There are just a few more things we need to check out,” Nancy added.

  “I know better than to try to talk you out of investigating a case, Nancy,” the chief said, “but next time, come to me before it gets dangerous. Is that clear?”

  “I promise,” Nancy said.

  When Chief McGinnis said they could go, Nancy drove Mark and George back to River Heights. They stopped at Bess’s house to see if their friend was back from her date. She was, and she waved them into the Marvins’ comfortable living room, where they flopped down on the overstuffed sofa and easy chairs.

  Nancy listened with half an ear as Bess gave them all the details of her date. She was thinking hard, and some of the pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place.

  “So how was the helicopter ride?” Bess inquired at last.

  George and Mark quickly filled her in. Her big blue eyes grew increasingly wider.

  “You were almost killed!” she exclaimed when they were done.

  “But we weren’t, thanks to Nancy.” Mark turned to her. “You’re amazing,” he exclaimed, getting up and planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Not only did you save us, but you turned my klutziness into something that helped you figure out a piece of the puzzle.”

  “Mark, it’s time to stop thinking of yourself as a klutz. The fact is, you’ve done a fantastic job on this investigation from day one,” Nancy told him. “You haven’t made a wrong move yet.”

  “Except that when I had Johnson, I blew it,” Mark said, with a frown.

  “I think I know what Nancy’s getting at, Mark!” George put in. Her brown eyes opened wide as realization struck. “You didn’t blow the case. Johnson must have had advance warning.” She checked Nancy for confirmation of her idea.

  “That’s right.” Nancy nodded. “Johnson had an accomplice. Someone helped him. Someone warned him. And someone alerted him to the fact that we were going up in that helicopter tonight. The big question now is—who?”

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  THE FOUR SAT IN SILENCE for a minute, thinking over Nancy’s question.

  “Could Mac have let the information slip innocently, Nancy?” George suggested at last. “He might have left our names on a log in his office in a place where anybody could see them.”

  “That’s possible, I suppose,” Nancy said, although she was unconvinced. “But it wouldn’t explain all the other things Johnson seems to have known about. Let’s see, who else knew about our ride? Aside from Hannah and Ned, I didn’t tell a soul.”

  “The only ones I told were my parents,” George said.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Bess piped up.

  “Well—” Mark gulped. A flush started creeping up his face from his throat. “I, um, actually told a couple of people we were coming out here tonight.”

  Everyone turned to him.

  “Well, I didn’t say why I was going up in a helicopter,” he said, defending himself. “It’s just that someone at the pizza place asked me what I was doing tonight.”

  “You said you told a couple of people,” Nancy probed. “Who else?”

  “Well, I mentioned it at work, so there were several people around, including a few customers. But I didn’t recognize any of them.”

  “That’s just great,” George muttered sarcastically.

  “And then there were the Bradford sisters,” Mark continued. “They were on the porch this morning, and we started chatting. Me and my big mouth. Oh, and I told Linda, too, last night when we were on the phone. But I’m sure she didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Okay,” Nancy said, “There’s no sense in getting upset about what’s already happened. Just be more careful in the future, okay, Mark?”

  “Sure will,” Mark promised, his head still hanging.

  “Can we go now?” George asked, “I’m beat.”

  “Yes,” Nancy said, standing up. “I want to get a good night’s sleep, if I can. Tomorrow’s going to be busy.”

  “Oh?” Mark asked, intrigued.

  “Chief McGinnis is going to have Artie Wilson’s apartment searched,” Nancy explained. “If Johnson is there, the case will be closed.”

  “That sounds a little vague,” George said softly, walking with Nancy to the front door and holding it open. “It’s not like you to just wait for the police to do something.”

  “I’ll tell you later,” Nancy whispered to George. Revealing her plans with Mark around didn’t seem like the best idea at the moment.

  • • •

  The next morning Nancy was up early. Before breakfast she was on the phone to Chief McGinnis. He told her that his men had searched the Wilson apartment, and there were signs that someone had been living there. But it was empty when his men had arrived. Johnson had flown the coop again. Before he hung up, McGinnis once again warned Nancy to be careful.

  “Thanks,” she replied before saying goodbye. She hurried to the kitchen, toasted an English muffin, and ate it quickly.

  “Will you be home for lunch, Nancy?” Hannah wanted to know.

  “Not today, but I will see you tonight.”

  Blowing Hannah a kiss, Nancy grabbed her car keys and tore out to the driveway. On the drive to Brewster, she went over the case. There were a few pieces of the puzzle missing, and the most important was the identity of Johnson’s accomplice.

  Since Johnson had been warned of the sting being set up by Crabtree, Nancy reasoned that it was logical to suspect someone within the agency. She needed to take a closer look at Crabtree and Company.

  A little while later, she pulled into the underground parking lot under the office tower that housed Crabtree.

  Her heels clicking on the polished granite floor, Nancy strode purposefully to the elevator and rode up to the agency offices on the nineteenth floor.

  “I’d like to talk to Mr. Crabtree, as soon as possible,” she told the receptionist, who sat behind an old-fashioned oak desk.

  “Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked in a clipped tone.

  “No, but I have some important information on the Anderson Industries case. It’s rather urgent,” Nancy added.

  “Name, please,” the receptionist murmured.

  “Nancy Drew,” Nancy replied.

  Still looking at her with cool suspicion, the secretary used the intercom. “Mr. Crabtree, there’s a young woman named Nancy Drew here to see you. She says it’s in reference to the Anderson Industries case.”

  Soon Nancy was ushered into Archer Crabtree’s large corner office. Crabtree was a tall, well-dressed man of about fifty, with silver hair and tired-looking brown eyes. “Well, what is it?” he asked.

  After introducing herself, Nancy said, “I think you should know that Christopher Johnson is alive and has an accomplice inside this agency.”

  Crabtree shrugged nonchalantly. “Alive? Impossible! And if you’re talking about Mark Rubin, he�
�s already been fired.”

  “It’s not Mark Rubin. It’s someone else,” Nancy said in a firm voice.

  The executive became more interested. “Do you have any proof?”

  “No—not exactly,” Nancy said hesitantly. “But I do know that Johnson is still alive, and the police might be reopening the investigation.” She deliberately fudged the information, not wanting to give away Chief McGinnis’s intentions.

  Crabtree held her eyes and his finger went to the intercom on his desk. “Get Hal Slade in here right away,” he ordered. “Mr. Slade is the investigator who handled the Anderson Industries case.”

  “But, Mr. Crabtree,” the receptionist protested. “Mr. Slade is with a client.”

  “I don’t care if he’s with the president of the United States, get him in here right now. Tell him it’s urgent—it’s about the Anderson case.”

  So, Nancy thought. It hadn’t occurred to Mr. Crabtree that Slade might be the person they were after. Did that mean that Slade could be trusted—or did it just mean that Mr. Crabtree had overlooked him as a suspect?

  Moments later an overweight man with thinning hair and watery eyes entered. He had Linda Bates in tow. “I brought Linda in so she could take notes,” he told Crabtree, taking Nancy in curiously.

  Linda, lovely as ever in a crisp blue business suit and pumps, had a pen and pad in her hand as she stepped forward. “Nancy!” she blurted out. “What are you doing here?”

  “You know this woman?” Crabtree asked sharply.

  “Yes,” Linda answered softly. “She’s a—friend of my aunts.”

  “I see.” Crabtree settled down behind his desk and gazed at Nancy. “Now, tell us everything, but make it quick if you will. This is a busy agency, and we’re busy people.”

  “Christopher Johnson has an accomplice, and it’s someone who works in this agency,” Nancy said, shifting her gaze from Crabtree to Slade.

  “You mean ‘had,’ not ‘has,’ ” Slade commented. “Mark Rubin’s out, and Johnson’s dead.”

  “No, he’s not,” Nancy told him. “He’s alive.”

  “Oh?” Hal Slade challenged tersely. “And how do you know that?”

  “He’s been seen,” Nancy said. “And the clothes the police found when Johnson’s helicopter blew up didn’t have Johnson’s blood on them. It was sheet’s blood. Johnson faked his death that night. He arranged for the helicopter to blow up after he’d already escaped.”

  Nancy noticed that Slade had become uncomfortable looking. She continued. “What’s more, I’m convinced that Mark Rubin wasn’t Johnson’s accomplice. Last night Johnson or his accomplice tried to kill me and Mark because we were getting close to finding him.”

  “This sounds like a work of fiction to me, Mr. Crabtree,” Slade snapped.

  “Well, it sounds like it’s worth looking into to me,” Crabtree said, overruling him. “Our client, Anderson Industries, has lost a million dollars. That’s reason enough to reopen the investigation.”

  “Then I’ll get on it right away.” Slade smiled at his boss.

  Nancy caught his eye as he and Linda walked out of the office. Slade looked furious.

  “Thank you for coming here, Miss Drew,” Crabtree told her, standing up. “I’ve heard of some of your work in the past, which of course gives your information a certain weight. We’ll look into this matter right away.”

  Nancy walked out into the reception area, where she found Linda Bates waiting for her. Slade was nowhere in sight.

  “Nancy, I can’t believe that about the explosion last night. It’s awful. You could have been killed!” Linda said.

  “Thankfully, I’m still around.” Nancy smiled. Just as she turned toward the elevators, something occurred to her. She turned back to Linda. “By the way, Mark told you we were going up in the helicopter last night, didn’t he?”

  Linda seemed surprised, but then she nodded. “Yes, I guess he did,” she agreed.

  “Did you tell anyone?”

  The blond woman shrugged. “No, I—” Suddenly her eyes widened. “Actually I did. I mentioned it to Hal, that’s all.”

  Nancy forced a carefree smile. “Oh. Well, don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’ve got to go.” She walked to the elevator and pressed the button for the garage. As soon as the doors closed and it began descending, Nancy felt excitement shoot through her.

  She had certainly shaken things up at Crabtree. More than that, she thought she had a good idea who Johnson’s accomplice was.

  If Linda had told Hal Slade about their helicopter trip, then Slade was the obvious connection to Johnson. Slade had been in a position to tip Johnson off about the sting as well. And Slade had certainly tried to keep Mark from investigating Johnson.

  Yes, Nancy thought, it seemed as if the whole thing was a setup by Johnson and Slade from the very beginning.

  She stepped off the elevator and pushed through the heavy door to the garage. Her car was several rows down, and she dug her keys out of her purse as she made her way toward it.

  After getting into her car and fastening her seat belt, Nancy felt a hand grab her from behind. Someone was in the back seat! Strong fingers began to close around her neck.

  “Don’t bother screaming, Little Miss Detective,” a male voice snarled. “No one can hear you down here.”

  Chapter

  Fourteen

  NANCY RECOGNIZED THE VOICE instantly. It was Hal Slade!

  “What do you want?” she asked, unpleasantly aware of his fingers pressing into her skin.

  Slade relaxed his grip slightly. “Don’t act innocent,” he growled, showing his teeth. “I’ve been onto you for quite some time.”

  “What do you mean, ‘onto’ me?” Nancy said.

  “I spotted you following me out of the landfill,” Slade snapped. “I’m a private eye, remember? Now, are you going to drop this business or aren’t you?”

  “It’s too late,” Nancy shot back. “Especially now that the police are involved again.”

  “Let me tell you something,” he said, giving her a twisted little smile. “I don’t believe for a minute that Christopher Johnson is still alive, but one thing I do believe—there’s a whole lot of cash out there somewhere, just waiting for somebody to find it. And that somebody is going to be me, not some wet-behind-the-ears amateur detective. Got that?” He let go of her neck.

  Nancy’s mind was whirling. “Let me see if I understand you,” she said. “All you care about is the cash?”

  “That’s right,” Slade snapped.

  “So if I nail Johnson, that’s okay with you?”

  “You can’t nail a corpse—especially when it’s in a million pieces.” Slade laughed.

  “Still,” Nancy persisted. “If I do find him?”

  “You can have him, for all I care,” Slade said. “Just stay away from the money. If you don’t, I’ll take care of you. For good!” He reached for the door handle. “Remember that.” After he got out, he slammed the car door.

  Breathing heavily, Nancy hightailed it out of the parking garage. Back on the road, with Brewster growing smaller in her rearview mirror, her thoughts began to come together.

  She went over and over Hal Slade’s remarks. She had believed that Slade was Johnson’s accomplice, but when Slade threatened her, he seemed genuinely convinced that Johnson was dead.

  Slade would have been the perfect accomplice, but it seemed it wasn’t Slade—so who could it be? Someone Mark had never even mentioned, maybe?

  Suddenly Nancy thought of the dark-haired woman from the auction house. That story had all but slipped her mind until now. Maybe she should tell Mark about it, though. If there was a woman at Crabtree with long, dark hair, then maybe she was the one they were after.

  Back in River Heights, she drove to the pizza place. Bess and George were waiting for Mark, and Nancy sat them all down and filled them in on her excursion.

  “Slade! Hey,” Mark said. “Do you think it was Slade who ransacked my apartment? I mean, n
ow that we know he was the one who bought the desk and hired the thugs who broke it apart.”

  “Gee, Nancy,” Bess said, “Do you think so?”

  Nancy nodded slowly. “It makes sense. If he was looking for a clue to the missing cash in the desk, he didn’t find it. Maybe he thought Mark had found it first.”

  “I didn’t,” Mark lamented.

  “That’s right,” Nancy said. “But whoever ransacked your apartment didn’t know that.”

  “Well, the money wasn’t in the desk. Or Mark’s apartment,” Bess said.

  “I’m not so sure it wasn’t in the desk,” Nancy said. She went on. “Remember, George, I told you how the auctioneer said a dark-haired woman had gotten there before us?”

  “Right!” George gasped. “So you think that woman might have found it in the desk before the auction started and walked off with it?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” Nancy replied. “I’m also thinking that the dark-haired woman might be Johnson’s accomplice. Any ideas who it might be, Mark? Is there anyone at Crabtree who matches that description?”

  Mark’s brows came together, and his lips pursed. “Amanda George, maybe. She’s one of the assistants Slade put on the case. But I don’t know—Amanda doesn’t seem like the criminal type.”

  “You never can tell, Mark,” Nancy said. “Very sweet people have committed murder.”

  Suddenly she gasped. It had just occurred to her that there was one name they kept leaving out—one person who was in an excellent position to act as Johnson’s accomplice. In fact, it was so obvious she couldn’t believe she’d missed it.

  “Linda Bates!” she said aloud.

  “Linda?” Mark looked startled. “Don’t be crazy, Nancy! She’d never do that! Besides, she’s blond, and we’re looking for someone with brown hair.”

  Nancy sighed. Mark was so hopelessly in love with Linda that he’d never think anything bad about her. “A wig would change her hair color, Mark,” she pointed out. “Let me put it this way. On occasion, you do confide in her, don’t you?”