Captive Witness

by Carolyn Keene

  When Nancy arrived back at her room, she saw that the message light was blinking on her telephone. She called the front desk and the clerk promptly read her a cablegram from her father confirming that Kurt Kessler would arrive in Vienna that night via a connecting flight from London.

  Nancy had barely enough time to phone Professor Bagley and arrange to drive with him to the airport and pick up the film director.

  “You know, Dr. Bagley,” Nancy said when they were finally on the way, “it’s hard for me to remember any mystery I’ve ever worked on where I had so much responsibility for the lives of other people.”

  “I know how you feel,” the professor replied. “I have very mixed feelings about meeting this extremely talented man. Tonight and tomorrow may be his last free hours unless we succeed.”

  Despite their trepidations, both Nancy and Dr. Bagley maintained happy expressions as they watched the director cross the terminal from the customs area.

  “Mr. Kessler,” Nancy said, walking toward him with her hand outstretched, “I was sure I’d recognize you right away.”

  The man smiled. “And I would know you anywhere, Miss Drew, since I have spent so many hours in your father’s office surrounded by your photographs dating back to childhood days.”

  Nancy blushed crimson. “Oh,” she said, “Mr. Kessler, may I present Professor Bagley, the man who was given the job of transferring the children and who asked me to help.”

  As the director and the professor exchanged greetings, Nancy studied Mr. Kessler’s face. She was saddened to see how very old he seemed.

  Early newspaper photographs revealed him to have been extremely handsome as a young man. Now, though he was only middle-aged, his good looks had been replaced by deep lines etched by pain on weather-beaten skin. His eyes, which were naturally deep-set, were even more sunken; and his hair was grayish-white and quite thin.

  He did all he could, however, to conceal his painful memories. He spoke with enthusiasm, and the soft, sad eyes were still capable of flashing with humor. As they walked back to the car, Nancy listened to his conversation with Dr. Bagley, thinking of Kurt Kessler weeping, when he was alone, for the things he had shown in Captive Witness.

  I just have to find his film, she thought.

  As the threesome rode back to the hotel, Nancy felt compelled to tell Mr. Kessler, “I’m the one who’s guilty for getting you involved in all of this. If we fail to bring those children out and you are forced to go back across that border, I don’t know what I’ll—”

  The director interrupted quickly. “No, Nancy. Never blame yourself. With or without you, the same things would have happened. The only difference now is I have you on my side. ”

  “What bothers me,” Dr. Bagley said, “is that even if we do manage to free the children, what’s to prevent your enemies from trying to stop other people who want to leave and demanding you in exchange?”

  “Look, anything is possible,” Kessler replied, “but I think this is a single attempt. If they get me, they win; but if we get the orphans instead, there will be so much publicity that no one would dare trouble me again. By then, they will have been exposed and who would believe otherwise?”

  “They want the world to see Kurt Kessler crossing the border voluntarily,” the professor muttered.

  “Of course,” the director said. “They will probably have a crew there to film it, and with such a film, they can issue all kinds of propaganda—how the Americans forced me to make Captive Witness, how it is nothing but lies. ”

  “So you don’t think they intend to kidnap you?” Dr. Bagley asked.

  Kessler shook his head. “No. Kidnapping me would serve no purpose. They want me to give up freely. ”

  “It’s so unfair and cruel,” Nancy commented.

  “On the contrary, Nancy,” the film director said, “it’s insane.” Then his voice dropped. “What I dread most is that if I cross the border, I will find that my film has been destroyed.”

  He lapsed into a brooding silence which remained unbroken until the professor spoke.

  “Mr. Kessler, I promise you that under the plan we’ve worked out there would be no way for them to get you across the frontier unless the film and the children are turned over.”

  “Besides,” Nancy added, “we already know they don’t have the orphans because just this evening we met Emile Popov, the man who is hiding them in Hungary. ”

  Kurt Kessler sighed happily. “There are so many exceptional people in this world. America has produced you and Dr. Bagley, and now you tell me about this Popov.”

  The discussion faded as the hotel came in sight. Nancy persuaded room service to serve a late snack in the professor’s room where introductions were made to Eric and Mr. Popov. They excused themselves quickly and went to Ned’s room next door, leaving the trio to talk alone for another hour. Nancy outlined the plan involving the decoy group and a strike team to accomplish the final mission.

  “You are a marvel,” Kessler said admiringly, “and if we all survive tomorrow, I am going to make a film about Nancy Drew.”

  The young detective floundered for an answer. “You may change your mind after you see me in action,” she said, then realizing that wasn’t quite what she meant, added quickly, “Of course, I do feel confident about—”

  “I know you do,” Mr. Kessler interposed gently, “and I am very grateful to you.”

  Without any further discussion, Nancy said good night and went to her room. At eleven the next morning, she heard a knock at the door. It was George wearing the titian wig, Nancy’s dress, and the floppy straw hat. Standing right next to her was Ned. Their hands were clasped and they were gazing deeply into each other’s eyes—or as deeply as they possibly could through their enormous sunglasses.

  Nancy had to put her hand over her mouth to stifle her amusement. Then she hissed at him, “Stop that! You’ll give us all away! Now scoot!”

  Blowing kisses, Ned and George disappeared down the hall. Nancy went to the window, certain it was under surveillance, and peeked out to observe the rest of the decoy team stepping into the big rental car.

  Burt, disguised as Eric, was being helped out of his wheelchair and into the front seat. Bess, Dave, and the professor were there, as was Kurt Kessler. Presently, Ned and George joined the group.

  As their car pulled away, Nancy searched in vain for some sign of Gutterman’s powder-blue car. It was nowhere in sight. A black Mercedes, however, containing two of the men she had seen skulking in the lobby, shot out from the curb and began shadowing the professors’s vehicle.

  Where was Gutterman, though? Nancy wondered.

  Either he had already gone to Czechoslovakia and would greet the professor’s team at the border, or he was lurking somewhere else.

  What also vaguely worried her was how Gutterman expected to persuade Kessler into surrendering if Gutterman did not produce the children. Did he know where they were? Had he already swooped down on them in Hungary and transported them to the Czech border?

  Nancy could imagine his cruel laughter as she and Eric plunged through the dark waters of the lake, sending out their duck-call signal in vain!

  Then another chilling thought occurred to her. Suppose ten other children had been assembled at the Czech border, pretending that they were the orphans? Who would know the difference? Only Eric, whose thirteen-year-old cousin was among them, and Eric would be far away on the Hungarian frontier.

  Oh, why didn’t I ask Dr. Bagley if he had any way of confirming the children’s identity? Nancy chided herself.

  She puffed her cheeks and blew out the air in a great sigh of frustration. She had missed checking out one very important detail, so it would have to be left to fate!

  Going to her dressing table, she opened the theatrical makeup kit and for the next hour, worked to transform herself from a fresh-faced young woman into a nineteenth-century lady at least ten years older, complete with a black beauty mark on her cheek.

  Then she wriggled into the tig
ht confines of the beautiful, glittering red ball gown. A glossy brunette wig with long, soft curls topped the disguise. Although she wasn’t sure if the wig style was typical of the late 1800s, she decided it complimented the outfit perfectly.

  At four o’clock, Eric telephoned. “Your car awaits, madam,” he said.

  “Thank you, Otto,” Nancy said. “I shall be down immediately.”

  Making no attempt to slip out quietly, Nancy swept down the main staircase into the lobby. Onlookers stared at her incredulously as she waltzed to the door where Eric, in a black wig and large black mustache, took her arm and led her to the rented limousine.

  Nancy was completely aware that she had stepped past at least two of Gutterman’s men but felt confident that they hadn’t recognized her.

  As the limousine drove off slowly, the assembled doorman, porters, guests, and passersby issued a round of applause. Nancy waved graciously.

  “Who is that?” an American woman inquired upon entering the hotel.

  “Oh,” said the doorman, not wishing to appear ignorant of the hotel’s guests, “she’s a very famous actress. She stays here all the time.”

  All the way out of Vienna, Eric kept checking his rearview mirror to see if anyone was following them. Half an hour later, he said with a tone of caution, “I think we’re in the clear, Nancy.”

  “I hope so, but keep an eye on that mirror. By the way, Eric, you make a lovely chauffeur. And that mustache!”

  “You like it?”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “And may I compliment you, madam. You look wonderful. A little overdone for daytime perhaps, but so what?”

  “Do you know the route by heart?” Nancy asked.

  “Every inch including side roads. We are presently on Route 16 south. We will turn east on 304 through Eisenstadt. Then to Schützen, and after that I have to wind down some smaller roads until we reach Mörbisch.”

  “When we get there, I’ll take over.”

  “I can’t wait to find out why you are dressed that way.” Eric laughed.

  “You will—soon.” Nancy giggled.

  But their good humor was dampened when Eric, looking in his mirror, noticed a car following them. He alerted Nancy who, peering through her bin-oculars, picked up the powder-blue sedan with Gutterman and Burger inside.

  “Ooh!” Nancy said in exasperation. “How—how? Gutterman seems so dumb sometimes but he isn’t. He must have extrasensory perception or something close to it.”

  “I can try to lose them on a side road,” Eric volunteered, frowning.

  “No, we’d only wind up in trouble for breaking the speed limit. Do me a favor, though. Pull into the next service area and look for a spot where we can’t be observed too easily.”

  Within a few minutes, Eric found the right place and brought the big limousine to a halt. Gutterman and Burger drove by trying to appear disinterested.

  “Doesn’t he realize we’d spot that blue car a mile away?” Nancy muttered. “I don’t understand that man at all.”

  Hurriedly, they bought several cans of motor oil. Nancy climbed into the trunk, carefully protecting her voluminous dress. Eric propped the trunk lid so that it stayed open about eight inches and handed Nancy the oilcans and an opener.

  They soon overtook Gutterman and Burger who had pulled over to wait at a roadside stand. As soon as the limousine went past, the evil duo started trailing them again. Nancy, feeling the car round a big bend, punched holes in two of the cans and began pouring the oil on the road. She quickly opened two more cans and repeated the process.

  Gutterman and Burger, who were several hundred yards to the rear, could not see this until it was too late. As their car hit the slippery fluid, it went into a long skid, sending it off the road, down a ravine, and into a swamp where it settled in mud.

  Eric stopped the limousine at a stand, and quickly notified the police of an oil slick so that other motorists would be alerted. Then, with Nancy rejoining him, they resumed their ride.

  “Gutterman will be steaming now,” the young detective said, her blue eyes dancing, “but I had no choice. ”

  Inwardly, though, she was beginning to worry. Gutterman had probably guessed where she was going. He must have known she was heading for the outdoor theater on the lake at Mörbisch. Otherwise, why would she be wearing theatrical attire?

  Nancy now revealed her complete plan to Eric. She would join the chorus in The Merry Widow, an operetta being performed at Mörbisch. The theater was one of Austria’s most popular tourist attractions. Since Nancy had played in the Footlighters’ production of the same operetta, she was capable of singing the entire score. She had arranged to become a member of the Mörbisch chorus for one night only.

  “But what does all this have to do with rescuing ten children?” Eric questioned.

  “Everything,” Nancy said. “Remember, the professor said we might have trouble getting into the water without being seen? Well, the theater is built out over the lake. When the show finishes, the sun will have set and we’ll be able to slip into the water behind the building, inflate our inner tubes, and sail for Hungary.”

  Eric whistled in admiration. “What an idea! Pure genius!”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Nancy grinned as they pulled up to the theater.

  “Tell me, how did you manage to talk your way into the theatrical company?”

  “That was easy,” Nancy said, shaking her brown wig. “Oh, and there’s the man who worked me into the company. Let me introduce you.”

  Nancy rushed toward him, hugging the tall, white-haired man as he stood in front. His name was Georg Waldheim, a dear friend of her father’s. He was a patron of the arts, and knew many people connected with the theater, so it was simple enough for him to gain permission for Nancy to sing.

  Saying good-bye to Herr Waldheim, who whispered good luck to her in her mission, Nancy led Eric backstage. He was carrying the suitcase filled with the inner tubes, the small air tank, and the rubber suits. Eric was to remain there throughout the performance. He sat quietly, waiting for the dressing rooms to empty, then scurried out a window and climbed down on the pilings with the suitcase. He set up camp where no one could see him sitting on the wooden supports.

  Nancy went onstage and sang her heart out as night began to fall. Eric, meanwhile, inflated the tubes, donned his rubber suit, and applied black greasepaint to bis skin in order to stay better hidden in the dark.

  But toward the end of the last act, as Nancy was caught up in the swell of lush melodies, she happened to glance out into the audience. There with his opera glasses trained on the performers was Herr Gutterman!

  19

  Across the Frontier

  The girl detective had to conquer the urge to crouch down or hide behind the other singers. Any movement she made would make her stand out immediately, and Gutterman would be sure to identify her.

  So, instead, she continued to sing to the very last note. But the minute the lights were dimmed for curtain calls, she broke out of the line and raced toward the dressing rooms. Quickly, she wriggled out of her dress into her bathing attire, and again slipped the gown over her head.

  Before the rest of the cast had left the stage, Nancy was out a side door and approaching the water. It was almost as dark as the night itself, and not until she reached the protective shadows of the trees did she dare to remove the dress covering her scuba suit.

  She joined Eric on the pilings where the inflated inner tubes lay lashed together with cord. Nancy covered her hands and face with the remaining greasepaint and waited with Eric for the cast and crew to leave the theater.

  Above them they could hear conversation mixed with laughter and footsteps. Then a voice cut through the noise. “Nancy Drew! Has anyone seen her? I have an urgent message for her.”

  Nancy and Eric exchanged glances. “I know it’s Gutterman. He has an uncanny ability to alter his voice and appearance, but I’m positive it’s he.”

  Her companion nodded as
the voice called out again.

  “What does he expect me to do? Rush right out and say ‘Here I am’?” Nancy said.

  “More likely, he’s hoping somebody else will spot you and say ‘There she is!’ ” Eric replied. “On the other hand, what if Dr. Bagley is trying to reach us?”

  “No chance,” Nancy said brightly.

  “Why not?”

  “Because he doesn’t know where we are, remember?”

  Eric grinned. “You’re right.”

  “I only kept this part of the plan a secret to surprise everybody later. Now it’s working to our advantage. ”

  Although it seemed like hours, probably no more than twenty minutes passed until everyone had left and the theater lights were extinguished. There was silence except for the night sounds of the lake and the chirping and shrill of insects and night birds. Then Eric groaned.

  “What’s the matter, Eric?”

  “The car. It’s still there. I left it in plain sight. Gutterman will see it. He knows we drove down in a limousine so he’ll know you’re still in the area.”

  “And he’ll go right to the closest Hungarian border crossing and alert the guards. The whole frontier force will be onto us!” Nancy cried. “We have to move fast!”

  Slipping into the water and pushing the raft of inner tubes ahead of them, they began moving south as fast as they could without making splashing sounds.

  “I can’t see you,” Nancy whispered back. “Everything is black on black.”

  “Maybe we should hold hands,” the young man suggested.

  “Well,” Nancy said, smiling to herself, “we can always hang onto the string of tubes. As long as we don’t lose them, we’ll always be together.”

  It was Eric’s turn to smile, his white teeth gleaming in the night. “We could,” he said, “but it’d be nicer the other way.”

  “Eric,” Nancy said, “no offense but you’ll have to keep your mouth closed because your beautiful white teeth shine like a beacon.”

  He chuckled. “Okay, let’s go. No more small talk. ”

  Half wading and half swimming, they made good time. Nancy estimated their speed at about one and a half miles per hour or, roughly speaking, half the speed of walking. Therefore, it would take them approximately an hour to reach the point where they expected to find the Popovs and the children.