“I think she does,” Bess said, picking up Nancy’s lead. “What she said over there sank in. They can get you for the judge’s murder, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Who’s going to believe you didn’t know Reston killed him?”
“But I didn’t know!”
“Then why were you going to cut and run?” Ann asked. She was looking a little better.
Brownley ground his teeth. “I’m not going to jail for something I didn’t do. Grand theft auto, that’s one thing. I deal in stolen cars. I’m good at it. But I’m no killer, and I’m not taking the rap for Reston. I’m clearing out of here.”
“What about us?” Nancy asked. “If you leave us here, that’s four more murders they can get you for. Help us get out of here, and-”
“And what?” The door flew open-and Reston stepped in. “Mac told me you left as soon as I turned my back. Where’d you come from?” he asked, noticing Bess. Then he turned to his partner, his eyes like steel. “You were going to run out on me, weren’t you, Brownley?”
Nancy snorted. The dispatcher was a possible ally, and against Reston they’d need all the help they could get. “He’s not smart enough to run out on you,” she said.
Brownley eyed her sharply. “I caught them trying to escape.”
“Why make matters worse than they already are?” Nancy asked Brownley. “My boyfriend was hiding when you caught us the first time. He got us out of that cage and went up the conveyor to get the police. They’re probably swarming all over the place by now.”
Reston gave his nasty grin again. “Good try, little girl. But it won’t work.” He snatched the door open and shoved her back to the Gold Star side. Someone had moved one stack of boxes. Reston stepped through, then waited, gun drawn, for the rest of them to join him.
“Sit!” he ordered. “Until I decide what to do with you.”
They sat down gingerly on the hard concrete, their backs against the unpainted cars. As Reston kept the gun trained on them, they waited. And waited. They were in a war of nerves.
Nancy knew they had to get away! Where was Ned? Suppose he hadn’t been home after all!
After a half an hour Reston began to crack. He started to pace and mutter. Another fifteen minutes, and his left eye began to twitch.
Finally he said, “I’m getting out of here. If there are police upstairs, which I doubt, you three will make fine hostages. The first sign of trouble,” he snarled, wagging the gun toward Nancy, “and you get it first.”
Nancy got up slowly, stiff from sitting so long. Then, from the corner of her eye, Nancy saw someone scurry between two cars. She almost fainted with relief. It was Ned! He was working his way toward them.
Reston beckoned to Nancy. “You. Come here. We’re going upstairs. You’ll be my shield.”
“What about me?” Brownley asked.
“Take whichever one you want. Keep the other one between us.”
As she edged toward Reston, Nancy saw Ned move closer. She hoped he’d stop there. Any closer, and he’d be exposed.
Then Ann caught Nancy’s attention. The reporter’s eyes were almost closed. She looked pale, but surprisingly, she winked at Nancy. She had seen Ned, too! Her eyes darted toward Bess, back to Nancy, then back to Bess again.
Nancy looked at Bess with a quick sidewise glance and became very still. Bess’s lips were puckered. She puffed out her cheeks-once, then twice-and patted her chest.
The whistle! She was reminding Nancy of the whistle!
Nancy gave her a tight nod. Tensed for action, she waited.
Suddenly Ann moaned and began to crumple to the floor. Reston turned toward her.
Nancy moved in a blur of activity. Grabbing the chain around her neck, she yanked the whistle from under her sweater, put it in her mouth, and blew for all she was worth.
Reston whirled around. Nancy was balanced on one foot, ready for him. The other foot shot upward, the toe of her shoe slamming into the man’s hand.
The gun arched toward the ceiling. As Reston grabbed his wrist in agony, Nancy’s foot was in action again. This time she caught the point of his chin. His head snapped back, and he hit the floor as if he’d been struck by lightning.
Brownley had hesitated for a fraction of a second too long. He darted toward the door, but Ned tackled him. The impact slammed the dispatcher against the grille of one of the cabs. He was knocked cold.
“It worked!” Ned hugged Bess, then Nancy, before he bent to help Ann from the floor.
“Ned,” the reporter said, “I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life. Nancy, you were terrific!”
“If it hadn’t been for Bess,” Nancy said, “I’d probably still be standing there like an idiot.”
Ned took her hand. “I’m so sorry about that stupid phone! Hannah drove all the way over to tell me where you’d be. I got here as soon as I could.”
“You were just in time,” Nancy said, grabbing him in a bear hug. “And speaking of time, we’ve got to go!”
They all looked at Jim, who had only moaned when Nancy’s whistle had sounded.
“Maybe he should stay here with me. George’s car is right outside the entrance to Fleet’s,” Ned said. “You take it. I’ll put these two in that cage and call the police.”
Ann, leaning weakly against a Cadillac, managed a smile. “I’ll stay, too. The way my legs are shaking, I’d just slow you down.”
“Come on, let’s go,” Bess said, tugging the envelope from her blouse again.
Nancy started toward the door. “By the way, Ned, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“What?”
She turned and pointed. “There’s your car.”
He looked at it and made a strangled sound. “It’s gold! Somebody’s painted my baby gold! Why?”
“It’s a long story,” Ann said with a genuine smile. “Scram, Nancy. I’ll tell him.”
Nancy threw him a kiss and grabbed Bess. “Let’s go.” They sprinted through the opening in the stack of boxes. “Might as well cut through Fleet’s,” Nancy said. “I’ve seen enough Gold Star cabs today.”
They had just skirted the worktable when suddenly Nancy skidded to a stop and spun around.
“What? What?” Bess said.
“Something I just saw.” Backtracking, Nancy went to the file cabinet. On the floor beside it was a box labeled “Nature Under Glass. Fragile.” Sitting on top of it was a plastic bowl. Nancy picked it up and peered at its contents, her mouth falling open in astonishment.
“Ladybugs!” Bess exclaimed.
Nancy reached in and removed a few. “They aren’t real. See what’s in the box, will you?”
While her friend pried open the flaps, Nancy examined the ladybugs more closely. They were tiny, soft-plastic replicas with hollow undersides.
“There are paperweights in here,” Bess said. Nestled in the box in protective cushioning were heavy glass domes, each with a different kind of flower embedded in it.
Nancy turned slowly and stared at the big drill on the worktable. “Drew, you are slipping,” she murmured. “Bess, can you carry a couple of the paperweights?”
“Sure. Why? Nancy, it’s after two!”
“I just found the bug I was looking for.” She slipped the ladybugs in her pocket and picked up the drill. “Let’s go.”
“Well, since we’re grabbing stuff,” Bess said. She crossed behind the worktable and picked up the papers Brownley had dropped. “These must be valuable, or he wouldn’t have pulled them out of the file.”
“Good idea,” Nancy agreed as they ran out. “The more proof we have, the better. It’s a cinch Reston and Brownley will deny everything.”
“Oh! I started to tell you before.” Bess rooted in her pocket as they ran past startled couriers on the street level. “I don’t know if it worked, but I slipped one of their minirecorders in my pocket. They had a lot of them.”
She pulled it out as Nancy unlocked George’s car. “It’s still running!” she whooped, climbing in. “I’ve got everything they said on tape!”