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At the sound of voices, Nancy looked up. There was a courier from a messenger service in the outer office, drinking coffee from a Styrofoam cup while Ms. Hanson prepared an envelope for him to take. From their conversation, Nancy could tell he was a regular visitor. Nancy waited impatiently in her father’s office until he finally left. Now she could check for bugs out there.

Ms. Hanson sat at her desk, her face taut with anxiety as Nancy examined the outer office. It took longer because there were filing cabinets to check, but in the end the result was the same-no bug.

“I’ve had it,” Nancy said finally. “I can’t find a bug.” She retrieved her jacket and tucked her purse under her arm. “Thanks for putting up with me,” she told the secretary.

“I’m almost sorry there was nothing here,” Ms. Hanson said. “It’s just so awful. If you think of any way that I can help, please call me.”

Nancy promised she would and said goodbye. As she walked through the halls, she was surprised at the amount of traffic in and out of the office-mail clerks, maintenance workers, couriers, clients. Any one of them could have slipped into her father’s office and-

And what? she asked herself. Would she be able to find out in time? For that matter, how much time did she have? Her father was sure he’d have a pretrial date by the end of the day. Then she’d know.

Her second chore for the day took Nancy to several different locations. Her goal was to learn whatever she could about the Gold Star Cab Company. Each place she went, she told them the same story.

“Hi. I’m a student at Emerson College. I’m writing a term paper on the growth of transportation in River Heights. I’ve researched the bus service. Can you help me with the cab companies?”

She always followed the question with a wi

After visits to the Office of Public Safety, the central headquarters of the River Heights Police Department, and the Hacks Bureau, Nancy was begi

Checking her watch, Nancy left the building that housed the Hacks Bureau. Unless she hurried, she’d be late for her lunch meeting with Ned, Bess, and A

Nancy tucked her notes in her bag and started across the street to the lot where she had left her car.

She heard trouble coming before she could see it. It was the sound of a powerful engine being pushed to its maximum. Seconds later she saw it-a dark late-model car racing around the corner and heading directly for her at top speed!

Chapter Nine

Still shaken by her near encounter with the dark car, Nancy met Ned at the door of the Pizza Palace just as he was leaving to go look for her. “There you are. We’ve already ordered.”

A

“Stop staring at me,” Nancy ordered her friends. “I got dirty dodging a car that tried to hit me. He missed me by a hair.”

“A drunk driver?” A

“Not on your life-I mean, my life. He tried his best to hit me.”

Ned’s expression was grim. “Did you get his license number?”

“No. I jumped back behind a filthy minivan at the curb. By the time I could look, the car was gone and I was dirty. Did you guys have any trouble today?”

“Not a bit,” Bess answered. “It’s been fun.”

A

“That’s great. Keep smiling, Bess.” Nancy turned to Ned. “How’d you do?”

He removed a notepad from his pocket. “So far I’ve got the names of seven businesses that use white vans. I’ll keep at it this afternoon. Then tomorrow I’ll hit all these places and see if I can find your van with the bent fender. How’d things go at the office?”

Before Nancy could respond, a waitress slid two huge pizzas onto the table. They smelled incredibly good, and Nancy’s stomach growled in anticipation.

“I didn’t find a thing in my dad’s office,” she said, removing her first slice. “Whoever planted the bug must have come back and taken it out. As for the cab company, that was a washout, too.”

“What’s a cab company got to do with anything?” A

Nancy explained about the voice she’d heard over the two-way radio in her abductor’s car and in the Gold Star cab. “Gold Star checked out okay,” she said. “In business over twenty years, owned by two local men. They have ten cabs and a dynamite safety record. Not a single accident in the past three years.”

A

“Coincidence?” Ned asked, gazing at Nancy.

“I don’t know. On paper they’re certainly good guys,” she responded. “Several public service awards, one of them from the Gray Panthers for offering senior citizens lower fares.”

A

“So that’s how an idea for an article is born,” Bess said. “Somehow I thought it would be more-exciting.”

Nancy didn’t really pay much attention to the conversation as they finished their pizzas. That dispatcher’s voice-she was so sure it had been the same man on the radio of both cars!

And there was something else nagging at the back of her mind, a tiny bell warning her that she had missed something. But what could it be?

A

“We’ve got to get back to the Record,” A

“I’m not sure. Maybe back to my dad’s office.”

“Don’t give up,” Bess said, slipping into her jacket. “We’re close to an answer. I’m sure of it.”

“I wish I could be as sure,” Nancy said, after A

“Finish your pizza,” Ned suggested. “And stop thinking about it. It’ll come. In the meantime, I’ll order another slice. I’m still hungry.”

“Take mine.” Nancy slid hers over to him. Her appetite had vanished.

They sat and talked for quite a while after Ned had finished. Having lunch together was an occasion that happened so rarely that they wanted to draw it out.

Finally Ned collected the money from the table and went to pay the cashier. While he was gone, Nancy took one last look at the notes she had made, trying to pinpoint the reason for her uneasiness. At last she saw it!

She left the booth and met Ned just as he was pocketing his receipt. “What do you think of this? A

“So?”

“One of the public service awards Gold Star received was from the Crimson Oaks Village Association. I know it isn’t much, but shouldn’t I check it out?”

“Let’s make that ‘we.’ You call A

The name was Vera Harvey, and she lived in building four of Crimson Oaks’ five highrises. And as Ned and Nancy approached the building, they saw a Gold Star cab pulling away with a passenger in the back. Nancy wasn’t, sure whether it was an omen or not.