“That’s too dangerous,” Ned objected. “Let’s think of something else.”
Another door slammed. A dog began to bark loudly. “Go get them, Spike!” the man yelled.
“There’s no time to argue,” Nancy said, jumping to her feet. “Get going!”
As Ned grabbed George and started toward the exit, Nancy dashed out into the center aisle. She ran down it until she was sure she had been spotted. Then she ducked behind another pile of crates.
“Hey, it’s a girl!” shouted Pete, the first guard. “There she goes!” Quickly, he climbed down a ladder from the catwalk. “She’s heading your way, Charlie! We’ve got her between us!”
Good, Nancy thought. It was just what she wanted. With Pete down from the catwalk and coming in her direction, Ned and George would be able to slip past him and out the door at the end. Gingerly, she began to work her way among the crates toward the outside wall.
But once she was against the wall, Nancy realized that she was in trouble. Where were the police? Pete was coming from one direction, with his gun; Charlie was coming from the other, with Spike. Ned and George must be safely outside by now, but she was trapped!
“All right, little lady!” Charlie yelled. “We’ve got you. Come on out now.”
Frantically, Nancy looked around. She noticed a large pile of wood shavings that were probably used for packing material. She reached in the pocket of her skirt. Yes, luckily they were still there—the book of matches she had picked up at the Greek restaurant a few nights before.
Working fast, Nancy pushed a large pile of shavings up against the sheet-metal wall. She added an oily sack that had been draped over a barrel. Then she bent over and struck a match to the pile. There on the cement floor, the fire would do no real damage. But if her scheme worked, it would distract the guards long enough to let her get away.
The yellow flames began to spread through the shavings. Seconds later the entire pile was blazing, eerie shadows flickering against the ceiling. A cloud of black, oily smoke spewed out of the flames as the sack caught fire.
“Fire!” Pete yelled frantically. “She must be trying to burn the place down!”
“Forget the girl! Get a fire extinguisher!” Charlie yelled back. “Let the dog take care of her! He’ll never let her get away!”
Spike began to bark—short, vicious yips that made the hair prickle on the back of Nancy’s neck. The dog sounded as if he meant business. Could she get past him?
Silently, Nancy edged along the wall, behind the crates. She was careful not to make any noise that might attract the dog’s attention. Halfway to the door she saw that the two guards were totally preoccupied with fighting the fire. Maybe she was close enough to make a run for it. Cautiously, she stepped into the center aisle.
But there was another loud bark. She threw a quick look back over her shoulder. A large black form about waist high emerged from the shadows. It charged after her with incredible speed, its teeth bared. It was a police dog, the largest one she had ever seen. And she’d never get to the door before it got to her!
Nancy dived behind several cardboard boxes and crates, pulling three or four down around her. The dog stopped and glared at her with slits for eyes, growling low in his throat. There was nothing between her and the dog but a half dozen flimsy boxes. Would they hold him back? The dog bared his teeth and growled again, the hair rising along his neck. Still it didn’t move toward her as long as she stayed perfectly still. Spike must be trained, she thought as she watched him, to corner people until his master arrived.
Nancy took a deep breath. The palms of her hands were clammy with sweat. She was safe from the dog as long as she didn’t move—for a few moments at least, until the guards put the fire out. But if she tried to make a break, the dog would attack her for sure. And from the looks of those sharp teeth, she’d be cut to ribbons in minutes. What could she do?