Chapter Seventeen
“Nancy Drew! What are you doing here!”
Nancy turned quickly. It was Annette LeBeau, wearing a raincoat. She had an umbrella in one hand and a microphone in the other. Behind her were two guys with lights and TV cameras, shooting the burning helicopter.
“Annette!” Nancy exclaimed. “What—”
“We heard the police bulletin about the crash,” Annette told her. “I was there, so the station manager sent me to cover the crash. We need to get the spot filmed in time for the ten o’clock news.” She looked at the burning helicopter. “Hey, isn’t that a Cherbourg helicopter?” She looked back at Nancy, comprehension dawning, “Wait, you mean, you—”
Nancy nodded. Then suddenly she got an idea. “Listen, Annette,” she said, “I need to ask you a favor.”
But Annette wasn’t listening. “What a story!” she said excitedly. “ ‘Helicopter crashes in downtown Montreal. Nancy Drew survives!’ All the networks will pick this one up.” She turned as Ned and George came up. “Are these your friends?”
Nancy nodded. “Yes, this is Ned Nickerson,” she said, introducing them. “And George Fayne. George was kidnapped from Olympic Stadium. We were rescuing her when the copter went down.”
“Better and better. A rescue effort, a thwarted kidnapping—that’ll make the story gold!” She pointed toward the helicopter, where the pilot was talking with police. “Listen, the three of you go stand right over there, with the police in the background. I’ll interview you.”
“Wait,” Nancy said, trying to interrupt. “I have to talk to you.”
“After we shoot,” Annette replied hurriedly. “Ned, you put your arm around Nancy. We’ll play up the romance angle.” She gestured to one of the cameramen. “Max! Get the camera over here on the double! We’ve got survivors to interview! I want as much smoke and flame in the picture as possible. And be sure to get the cops, too.”
Nancy grabbed her arm. “Wait!” she cried. “I don’t want you to do a story—at least, not this one. Not now!”
Annette frowned at her. “What do you mean, you don’t want a story? This is a terrific story! We’ll probably make all the American shows tomorrow.”
Nancy shook her head violently and pulled Annette over to the side. “Listen,” she said, in a low voice, “can you kill the survivor angle?”
Annette nearly dropped her mike. “What do you mean, kill it? You’re all alive, aren’t you? I mean, everybody walked away from the crash. Right?”
“Right,” Nancy said. “But a certain person needs to believe that this was a fatal crash—that there were no survivors.”
Annette stared at her. “Who? Who needs to believe it?”
“The person who’s blackmailing you,” Nancy replied soberly. “The same person who kidnapped George and sabotaged the helicopter.”
Annette’s mouth dropped open. “Am I hearing you correctly?” she asked.
Nancy nodded.
“If I don’t mention any survivors, will it help you catch the blackmailer?”
“I can almost guarantee it,” Nancy said. “Now, here’s what I want you to do.”
When Nancy had finished giving instructions, Annette hesitated.
“Well,” she said slowly, “I don’t like it, but okay. I have no idea how I’m going to explain it to the manager. He won’t be happy that we’ve missed this story.”
“If this thing works, you’ll have an even bigger story,” Nancy told her. “You’ll be able to scoop every newspaper and television station in Canada. And you’ll have the blackmailer off your back.”
Reluctantly, Annette nodded. “Okay, I’ll do it,” she said, looking at her watch. “But you’ll have to give me about twenty minutes. It’ll take us at least that long to get back to the station and air this.”
“Great,” Nancy said. “That’s just about right.” She grinned. “Keep your fingers crossed.”
“You bet,” Annette said. “Good luck!” She stood up and raised her voice. “Hey, Max! Let’s get over to the helicopter. We’ve got some filming to do if we’re going to be on the air at ten.”
Max looked at Nancy and her friends. “What about them?” he asked.
“Who?” Annette asked blandly. “Come on, get that camera rolling! Lights? Where are the lights?”
“Okay, gang,” Nancy said to George and Ned, “let’s get out of here.”