“A what?”
Nancy explained as they trotted toward the enclosure that had served as the attendants’ booth. It seemed logical that the conveyor would be somewhere near it.
“Here it is!” Nancy said.
It was behind the booth—no more than an air shaft with a structure inside that was precisely what Mr. Tyler had described. Nancy aimed her penlight into the space below. With luck, she’d be able to climb down. If her luck held, she’d wind up on Gold Star’s side of the basement.
“Nancy, are you sure about this?” Bess asked. Her normally pink complexion was very pale.
“I’m sure. I’ve got to find Ann, as well as get proof that Brownley and Reston were behind the frame-up against my dad.” Nancy pulled a long chain from under her sweater. Hanging from it was a whistle.
“What’s that for?” Bess asked.
“Help, that’s what. You stay here. If you hear this whistle before Ned gets here, scream your head off. Do whatever you have to to get help. If Ned gets here and you haven’t heard me blow this, send him down.”
Bess shook her head stubbornly. “I’m going with you. I’m scared, but I want to, so let’s not waste time arguing about it.”
Nancy hugged her. She knew it would be more sensible to leave Bess as a lookout, but she couldn’t pass up the chance to have her along for moral support. “Thanks, Bess,” she said. “Well, let’s go.”
It was a scary climb. The belt kept swaying, and after a certain point, Nancy felt as if she were climbing into a black hole, groping for the next place to put her feet. Above her, Bess peered nervously down into the darkness.
At the bottom, however, Nancy could see fairly well. On her right was a concrete block wall and a closed door. But on her left, light spilled over a row of boxes stacked six high.
Nancy helped Bess to the bottom and signaled for her to stand still.
Bess wrinkled her nose. “What’s that smell?” she whispered.
It was the same smell Nancy had caught when Brownley had opened the door upstairs for Reston’s cab. She was in Gold Star territory. And the smell was paint.
Nancy crossed to the door in the concrete wall and turned the knob. If it was a closet, they might have imprisoned Ann Granger in there.
But it was a workshop. Two-way radios and other mysterious electronic equipment filled shelves along the back wall. Several large tape decks and a pair of cassette players sat on a worktable. There were also electric drills and polishers.
In a bookcase just inside the door were hundreds of cassette tapes, neatly shelved and cataloged. A file cabinet was in a corner, and one drawer was hanging open.
Bess stuck her head in, and her eyes went round with wonder.
“This must be Fleet’s side of the basement,” Nancy whispered.
“Why would a courier service need tape-editing equipment? That’s what that is.” Bess pointed to a device on the table.
Nancy nodded toward the bookcase full of cassettes. “I wonder if any of those have my father’s voice on them.”
“Why don’t I check this side of the basement?” Bess whispered. “You check the other side.”
“Okay. It’s a long shot, but my back’s against the wall.”
“Come get me if you need me.” Bess crossed to the file cabinet and dug in.
Her nose twitching from the smell of paint, Nancy went back to the other side. A row of stacked boxes was the only thing preventing her from seeing what Gold Star had stored in there.
She pushed against one stack. It didn’t move. Whatever was in the boxes was heavy. She might have to climb Up to see over them.
Moving quietly, Nancy walked the length of the boxes and found a space perhaps a foot-and-a-half wide between the last stack and a round concrete column. She turned sideways and squeezed through the narrow space.
At first, everything looked perfectly normal. Shiny new cabs were parked along the opposite wall. A row of passenger cars was backed against the boxes. It was very quiet and still.
Then Nancy heard the big door being pulled open upstairs. She was tempted to slip behind the boxes again, but there wasn’t time.