It was a good half-hour before they were able to get out of a traffic jam.
“If we don’t get there soon, that pizza’s going to be stone cold,” Bess grumbled as they barreled toward Alexandria.
“That will ruin your appetite?” Nancy asked absently. Instead of rising to the bait, Bess looked at Nancy’s anxious face and remained silent.
When they entered the suite, George made the same comment. “It’s ten-forty-five. The pizza’s going to taste like wallpaper paste by now. And I ordered all the good stuff—turns out there’s a Neapolitan pizza place nearby.” She stopped abruptly. “Something’s gone wrong, hasn’t it?”
“I hope not,” Nancy said soberly. “Whoever was supposed to meet me didn’t. I don’t know what scared him off. Any word from the senator or Teresa?”
“Nope,” George responded. She went to the phone and ordered another pizza.
They were still eating, sitting cross-legged on Nancy’s king-size bed, when midnight came.
“The senator won’t call now.” Nancy’s shoulders sagged.
“Be glad. Under these circumstances no news is good news,” George pointed out. She sank her teeth into onions and pepperoni. “What I’d like to know,” she went on around a mouthful of cheese, “is why somebody snatched Teresa’s guy. Just to have a reason to lure her to the garage? Or did they really want to get her to the river?”
“It could have been a fail-safe setup,” Nancy said thoughtfully. “If the first guy didn’t run her down in the garage, he or a buddy would have a second chance over there. Believe me, nobody’d have known till morning. That neighborhood was dead.” Nancy shuddered at her own choice of words. “What I’d like to know is why the police aren’t doing anything.”
The others stared at her.
“Think about it,” Nancy insisted. “They don’t know that I got snatched. But they do know Roberto got snatched. With bullets bouncing around! And that somebody tried to run Teresa down in the garage.”
George whistled. “I see your point. Have we ever known a situation like that when the place wasn’t immediately crawling with cops? Especially considering the protests, the bomb threat, and the fact that a foreign sports figure’s involved.”
Especially considering there are top-secret talks involving the San Carlos dictatorship going on, Nancy added silently to herself. She had a lot of questions to ask Senator Marilyn Kilpatrick!
At last Nancy and her friends fell asleep. Before Nancy knew it, she was awakened by a brisk knocking at the main entrance to the suite. Nancy propped herself up on one elbow, noting that the hands of her clock stood at ten minutes to six.
Nancy jumped out of bed and ran to the door in her blue nightshirt. “Who’s there?” she called softly.
“Marilyn Kilpatrick,” a distinctive, familiar voice replied.
Quickly Nancy manipulated the chain and dead-bolt lock, and Senator Kilpatrick slipped inside. Nancy beckoned her into her bedroom.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, but I also didn’t want to be seen coming here.” Senator Kilpatrick’s auburn hair was as smartly styled as always, but there were circles under her dark eyes. For once she looked every bit of her forty-eight years. “What happened last night? Why didn’t you get the packet for me? Tell me quickly.”
“A lot happened. And no, the courier didn’t meet me.” Nancy pulled on a robe as the senator sank down in a chair. In a few accurate sentences Nancy briefed the politician on the events that had occurred. Then she looked squarely into the dark eyes.
“You brought me into this. I think I’ve earned the right to be told more. Otherwise I could make a wrong move.”
“You’re right.” The senator walked to the window and stood looking between the cracks of the blinds that Nancy had lowered. Then she turned.
“There ought not to have been any danger—to you or anyone else. But the—information exchange—is far more important than I’ve been free to tell you. What I’m going to tell you now I should not be saying to anyone who doesn’t have top security clearance. I’m trusting you because I trust your father.”
“It has to do with a possible revolution in San Carlos, doesn’t it?” Nancy guessed.