In less than a minute, Teresa stood in the connecting doorway. Her eyes were swollen with weeping, and she looked very frail in her thin nightdress. “Have you heard any more about Roberto?” she asked immediately.
Nancy hurried her inside. “We have to talk softly. Our bodyguard’s in the room just outside this door. Didn’t the government assign anyone to guard you?”
Teresa shook her head. “Now that Roberto’s dead, they think I’m not important to the assassins,” she said simply.
“I’m not so sure.” Nancy sat on the bed opposite Teresa and took her hands. “I want you to think very hard. Tell me everything you can remember about Roberto’s movements from the moment you arrived in Washington.”
Bess flicked the record button on the little cassette player she often brought along on trips. George took the memo pad and ballpoint pen from the bedside table.
Teresa stared at the connecting door as if it were a TV screen on which she was watching a documentary of her journey. “So much was new—I have never been out of my own country before, so I remember—the plane came in—”
“Which airport?” Nancy asked quickly.
“I don’t know. Near here—there was a lot of traffic, and we could see the dome on your Capitol.” National Airport, Nancy thought. Good. It was only a mile or two away.
“We come out of the plane into a corridor like a tube. Then we go through a waiting area—we don’t stop at all—and down a wide corridor with windows. Then we come to Immigration. They ask a lot of questions about why are we here, and stamp our passports. The man was nice,” Teresa said with some surprise. “He wished me luck in my tournament.”
“Then what?” Nancy asked.
Teresa described a routine the girls all recognized. Down an escalator. Waiting endlessly for luggage to be unloaded. Finding luggage carts and suitcases—and, in Teresa’s case, tennis rackets. Then the long ordeal of Customs inspection. The inspectors had been very thorough with Teresa and Roberto and Señora Ramirez. They had taken away the fruit Teresa had brought with her and the flowers she’d been given at the San Carlos airport.
Then the party had gone into the main lobby. They had not yet separated at all, not even to go to the rest rooms. At that point, Teresa said, Roberto had noticed how much Señora Ramirez’s feet were hurting and had suggested she sit down.
All at once Nancy’s ears perked up. “Where did Roberto leave Señora Ramirez?” she asked breathlessly.
“He left both of us,” Teresa corrected her, “and went to find out about the car we had arranged to rent. It took him a long time, I think, but—”
“Did he go anywhere else?”
Teresa frowned. “I do not think so. It was a very long day,” she confessed. “We had been traveling since dawn.”
Nancy jumped up, her eyes shining. At last there was something she could do. “Bess, go into the sitting room and turn on the charm,” she commanded. “We’re going to the airport, and we’d better have Dan with us!”
“What? The airport now?” George said. “Why, Nancy?”
“I have a hunch that Roberto may have left the list there somewhere—and I want to find it before anyone else does!”
In a few minutes Nancy, Bess, George—and Dan—were in Dan’s car, with Dan at the wheel. Apparently Bess had been very persuasive. Teresa had begged to go with them, but when Nancy had reminded her of her tournament match the next day, she had returned reluctantly to her own room.
Dan’s small station wagon reassured Nancy. So did his own brawny presence. No one would connect him or his car with San Carlos or with Nancy Drew—particularly since Nancy was wearing Bess’s sundress and George’s battered baseball cap, both brought by Dan from the downstairs room.
Then why, Nancy asked herself as they rolled up the exit ramp from the parking garage, do I suddenly feel as if something’s about to happen?
She found out all too soon. As the station wagon turned into the street and headed for the corner, a car parked near the curb came quietly to life. It pulled in behind them as they halted for the stop sign—then turned left just as Dan did.