“I hate not being honest with Dan,” Bess said. “But it was the only thing that I could come up with.”
Nancy nodded sympathetically. “I know what you mean,” she said, thinking of Ned. “But if you’d told the truth, it would have been Dan’s job to stop us.”
“I’ll be able to keep Dan occupied so he won’t ask Teresa too many questions,” Bess went on. “And the senator’s sending some other bodyguards, who haven’t seen either of you two before, to drive Teresa . . . well, actually you, to the doubles match. The senator agreed with me that Teresa might be safer without her San Carlos guards than with them, so she’s arranged a way to spring her from custody.”
“You didn’t tell Senator Kilpatrick what we’re doing, did you?” Nancy exclaimed. Instinct warned her the deception should be secret even from the senator. Especially after the way Dad lit into her earlier about jeopardizing our lives, she added mentally.
“I didn’t tell anybody,” Bess emphasized. “But I’ll sure be glad when this is over.”
“I, also,” Teresa said somberly. “No matter how it ends.”
There was a momentary silence.
The phone rang. It was Dan reporting that he was ready for the trip into D.C.
Teresa rose. Then, resting her hands lightly on Nancy’s shoulders, she looked directly into her eyes. “Vaya con Dios,” she murmured. She picked up Nancy’s handbag and slipped out into the corridor. Bess followed.
Ten minutes later George and Nancy left too, carrying Teresa’s tennis rackets and gym bag. George sat in the front seat of the government car, beside the driver. “Teresa wants to be alone,” she told the other bodyguard. “She’s got to psych herself up for this match.”
They rode out to the Loudon campus in absolute silence. Nancy was grateful that this limousine, like the one that had kidnapped her, had tinted windows. No one could look in at her, and in the Washington area limos were too common to attract much notice.
They reached the campus. Nancy noticed that the parking lot was well filled. Apparently many people had come to watch Teresa play and help the refugees from her country.
The limousine pulled up by the gym. To Nancy’s relief, security police had made the place off-limits for all but the four players. In the women’s locker room Teresa’s Canadian opponent greeted her pleasantly but otherwise let her alone. Nancy changed into Teresa’s favorite tennis outfit and put on the new tennis shoes. Fortunately they fit well. She propped Teresa’s mascot, a small doll—a replica of a San Carlos Indian woman—beside her on the bench and gazed at it somberly.
Nancy was beginning to realize all too well just how easily the switch of identities could go wrong. I can’t think about it, she told herself. I’ve got to psych myself into the game—into Teresa’s game. She closed her eyes and concentrated.
All at once she heard a commotion in the hall. There were the sounds of a scuffle, and then George’s voice was raised wildly.
“You don’t understand! I’ve got to see Teresa Montenegro!”
Nancy ran to the door. George was struggling with two guards in the lobby of the gym building. She caught Nancy’s eye and signaled frantically.
It was a risk, but Nancy took it. She stepped out of the locker room and strode forward to reach out for George, her own eyes flashing imperiously as she’d once seen Teresa’s do. “Let go of her!” she commanded.
To her great relief, the guards let go of George and stepped back—but only a few feet. They would never let George follow Nancy into the locker room out of their sight.
George turned her head so that only Nancy could see her lips. They formed the words almost soundlessly. “Trouble. Bess phoned. Teresa phoned her at the restaurant. The big guy down south has ordered the execution of traitors everywhere to begin at dawn!”
She emphasized the word everywhere. Nancy’s eyes darkened. “Teresa?” she asked soundlessly.
George nodded imperceptibly.
The same thought was in both girls’ minds. If the San Carlos dictator—the big guy—had ordered killings, there was no guarantee that hit men like El Morro would obey his decree that they should be carried out at sunrise. El Morro might not feel like waiting!