Swiss Secrets

by Carolyn Keene

  Twenty minutes later the taxi let the girls off in the quiet residential neighborhood where the Montreux lived. Nancy stared appraisingly at the large stucco building covered with ivy. It was dark and deserted except for a light burning in a room on the third floor. Nancy thought she could make out someone moving about behind the window shade.

  “Someone’s home,” she said. “Maybe the alarm won’t be on. And since they’re way up on the third floor, hopefully the person won’t hear us.”

  The three girls stole around to the back of the house to see if any windows had been left open. “Here’s one,” George whispered after a minute. “It’s the dining room, I think. But how can we tell if the security system is working?”

  Nancy peeked in over her friend’s shoulder. She couldn’t see any motion detector inside, and if there was one outside the house, it wasn’t turned on because they would have set it off already.

  Holding her breath, Nancy cautiously stuck a hand through the opening. Nothing happened. She reached her arm in farther, waved it around, and then gently tapped the windowsill. Still no sign of an alarm.

  “I guess we just try climbing in very, very quietly,” she whispered. “Boost me up, George.”

  In a second she had slithered in through the narrow opening. Then she peeked back out the window at her friends. “All clear, I think,” she whispered.

  “Whew!” George whispered back. “Give a girl a heart attack! I was sure the police would be here by now.”

  A moment later they were all safely inside the house. With Nancy in the lead, the girls began tiptoeing down the hall, trying to get their bearings. First they passed the living room, with its full-size grand piano gleaming at one end. The next room was a cozy little reading nook. After that, the girls came upon a paneled study.

  “Wait a minute,” Nancy whispered, stopping in the doorway of the study. The room held practical office furniture, one upholstered chair, and a file cabinet in the far corner. There were no paintings or pictures on the walls, and no signs of any personal possessions on the desk or worktable. Whoever used this room used it for business alone.

  “This may be it. Let’s check out that file cabinet,” Nancy went on, stepping inside the study. While Bess stood guard at the door, George lifted a gooseneck lamp carefully off the desk and put it on the floor before turning it on. “The light won’t show as much from the window,” she whispered.

  Meanwhile Nancy had quietly begun sliding open file drawers. The top drawer yielded nothing interesting. “Just some tax stuff, I think,” she murmured. The second drawer contained accounts, the third what looked like copies of old letters. But in the bottom drawer, Nancy hit pay dirt.

  “ ‘Haussman,’ ” she whispered, pulling the file from the drawer. “Look, guys. They have a whole file on Franz!”

  George peered over Nancy’s shoulder as she leafed rapidly through the file. “Here’s a credit check they ran on him,” she said. “Looks okay, I’m glad to say. Some newspaper clippings, a press release about a design award he won—I guess he does take his job seriously—”

  Nancy whistled as her gaze fell on a group of papers farther down in the file. “Okay—here we go. This is a report Bart made on Franz’s activities.”

  The report was addressed to Monsieur Montreux and written in the form of a day-by-day journal. Surprisingly it was in English, so Nancy was able to skim it relatively quickly.

  “ ‘May 2. Subject spent all day at the office. Took a one-hour lunch at restaurant across the street,’ ” she read aloud.

  “Thrilling stuff,” George muttered sarcastically. “Do you get the feeling that Monique’s family is wasting its money paying Bart?”

  “ ‘May 4. Party at the Lauriats’. Subject became boisterous and was asked to leave. Left without Monique, whom E.H. brought home later.’ ”

  “That’s still pretty tame,” Bess whispered from the doorway.

  Nancy had to agree. “ ‘May 5,’ ” she kept reading. “ ‘Subject late to work. Met Monique after hours—went to art gallery opening. E.H. confirmed art dealer a friend of subject’s.’ ”

  “E.H. again,” Nancy mused. “Erich Haussman? But how could Bart talk to Erich without blowing his cover? We’ll have to find out—” She flipped ahead in the report. “There’s nothing much in May. Franz just got in trouble at a couple of parties.”

  “I think the Montreux should be ashamed of themselves,” Bess put in. “Does it say anything about that time in Monaco?”

  Nancy read ahead, then shook her head. “Nope. It doesn’t even mention Franz’s being there. Bart was covering his own tracks, I guess. He wouldn’t want to leave any evidence about his blackmailing Franz. And I guess that means the Montreux don’t have anything to do with the blackmailing. If they actually asked Bart to blackmail Franz, why would he bother to hide it from them in his report?”

  Nancy leafed through the rest of the file, tremendously relieved to find nothing on Mick. “Look, here’s a letter Monique’s father wrote to Bart in April,” she said after a few minutes’ reading. “Hey, the Haussmans recommended Bart to Monique’s parents! Listen to this!” Translating as she went along, she read:

  “ ‘Monsieur Haussman spoke most highly of you to me. The Haussmans are as concerned as we about Franz’s delay in committing to Monique. They have approved the somewhat unusual measure of hiring you to observe his activities for a short period.’ ”

  “Somewhat unusual?” George snorted. “Yes, I’d have to say it’s unusual to agree to have your son followed by a private investigator.”

  “Especially when he’s a blackmailer,” Nancy agreed wryly. “Though I guess these high-powered families do things a little differently from—”

  Suddenly she stopped. “Listen!” she whispered. “Did you hear that?”

  All three girls froze. “Someone’s in the house!” Bess murmured in horror. She quickly closed the study door and hurried to her friends. “What are we going to do?”

  Nancy could hear voices coming down the hall toward the study. Before she could move, the voices were right outside the door. Her eyes opened wide as the doorknob began to turn.

  There was no time to hide. In a second they would be caught!

  Chapter

  Twelve

  QUL EST LÀ? Who’s there?” a woman’s frightened voice called out.

  The doorknob stopped turning. “It’s okay, Sophie,” a man’s voice said in a drawling American accent. “It’s just me. Any calls for me?”

  It was a maid checking on whoever had just arrived, Nancy realized. And just in time!

  As the woman answered the man’s question, Nancy slid Franz’s file back into the file cabinet and closed the drawer. George was holding open a door next to the cabinet. Nancy joined her friends inside the small closet, and George pulled their door closed at the exact instant the study door opened.

  Nancy’s heart was pounding. Had whoever was out there seen them? Had she dropped anything from the file on the floor? What about the light George had put on the floor—would the people in the study notice that?

  It seemed an eternity before Nancy heard a voice, but when she did, she breathed a sigh of relief. Whoever was out there couldn’t have spotted the three girls. He would never have asked the question he did if he knew he had listeners.

  “No one saw us leave the party, did they?” asked the man with the American accent.

  “I don’t think so,” a familiar voice replied. Nancy exchanged a shocked glance with Bess and George. It was Mick! “I don’t think anyone saw you there in the first place, Bart.”

  Mick and Bart—together! Nancy’s heart sank. This could have only bad implications.

  “Well, what do you want to talk to me about, anyway?” Bart asked brusquely. “I don’t want to waste any more time here than I have to.”

  “I want to make a deal with you.”

  “What kind of deal?” asked Bart.

  “I know you have a lot of ambition, Bart,�
�� Mick said. “I can use my political connections—”

  Political connections! Nancy was totally bewildered. What was Mick talking about?

  “To, let’s say, help you out with some of those ambitions.”

  There was a brief silence in the study. Then Bart asked, “So what’s your deal?”

  “What do you think?” Mick retorted. “I want money, that’s all. I’m not very complicated.”

  “How do you know I’ve got money to give you?” Bart’s voice was surly and suspicious.

  “Let’s just say I heard you were expecting to come into an . . . inheritance before long.”

  Was Mick talking about the gold delivery Bart was hoping to intercept? Nancy shivered. She couldn’t believe it, but it actually sounded as if Mick wanted to get in on the scheme.

  Bart snorted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, I don’t need your help. Why should I ask for favors from a diplomat’s kid when I’ve already got one of the most powerful people in Geneva behind me?”

  Nancy’s mind was reeling. Diplomat’s kid? What was going on here?

  “Maybe you do, and maybe you don’t,” Mick retorted. “The Montreux don’t seem to be very powerful at dealing with their problems. Especially a problem named Franz Haussman.”

  “That little twerp isn’t a problem,” Bart said scornfully. “The Montreux don’t have anything to worry about with him—not that I’m going to tell them that. I’m not talking about the Montreux. I’m talking about real power.”

  Mick gently pried. “I suppose you’re not going to tell me who?”

  “No way. But take it from me, someone a lot bigger than you is looking out for me.”

  “Well, keep my suggestion in mind,” Mick said mildly.

  “Uh-huh.” Bart sounded utterly unconvinced. “Listen, I’ve got to get out of here. I just came back to get a little cash.” There was the sound of his sliding open a desk drawer.

  “I’ll leave with you,” Mick said. “I don’t exactly want the Montreux finding me here.”

  The two men left the study, closing the door behind them. Nancy heard their footsteps fading away down the hall. Bess reached for the closet doorknob, but Nancy put a hand on her arm. “Five more minutes,” she mouthed silently, pointing at her watch. She wanted to make absolutely sure Mick and Bart were gone before they came out of hiding.

  The minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly, but at last the three girls tiptoed out into the study, made their way back to the dining room, and climbed back out the window to the deserted back lawn. For a long moment they simply stood in the cool night air, gulping huge breaths of relief.

  “Let’s get out of this neighborhood,” Bess murmured. “I’ll die if Monique sees us here.”

  It was a ten-minute walk before the girls reached a busy enough intersection to find a taxi. Once they were all safely inside the cab, Nancy gave their hotel’s address, then leaned back against the seat.

  “Whew! For a minute there, I really thought we were in trouble,” she said.

  “We really were in trouble,” George said soberly. “We were just lucky, that’s all.”

  “I can’t believe Mick is such a—such a double-crossing jerk!” Bess added, shaking her head in disgust.

  Nancy knew it was time to level with her friends. “I’ve had suspicions about him for a while,” she said sadly. “Of course, none of the things I thought were true—but I was picking up on something.” She briefly told Bess and George all the doubts about Mick that had surfaced over the previous few days. “But I was hoping he wasn’t really bad,” she finished, her voice trembling. She quickly wiped a single tear from one eye.

  “Are you okay, Nan?” Bess asked anxiously. “I mean, you were starting to like him, weren’t you?”

  Nancy gave a wobbly smile. “I don’t know. Maybe,” she admitted. “I’m just glad I found out the truth about him before I really fell for him.”

  “Well, at least we know he wasn’t working with Bart before tonight,” George pointed out. “It sounded as though they barely knew each other.”

  “That’s not much comfort,” Nancy said bleakly. “He’s obviously very interested in working with Bart, even if Bart said no.”

  Bess twisted a strand of her blond hair thoughtfully in her fingers. “Nan, could you figure out who Bart was talking about who was helping him?” she asked. “I mean, who was that powerful person he said was behind him?”

  “And what was Mick talking about with that diplomat’s son stuff?” George added. “Is Mick’s father a diplomat?”

  “I have no answers to either of your questions,” Nancy replied. “Yves Petiau may be the powerful person Bart meant. I haven’t had a chance to follow up on him yet,” she suddenly recalled. “We’ve been really busy since we lost him outside the Haussman building yesterday.”

  Nancy knit her brow in concentration. “I don’t know about him, though. I mean, Petiau is rich, but I’m not sure he has the kind of clout Bart was talking about. Mick’s being the son of a diplomat is certainly news to me. I guess I’ll have to follow up on both those leads. Tomorrow,” she added. The stress of their day—and her disappointment about Mick—had left her feeling drained and exhausted.

  “L’Hôtel du Lac,” the cab driver announced, stopping in front of their hotel.

  Nancy fumbled in her purse for some money, but George was already paying the driver.

  “Thanks for coming with me to the Montreux’ tonight,” Nancy told Bess and George as they unlocked the front door and walked into the deserted hotel lobby. The night porter was nowhere in sight, Nancy noticed. He’d probably gone off to sleep. “I’m glad you guys were there to keep me company in that closet.”

  “You know we wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” Bess said loyally. They rounded the darkened corner that led to the elevator and stairs. “If we hadn’t been, I would never have believed—”

  “Hang on a minute,” Nancy whispered, freezing where she stood. “What was that noise?”

  George darted a quick glance back over her shoulder. “What noise?”

  “Someone’s here,” Nancy said tensely.

  Just then, a dark form lurched out from behind a pillar, and a pair of strong hands grabbed Nancy by the shoulders.

  Bess’s scream echoed in the deserted lobby.

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  HEY, HEY, CALM DOWN! It’s just me!”

  Nancy couldn’t believe her eyes. “Mick! What on earth are you trying to do?” she demanded furiously, yanking herself out of his grasp.

  “I—I didn’t mean to scare you,” Mick stammered. “I just wanted to explain!”

  “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” said Nancy icily, crossing her arms over her chest.

  George stepped forward and put an arm around Nancy’s shoulders. “And attacking Nancy in a deserted lobby is a funny way to start.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Mick. “It wasn’t an attack, I swear! I just came down from trying to find you in your room, and I was startled to see you.”

  Nancy relaxed a little, but she was still determined not to let her guard down with Mick. “Why don’t you explain everything right here?” she said, gesturing toward a group of slightly threadbare chairs next to the check-in desk.

  “Fine.” Mick stalked across the room, flung himself into a chair. “I know you went to the Montreux house tonight,” he said. “I saw you leaving the party, and I decided to follow you.”

  “Why?” Nancy asked.

  Mick shrugged. “No reason except that I wasn’t having that great a time. I hoped I could catch up with you, that’s all. Then, when I realized your cab wasn’t going to the hotel, I got curious and had my cab follow yours. I got out just as you were sneaking behind Monique’s house.”

  “Hang on a sec,” George said. “How did you know it was Monique’s house?”

  Looking a bit sheepish, Mick scuffed one toe across the floor. “Actually, I’ve been there before. I’ll fill you in on
that in a minute. Anyway, you went in, and I—well, I sort of hung back and waited to see what would happen.”

  “Right,” Nancy said unemotionally. I’m not helping you out one bit, she said to herself.

  “Then, all of the sudden, Bart drove up and parked across the street. I mean, I assumed it was Bart—it was the guy I saw up on the Matterhorn. I knew it wouldn’t be good if he found you inside, so I decided to stall him.”

  He took a deep breath. “And the only way I could think of to get the interest of a guy like that was to offer to cut a deal with him.”

  “We heard you,” said Nancy flatly. “We were in the closet in the study.”

  Mick’s eyes widened. “I was wondering where you’d gone.” He raked a hand through his blond hair. “Then I don’t have to tell you what Bart and I talked about. I was making it all up on my side.”

  There was a long, ugly silence.

  “I see you don’t believe me.” Mick’s voice was disheartened. He slumped forward in his chair and stared at the ground. “Well, all I can say is, it’s true. I was hoping that I could get him to incriminate himself somehow, but I guess he’s too smart for that.” With a sigh, he added, “I know it all sounds preposterous.”

  Nancy looked over at Bess and George. George’s expression was guarded; Bess wore an imploring look, as though she was hoping Nancy would decide to give Mick another chance. Taking a deep breath, Nancy tried to decide what she thought about Mick’s story.

  “I want to believe you, Mick,” she said slowly. “But I need you to explain a few more things first. What was Bart talking about when he said you were a diplomat’s kid?”

  Mick grimaced. “He was telling the truth,” he admitted sheepishly. “My father was the Australian ambassador to Switzerland all during my teens. I—I didn’t want you to know.”

  “But why?” Bess burst out. “Why wouldn’t you want us to know a cool thing like that?”

  “Cool?” Mick shook his head. “Oh, sure, you meet some interesting people. But I’ve always had to be on my best behavior. A diplomat’s son—why, he represents his entire nation!” Mick’s voice was charged with resentment. “That’s the kind of thing I used to hear all the time. It’s not always easy.”