Sinister Paradise

by Carolyn Keene

  “How much?” asked Nancy.

  “Thirty bucks.”

  “In the coin return? Anyone could take it!”

  Boomer grinned evilly. “It’s being watched. No one will—”

  He halted abruptly. Face frozen, he stared at a reflection in the neighboring car’s windshield. Nancy heard a footstep behind her.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she gasped out loud. Approaching the stairs was the moon-faced man—the same man who had been spying on Lisa Trumbull’s apartment!

  Boomer seemed to sense Nancy’s anxiety. “Be cool. He’s not going to bust us.”

  “You know him?” Nancy blurted.

  “Nahhhh, but he’s a cop.” Boomer leaned casually against the other car. “I can tell. That joker’s got plainclothes written all over him.”

  Nancy sneaked a quick glance. The moonfaced man lingered at the bottom of the stairs. Then, pretending not to look at them, he ambled over to the Star-Bulletin dispenser and bought a newspaper.

  Alarmed, Nancy realized that he was shadowing her!

  Nancy’s heartbeat seemed to fill her chest. The moon-faced man stood blocking the stairs, pretending to read his paper.

  Nancy turned and noticed Boomer’s suspicious gaze. He was glowering at her. His expression grew more menacing as he realized he couldn’t escape up the stairs.

  Suddenly his hand darted inside his leather jacket. “Now I get it! He’s with you.” A small pistol appeared in his big hand. “You set me up, you little—You’re a cop!”

  Before Nancy could move, Boomer had looped his arm around her neck. He held her in a choke-hold, using her as a shield as his pistol swiveled toward the moon-faced man. “Game’s over, cop! Back off, you hear me?”

  Nancy felt the cold steel of the gun against her temple.

  “Back off, I said, or this is the end of her!”

  Chapter

  Seven

  THIS IS IT, cop!” Boomer tapped the muzzle against Nancy’s head. “Say goodbye to your partner.”

  Mouth agape, the moon-faced man stared at them. He held out a quaking hand. “N-now wait a minute, buddy! You got it all wrong!”

  “You’re following me!” Boomer roared, his left arm locked under Nancy’s chin. “Lousy, stinking cop!”

  Uttering a frightened yelp, the man turned and fled.

  Boomer leveled the pistol and took careful aim at the man.

  Now! Nancy thought.

  Her head whipped back, striking Boomer flush on the chin. He yowled. Feeling his grip loosen, Nancy slipped out from under and gave him a solid judo chop to the ribs. Boomer stumbled. Nancy jumped him, grabbing his wrist with both hands, and hammered his gun hand against the fender. The pistol clattered to the floor. Nancy’s foot swept it under a nearby car.

  She heard running feet—the anxious shouts of Ned and Bess.

  Boomer bolted. “More cops!”

  After he ran up to Nancy, Ned hugged her. “You all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She pointed at Boomer, who was heading for the stairwell. “After him, Ned! We can’t let him get away.”

  Ned and Nancy took off in pursuit. Bess brought up the rear. They charged up the stairway in single file, Ned in the lead. Nancy took the steps two at a time. She was thinking, What was that moon-faced guy doing here? Was he following me? But how does he know who I am? He couldn’t have seen me in Lisa’s window!

  Clang! Boomer pushed a steel trash can over the edge of the stairs. It tumbled toward them!

  Ned tried to dodge, but his foot slipped on the step. The can rolled right over him, and he went down hard.

  “Ned!” Grabbing Bess, Nancy pushed her against the railing. The can bounced past them, spilling trash all over the stairs.

  “I’m okay, Nancy. Go get him!” Ned said.

  Nancy raced to the balcony. She spotted Boomer’s blue- and orange-flowered shirt just ahead, disappearing into the mall crowd.

  Shoving people aside, Boomer bulled his way down the main corridor. Angry shouts exploded all around him. Nancy stayed on his heels, zigzagging between startled shoppers.

  At last the crowd thinned out and disappeared. They were in a little turnoff now, a hallway lined with supply closets. Once in the clear, Nancy put on a sudden burst of speed. She came right up behind Boomer and brought him down with a tackle worthy of a pro football player.

  Nancy and Boomer rolled over and over across the polished floor. Breaking free, Nancy jumped to her feet. Boomer got up groggily, saw who it was, and—snarling with rage—threw himself at Nancy.

  Nancy’s right leg scissored in a flawless judo kick. Her sneaker clobbered Boomer’s chin—he went over like an old dead tree.

  Boomer lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay—that’s enough. I’m busted, man. I want to see my lawyer.”

  Nancy knelt beside him. “Boomer, I’m not a cop.”

  “We’re just concerned citizens,” Ned added, coming up behind them and pinning him to the floor.

  “Then how about letting me go?” Boomer tried to sit up.

  “After you put a gun to Nancy’s head? No way, pal!”

  “Boomer, we’ve got you cold on assault and unlawful possession of a gun.” Reaching across the floor, Nancy retrieved her shoulder bag. “Tell you what, though. If you’ll answer a few questions for me, I won’t mention that you took aim at that black-haired guy.”

  “All right.” Boomer sighed. “Ask your questions.”

  Nancy took the photo of Lisa Trumbull out of her bag. “Have you ever seen this girl before?”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen her.” He tilted the photo slightly. “She came up to me on Waikiki Beach yesterday. Two o’clock or so. She wanted to sell me a diamond. Real quality stuff, too. I offered to set up a meet, but she wouldn’t go for it. She said she’d make the arrangements.” He lowered his voice. “Look, don’t go spreading this around, okay? I don’t want people to think I’m a double-dealer.” He sat cross-legged on the hallway floor. “The whole scene felt wrong, you know? She didn’t seem like the type to be fencing diamonds. I thought maybe it was a cop setup. So I followed her.”

  “Where did she go?” asked Nancy eagerly.

  “A rundown apartment house. The Ka Lae, it’s called.”

  Suddenly a pair of uniformed security men rushed up to them. “What’s the problem here, miss?”

  “This man pulled a gun on me in the garage,” Nancy explained, brushing her hair back. “Place him under arrest.”

  The guards hauled Boomer to his feet. He struggled in their grip, yelling, “Hey! Where’s my lawyer, man?”

  “We’ll need to ask you a few questions, miss,” one guard called back over his shoulder. “Could you come with us?”

  “Be glad to,” Nancy answered. But as she and Ned followed, she was worrying about the moonfaced man. Who was he? First he’d been watching Lisa’s apartment. Then he’d shown up at the garage. And judging from his reaction to Boomer’s threat, Nancy had been his quarry.

  A sudden chill touched Nancy’s heart. There were too many wild cards in the Lisa Trumbull case. The Malihini Corporation was one. That moon-faced man was the other. Were the two connected? Or were they operating independently?

  Either way, Nancy knew, she had to fit those puzzle pieces into their proper places. Otherwise, she and her friends might not get out of this alive!

  • • •

  “Uh-oh! Looks like there’s roadwork up ahead,” Nancy announced.

  They were heading north to Honolulu’s financial district. Long, low-roofed bungalows from the 1940s flanked the street on either side, a reminder of the days when Paawa had been a suburb of the city.

  “How bad is it?” asked Bess.

  Nancy stuck her head out the side window. Up ahead, the line of traffic was snaking around a city water department excavation. Propped up against a sawhorse was a huge sign: warning! EXPLOSIVES IN USE! TURN OFF YOUR RADIO!

  “Slow going, but we’ll get there.” Nancy put the car in neutral.

 
; “We should’ve called George at the bank. Let her know we’re coming,” Bess observed. “You know how she hates to be kept waiting.”

  Nancy sighed. “It can’t be helped. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

  “What’s the next stop after the bank?” asked Ned.

  “The Ka Lae apartment house.” Nancy frowned in determination. “I want to see how reliable Boomer’s information is.”

  The car ahead of them lurched forward. Nancy shifted into gear, then pressed the gas pedal. As their car rolled forward, she checked the dashboard, making certain that their radio was off.

  The flagger waved his red banner back and forth. Beside him stood a mammoth pile of black volcanic sand. Halfway up the pile sat a small battery-powered lantern.

  Suddenly the lantern’s bulb turned bright red. Nancy spotted it at the same moment the flagger did. Dropping his banner, he made shoving motions at Nancy’s car. “Go back! Go back!”

  Whonk-whonk-whonk! A klaxon bleated a deafening tone.

  Uttering a cry of alarm, the flagger threw himself on the ground.

  Bess blinked in bewilderment. “Nancy, what’s going on?”

  Nancy shoved the gearshift into reverse just as a fireball erupted from the pit, hurling a shower of debris straight at them!

  Chapter

  Eight

  DUCK!” NANCY YELLED.

  Covering her head, she leaned against the steering wheel. Ned braced himself behind the glove compartment. Bess plunged down behind the front seat.

  The blast wave bounced the car on its springs. Rock fragments spattered the roof and hood, and the stench of burnt TNT permeated the air.

  Coughing, Nancy switched off the engine. “Everybody all right?”

  Ned got back into his seat. “I’m fine,” he murmured.

  “No injuries here,” Bess said. “Nancy, what was that?”

  The flagger came running, with a police officer right behind. The construction crew stood farther away, jabbering in confusion.

  “Are you kids okay?” the cop asked. The name tag above his silver badge read “Pukui.”

  “Nobody hurt,” Nancy reported. “Just a little shaken up.”

  Hands on his gun belt, Officer Pukui asked, “What happened here?”

  “A TNT excavation charge went off,” the flagger said, gesturing at the smoking trench. “Good thing the work crew was on break.” He glanced at Nancy. “Didn’t you see the sign? Why didn’t you turn off your radio?”

  “My radio wasn’t on,” Nancy replied.

  “It must’ve been. The charge can’t go off by itself!”

  “Are you certain of that?” asked Officer Pukui.

  “Positive!” The flagger lifted the brim of his safety helmet. “The charge was armed with a radio detonator. If someone comes too close with an FM radio, the signal can set it off.”

  Officer Pukui sat behind the steering wheel and turned the ignition key. The engine purred to life. “She’s right. The radio wasn’t on,” he told the flagger. He turned to Nancy. “Did you leave anything in the trunk? A transistor radio from the beach, maybe?”

  “This is a rental car. We haven’t even opened the trunk!” Nancy replied.

  The cop switched off the ignition. “I’m going to try something.” He lifted his walkie-talkie from his gun belt and turned it on. Static crackled harshly. His thumb turned the dial. All at once, a pulsing squeal burst out of the speaker. “Something in this car is broadcasting at seventeen hundred and sixty-eight megahertz. That’s what set off the TNT,” the officer said grimly.

  “Ned, Bess—help me look,” ordered Nancy.

  “Got it!” Ned announced after a minute of searching the underside of the seats. He withdrew his hand to show them a small electronic device. The unit was the size of a cigarette case. A tiny operating light on its side glowed green.

  “May I?” Nancy took the unit and examined it closely. Two inscriptions were stamped into the black vinyl—one in Japanese, the other in English. The English phrase read “Higashi Electronics, Ltd.—Osaka.”

  “What is it?” asked Bess.

  “A radio transceiver—a bug,” Officer Pukui said, taking it from Nancy. “Higashi specializes in this miniature stuff. This baby can probably transmit fifty miles.”

  Fifty miles, Nancy mused. That would cover all of Oahu!

  “I sure hope this wasn’t someone’s idea of a joke,” the cop said. “Letting you drive around with a live transceiver under your seat. That explosive charge could have killed you and a whole lot of innocent bystanders.”

  Satisfied that Nancy and her friends were not at fault, Officer Pukui took their statements and gave them the transceiver. They continued on their way after Nancy had disabled the bug.

  As they drove through downtown Honolulu, Ned said, “Nancy, do you think that was done on purpose? Did somebody try to get us blown up?”

  Nancy shook her head. “I doubt it. For one thing, they had no way of knowing we would drive by any construction site, let alone that one. No, somebody decided to eavesdrop on us.”

  “When do you think it was planted?” asked Bess.

  “Probably last night. Anybody could have walked by our car in the Ala Wai lot, opened the door, and stuck that thing under the seat.”

  Ned cast her a curious sidelong look. “Do you think it might have been someone from the Malihini Corporation?”

  “Could be. Or it could just as easily have been the moon-faced man. Or somebody else.” Nancy let out a deep sigh. “All we really know is, someone is awfully interested in what we talk about! Let’s go pick up George.”

  Her face was grim. Someone was hunting them—that was certain. Some faceless, ruthless enemy was tracking them back and forth across the island.

  And Nancy hadn’t the slightest idea where that enemy would strike next.

  • • •

  The Windward Fidelity Bank was a sleek, clean-lined monolith that dominated the business district. After Nancy had parked the car, the three of them dashed across the boulevard and strolled into the airy lobby of the bank.

  The tellers’ windows were packed with customers, so Nancy tried the loan section. A good-looking young man with chestnut hair was leaning over a calculator at the main desk.

  Nancy cleared her throat. “Excuse me.”

  He looked up and smiled. “Hi! What can I do for you?”

  “I’m Nancy Drew.” She gestured at her friends. “Bess Marvin—Ned Nickerson. We’d like to see Mr. Rafferty, please.”

  “Oh, of course! You’re with George. She’s upstairs with the Old Man right now.” Rounding the desk, he extended a welcoming hand. “I’m Jack Showalter, junior accountant.”

  “Have you worked here long?” asked Nancy.

  “Since June. I just graduated from business school.” Jack picked up his telephone. “Let me call the Old Man for you.”

  Jack buzzed Mr. Rafferty’s secretary and told her that Nancy had arrived. Then, looking puzzled, he hung up.

  “What is it?” Nancy asked.

  “Odd. She said he’d be down in person,” Jack replied. “Mr. Rafferty never does that!”

  Bess pointed at the elevator. The green light descended the row of numbers. “Here he comes.”

  The elevator doors slid open. Nancy found herself staring at an irate middle-aged man in a navy blue pin-striped suit. Ross Rafferty was a slim, vain-looking man, with pudgy jowls and thick auburn hair combed into an unlikely pompadour.

  Then Nancy noticed the men in the elevator with him. Big, competent-looking bank guards. They had their guns out.

  “That’s them!” Ross Rafferty pointed at Nancy. “Place those kids under arrest!”

  Chapter

  Nine

  UNDER ARREST?” ECHOED Bess.

  The bank guards surrounded them.

  “Bring the other one,” Ross Rafferty ordered.

  A tough-looking guard ushered George out of the elevator. Her eyes blazed furiously as she looked at the banker. “Mr. Rafferty
, your hospitality leaves something to be desired.”

  Facing him, Nancy said, “Mr. Rafferty, my friends and I were hired to find your stepdaughter.”

  “I know who you are.” Mr. Rafferty flexed his shoulders arrogantly. “You private eyes are all alike. This is nothing but a cheap shakedown.”

  Nancy blinked in disbelief.

  “I know how you people operate,” Rafferty continued. “You’ve conned poor Alice into thinking you can help. You’ll feed her little bits of information—just enough to keep her anxious. Then you’ll milk this—this situation—for years!”

  Anger colored Nancy’s face. “That is untrue—and unfair, Mr. Rafferty!”

  “Save your breath!” Rafferty looked highly pleased with himself. “I’ve got you all now, and I’m going to turn you over to the police!”

  Nancy managed to stay calm. “Mr. Rafferty, I intend to find Lisa—with or without your cooperation. Frankly, I’d rather work with you than have to tell Mrs. Faulkner you wouldn’t cooperate.” She pointed at Jack Showalter’s phone. “So why don’t you give her a call and tell her what you think?”

  She could see that she had called his bluff. As the leading shareholder in Windward Bancorp, Alice had the power to fire him instantly. Which meant Rafferty didn’t dare defy her!

  “We’ll see about that!” he said huffily.

  Nancy watched as he picked up the telephone and dialed the Faulkner estate. “Hello, Alice? Ross Rafferty here. I’ve captured that girl who was conning you. With your permission, I’ll turn this Nancy Drew over to the—”

  Ross Rafferty wilted like a balloon with the air leaking out. “But—but—but—!” He sounded like an old motorboat.

  “Yes, Alice. Of course, Alice. Good day!” Ross hung up quickly. He pressed a crumpled handkerchief to his lips, then turned to face Nancy and her friends. “Ahem! Perhaps I was a little brusque before.”

  He dismissed the bank guards, then told Jack Showalter, “I’d like you to serve as the bank’s liaison in this matter.” Turning to Nancy, he said, “Since we have to work together on this, I suppose we should make the best of it.” He spread his hands in mock invitation. “How can I help?”