013 Wings of Fear

by Carolyn Keene

  Nancy looked around. There was a half wall dividing the cafe into two sections. Vertical blinds ran from the top rail to the ceiling. Linda and Grant were on one side of the wall, and the table that backed up to them on the near side was empty. Casually Nancy walked to the table, slipped into the chair, and scooted it as far back as possible, hoping to hear their conversation.

  She leaned toward the wall. Her heart began to pound when she heard Grant's deep voice.

  "It's too risky to be seen together like this," he was saying.

  Linda spoke so low Nancy could hardly catch anything she said. Then Linda said something about "seven forty-seven." Nancy sat bolt upright in her chair.

  Grant Sweeney actually laughed. "Yeah, well, he thinks of everything."

  Nancy strained to hear Linda's soft voice. She could only make out some of the words. "I want out! I saw Daw ... on the plane. Don't think . . . know what that means! I ... go on much longer."

  "You should have thought of that eariier," Grant said without sympathy. "You know what the man upstairs does to deserters."

  Linda's voice was completely indistinguishable after that. Nancy thought she might even be crying.

  But Grant's voice came out cold and chilling. "Better be careful, or the boss'll take care of you, too. You'll end up at the bottom of a cliff just like Rod!"

  Nancy sat transfixed, her hands gripping the edge of the table in front of her. Proof that Rod had been murdered!

  Then Nancy heard chairs scrape back. She searched around desperately for an escape. If they see me now I'm done for! she thought.

  Seconds later Linda walked out. Grant stood near the doorway. He seemed in no big hurry to leave.

  If he looks back and spots me . . . Nancy agonized, turning her shoulder his way.

  She nearly jumped out of her skin when a shadow fell across her table. "What are you doing in here?" Paul asked.

  Nancy glanced up. Grant Sweeney was starting to turn her way.

  Impulsively, Nancy threw her arms around Paul and gave him a big kiss. Several long seconds passed before Nancy dared to shoot a glance over Paul's shoulder. But when she did, Grant was gone.

  "Whew. That was close! Thanks for covering for me," Nancy said, picking up her purse.

  Paul was looking at her in total bemusement. He blinked rapidly several times. For once in his life he seemed to have absolutely nothing to say.

  "Look, I've got to go," Nancy said hurriedly. "I'll—I'll explain later. And thanks again."

  "Does this mean you might accept my offer of a date?" he asked, but Nancy just smiled as she sidled past him and out of the restaurant.

  She practically ran to the main terminal. Rod FuUerton definitely had been murdered! It was something to tell the police! Nancy tried to decide whom to see first: Jennifer and Bess, Sean, or Preston Talbot.

  ''You know what the man upstairs does to deserters,'' Grant's words hit Nancy like a thunderbolt. The man upstairs. Preston Talbot! Talbot's office was on the sixth floor. Victory's offices only went as high as the seventh. The man upstairs couldn't be anyone else!

  She turned blindly toward Victory's counter. CeUa was waving frantically for her to come over.

  "I have a message Jennifer Bishop asked me to pass along to you."

  "A message?"

  "Apparently a flu bug's going around, and half the flight attendants are down with it. Jennifer and Bess have to work a late flight with a layover. They won't be back until late tomorrow. The flight leaves in a few hours, so you'll have time to catch them if you want."

  Nancy snapped back to attention. "They have to work another flight?" she asked in disbelief.

  Celia nodded. "Sometimes it happens when we're understaffed. Most of the time the flight attendants love it—they get paid time and a half. But I thought Jennifer and Bess looked pretty tired."

  Nancy asked, "Do you know who put them on that flight? Who arranged for them to fly out?"

  "Blake Maxell, I suppose. He's in charge of operations."

  Nancy felt marginally better. She had had a bad feeling about their change of schedule, but as long as Preston Talbot wasn't involved, she couldn't see how it would matter.

  Not wanting to worry Bess and Jennifer, Nancy decided to see if Sean was stifl around. Though his shift was over, he sometimes stayed later.

  She wound her way through the lower levels and opened the door to the baggage handling room. Grant Sweeney was inside putting on a slicker to go out into the soft drizzle.

  Through the open doorway Nancy could see that a plane had just landed. The signal man was waving his scarlet beacons, bringing the plane to one of the nearest gates.

  As Grant started walking back toward her, Nancy ducked out of sight behind the door. He rattled open the second huge metal door to the outdoors, then jumped into one of the truck and trailer rigs and headed outside.

  One of the other baggage handlers appeared, also dressed in a slicker, and started running after him. "What are you doing?" he called to Grant. "I thought I was supposed to unload seven four seven."

  "We can unload it together!" Grant hollered back. "If we're not finished up by the time the next flight comes in, you can start on that one while I finish this one." Both men left.

  Seven four seven. Nancy's heart thumped unevenly. This was it! One of the flights used by the smugglers—^and Grant Sweeney wanted to unload it!

  I have to check that plane! she thought.

  Looking around, Nancy saw several more slickers fined up near the back door. She raced over and snatched one off the rack. Quickly she pulled the black rubber cloak around her and over her head.

  She walked into the rain, hugging the building as she moved around the comer to where Grant and the other handler were unloading flight 747.

  Under a darkened eave Nancy waited until both carts had been filled and the two men were driving their vehicles back to the loading area.

  Now was her chance!

  Nancy darted toward the plane and up the stairway. Although Grant and the other man would be occupied for a while unloading the cargo, she'd be pressing her luck to stay inside more than a few minutes.

  "Of course there's always the possibility that Grant unloaded the smuggled goods first," Nancy muttered to herself. "No, not with the other handler there."

  Nancy searched anxiously, hoping for some clue. There were still so many packages and so much luggage! Minutes passed, and her search was fruitless.

  She heard the baggage trucks coming back and glanced out the doorway. There was no time to escape. If they saw her on the portable stairway, she'd be a sitting duck.

  Nancy backed away from the door into a dark comer of the compartment. She heard the men's footsteps on the stairway. What if they found her? Could she bluff her way out? What would Grant do?

  "Okay, let's get this big stuff out of here first," Grant said. "Start over here."

  They were near the door. Nancy sank down, accidentally knocking over a very small crate to

  her right—it started toppling toward her. She caught it silently, closing her eyes in relief.

  Carefully she lowered the crate to the floor. She hardly glanced at it. But at the last minute something caught her attention.

  Its point of origin was Hsted as Singapore. Nothing unusual in that, but as Nancy peered more closely she saw something written on one comer.

  Her heart somersaulted. Written clearly in tiny numbers was the smugglers' identifying mark: 747.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nancy WAITED UNTIL the two men had finished loading up their trailers again and the sound of the trucks' engines had faded. Luckily one of the boards on the crate was loose and Nancy could pry it up.

  Beneath the strawlike packing were several beautiful jade figurines. She dug deeper—^and lifted out a Chinese vase!

  It was nearly a twin to the one Rod had given Miranda. The scene was slightly different, but the colors were the same. Nancy was sure it was genuine Ming.

  Quickly she gathered up th
e crate. She hurried toward the door, peeked out, and climbed down the stairway.

  Now, where to go next? Nancy knew she couldn't be caught with the stolen goods. She pressed herself against the wall and waited around the corner until Grant and the other baggage handler went back to unloading the plane.

  Glancing inside the baggage handling room, Nancy saw that several more handlers had returned and were loading luggage. As nonchalantly as possible, she pulled the hooded slicker closer around her face and walked briskly across the room. What if one of the handlers called out to her?

  But none of them did. She got to the other side of the room near the stairway without a problem. Shedding the slicker, she balanced the wooden box on her hip and held it in place as she headed upstairs. She had proof!

  With a start, Nancy realized that she had bypassed customs. But Grant Sweeney, or whoever else was involved, couldn't keep bringing boxes up from the baggage room without arousing suspicion. If the smuggling operation were as sophisticated as she suspected, there had to be another way.

  Nancy raced up the last few steps, then opened the door to the outer terminal. She nearly dropped the crate when she heard someone call her name.

  Sean was walking toward the door.

  "I was just going downstairs to see if I could work an extra shift," he said. "Since Jennifer's on a flight, I thought I might as well work."

  Nancy didn't waste any time with preliminaries. "Sean, you've got to help me," she said.

  His eyes slowly drifted to the box in her hands. "What's that?" he asked.

  "Evidence. Stolen merchandise, I'd bet. It came in on flight seven forty-seven and look—" She showed him the tiny numbers printed on the comer. "It's filled with jade figurines. There's even a vase like the one Rod gave Miranda."

  "How did you get hold of it?"

  "I'll tell you on the way to Talbot's office. I want to go straight up there and confront him with the evidence."

  She was turning back for the elevator when Sean's hand closed around her arm. "Nancy, get serious," he said anxiously. "You can't just accuse him and throw this in his face. He'll do something drastic!"

  Nancy knew that Sean was right. As she watched the elevator slowly descend to their floor, she said, "He needs to see me alone. If he believes I'm the only one who knows, he might feel he can do away with me and still be safe. He might even brag a little about his part in the smuggling ring."

  "You're nuts," Sean muttered. "Nancy, he can do away with you, and he will!"

  The elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and Blake Maxell brushed past them with hardly a glance.

  "That's the answer!" Nancy said. "You go after Maxell and bring him to Talbot's office. Stay outside and listen to what's going on with me and Talbot. I'll make sure the door's left open a little. When Talbot starts talking, you guys rush in. I won't be in any real danger."

  "I don't like it," Sean murmured, but when he saw how determined Nancy was, he turned to go after Maxell.

  Nancy leapt into the elevator just as the doors started to close. Now, let Talbot be in his office, she thought grimly. This is no time to be chasing him all over the airport.

  Outside the double doors to his office she took several deep breaths and knocked sharply, but all she heard was silence.

  "He's got to be there," she said out loud. "He's got to!"

  At the far end of the hall the elevator bell chimed and the doors slid open. Sean and Blake Maxell came quickly her way.

  "He isn't there?" Sean asked, worried.

  "I don't think so. At least he doesn't answer when I knock."

  "What's this all about?" Maxell demanded, flicking back his sleeve to check his watch. "I'm on a tight schedule, you know."

  With an effort Nancy held her temper. "We believe Preston Talbot is the head of the smuggling ring. He's using Victory Airiines to bring in stolen merchandise," she said firmly.

  Maxell only laughed. "Of all the ridiculous, slanderous accusations Fve heard, this has got to be—"

  "We have proof," Nancy cut him off shortly. She handed the box to Maxell. "If you take this to the police and ask them to check out the items inside, I'll bet my reputation as a detective they'll find out it's stolen merchandise."

  Maxell's eyebrows drew together. "Where did you get this?" he demanded harshly.

  "Off a flight that just came in from Singapore. Grant Sweeney's in on the ring. So is Linda Cotilla. Preston Talbot's the leader."

  Maxell looked dazed. After several seconds of silence, he said in an entirely different tone of voice, "I may have been too hasty in my judgment of you, Ms. Drew." He pulled out his keys, fitted one into Talbot's lock, and opened the door.

  The office was empty.

  "Where could he be?" Nancy asked, pacing the plush surroundings.

  "Maybe he's just gone home," Sean suggested. "It is late, you know."

  Maxell walked over to the window, staring out into the dark night. "No, Preston's probably still here. I saw him not too long ago talking to Linda Cotilla," he said slowly.

  "Did you hear any of their conversation?"

  Blake turned away from the window, his expression sober and stem. "Linda mentioned the name Bess Marvin. And then Preston looked so odd. He headed down the concourse right afterward."

  Nancy's blood ran cold. What were Linda and Talbot cooking up for Bess? "Sean," she asked, "do you know which flight Bess and Jennifer are on?"

  "I think it's flight one ninety-one. It goes to Chicago and on to New York."

  "I've got to talk to Bess," Nancy said. "I've got to make sure she's all right!"

  "What do you want me to do?" Maxell asked, still holding the small crate. "I've got a small problem to deal with right now."

  "Go," Nancy said. "And thanks. We'll check with you later." As soon as Maxell left, Nancy added, "We've got to find out if Linda Cotilla's on that flight with Bess and Jennifer!"

  "You think she'll try something?" Sean asked, alarmed.

  "I don't know. But I've got a bad feeling about it."

  "Come on downstairs," said Sean. "We'll check the crew schedule with the gate agent."

  They hurried to the end of the hall and raced down the stairs. Sean checked the monitor to see which gate Jennifer and Bess's flight departed from.

  "Gate forty-three. They leave in five minutes."

  "Quick. We've got to find out if Linda's on that flight!" Nancy said, and Sean tersely told the ticketing agent to pull up the crew schedule on her computer terminal.

  "The senior flight attendant is Linda Cotilla," the ticketing agent informed them.

  Linda Cotilla! Nancy turned to Sean. *'Go get Maxell. Tell him we've got trouble. Fm afraid Linda might try to hurt Jennifer and Bess."

  "Okay." Sean had already turned on one foot.

  "What's Maxell's office number in case I need you?" Nancy asked quickly.

  "I don't know. It's on the seventh floor, I think."

  "That's right," the ticketing agent spoke up, consulting her screen. "He just changed offices last year. Now he's in room seven forty-seven."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Nancy couldn't believe her ears. "Room seven forty-seven?" she repeated.

  "That's right."

  "It's Maxell," Sean said. "Not Talbot. Maxell's behind the smuggling ring!"

  Over their heads, they heard the disembodied voice announce, "Last call for flight one ninety-one to Chicago and on to New York."

  "Sean, you've got to let the police know about Maxell," Nancy said. "He's got our evidence, and we just told him everything we know. It's only a matter of time before he comes after us. He may have already ordered Linda to do something to Bess and Jennifer!"

  Sean's face was gray. "I'll go call them right now. What are you going to do?"

  "Try to catch that flight!"

  Nancy didn't waste any more time. She ran as fast as she could for the gate. The gate agent was just closing the doors as she arrived. Nancy grabbed his arm as he was shutting the door. "You've got to let me
on board," Nancy pleaded. "Please! It's important."

  "I'm sorry, miss—"

  Nancy yanked out her pass. "Preston Talbot expects me to be on that plane," she said. "How will it look when I tell him one of his own agents was the reason I missed my flight?"

  The gate agent opened his mouth to argue, then clamped it shut again, snapping up the hand-held intercom and speaking into it.

  "They're holding the plane for you," he bit out. "Go on down."

  "Thank you."

  Linda Cotilla stood by the door as Nancy was admitted onto the plane. Linda's lips parted, and her face went white.

  Nancy didn't say anything to her. And since she didn't have a ticket, she picked a seat near the rear of the plane, next to the galley. There was no one else seated near her.

  "Nancy!" Bess exclaimed, rushing up to her. "What are you doing here?*

  Nancy smiled grimly. "I had so much fun on my first flight, I thought I'd take another," she said.

  Bess gave her a worried look. "I can't talk now—^got to work. Fill me in later, okay?" she said. Then she went back to her duties.

  Nancy watched out the window as the plane picked up speed. Its engines roared, and it suddenly lifted upward, leaving Seattle behind in a matter of minutes.

  As soon as she could, Bess came back to Nancy. "What do you mean, you wanted to take another flight? Nancy, what's going on?"

  "All I can tell you is I'm sure now that Rod Fullerton was murdered. Linda Cotilla knows."

  "No!" Bess gasped.

  "Shh! Listen, I got on this flight because I need to talk to her." She didn't add, And make sure she doesn't harm you or Jennifer,

  Bess looked too shaken to ask more questions. She walked back to the galley without another word.

  It had been Blake Maxell all along, Nancy saw that now. He'd been the man behind the smuggling ring, not Preston Talbot.

  A snack was served on the flight, and shortly afterward the Ughts were dimmed and passengers settled in to sleep. Nancy just stayed where she was, waiting.

  There were very few people on board. The rear of the plane where Nancy was sitting was practically empty.