Danger at the Iron Dragon

by Carolyn Keene

  I could feel Bess’s and George’s eyes boring into the back of my head, and when I turned to look, sure enough, my best friends were staring pointedly at me, as if to say, Well? What are you waiting for?

  All the usual arguments for minding my own business filled my head:

  They’re better off calling the police.

  This isn’t your problem.

  Don’t you have better things to do? Like studying? Or some kind of normal hobby?

  I sighed. Who was I kidding? A leopard never changes its spots, and Nancy Drew never turns her back on a mystery.

  I cleared my throat. “You don’t happen to have any security cameras, do you?” I asked Coach Ethan.

  He turned to see who had spoken, and cocked his head in puzzlement when he saw it was me. “Why do you want to know?”

  I licked my lips. “Just curious.”

  “Well, no, I don’t,” he said, scowling. “Never saw the need for it… until now, I guess.”

  I thought for a moment before saying, “It’s likely that this was planned. Clearly, whoever did this knows someone here intimately, especially if they’re accusing them of being a traitor. They were probably also familiar enough with Libby’s routine to know when she’d go out, leaving the lobby empty and unlocked. They knew just how much time they had to get in and out before she got back or class ended—or else risk getting caught.”

  Coach Ethan crossed his arms, regarding me with interest. “Tell me, Nancy, why do you talk like an undercover cop?”

  Chuckling nervously, I shook my head and said, “Not a police officer. Just an amateur detective.”

  The coach’s eyebrows went up. “Are you, now?” he muttered. “So, are you any good?”

  “At cracking cases? I have a pretty good track record, yes.”

  Coach Ethan nodded slowly. Then he turned to the assembled crowd. “All of you, scram! Nancy, come with me.”

  While the rest of the class went off to the locker rooms to change out of their sweaty gis, I followed Coach Ethan down a hallway and into his office. “Listen,” he said once he’d closed the door. “You find the punk who did this, I give you my word: I’ll teach you Jiu-Jitsu for free. I’ll put a plaque on the door with your name on it. Whatever you want. No one threatens my team and gets away with it.”

  “You’re sure you want to trust me with this responsibility?” I asked. “I mean, you just met me a couple of hours ago.”

  The head coach chuckled. “I’m a pretty good judge of character. I watched you roll tonight—you’re scrappy. Even though you had no idea what you were doing, you worked hard and didn’t give up. I like that.” He stuck out his hand. “So, do we have a deal?”

  I bit my lip. I had a feeling that this mystery wasn’t going to be easy to solve. Not only would I have to figure out who the vandal was, I’d need to learn who the message was for. Who was the “traitor” in the academy?

  I’d already been thrown on the floor more than a dozen times, and that was before the case even started. Usually if I got a little banged up, it was as I was closing in on the bad guy. This time, was I biting off more than I could chew?

  Nah. Backing down just wasn’t part of my DNA. And even though I’d only just met Coach Ethan, I had a pretty good feeling about him, too. I didn’t want to let him down.

  I took the coach’s hand in mine and shook it firmly. “I’ll do my best.”

  Coach Ethan nodded. “That’s all I ask,” he said.

  I followed him out of the office. After a quick change in the locker room, I returned to the lobby, where Carly and Liam were standing by the front desk. He was whispering into her ear, while she stared at the word on the wall, her hands gripped into fists.

  Hmm, I wonder what’s going on there? I thought.

  In the meantime, Libby and some of the other students had been busy gathering supplies to clean the paint off the wall and dispose of the dead rat. I told them to hold off for a second so I could snap a few pictures of it and the graffiti on my phone. “Oh, for evidence?” Tim asked. He was a stocky young guy, with dark copper skin and short black hair.

  “Maybe,” I replied.

  “Cool,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “If they made this into an action movie, they could call it Danger at the Iron Dragon!”

  Carly and Liam were still standing nearby, whispering. When I was done taking pictures, they walked over to me. “So, Detective Red,” Liam said, “are you taking on our case, or what?”

  “I am,” I said, looking back and forth between them. “Why? Is there something you want to tell me?”

  Carly dropped her head. Liam nudged her. “Go on, Carly, she needs to know.”

  “Yeah, okay, Coach. I’ll tell her,” she said, all the earlier energy sucked from her voice.

  Liam nodded and waved goodbye, following some of the students out. Carly and I walked over to the sitting area and took a seat next to each other on the sofa.

  “Nancy!” Bess called to me from the lobby. “You ready to go? George says she needs a smoothie soon or she’s going to die.” George was slumped in a chair by the door, moaning dramatically.

  “I’ll be there in a sec!” I replied. “Just keep her alive for, like, five more minutes!” Bess nodded and gave me a thumbs-up.

  I turned back to Carly. “So, what’s going on?”

  Carly’s knee bounced nervously. “It could be nothing, but Liam made me promise to tell you. Whoever wrote that word on the wall did it to scare one of us, right?”

  “Right,” I said.

  “Well,” she said, lowering her voice, “I think that person might be me.”

  I scooched closer and lowered my voice to match hers, so that none of the other students in the lobby nearby could hear us. “What makes you think someone would want to threaten you?”

  “So,” she began. “Like I told you when we first met, I haven’t always trained at Iron Dragon. I started at another academy upstate when I was a kid, but a couple of years ago we moved to River Heights and I needed to find a new team. Back then, I was a blue belt, and another Jiu-Jitsu school a few miles from here courted me: Lockdown MMA. Their academy was really fancy, and their black belt—Brock Vaughn—treated me like royalty when I went to visit. I signed up there, and it was okay for a while. I made some good friends and even started winning local tournaments. But after just a few months, I started noticing things.”

  I cocked my head. “What kinds of things?”

  “Well, first: Brock played favorites, big-time. If you weren’t a competitive champion winning medals for the academy, he wouldn’t give you the time of day. He rolled out the red carpet for brand-new people, but once they signed a contract, he couldn’t care less about them. He just wanted their money. Anyway, I tried to ignore the way he treated the other students and just focus on my own training, but after a while, I couldn’t stand it anymore. To me, Jiu-Jitsu is more than just a sport. It teaches you to treat people with respect, no matter who they are. And seeing Brock act that way went against what I believed Jiu-Jitsu is supposed to be about.”

  “Is that why you left?” I asked.

  Her face darkened. “No. I wish I had. But once you’re part of an academy, it’s not easy to leave your team. No, everything came to a head about six months ago, when I started studying some advanced techniques online and wanted to ask Brock a few questions about them. When I brought the subject up during class, he blew up. Got really angry. Said I was acting like I should run the gym instead of him, and that my tone was disrespectful. It came out of nowhere, but most of the students there are so brainwashed that they didn’t think to say anything. After class, I was thinking about how he’d lit into me, and I realized I hadn’t really learned anything new since starting at Lockdown. Brock always taught the same fighting system over and over again—the system that he’d made a name for himself with. I was curious, so that night I did some research, and I was shocked at what I found. Not only had he gotten his black belt from a school that no longer existed, bu
t he’d also been written up for suspicious business practices more than once. Some ex-students had even posted online about how he’d forced them to pay hundreds of dollars for their belt promotions. I couldn’t believe it. The guy was a total fraud.”

  Carly sighed heavily, then went on. “The next day when I went to class, I mentioned something about what I’d found out to one of my friends, Lucy Hayes. She was a purple belt, and I trusted her. Well, that was a mistake. Before I knew it, what I’d said had gotten back to Brock. After class, he got me alone in his office and went into full rage mode. He threatened to take my belt and spread rumors about me if I didn’t promise to keep quiet. He wanted me to agree to be part of his lies, and said I’d pay if I didn’t. But you know—losing a fight is nothing compared to losing your honor. So I left, and I never went back.”

  I sat back, a little awed. “That was very brave.”

  Carly snorted and ran her fingers through her tight curls. “I don’t know about brave… at the time, it felt like the only choice I had. I ended up here at Iron Dragon a few days later. Coach Ethan took me right away. He didn’t ask a single question. Not even after some of the students from Lockdown started calling me a creonte on social media, just as Brock promised they would. Coach Ethan never blinked an eye. He just told me to ignore them. I was one of the team now, and that’s all that mattered.”

  “A creonte?” I asked, rolling the strange word across my tongue. “What’s that?”

  Carly looked up at me and licked her lips nervously. “It’s Jiu-Jitsu slang. For ‘traitor.’ ”

  * * *

  “So, what’s our next move?” Bess asked a few minutes later as we were driving home. We’d made a quick stop for smoothies, and I’d just finished filling her and George in on Carly’s story.

  “I don’t know about you,” George said from the back seat, “but my next move involves a hot shower and an ice pack.”

  I chuckled. “Well, at the moment, signs seem to point to Carly as the intended target. She told me she’s going to be facing one of her old friends from Lockdown MMA, Lucy Hayes, at the big tournament in a few days, so it’s possible that the threat was meant to rattle her before the fight. There are probably students at her old academy who still hold a grudge against her for leaving to train at Iron Dragon. Knowing how these types of cases usually go, there might be more threats coming, maybe even worse ones, so I told Coach Ethan to have the team keep a close eye on her until the tournament. Meanwhile, we should check out Lockdown for ourselves.”

  “Ooh, you mean go undercover?” Bess asked.

  I nodded. “I thought we could attend a class tomorrow afternoon. Just go in pretending to be new students shopping around for the best Jiu-Jitsu academy in town. We’ll be able to talk to Brock Vaughn and hopefully get some information from some of the students who train there.”

  Bess clapped her hands. “This is so exciting. I’ve been watching a new show about this supercool secret agent, and she wears the most amazing disguises. This is my chance to channel my inner spy! I’m going to wear my green contacts. Definitely green. Or hazel, do you think? Maybe I can even put in a temporary hair color. How about auburn? Or chestnut?”

  “Bess,” I said, as I pulled up to her house and put the car in park. “You don’t need to wear a disguise. No one at Lockdown has ever seen us before.”

  But Bess wasn’t listening. “My name will be Anastasia Blackstone,” she said theatrically, grabbing her bag and opening the door. “Just recently moved here from a little port town in Vermont, daughter of the infamous business tycoon Stanley Blackstone…”

  “Good night, Bess!” George shouted from the back seat.

  Bess huffed and slammed the door, then waved goodbye with a grin.

  I glanced at the rearview mirror as I started to back out of the driveway. “You want to come sit up here?”

  George propped her feet up on the other back seat, her smoothie cup perched on her lap. “Nope, I’m good. Carry on.”

  After depositing George, half-asleep, at her house, I finally made my way home. Dad was still awake, gathering up a bunch of files into a box on the kitchen table. A steaming cup of coffee sat beside the box. “Hey, champ!” he said brightly as I walked in. “So? How’d it go tonight?”

  “Jiu-Jitsu is really interesting. I like it,” I said, setting down my bag. “But I definitely got more than I bargained for.…”

  Dad picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. “You’re kidding. A case? Already?”

  I shrugged.

  “Well,” he said with a sigh. “Guess I’d better put the kettle on again. Go ahead, tell me all about it.”

  Twenty minutes, two cups of tea, and one sandwich later, Dad was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Sounds like an interesting one, Nance. Be careful around these people, though. You don’t know who to trust, and most of them are trained fighters. Keep your wits about you.”

  “Don’t worry, I will. What’s all this?” I asked, gesturing toward the box of files.

  “Just some old court documents from a case I prosecuted a few years back—bank robberies, two in River Heights, and a third in another town nearby.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said. It was always interesting hearing about my dad’s criminal cases. Sometimes it even helped me solve my own. “So, did you win?”

  “I did,” he said with a nod. “Although the two robbers didn’t have much of a chance. Twenty years. Problem is—about a week ago, both of them escaped. They’re probably halfway across the country by now, but the police wanted me to pass along any information that might help, so I pulled out my old files. Crazy thing…”

  “That is crazy. You need any help?”

  Dad shook his head. “That’s sweet of you, honey, but you should go to bed. You look like you’re going to hit the floor any second now.”

  “Ugh,” I moaned, suddenly remembering how many times I had hit the floor that night. “You’re right. I’m toast. Night, Dad.”

  I hardly remember the walk upstairs to my room, tossing my bag down on the floor, or the hot shower I took, but at some point, I ended up in bed. I set my alarm to give me an extra hour’s sleep, because I was going to need all the rest I could get for the next day.

  That was when the real fight would begin—the fight for the truth.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Bitter Rivals

  You sure you don’t want to come? I TEXTED George the next evening. Last chance.

  I’ll pass, George replied. Not in the mood to be thrown on my face 2nite. I’ll do some digging online on BJJ stuff and report back. k?

  OK, I texted back, with a winky emoji. I looked up from where I was sitting in my car and saw that Bess had just parked. Gotta go. Looks like Anastasia Blackstone has arrived.

  George sent back an eye-rolling emoji. I laughed, then tossed my phone into my bag as Bess walked toward my car. I got out and met her on the sidewalk.

  “Why, hello, Katarina,” she said, giving me a little wave.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “Katarina White. That’s your undercover name,” she said.

  “What are we supposed to be? Russian princesses?”

  Bess clucked her tongue. “We can’t give them our real names, obviously. The secret agent on that show has a different name in every episode. According to her, ‘A good code name is the first rule of spying.’ ”

  I studied her overlarge sunglasses and the brightly colored silk scarf wrapped around her head. “Actually, the first rule of spying is: don’t look like a spy.”

  “Oh, fine,” Bess said, pulling off the scarf and glasses. “Sometimes you really are a party pooper, Nancy. You should be happy I didn’t have enough time to dye my hair. But honestly, we should really use the names! The River Heights Jiu-Jitsu community is probably pretty small—word could get around that Nancy Drew is on the case. I thought you wanted to go incognito.”

  I considered this for a moment and relented. “Okay, you’ve got a point. We’re Ana and Kat,
two newbies just looking to learn some Jiu-Jitsu. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “You’re not going to act weird, right?”

  “Moi?” Bess asked, looking offended. “Mais non!”

  Oh man, I thought, shaking my head. She’s totally going to act weird.

  Lockdown MMA was in an upscale section of River Heights, and the facility was large and sleek, with expensive-looking furniture in the lobby and high-energy rock music filtering in through hidden speakers. A poster on one wall showed a large, imposing man with a shaved head dressed in a black gi. Beside him, in bold white letters, read: LEARN PURE JIU-JITSU FROM THE UNDEFEATED MASTER: BROCK VAUGHN. LOCKDOWN MMA IS THE ONLY PLACE YOU CAN BECOME A CHAMPION!

  “This is… different,” Bess murmured.

  I nodded. The place was really nice, but at the same time, it seemed like it was trying too hard. Compared to this academy, Iron Dragon felt much more modest, despite the dozens of trophies and medals that were displayed in their lobby next to Libby’s desk.

  A moment later Brock Vaughn himself emerged from a hallway, looking like he had stepped right out of the poster on the wall. His black gi had a Lockdown patch on the sleeve: a keyhole forming the letter O with the silhouette of a gorilla in the background. “Ladies!” he announced. “What brings you in today?”

  “Um, hello!” I said, craning my neck to look up at him. He must have been at least six foot five. “We’re interested in doing a trial class.”

  He smiled, showing all his teeth. “Well, you’ve just made the best decision of your lives.” He reached out to shake both our hands vigorously. “I’m Master Brock Vaughn, third-degree black belt and world champion fighter. I’ll be guiding you on your Jiu-Jitsu journey. Now, come with me.” He ushered us farther into the reception area, where a few other employees popped up from desks like prairie dogs to help us. “First we’ll have you sign a couple of waivers, and then we’ll get you both some official Lockdown uniforms to try on!”