Captive Witness (8 page)

“Well, this is it,” Nancy said. “Good-bye, good old quiet brown car. We’ll have to leave you here.”

Ned started to laugh. “This is really terrible, you know. Do you realize how long it’s going to be before Herr Gutterman finds his car?”

“Oh, he’ll pop up again and we can give him directions,” Nancy said, her eyes twinkling.

“We can give him directions, all right, but how will he ever get it out of here?”

“By helicopter,” Nancy replied. “A helicopter could pull him out, and speaking of a helicopter, we could sure use one ourselves.”

Night was coming on, and with no way out except straight up the steep side of the valley, the two young people began to lose their jocular mood. The higher they climbed, the more rugged the terrain, and their breathing and luggage became heavier.

At last, after what seemed an interminable length of time, they started downhill again, discovered a path, then a road, and finally a town. As luck would have it, a bus destined for Vienna was due, and ten minutes later, they were standing in the aisle, clinging to the luggage racks for support.

“Look at us,” Ned said. “Our feet and our shoes and socks are soaked. We’ve got mud on our clothes. We’ve had no lunch or dinner and we have to stand up all the way to Vienna. ”

But as Ned spoke, two people sitting nearby prepared to get off the bus at the next stop. With relief and soft cries of thanks, the two exhausted young people sank into the empty seats.

“Safe at last,” Nancy said.

Suddenly, there was a commotion ahead in the road. “Wait, wait!” came the cry in German. “Wait for us.”

Realizing it was Gutterman’s voice, Nancy’s blood froze. She grabbed Ned’s hand and squeezed. “Be quiet,” she whispered, hastily pulling two large scarves out of the bag lying at her feet. Quickly, she tied one around her head. “Do you have a hat?” she whispered.

“Yes, my old crushable Irish tweed. Got it in my pocket. ”

“Put it on your head. I know it’s not good manners, but this is an emergency.”

Nancy then handed him the second scarf to tie around his neck. She pulled his hat low and adjusted the scarf before they both eased down in their seats, pretending to sleep.

Gutterman and Burger clambered aboard and made their way down the aisle to take positions directly next to the couple.

Gutterman was still in a temper. Burger was sullen. He said nothing while Gutterman sputtered low, threatening sounds, all in German. Nancy, from her limited knowledge of the language, was able to pick out the essence of Herr Gutterman’s bitterness. Burger, he said, was to blame for everything. If he had not made iced coffee back in the shepherd’s hut, Nancy Drew could never have thrown it in his face and distracted him enough to get out the door.

Then, when he, Herr Gutterman, had bravely put his fist through the door and lain down in front of the wheels, Burger had not had the presence of mind to lie down in back of the wheels, preventing the escape.

And so it went as Nancy listened, her heart beating for fear they would be detected. Still, she could not help but be amused by Herr Gutterman’s obvious frustrations. Eventually, Gutterman and Burger obtained seats directly in front of Nancy and Ned, and the two young people sat quietly until they arrived in Vienna. Cautious, they waited for their former captors to disembark before the couple took off their scarves, grabbed their luggage, and caught a taxi for their hotel.

Rooms were waiting for them and because they both felt exhausted, they decided to say good night immediately. Nancy ran a hot tub and was already soaking when she heard the phone ring. Stumbling out of the tub, she wrapped herself in one of the huge European hotel towels and lifted the receiver. It was Ned.

“Nancy!” he cried. “I was watching television, and guess what? We made the headlines! We’ve been listed as missing. They found the car.”

“What?”

“Someone found the car and there are pictures on TV showing it being airlifted by helicopter. Authorities haven’t figured out whom it belongs to yet.”

“Just wait till they do,” Nancy said. “When Gutterman finds out what happened to his car, he’ll explode like a volcano!”

“We’d better call Dr. Bagley to tell him we’re all right,” Ned suggested.

Nancy placed the call to Salzburg instantly. “Professor,” she said, “this is Nancy.”

There was a stunned silence and then shouts of joy. “Nancy! It’s Nancy. Are you all right? Is Ned there? What in the world is going on?”

Quickly, Nancy recounted the kidnapping, the escape, and the crazy fate of Herr Gutterman’s car. Professor Bagley agreed that from now on, the tour had to keep close track of everyone.

The professor then filled her in on the group’s activities—including the trip to Mozart’s birthplace, where the little bus driver was barred from entering. “The authorities there said he always makes a scene and contradicts the guides constantly. The professor laughed.

“Oh, and one other funny thing happened,” he added. “Eric left his wheelchair outside the men’s room because it wouldn’t fit through the door. We lifted him inside and when we came out, he noticed there was a different wheelchair in place of his. Another young man had taken Eric’s by mistake, but Eric managed to catch him. For a minute, the other fellow was wheeling his chair like mad, trying to get away because he thought Eric was a little crazy chasing him yelling at the top of his lungs.”

Nancy laughed. “That’s all we need,” she said, “a stolen wheelchair.” As she hung up the receiver, she heard a noise that made her whirl around. An envelope suddenly appeared beneath her door. She stepped toward it, feeling her pulse quicken. The envelope was addressed to NANCY DREW, CAR THIEF.

Without waiting to read the message inside the envelope, Nancy dashed impulsively to the door and flung it wide as she stepped out to see if she could catch a glimpse of the messenger. The corridor was empty.

She smacked her forehead lightly with the palm of her hand. “Oh, that could have been Gutterman,” she muttered. “Of course, it was Gutterman. And I opened the door and ran out.”

Quickly, she tore open the envelope and read the message written in old-fashioned script.

So Gutterman does know I’m looking for the film! Nancy said to herself.

Although she had half suspected it, this was the first time he had given any indication of such knowledge, and Nancy concluded that he must have discovered her connection with
Captive Witness
fairly recently. Otherwise, she was sure he would have spoken to her about it long before.

But how did he find out? If her phone call home wasn’t tapped, then, Nancy concluded, there must be a spy in the film festival’s office who overheard a conversation between Richard Ernst and her father!

The prospects of her meeting with Gutterman churned in her mind as she flopped into bed and fell asleep uneasily.

When she saw Ned the next morning, she said nothing about Gutterman’s note or about the invitation to meet him alone that night to see the documentary. It bothered her to keep it secret from Ned, but she believed that the fate of the children and the film hinged on a risk that was solely hers—finding out what Gutterman wanted!

First, she must learn all she could about the stolen film. After brunch, she telephoned the festival office and spoke to Richard Ernst, who her father had said would be her best source of information.

They found the festival offices just off the Ringstrasse, the great band of streets enclosing downtown Vienna which once marked the outer walls where the Turkish invasions had stopped in the sixteenth and again in the seventeenth century.

“Do you know,” Nancy asked Ned as their taxi made its way through the crowded streets, “that those sieges of Vienna gave us two things we now eat for breakfast?”

Ned shook his head.

“Well, it was during the first Turkish siege that the bakers of Vienna invented the Vienna roll. And it was the Turks who brought coffee to Central Europe. Can you imagine Europe today without its coffeehouses?”

“And with that colorful information,” Ned said, “we find ourselves in front of the film festival offices. ”

Richard Ernst, the festival representative, was a meticulously dressed, polite, and proper Austrian who kissed Nancy’s hand and offered coffee and delicious pastries. When Nancy asked for milk instead, he smilingly obliged.

But soon his face became serious. “Last Wednesday,” Mr. Ernst said, “a man appeared with a letter written on Kurt Kessler’s stationery and bearing Mr. Kessler’s signature. It instructed festival authorities to give the messenger the copy of
Captive Witness
in our possession and to accept in exchange a revised copy that the messenger handed us.”

“I’m surprised there was no more formal procedure involved,” Nancy said.

“Well, we winged it, as you Americans say, because it was the first time anything like that had ever happened to us. We’re a fairly new festival and, I suppose, a bit naive.”

“So you simply gave the man the original film?” Nancy continued.

“No, I left the room to ask my associate, Mr. Etienne, what he thought, and when I came back, I discovered that the messenger had taken our copy and left the so-called revision. It turned out to be a completely blank reel. As I told your father, Miss Drew, we accept full responsibility and we will pay all damages, but I’m sure that money is not the real issue. For Mr. Kessler, it is the heartbreak of losing a vast piece of his lifework.”

“Would you describe the man who took the film,” Nancy requested. “On the other hand, let me. He was short, wiry, with pitted, rather sallow skin. He’s almost bald, but not at all well mannered so he probably never removed his hat. He has a kind of ratlike face and beady eyes.”

Mr. Ernst gasped. “That’s amazing. Miss Drew, I must say I suddenly have enormous respect for your detective abilities.”

“I must confess,” Nancy replied, “that we’ve been tangled up with a couple of bad characters for the past few days. The one I described played the role of a bus driver, so why not a messenger, too?”

Nancy paused for a moment, letting her eyes gaze off into space, her brow slightly furrowed. “May I see the can that the film was in when the messenger brought it?”

“The can?” Mr. Ernst asked. “Why, yes, I suppose so.”

He rummaged through files and produced a metal can, considerably battered, with some labels still attached. Nancy checked each label. The can had travelled all over Europe: Warsaw, Paris, Berlin, Rome. But there was only one label from Vienna, which she examined closely with her pocket-size magnifying glass.

“This is it! Thank you very much, Mr.—er, Herr Ernst. Come on, Ned.”

“Nancy, where are we going? What do you mean, ‘this is it’? Will you slow down? Nancy!”

But the girl detective was running now, down the steps, out into the street, signaling for a taxi. Ned caught up in time to open the door for her. When they were both inside, Nancy gave the driver an address she had scribbled down.

The driver glanced back at the two of them. “Are you sure you young people want to go there?” he said in a deep, resonant voice.

“Yes, yes,” Nancy said, “and hurry, please.”

“Nancy,” Ned persisted, “what did you see on that film can?”

“An address of a film company here in Vienna. Chances are that that was the place the blank reel came from and probably the same place where Kessler’s copy of
Captive Witness
was taken. Understand?”

“Interesting idea,” Ned said, “but it seems a little thin.”

“I’ve had thinner clues,” Nancy remarked, settling back to watch the scenery. That proved to be a grim experience, however, as the buildings and the people began to look more disreputable. The road became bumpier, too, more pitted with holes, and littered with debris.

To make matters worse, the afternoon skies had darkened and droplets of rain splashed against the windows. As they passed one corner, a group of street urchins threw stones at the cab.

“Charming section,” Nancy told the driver. “I’m hoping it ends before we reach the company office we want. It’s called Ciné-Ouest.”

When they found Ciné-Ouest, however, it was in a wreck of a building set back from the road and almost concealed by weeds and high bushes. No one seemed to be around. Ned asked the driver to wait.

“Wait? Not a chance. You two young people would be smart to return immediately to your hotel. They’ll steal the fillings from your teeth out here.”

“We’ll be all right, Ned insisted halfheartedly, as they paid the man and stepped out for a look at their target. Wasting no time, the driver locked all the doors, made a U-turn, and sped away in a shower of mud.

Together Nancy and Ned made their way to the front door of Ciné-Ouest. It was locked.

“That figures,” Nancy said. “It’s Saturday and the employees probably work a five-day week. Let’s see if someone left a window open.”

“That’s burglary, technically speaking, of course. ”

“I know. But so long as we don’t take anything, it’s only trespassing,” Nancy rationalized. “Besides, if we do find
Captive Witness,
it’s our right to take it because it was stolen from our side in the first place. ”

“Okay, you convinced me.” Ned sighed. “Let me try this window. ”