“Because I think the UFOs are a hoax, and I have a feeling you know something about the whole scam.”
He surprised me by nodding slowly. “I do.”
Was he so ready to admit it? Suddenly I was terribly conscious of that gun. If Nathan confessed to perpetrating such a major con, why would he stop at kidnapping just two people? Might as well make it three!
“Aren’t you going to ask me exactly what I know?” he asked.
“Please. Tell me,” I said, trying to sound skeptical instead of frightened.
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather do that someplace more comfortable.” He looked up toward the sky. “A storm’s brewing, the temperature’s dropping, and standing around, I’m getting cold.”
Without waiting for my answer, he picked up the gun. Holding it barrel down to the ground, Nathan started back toward the circle of cabins behind the barn.
When I didn’t follow, he turned around. “Aren’t you coming?” He hesitated, glanced from to me to the gun, then grinned. “Not to worry. I’m not about to hang you out as bait for the so-called aliens. And I won’t hurt you. The gun’s for hunting. I was on my way to see if I could bag a deer when I heard the dogs barking. I came back up here to see who was lurking around the house... given what’s been going on here lately. Anyway, I’m not the bad guy here.”
I wasn’t convinced. At the same time, standing in the cold wind was quickly getting old. I wondered if I actually had a choice. Would he let me just walk away and leave?
As if reading my mind, he said, “Hey, whatever you decide. Stay. Go. I’m going back to the cabin with or without you.” With that, Nathan turned and stalked past the kennels. The dogs stopped howling and began to whine with delight, their tails wagging furiously as they jumped against the chain-link fence to greet him.
“Wait up,” I called, making my choice. No way was I going to let the chance go to corner this guy. Besides, if Nathan Blackman put his gun down and out of reach, we’d be on more equal footing if he decided to play rough. I knew a few martial arts moves.
Inside the cabin he propped the gun against the wall near the window. He shrugged off his jacket and walked over to the tiny kitchen area. “Want something hot?” he asked, plugging in the electric teapot.
“Sure,” I said.
While he fussed with mugs, I looked around. The cabin was small but pleasantly decorated, with framed prints on the wall and country curtains on the windows. Pretending to be interested in the delicately printed fabric, I walked over to the window and glanced down at Nathan’s rifle. I wasn’t all that familiar with guns, but could see that the safety was on.
At least he wasn’t careless with firearms. I began to think his story about going hunting might have been true.
The rest of the cabin was simply furnished: A daybed was shoved against one wall, one easy chair sat in the middle of the room, and a couple of end tables that had seen better days sat on either end of the daybed.
Everything felt tidy and clean—except for the antique writing desk tucked in the corner. An ancient typewriter was barely visible through the chaos of papers, pencils, and coffee mugs that cluttered the surface. Stacks of books were piled haphazardly beside and under the desk and on top of the folding metal chair.
The typewriter didn’t resemble any in Ned’s collection of old-fashioned portables: It was large, the type I’d seen in old movies set back in the mid-twentieth century. Blackman definitely seemed averse to technology.
I glanced over as Nathan poured hot water into two mugs, dropped a tea bag in each, and handed me one. “So, you never really answered me. What do you think happened to Aldwin and his dog?” he asked, and sat down on the edge of the daybed. I settled into the one chair.
“The same thing that just happened to my best friend Bess,” I said, carefully watching his face. “Someone kidnapped them.”
For a moment he seemed to turn to stone, then he slowly put his mug down on the table. “Someone else has gone missing? A girl?” He sounded and looked appalled. “This has gone too far,” he said very softly, looking down at his hands.
“What? What exactly has gone too far?”
His head snapped up. He stared at me, understanding written on his face. “You think I had something to do with all this?” When I didn’t respond, he shot me a look of pure disgust. “How could you?”
“You yourself admitted just now that you have some kind of inside knowledge about the UFO hoax,” I told him.
He bristled. “I didn’t say that. I have an idea of how the con men are pulling it off, but that doesn’t mean I’m involved in it—or that I’m sure exactly who is involved. But when it comes to the abductions, I’m as much in the dark as you.”
“Convince me.”
“How can I convince you about something I don’t know?” He glared at me.
“Start with what you do know.” I needed to find Bess fast, but I had no idea where to look. Nathan seemed my best lead yet. I had to hear him out. Maybe he’d let something slip that would help me find her.
“Did you see the sighting in town today?” he asked.
I was surprised he had, but I simply nodded yes.
“Me too—from here. This time our visitors’ ship made noise, as I’m sure you noticed. The daytime ones always do. Here’s why.” He got up and, in spite of the state of his desk, quickly located a catalog. “I ordered this shortly after the first daytime sighting.” He handed me the catalog.
It was for remote control model planes. “What do these have to do with...” I broke off as the truth dawned on me. Hobbyists operate remote control planes from the ground. The planes themselves are large—usually transported by their owners on trailer hitches or in the back of pickup trucks. I looked at Nathan Blackman with newfound respect. The man was brilliant. “Someone altered these planes to make them look like UFOs.”
“One plane. It would take a lot of work, but it could be done,” Nathan pointed out. “The planes are usually built from kits to begin with. A clever, very handy person using lightweight materials could probably make the plane look like your typical science-fictional flying saucer.”
I put aside the catalog and looked at Nathan. “And the planes are noisy. There’s a model plane airport back home. Neighbors always complain about the racket.”
“Of course, at night there is no noise. Whoever’s perpetrating the hoax isn’t using those remote control planes at night. They’re using some other trick, so that there’s no noise. A little spookier. Not sure what that could be, but I’m working on it.”
“I’m impressed,” I told Nathan. “But what made you even think of ordering this catalog?” If the man was smart enough to think up such a scheme, surely he could find an accomplice to help him work it out. If Bess hadn’t also gone missing, I would have bet on Aldwin—now that I’d learned he was the town prankster. He’d make himself appear abducted with Nathan’s help. But Aldwin wouldn’t have kidnapped Bess, I was sure of that.
“The daytime sightings have been in several locations. That means someone can cart the remote control UFOs around. The nighttime ones are always only over the meadow. Why? I haven’t been able to figure it out. Two different methods of faking it—I’m sure of that much.”
I had to point out the obvious. “You do realize that telling me this makes you even more suspect?”
“When it comes to figuring out how to fake it, sure. But not of kidnapping anyone. Besides, if I were the bad guy here, why would I let you in on my supposed secret? To top it off, you’re looking at a guy who can’t even program a VCR or work a DVD player, let alone build a model plane.”
He was so blunt I found myself inclined to trust him—but I needed to know more. “I heard you came here to write,” I told him.
Nathan then told me he usually booked the Nichols cabins while he was on deadline for a book. Instead of peace and quiet, this time he found himself in the middle of a circus, thanks to the UFO sightings. He almost left, but found himself intrigued at first by the townsfolk’s reactions, then by trying to figure out how the sightings were faked.
Intriguing as his story was, it didn’t bring me closer to finding Bess, and I told him so.
“Whoever’s behind this has upped the ante in a pretty nasty way,” he said, scratching at his beard. “But why?” Then he answered his own question. “I bet her good looks up the publicity ante as well.”
“Publicity for whom? The town, the Reel TV people...?”
“Sure, why not. Like they say, follow the money—and it’s bigtime bucks for the TV crew, and—”
I stopped him in midsentence. “Wait. Izzy, from the TV crew, saw that Bess had taken a souvenir from the location of the UFO sightings.”
Nathan cocked his head. “Up by the meadow? Now that’s interesting. So your friend found a clue there. Whoever took her wanted to be sure that evidence never came to light.”
“I know, I know!” I cried. “But the problem is, where did they take her? I’m not even sure who ‘they’ are. It could be Izzy’s crew. But who knows who else Bess showed her treasure to.”
Nathan got up. “I don’t know, but I do know this much. Every one of the nighttime sightings happened over that meadow. Someone has some way of hanging out there. And it isn’t obvious to anyone, even now with the FBI on the case.”
As Nathan spoke, I began to get a niggling feeling. Something I saw or heard earlier in the day held the missing clue, but what? I looked out the window. Daylight was fading fast. It was late afternoon, and between the cloudy skies and the short early winter day, it was growing dark.
“I’m going back there now,” I said, zipping up my jacket.
“It’s going to be dark soon!” Nathan warned.
“That’s why I’m going now. No one can see me,” I told him.
Nathan reached for his jacket and his gun. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“No. I’m better off on my own.” I wasn’t sure whom I could trust now. Nathan’s suspicions had raised my doubts about all the town officials, as well as about the Reel TV people. And a small doubt lingered in my mind about him.
He jotted down his phone number on a piece of paper. “If you need help, call.”
I said I would, then even gave him my cell phone number before I set off.
It was dark enough to turn on headlights, but not quite dark enough to explore the meadow unseen. I decided to check in with George as promised, and at the same time pick up warmer gear since a storm was brewing.
Minutes out of the Nichols’s driveway, a distant bright light in the sky caught my eye. For a moment I thought it was a plane, but it began to circle lower and lower.
Another UFO hoax?
I kept driving toward town, but then I realized the shiny disk-like object wasn’t hovering over the meadow. Instead it seemed to be traveling in the same direction I was, just high up over the road.
I began to have the impression it wanted me to follow it. “Nancy Drew, you’re losing it!” I told myself, but my curiosity wouldn’t let me ignore it. What harm could it do to pursue this latest version of the hoax? In fact, I suddenly realized, maybe whoever was manipulating it would accidentally lead me to themselves, and even to Bess.
Almost as soon as I decided to follow, the saucer picked up speed and veered to fly above a side road, one that traversed the forest just west of the roadblocks. Caught up in chasing it, I turned onto the dirt road, which quickly turned into something closer to a rutted track as it climbed up the steep side of the mountain.
My car’s engine was up to the task. Its low-slung profile wasn’t. Just when I thought I’d have to give up and somehow back my way down, the road widened slightly. The flying object seemed to explode in a flash of blue light, then was gone. Just ahead, my headlights illuminated the wide expanse of the meadow. Instantly I doused my headlights. For sure they would have been visible to anyone for miles.
Clouds covered the stars, and it took a moment to get my bearings. It wasn’t until I stepped out of the car that I realized the world suddenly seemed silent. Suddenly—because the UFO I’d just encountered hadn’t been silent at all. It hadn’t whooshed like the one earlier, but through my car window I had heard it emitting a low-pitched constant but loud hum.
Then I thought of the bear. I was about to turn around and drive away when I told myself any bear would have been quickly scared off by the car and by the flash of light in the sky.
Working up my nerve, I headed for the meadow. I took out my penlight and aimed it at the ground. Glowing in the dark just ahead was the yellow police tape. I ignored it and stepped beneath.
The circumference of the charred circle of grass was only a few feet away. I bent down to pick up a small piece of singed cornstalk—but it wasn’t singed at all. It was sticky. When I looked at my hand, my fingers were covered with paint. It looked and smelled like the kind of red-orange paint used to rustproof metal.
Conscious that every minute on the meadow increased the chances I’d be discovered, I debated a moment about looking for more of Bess’s souvenir shards. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw light bobbing on the hill across the way. It looked like someone was walking, holding a flashlight.
I turned off mine and watched the bobbing light get lower and lower to the ground. Then it disappeared. Someone fell down, I figured. I waited a moment for whoever had fallen to get up.
They never did, though. It was as if the side of the hill had swallowed them up.
Puzzled, I returned to my car. Back at the inn I’d look at the map to see what road led to that hill across the way. I hadn’t seen house lights, but maybe a farm lay below the rise. I’d have to check by daylight. Whoever did live there had a good view of the UFO sightings.
As I climbed into the car, my cell phone rang. Nathan was my first thought, but when I answered, it was George. “Nancy! I figured it out...”
“Me too,” I told her. “Or at least with Nathan’s help— how they did it. It’s all a hoax, for sure. What did you come up with?” I asked, starting back down the road and attaching my hands-free earpiece to the phone.
“Thanks to my trusty laptop and all those unsecured Internet connections I told you about, I know not only the how but the who. Get back here ASAP—Oh darn, someone’s at the door.” With that, George hung up.
What had George found? She sounded excited, nervous, but not particularly frightened. It made me think that whatever she’d learned, she knew Bess would be okay. For fear of being stopped by the cops, I forced myself to stay within the speed limit. I still made it to the inn in record time.
I raced upstairs and threw open the door. “George!”
She wasn’t there. The lights were still on. The phone was on the bed, where George had left it with the receiver on the hook. George’s backpack was on the dresser, and her cell phone was still beside it.
A blast of cold air made me look over at the window. Why had George left the window open? Then I remembered the fire escape. I hurried over to look out. Below, the extension ladder at the bottom of the fire escape had been lowered. It led right to the inn’s service entrance and back parking lot.
After closing the window, I looked around the room. Nothing was in disarray. Nothing had been stolen. George, however, was definitely missing—and I was pretty sure it wasn’t by her own choice.
StarWoman
George hadn’t just gone missing—she had been taken, probably by whoever had snatched up Aldwin and Bess.
I reached for the phone to call the police, but then remembered Nathan’s suspicions, as well as my own. Anyone in town might be involved in these abductions.
It was then I remembered George’s laptop.
When she’d phoned, she had mentioned that she had used her laptop to find who was behind the hoax. I looked around, but it seemed to be missing—or had she stowed it in her backpack?
I got up to check, and stubbed my toe on something by the side of the dresser. I looked down. It was the typewriter case I’d bought for Ned. That was weird. I was sure I’d put the case up on top of the wardrobe along with Bess’s bag of souvenirs.
Had George moved it? I picked it up. It was heavy. When I unlatched the cover, I found the laptop inside. Before George had answered the door, she must have stowed it away. Why? I had no idea, but I thanked my lucky stars she had.
I booted it up. George had mentioned using someone’s unsecured Internet connection. If I could follow her cybertrail, maybe I’d find a clue that would lead to her kidnappers.
I logged on, using George’s password—she’d shared it with me a while ago. Instantly a little window opened on the right-hand side of the screen, listing networks in range. Two were secured, one wasn’t.
George had shown me that my phone number activated her sniffer program—the one that allowed her to access someone’s computer through a wireless system and eavesdrop on their cyberconversations. I took a deep breath and punched in the numbers.
Immediately I found myself looking at an IM exchange. Someone with the screen name StarWoman was chatting with Lightmaster.
I couldn’t believe what I was reading.
StarWoman: Where did u stow her?
Lightmaster: Underhill. Cramped quarters. Not safe.
StarWoman: Hang tough. We r almst there.
All will pay off big time.
Lightmaster: If we don’t end up doing time.
StarWoman: No way. Today café nice FX.
Lightmaster: Last hurrah! RC broke right after. Last time though.
Parts unavailable two weeks.
So Nathan had been right. Whoever Lightmaster was had disguised a remote control hobby plane as a UFO.
Underhill... underhill. Why did that ring a bell?
As I watched the screen, the IMs stopped. Had StarWoman figured out she was being sniffed?
On the off chance that was true, I closed up George’s machine and put it into my backpack. When I left the room, it was coming with me. If George had other leads stored on her computer, I couldn’t risk someone stealing it.
As I put Ned’s typewriter case back up on top of the wardrobe, the sight of Bess’s souvenir bag triggered my memory. “Under Hill!” I gasped out loud. Of course. It was the name of that rental property posted in Ellie’s shop. The pictures had grabbed my attention. It was built into the side of a hill, and Ellie had said someone was renting it for a few weeks.
Earlier, when I had watched that bobbing flashlight disappear into the side of the hill, I had thought someone had fallen. Unlikely as it seemed, that someone had probably entered an underground house. If that person was Lightmaster, then I knew where to find Bess and George.
I had no intention of waiting until morning. I pulled out a map, and in a few minutes I’d located the back road leading to the meadow—the same one I’d been on earlier. From there it was easy to figure out what township road led to the hill across the way.
I grabbed a hat, a warmer sweater, and a larger flashlight. Then, grabbing my pack, I plunged into the hall and, as I was wriggling into my parka, ran right into Izzy.
“Hi. How are things going?” she asked.
“Um, okay. But I’m in a rush.” Suddenly I remembered her room was next door to ours. StarWoman was the perfect screen name for an egotistic TV producer...
Was her running into me just an accident?
Izzy gave a dramatic little shiver. “I can’t imagine going farther than that blazing fireplace downstairs on a night like this. It’s starting to snow,” she added.
“I didn’t realize,” I said, then saw Izzy’s gaze travel from my hat to my heavy sweater to my parka. “I only heard it was threatening,” I explained. “But I can’t talk now. I—um—have a date.”
Her finely shaped eyebrows arched up. Obviously I wasn’t dressed for a date... unless it involved some serious outdoor activity by moonlight.
Then, with incredible timing, my cell phone rang.
“Your date!” Izzy suggested as I answered it.
“It’s me. Nathan!”
“Oh, hi there!” I tried to sound breezy. “I was hoping you’d call.”
“You were?” He sounded totally perplexed. He was silent a beat, and then, “Oh, you’re not alone.”
“No, no, not at all.” I tried to sound light and frivolous, but my stomach was churning. I couldn’t let Izzy know I had figured out that she was at least half of the scam team. That she knew where Bess and George were.
“I figured out why the UFOs appear over that meadow. There’s an experimental house built into the side of a hill—”
I cut him off. I didn’t know how long I could fake this conversation, and Izzy gave no sign she intended to leave me alone in the hall. “I know about it, actually.”
“Oh.” He paused. “Do you know who rented it recently?”
“No,” I responded excitedly, and managed what I hoped was a coy smile. “Tell me all about it.”
“A guy from California who’s part of the Reel TV crew.”
Lightmaster, of course. I could barely keep my expression neutral. “Isn’t that great? You’ll have to give me every last detail when I meet you for dinner.”
“Dinner? Oh—yes. Well, I’ll go right over there now and check the place out. If we miss each other, I’ll find you somehow. You’ll know I’m around by my whistle.” He demonstrated into the phone, and nearly blew out my eardrum in the process. Finally he stopped and asked, “Do you know how to get there?”
“I think so.”
Nathan briefly gave me directions that more or less jibed with what I’d figured out from the map. He told me he’d be driving Addie’s truck, as he had no car of his own. He’d wait at the scenic overlook. Then I snapped my phone shut and tried to look apologetic as I said to Izzy, “My date. He got held up. I’m going to meet him now.”
I half expected Izzy to try to delay me. Instead she said, “Have fun, then,” and walked back toward her room.
As I walked to the car, the snow was already falling, thick and heavy. Before I left the lot, I took out the laptop and googled Frankie Lee’s name. His website popped up instantly. He wasn’t only an award-winning cameraman, he was one of the top special effects people in Hollywood. He was based in LA and was single; without a family, he sure didn’t need to rent a large house for the duration of the Reel TV shoot. A secluded house in the middle of a meadow was ideal for someone like him—and for working a UFO scam. He had the perfect credentials to be the culprit.
I was sure of it: Frankie Lee was Lightmaster.
Nathan’s directions were good. As I neared the turnoff for the house, my headlights lit up a nicely lettered sign on a post next to the mailbox: UNDER HILL HOUSE. An arrow pointed to a driveway. I drove a bit farther, and pulled into the scenic overlook where Nathan said he’d be waiting. When I arrived, however, there was no Nathan, and no pickup truck. I figured the snowstorm had slowed him down.
I gave him a couple of minutes, but I couldn’t just sit, doing nothing. I got out, yanked my hat down over my ears, and started up the long, steep driveway.
The surface was slick, and the wind-whipped snow blurred my vision, but eventually I reached the top. Once there, I expected to find some sort of building—perhaps a garage—to orient me as to where the entrance to the house might be. Instead the blacktop ended in a snowy field. If there were outbuildings anywhere, the architect had cleverly hidden them. I shielded my eyes from the wind and squinted. Suddenly I spied a light that seemed to float up from underground. A window, I realized—and someone was home. Slipping and sliding, I made my way toward the window and peered inside. Interior steps led down into what looked like a cozy but spacious living room. I figured the steps must lead from the outdoor entrance—which should be somewhere to my left.
Behind me I heard the sound of boots crunching on the ice.
“Nathan,” I whispered, and turned around.
A scream rose to my lips as I encountered a masked figure. It towered over me, its alien features twisted and cruel. Its clawlike hand gripped something long and heavy. I watched spellbound as it lifted its arm, which then seemed to move downward toward me in slow motion. I tried to duck. Too late, I realized in horror, as the world went black.
Lightmaster
“Nancy. Nancy. Are you alive?”
I opened my eyes. “Bess?” My words came out slurred, and my mouth felt as if I’d chewed on a ball of wool.
Why did Bess look so worried? Then I realized—it was Bess! “Bess, you’re okay.” I sat up, and my stomach lurched. I thought I might throw up.
I managed to contain my stomach, but the sudden movement made the dimly lit room spin. In a moment the dizziness passed, leaving me aware of a pounding headache.
Beneath my palms the floor felt damp and cold. Cement, I realized. The room was lit by a single very low-watt lightbulb that cast deep shadows on everything.
“What happened?” I asked as Bess rubbed my back.
“Someone bopped you over the head.”
The image of that twisted horrible mask flashed before my eyes. Then I remembered. “It was tall.”
“Very,” Bess said as I tried to work the crick out of my neck. It was then that I spotted George. She was lying in the corner and resembled a limp bundle of rags.
“George,” I cried out. I struggled to my feet. After a few steps I found my balance and made my way toward her. Even in the dim light I could see she looked extremely pale. I knelt and rubbed her wrists.
“She got clobbered worse than you.” Bess sounded frightened. “She’ll be all right, won’t she?”
As if hearing Bess’s question, George stirred and moaned.
Bess sighed with relief. “That’s the first time she’s moved since they brought her here.”
“I bet she has a concussion,” I said, shaking George gently. “Hey, Fayne, wake up. You can’t sleep, not now. It’s bad for you.”
“Tired,” George muttered.
“Me too, but you can’t afford to be.” With Bess’s help I eased George up into a sitting position. She opened her eyes and groaned. “My head hurts.”
“It should,” Bess said. She got up and brought over a small plastic bottle of spring water. She opened it. “Drink some of this, George.”
Apparently our captors didn’t want us to die of thirst.
“What about Aldwin and the dog?” I asked, suddenly realizing we three seemed to be alone.
“They aren’t here?” George sounded surprised.
Bess shook her head. “They must be hidden somewhere else.” Then Bess told us she hadn’t been hit on the head, but smothered with what sounded to me like ether. “I woke up here,” she concluded, “feeling queasy, but I barely had a headache. Last thing I remembered doing before that was going out to the Dumpster behind the café to put out the trash.”
“Did you see who grabbed you?” I asked, getting up and slowly walking around. Moving helped clear my head. If we were ever to get out of wherever we were, I needed my wits about me.
“I never saw them. I think there were two men, though. One voice sounded a lot like the mayor’s.”
“I remember that too,” George contributed. Holding on to my arm, she struggled to her feet. She tenderly rubbed the back of her head. “Ouch,” she exclaimed, and then held out her hand. It was covered with blood.
“You’re bleeding,” Bess gasped.
“I’m okay,” George insisted, but she sat back down.
George was hurting more than she let on. I sensed she needed medical help, fast. First, though, we had to get out of there.
“When do they bring you food?” I asked Bess. Maybe that would be an opportunity for us to overcome our captor.
“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve only been here a few hours. They brought it once.”
“Who was it?” George asked.
Bess shrugged. “They wear masks. One was a man, though. I know that much. Tall, too.”
I looked around. Whoever was keeping us had made off with most of my stuff, including my backpack with George’s computer in it. When I checked the pockets of my parka, I realized they’d taken my cell phone, too.
I felt my way around the room, seeking a way out. One wall was filled with tall metal shelves that appeared to be empty. Since the room even had a small half bath, I figured it was the basement of the house and not a root cellar. I worked my way back to George and Bess and told them about Under Hill House, Frankie the cameraman, and Izzy’s treachery.
“I can’t believe they went that far just to get footage for a show,” Bess remarked.
“I can. Ratings drive the TV money game,” George said. “Still, kidnapping goes far beyond a prank. And I’m worried about Aldwin and Sherlock. What ever happened to them?”
I had no idea, but I had a very bad feeling about what might happen to us. “Look, we’ve got to get out of here. There must be a door, a window— something, somewhere.”