Carolyn Keene - This Side of Evil

“Now, press the button and say, ‘Mayday, Mayday. This is Bell Whiskey Seven Seven One Zero Three Alpha. Over,’ ” the pilot directed. The copter lurched to the left and he righted it, but with difficulty.

Nancy pressed the button and blurted out, “Mayday! Mayday! This is Bell Whiskey Seven Seven One Zero Three Alpha. Over.”

“Now let go of the button,” the pilot commanded. “They can’t answer while you’re on the air.”

There was a long silence. Nancy wondered if anyone had heard them. Then she heard a crackle of static and a calm voice came through.

“Roger, Seven Seven One Zero Three Alpha. This is Montreal Air Traffic Control Center. What is the nature of your emergency?”

Nancy took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice as calm as the radio voice. “We’re having engine failure,” she said.

“Roger, Seven Seven One Zero Three Alpha,” the voice responded. “What is your location? Can you return to base? Over.”

“Negative!” the pilot replied. “We have total engine failure. We’re at twelve hundred, descending at seven hundred feet per minute.”

“The pilot says we’re going in, fast,” Nancy said, glancing down. “We’re somewhere just north of the river.”

“Hey, isn’t that City Hall?” Ned asked as he leaned forward, pointing over Nancy’s shoulder.

“We’re just southwest of City Hall,” Nancy added.

“Roger, Seven Seven One Zero Three Alpha. We have you on the screen. Suggest you try an emergency landing in Place Jacques-Cartier. Wind northwest at fifteen, gusting to twenty-five. Emergency equipment is on the way. Good luck.”

“Roger, out,” responded the pilot.

“Roger, out,” Nancy repeated.

“Okay, everybody,” the pilot said. “Hang on! I’m going to autorotate!” He began to turn the rotor control.

“What’s that?” George gasped.

“He’s changing the angle on the rotors,” Ned told her. “It’ll slow our fall a bit.”

As if an invisible hand had lifted them, Nancy felt the copter’s descent slowing. But they were already over the plaza, and she could tell that they were still falling too fast. They were going to crash! Feverishly, the pilot began to flip switches. Suddenly the lights went out. The cabin was pitch dark. A second later, with a sickening crunch, the helicopter slammed into the concrete.

There was silence.

“Nan?” Ned asked. “Are you okay?”

Nancy took a deep breath. She was jammed into her seat at a crazy angle, and her blouse was torn where she had caught it on something. But other than that, she was fine.

“I’m okay. What about George?” she asked, unbuckling her seat belt. Beside her, the pilot was struggling to get his door open.

“I’m still alive,” George said in a dazed voice. “I can’t believe it, but I’m still alive!”

Nancy pushed the door open and jumped out onto the pavement. The force of the impact had crushed one of the skids and the copter was tilted over. The tip of one rotor had ripped through a bed of pansies, scattering wet flowers all over the sidewalk.

“Everybody out!” the pilot shouted. “This thing could blow sky-high any second!”

Working quickly, Nancy helped Ned pull George out and take her to a nearby bench. Fire trucks, their sirens wailing, pulled up at the curb. Police cars were right behind them.

Nancy turned to the pilot. “Can we find out what happened to the engine?”

“Not now. I wouldn’t want to risk being near it if it blows up,” the pilot said cautiously.

“But if it goes up, we’ll never know,” Nancy pointed out. “And I have the feeling that this is important.”

Nancy and the pilot ran to the rear of the helicopter. Something black and gooey was oozing out from under it.

“Looks like an oil problem to me.” He took a look at the engine. Black goop was everywhere.

“Incredible!” the pilot exclaimed. He stared uncomprehendingly at the mess. Then he bent over and began to explore underneath the engine with his fingers.

“What is it?” Ned asked, coming up behind Nancy and the pilot.

“Looks like the oil drain plug fell out,” he said. “If that happened, the pressure in the system would blow all the oil out in seconds.” He wiped his hands on his pants, a puzzled look on his face. “Funny thing, though, the warning light never came on.”

Ned disappeared around the helicopter. As she watched him go, Nancy became aware of a new, sharper smell, mixing with the heavy, oily smell of the engine.

“What’s that smell?” she asked.

“Aviation gas!” the pilot exclaimed. He grabbed her arm and yanked her away. “The fuel line must’ve broken. Let’s get out of here!”

The fire chief ran up. “We’ve evacuated the entire area,” he said. “Now, you get back, too!”

“Ned!” Nancy yelled, looking around. A tiny blue flame was licking up at the engine compartment. “Ned, where are you!”

Then, to her horror, she saw him. He was on his back on the floor of the cockpit, legs dangling out the door. He was examining something under the instrument panel.

“Ned!” Nancy screamed. “Get out! It’s going to explode!”

Ned worked for an instant longer, and then slid out from under the instrument panel and bolted toward them. Behind him, the blue flame suddenly burst into bright yellow and rapidly enveloped the rear of the disabled copter.

It exploded with a tremendous Bang! Nancy felt a whoosh of superheated air rush over her head, just as Ned crashed into her and they both went down. Above them, large pieces of metal sailed up in a column of yellow flame and thick black smoke.

“Ned?” Nancy pushed Ned’s heavy weight off her and sat up. Bits of metal were raining down onto the wet pavement. The helicopter was burning out of control.

“I’m okay,” Ned grunted. “Are you?”

“Yes,” she said, rubbing her knee where she’d skinned it on the pavement as she fell. “What were you doing in the cockpit? One more second and you’d have been killed!”

“I was looking for a broken wire,” Ned said grimly. “The wire to the oil warning light.”

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t broken. It was cut !”

The pilot came up behind them. “You mean somebody sabotaged us?”

Nancy turned. “Someone must have loosened the drain plug and cut the wire.”

“Right,” Ned put in. “And if we’d crashed into the river, nobody could ever have figured out why.”

Nancy stared at him. “Ned,” she said, “I think I know who it was.”

Chapter Seventeen

“Nancy Drew! What are you doing here!”

Nancy turned quickly. It was Annette LeBeau, wearing a raincoat. She had an umbrella in one hand and a microphone in the other. Behind her were two guys with lights and TV cameras, shooting the burning helicopter.

“Annette!” Nancy exclaimed. “What—”

“We heard the police bulletin about the crash,” Annette told her. “I was there, so the station manager sent me to cover the crash. We need to get the spot filmed in time for the ten o’clock news.” She looked at the burning helicopter. “Hey, isn’t that a Cherbourg helicopter?” She looked back at Nancy, comprehension dawning, “Wait, you mean, you—”

Nancy nodded. Then suddenly she got an idea. “Listen, Annette,” she said, “I need to ask you a favor.”

But Annette wasn’t listening. “What a story!” she said excitedly. “ ‘Helicopter crashes in downtown Montreal. Nancy Drew survives!’ All the networks will pick this one up.” She turned as Ned and George came up. “Are these your friends?”

Nancy nodded. “Yes, this is Ned Nickerson,” she said, introducing them. “And George Fayne. George was kidnapped from Olympic Stadium. We were rescuing her when the copter went down.”