“He had lied to his employer about his degree and had to come up with a copy of it or lose his job. Chapin faked one for him and realized he had stumbled on a money maker.”
“How did Pick know all this?” Line asked.
“Chapin used to do a lot of his work on the Fish Tank computer, before he got his own terminal. When Pickering figured out what Chapin was up to—he found some of Chapin’s papers—he demanded a cut of the business. And then
he
had the idea of picking Maria’s brain to come up with a security system. So Chapin was glad to have him.”
Line shook his head admiringly. “Some system. It had me stumped.”
“But Chapin thought you’d cracked it,” Nancy told him. “When he trailed you from the Fish Tank to the tower, he assumed you knew about the printer there. That’s why he tried to kill you.”
“But I was only there to meet you and Ned!” Line protested. “I was sitting on a bench waiting and someone hit me from behind. I came to just as Chapin was pushing me out the tower window.”
“All this mayhem, at Basson,” Marty grumbled. “It’s hard to believe.”
“Their operation was going fine until Doc saw Bladinsburg at that banquet,” Nancy said. “But Doc knew Bladinsburg hadn’t gone to Basson, so he started to investigate.
“The night he died, he did something to trigger the alarm on Chapin’s terminal,” she went on. “Chapin rushed over to the Fish Tank. Doc showed him a printout of what he had discovered—not knowing that Chapin himself was the person responsible! So Chapin just took Doc home for coffee, slipped him some knockout drops, and staged his suicide.”
Line slumped against his pillows. “I knew he hadn’t killed himself. I knew it.”
Nancy told Line and Dr. Garrison about the many attempts Chapin and Pickering had made to get the incriminating printouts from her and her friends. She concluded with an account of their adventures of the night before. “They weren’t about to let us stop them. They had a good scam going, and they were prepared to get rid of all of us rather than give it up.”
Just then Dr. Garrison’s name was called over the PA system. “Uh-oh, got to run,” he said, going to the door. “Well, this has been incredible. You’ve all done a great service for the university and the community. It’s been a treat meeting you.” And he was gone.
“I’m glad I asked you two to come,” Line said.
“Look, Line,” Cass said. “I have a bone to pick with you. Why didn’t you tell me—”
Line raised his hand to stop her. “I know what you’re going to say. I didn’t tell you what was going on because I knew it was dangerous. They’d already killed Doc. I’m sorry, Cass, but I just couldn’t risk losing you, too.” He took her hand. “You mean too much to me. Okay?”
Cass blushed and looked at Nancy with a happy smile. “Okay,” she said.
“We’d better go,” Marty said. “I’m taking a brilliant computer programmer to lunch.” He and Maria exchanged a private smile, then slipped out with a wave for the others.
“We’ll go, too,” Ned said, gathering up his and Nancy’s coats. “It looks as if you’re in good hands, Line.”
Line brought Cass’s hand to his lips. “The best,” he said with a smile.
“All this romance in the air,” Nancy commented, and she and Ned walked to the elevator. “And in a hospital, of all places!”
The elevator doors slid open. “What’s wrong with a hospital?” Ned asked, grinning.
“Well, it’s so sterile,” Nancy said. They stepped in. Ned pulled her close as the elevator began to descend.
“Want to try some romance in a hospital?” he asked softly. Then he kissed her.
“Mmm,” Nancy murmured breathlessly. “Okay, okay, so I was wrong. But—”
The rest of her sentence was lost as Ned kissed her again. As they broke apart Nancy sighed with pleasure. It was going to be a great new year!
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1988 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
This book is copyright under the Berne Convention. No reproduction without permission. All rights Reserved.
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ISBN: 978-0-6716-4699-8 (pbk) / ISBN: 978-1-4814-2481-3 (eBook)