Swiss Secrets by Carolyn Keene
“ ‘The target’s guilt,’ ” George repeated. “This is so weird, Nan! What on earth is he—”
“Wait a minute! I know what he’s talking about!” Nancy burst out excitedly. “You’re the target, Franz, and the ‘event’ is the gold delivery. You’re supposed to get caught stealing the shipment!
“Pascal didn’t hire Bart to watch over you,” Nancy went on. “He hired him to set you up!”
Chapter
Fifteen
THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE, NANCY.” Franz’s face was so pale that Nancy was afraid he was going to pass out. “My uncle doesn’t like me, but he would never set me up. Not his own nephew!”
Bess and George looked just as surprised as Franz. “This is too much,” Bess murmured.
“I know this is a shock,” Nancy told Franz gently. “But what else could the letters mean? Why else would your uncle practically shove the truck route in your face when he’s usually so secretive? Look here—” She pointed to a line in one of the letters. “Pascal gives a date for the ‘event,’ and it’s tomorrow. It must be the gold shipment.”
Franz read the letter in silence. His hands were shaking, Nancy noticed. “I—I see that you’re probably right. And suddenly I see something else, too,” he added soberly. “My cousin Erich must be involved in this. It was Erich who introduced me to Bart.”
“Erich introduced you? In Monaco?” Nancy asked. “You didn’t mention that before.” Suddenly the references to “E.H.” in Bart’s correspondence made sense. Thinking back on Erich’s bitter comments about Franz’s work, Nancy had to admit that he had a motive for wanting Franz out of the way.
Franz collapsed into a chair next to Pascal’s desk. “This is worse than anything I imagined,” he said, groaning. “It was bad enough that Monique’s parents didn’t trust me, but my own uncle? My cousin who grew up with me?”
“It’s sickening,” Nancy agreed. “The letters make it clear that Pascal planned for you to be caught red-handed stealing the gold. The only thing he didn’t count on was that you might have the guts not to cooperate with Bart.”
George had been silent, but now she spoke up. “I know you’re right, Nan. But those letters are so vague. We can’t use them as proof, can we?”
Nancy frowned. “No, we can’t. Good point, George. The police would never follow up on this.” She bit her lip for a second, thinking. “I’m just going to have to come up with a plan,” she said at last. “A plan to trap the trappers.”
As if on cue, the telephone rang—but none of them made a move to pick it up.
“That will be Bart,” Franz said, letting out a sigh. “When I was pushed into the lake last night, he said he would call at noon today.”
The telephone was still jangling. “Why don’t you pick it up, Franz?” Nancy suddenly suggested. “I think we can improvise an answer to Bart. Sound happy when you answer, okay?”
Franz looked puzzled but did as she asked. “Hello? Bart! I was just thinking about you!”
That was certainly true, Nancy thought. She scribbled a message on a sheet of paper and shoved it across the desk to Franz. “Play along,” it said.
Franz raised his eyebrows inquiringly at her, and Nancy realized he probably didn’t know what the expression meant. “Tell him you’ll cooperate!” she whispered frantically.
Franz nodded and began speaking again. “The reason I was thinking about you is that I realized I have been foolish,” he said, winking broadly at the three girls. “I can see it would really be in my own best interests to cooperate with you.”
Nancy grinned and gave him a thumbs-up sign.
“To play along—is that how you Americans put it?” Franz went on to Nancy’s horror.
“No, no!” she whispered, shaking her head.
“I mean, to join in with your plan,” Franz corrected himself hurriedly. “I have the route for you, Bart. I only hope I am not too late.”
For a minute he listened intently to Bart. “Oh, really?” he said. “But of course I’m not trying to—No, no, I understand. . . . You’re absolutely right. . . . Fine. We will meet tomorrow at three o’clock, outside Schlossinger’s.
“And Bart?” Franz continued. “Thank you.”
He hung up and turned to the three girls. “I think he believed me, but I’m not sure,” he reported. “He says he’s worried that I will double-cross him. So he wants me to ride with him during the heist. What do you think, Nancy?”
“I think that proves that he’s setting you up,” Nancy said immediately. “And I think you’d better—uh—play along. Just don’t tell him that’s what you’re doing, please.”
Franz nodded sheepishly. “I’ll do whatever you tell me,” he said. “But does this mean Bart will get to keep the gold?” he added worriedly.
“No way,” Nancy assured him. “Instead of finding the gold, he’s going to find me.”
Her friends stared blankly at her.
“I’ve just been working this out for myself,” she said. “I think your uncle’s going to call in—anonymously, I assume—to give the police a ‘tip’ about the gold heist. The police will arrest you when you and Bart try to make the heist.”
George nodded. “So where do we fit in, Nan?”
“Now that we know what Pascal is planning, we can make sure it doesn’t happen. We don’t have much time,” Nancy went on. “Let’s start working on our plan for tomorrow. May I use the phone, Franz? I need to call Mick.”
“Why?” asked Bess in surprise.
“Mick is going to be part of the plan,” Nancy replied. “As long as he agrees, I mean. And somehow I have a feeling he will.”
• • •
At nine o’clock the next morning, Franz headed over to the Schlossinger Gold Company in one of the gold company’s limousines. With Nancy at his side—posing as his American associate—he asked the Schlossinger official he was meeting to delay the shipment of gold by one day.
Nancy could just manage to follow what Franz and the official, Monsieur Balch, were talking about.
“Why this change, Monsieur Haussman?” Mr. Balch wanted to know. He stared at Franz with obvious concern.
Nancy and Franz had prepared for that question. “We seem to have a slight problem with our computerized security system,” Franz said now. “I didn’t want to speak to you over the phone in case someone heard me. It’s nothing serious, I’m glad to say—just a glitch in the back-up. But of course you understand, Frères Haussman can’t take even the slightest risk with so much at stake.”
“Of course, monsieur,” the Schlossinger official agreed immediately. “We will be glad to delay the shipment. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“As a matter of fact, there is,” Franz told him. “I would like you to send along an empty truck at the scheduled time. Even though we are not receiving our regular delivery today, we would like to stick to our routine as much as possible. In case people are watching us,” he added vaguely.
Now Mr. Balch sounded completely befuddled. “Excuse me? Watching you?”
“Naturally we wouldn’t want people to think that we had altered our plans,” Franz huffed.
Nancy had coached Franz on the huffiness, too.
“I’m sure you can understand my reasoning,” Franz said now in a crisp voice. “In this business, you can’t be too careful.”
“I—I suppose not,” the official said distractedly. Then he seemed to realize whom he was talking to, and he snapped to attention. “Absolutely not, Monsieur Haussman. You may be sure we will send a truck at the original time.”
Now came the tricky part. “My associate and her two secretaries will need to be inside that truck,” Franz said firmly. “We’re showing them through every step of the Haussman process.”
Mr. Balch looked as though he wanted to tear his hair out. “Every step of the—What will riding in an empty truck show them?” he asked.
“You need not concern yourself with that,” Franz said icily. “It may seem unusual, bu
“Well, uh—no,” said Balch in a defeated voice. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
He was obviously relieved when Franz told him there wasn’t.
“He thinks I’m totally out of my mind, I suppose,” Franz said to Nancy when they were safely out of the Schlossinger headquarters. “But he probably thought that before, so it’s nothing new. In any case, we have our truck.”
• • •
Six hours later—at precisely three o’clock in the afternoon—Nancy, Bess, and George were sitting in the back of an armored truck that was about to leave Schlossinger Gold Corporation.
The empty compartment was lit only by a small square of bulletproof glass, and Bess and George were only dark silhouettes next to Nancy. A tense silence surrounded the girls as they waited.
Suddenly Nancy heard the driver shout out something incomprehensible—a goodbye, probably. Then the driver’s door slammed and the truck’s engine roared to life. With a lurch, Nancy felt the truck pull out of its parking spot.
“D-do you th-think we’re going to be all right?” Bess asked nervously.
Nancy tried to put as much comfort into her voice as she could. “I’m sure of it,” she said. “What could go wrong?”
“Everything!” Bess answered.
“I hate to say it,” George murmured, “but I think she’s right.”
As Nancy cast her mind back over the previous few hours, she could only cross her fingers and hope that her friends were wrong. In any case, it was too late to change their plan now.
The girls had taken a cab to Schlossingers’, found the truck that was scheduled to depart, and climbed in just before it left. The truck was due to arrive at Frères Haussman’s service entrance at exactly the time Pascal Haussman’s letter to Bart had indicated it would.
Assuming that the timing worked and that Pascal Haussman had in fact tipped off the police that Franz would be trying to steal the gold, the police would be waiting for the truck—and waiting to arrest Franz.
But, of course, there would be no gold inside the truck—nothing at all to steal, in fact. There would only be Nancy and her friends, waiting to expose Pascal and Bart for the crooks they were.
If everything worked out, that was—
“I wish it weren’t so dark,” Bess whispered again as the truck made a swift turn around a corner. “Do you have any idea where we are, Nan?”
“I’ve been trying to figure it out by the turns the driver takes,” Nancy replied. “It can’t be that much longer, though. We’re—”
Just then the truck veered violently to the right and jolted to a sudden stop. The three girls were hurled forward onto the floor. Outside the truck, a fierce volley of shouts arose.
“What are they saying? What’s happening?” Bess asked nervously, picking herself up off the floor.
“I think Bart and Franz are hijacking the truck now,” Nancy said tensely. She had already stood up and was pressing her ear to the side of the truck. “The French is too fast for me to understand it all. Oh, wait—there’s another voice. I think it’s a police officer questioning them.”
The girls didn’t have to understand French to recognize the shock in Franz’s voice.
“Non! Non! C’est pas moi qui—”
“He’s saying he didn’t do it,” Nancy whispered.
Then Nancy heard the officer’s voice announce solemnly, “Monsieur Haussman, je vous mets aux arrêts.”
“ ‘Mr. Haussman, I’m putting you under arrest,’ ” Nancy translated rapidly.
Now the girls heard another voice rising above the commotion—Pascal Haussman’s voice. He was shouting indignantly at his nephew.
“Quel honte! For shame! You have disgraced us all!”
Abruptly, the voices fell silent. For a fleeting instant, Nancy wondered why. Then all three girls heard the footsteps walking toward the back of the truck.
“Get ready, guys,” Nancy whispered to George and Bess.
There was a jingle of keys, then a click as a key slid into the lock at the back of the truck. Nancy heard another click, then a heavy thud as the metal bar holding the door closed was shoved upward.
As the back of the truck swung open, Nancy and her friends blinked at the sudden brightness. They were staring into the astonished faces of two Swiss police officers, Pascal and Erich Haussman right behind them.
“Qu’est-ce qui arrive?” Pascal Haussman sputtered. “What is going on?”
Before anyone could say another word, Nancy climbed out of the truck. A few feet away, in front of Frères Haussman’s service entrance, Franz was struggling in the grip of a third police officer. Nancy didn’t see Bart Jackson anywhere.
“You’ve got the wrong man, officers!” Nancy shouted. She flung her arm out to point at Pascal and his son.
“These are the criminals you’re looking for!”
Chapter
Sixteen
QU’EST-CE QUI ARRIVE?” asked the officer holding Franz, in an incredulous voice. He made no move to relax his hold, Nancy noticed.
She had to give Pascal Haussman credit for steady nerves. His stony expression never wavered. “This is your friend, I believe, Franz?” he asked. “She has a strange sense of humor, I must say.” He didn’t even glance at George and Bess, who were now climbing quietly out of the back of the truck. The three police officers were staring openmouthed at them.
“You know perfectly well who Nancy is, Uncle,” Franz said. “What you don’t know is that she’s a detective. She has been working for me, and she has found out a lot about you and Erich.”
Erich flinched nervously, but Pascal didn’t even blink at his nephew’s words. He just smiled sadly and turned to the two officers standing behind the truck.
“The poor boy is desperate,” Pascal Haussman said. “He’ll try anything.” One of the officers made a move to speak, but Pascal kept going. “I—I suppose I’m partly responsible for his attitude toward me,” he said. “Perhaps I’ve been too stern with him. I am acting as his guardian while his parents are away, you know.”
Pascal’s voice throbbed with remorse. “All I can ask, officers, is that you be lenient with him until I find a lawyer.” He gave Franz a touching look of concern. “My dear nephew, I won’t rest until I’ve found you the best counsel possible,” he said. “There must be an explanation for your sorry behavior. I’m sure that together we can—”
“Good job, Monsieur Haussman,” Nancy interrupted sternly. “But not quite good enough.”
“Who is this young woman?” Pascal asked testily. “Why does she keep interrupting us in this extraordinary way?”
Nancy didn’t answer him. Turning to Franz, she asked, “Could you please translate into French for me? I don’t want any more misunderstandings.”
Franz nodded. As Nancy launched into her explanation, he translated a sentence at a time.
“First of all, officers, let me ask a question. You found Franz stopping the truck—is that right?”
“Yes,” one of the police officers replied after Franz had translated for him. “And another man who escaped. This one”—he gestured at Franz—“was about to rob the truck.”
“Well, you can’t arrest Franz for stealing,” said Nancy. “There’s no gold in the truck, as you can see. Therefore, he’s not guilty of theft.”
Pascal Haussman began to speak, but Nancy silenced him with a glance. “Think about it, officers. Who could have tipped you off about this heist?” she went on. “Franz certainly wouldn’t have—not unless he wanted you to arrest him for some reason. The only people who could have warned you are Pascal or Erich. And the only way they could know a crime was going to take place was if they’d set it up themselves.”
Nancy turned back to Pascal. “I had the letters you sent to Bart photocopied yesterday. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have copies. They’re very interesting.”
The letters weren’t conclusive pr
“Papa!” he cried in a high-pitched, frightened voice. “They know about us! We’ll go to jail!”
The look Pascal Haussman gave his son sent chills down Nancy’s spine. “Now we will, anyway,” Pascal said quietly.
Franz stepped forward. This time the officer who’d been restraining him made no move to hold him back.
“Why did you do it, Uncle?” Franz asked. “Why did you want to hurt me so much?”
In that instant Pascal Haussman’s steely composure finally cracked. “You can even ask that?” he said, pointing a shaking finger at his nephew. “You, who have been such an embarrassment to our family? To our business? What right do you have to inherit half the Haussman fortune?
“Erich is everything you’re not,” Pascal continued. “Reliable. Hardworking. Steadfast. Why should he have to share anything with you? He deserves it all!”
Franz let out a deep breath. “So that’s it,” he said. “You didn’t want me inheriting my share of the family’s fortune.”
“No father would want someone like you messing up his own son’s future,” said Pascal contemptuously. “My poor brother Gunther is deluded to have placed any trust in you.”
“He’s not the deluded one, Uncle,” Franz said sadly. “You are. You really thought it would be all right to frame me—your own nephew—so that Erich would become the sole heir of your company. I wish Papa didn’t have to hear about this. It will break his heart.”
“You’re the one who breaks hearts,” his uncle shot back swiftly. “You have been a disappointment to everyone in this family.”
Tears of rage were running down Pascal Haussman’s face as one of the police officers put a warning hand on his shoulder. Behind him, a trembling Erich was already being slipped into handcuffs.