Well, there was no need for the special outfit till that night, so Nancy thrust it into a small duffel bag that she used as a purse and changed into shorts and a knit top in tennis white with a pale blue stripe. Then she ran out of the suite and toward the elevator. If she was lucky, she could just miss the commuter traffic that would soon clog the highways.

The elevator took Nancy directly to the basement-level parking garage. Soon she was out of Alexandria and heading west toward the rolling Virginia countryside. She came to the great shopping mall at Tyson’s Corner. Loudon College was only a few miles farther. And didn’t the brochure say there’s a service road to the college somewhere? Nancy thought. The road to her right had to be it-a wide dirt lane beneath a stand of towering catalpa trees.

Soon Nancy was entering the college grounds. The parking lots near the stadium were filled, but she finally found a space near the dirt lane. She locked the car carefully and threaded her way through the acres of parked cars toward the grandstands.

The sun was high in the sky, and a faint breeze stirred the heavy air. Nancy glanced at her watch. She was pleased to realize that she’d probably missed only part of one match.

She flashed her pass at a guard and asked for directions. Then, as she turned the corner around the first of the gray stone college buildings, she paused. The stadium was across a road and to the left, but maybe there was a shortcut through the building so she wouldn’t have to take time to circle the two beyond. Yes, Nancy could see another set of glass doors on the opposite side of the ground floor. She pushed open the door nearest her and started into the cool dimness.

“Señorita, this area is players only.” A dark, good-looking, wiry young man wearing tennis clothes caught her arm. But as Nancy spun around, startled, he let go quickly. “Oh, I’m sorry-”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t know this was off-limits.” Nancy smiled. “What’s the best way to get to the courts?”

For a moment the athlete just stood and looked at Nancy blankly. Then he shrugged. “Oh, go ahead. Cut through here and you’ll get there faster. Just don’t tell anyone I said you could do it. Right?”

“Right.” Nancy smiled again and pushed through the other set of doors.

As the doors banged shut behind her, hands closed roughly on her shoulders.

For a split second Nancy thought it was the young athlete playing a trick on her. Then she knew, with horror, that it was no trick. She twisted around, trying to get a look at her attacker. The man thrusting a gag into her mouth was middle-aged. He wore a dark, foreign-looking business suit. So did the other two men who held her tightly.

It all seemed to be happening in slow motion. This isn’t real, Nancy told herself dazedly. But it was real. She was being kidnapped. And the method was fast, efficient, and effective.

Nancy struggled frantically as she was pulled into the bushes and her hands and feet were bound with ropes. She was thrown like a bundle over a brawny shoulder, and a concealing blanket was tossed over her.

Nancy knew struggling was useless. She went limp-and concentrated hard.

The men were speaking Spanish. They were heading toward the parking lot-Nancy recognized the sound of the gravel they were walking on. As her kidnapper swung her upright, Nancy caught a glimpse of the car. It was a limousine, long and dark, and the windows were tinted glass.

A rear door was jerked open, and Nancy was thrown inside. One of the men started to climb in behind her.

Nancy kicked.

She kicked with both feet, since her ankles were bound together, and she heard an agonized groan.

Before she could lash out again, another man wrenched open a front door. Then he leaned over the seat back and pressed the muzzle of a gun against her forehead.

He snapped out some rapid orders in Spanish. Nancy didn’t understand much of what he said, but suddenly a blindfold was tied around her eyes, and another strip of cloth was tied around her mouth.

Then one word came to her, loud and insistent.

“Muerta!”

That was Spanish for dead. The warning was terrifyingly clear.

Chapter Two

Nancy lay helplessly across the backseat. A moment later, the seat sagged. One of the men had sat down next to her. The gun at her forehead was shifted to her temple.

Doors slammed. An engine roared to life. The limousine jerked into motion with unbelievable speed. Nancy held herself motionless, like a crouching cat preparing to spring. But she couldn’t spring-not yet.

She had to be ready.

She had to stay alert and not give way to panic. She had to force her senses to be aware of every detail of the terrifying ride.

It was astonishing how much Nancy could notice, even with her eyes tightly bound. The car’s ride was very soft and springy, in spite of the fact that they were hurtling along the dirt lane. She figured that they were on the lane because the car was rolling across the same ruts she’d driven over earlier, and occasionally she could hear stones fly up to ping against the undercarriage of the car.

Then the limousine was jerked abruptly onto a much smoother road. Although the windows were shut and the air conditioning was on, Nancy was able to hear the sound of air rushing past the windows and the zoom of other cars shooting by. That must mean they were on the interstate. They had turned left at the end of the lane. That meant they were heading toward Alexandria.

Nancy concentrated hard, counting in her head. How long was the ride taking compared to her drive to the college? Could she estimate the car’s speed and therefore the mileage?

The limousine came to an abrupt stop, then made another left turn. It was heading toward the Potomac-toward Washington.

It made another turn, this time to the right, and was caught up in the roar of commuter traffic. Nancy thought they might be on Route 7 or the Belt Parkway.

Then, with a rush of terror, Nancy heard the roar of jet engines close at hand.

The airport! They’re going to take me on a plane! Nancy thought with panic. But the jet sounds receded. A metallic rumble underneath the wheels seemed to indicate that the limousine was crossing a bridge. Into the capital itself?

The limousine rattled over cobblestones and drew to a stop. A rush of fresh air and the lightening of weight on the seat told Nancy that a back door had opened and her seatmate had climbed out.

The next thing she knew, she was being dragged out and stood up. Something cold touched her ankles, and then the ropes around them were removed. Still gagged and blindfolded, her arms bound, Nancy was half pulled, half pushed, across an expanse of gravel and through a door. Footsteps echoed hollowly on cement.

There was an ammonia smell in the air, and once, when Nancy stumbled, her face brushed against something that felt like a cardboard carton. Were they in a warehouse?

A hand knocked on a metal door. The door was opened, and Nancy was dragged inside.

The voices of Nancy’s captors, speaking in Spanish, became deferential. They’re speaking to their boss, Nancy realized. But what are they saying? The Spanish was so rapid, so staccato, that she could only understand one word in ten.

Suddenly she was dragged over to a window. Nancy knew it was a window because she could feel the warmth of sunlight against her cheek. Hands grasped her face roughly, turned it this way and that. Fingers ran through her hair.

Abruptly she was released-so abruptly that she lost her balance and fell painfully to the concrete floor.

Before Nancy could scramble away, a new set of hands grabbed her. Somebody’s knees pinned her down as her ankles were tied again, this time with something cold and harsh. After that, Nancy was ignored.