Cutting Edge (2 page)

“Looks like Kevin's going to be really busy for the next few days,” Nancy commented, leafing through the glossy program that accompanied her pass. “There's a lot going on.”

“He already warned me about that,” George said. She frowned slightly as they made their way to the railing. “But at least there'll be plenty to keep us busy, too.”

The first skater Nancy noticed was spinning rapidly, first on one leg, then the other. A bright red cap had been tugged down over her sleek black hair, and the red and black blurred as she continued to rotate. “Look at that girl in red. Who is she?”

“That's Veronica Taylor. She won the nationals last year,” George said, “but she didn't place at the world championships. This year may be her last chance. She's almost twenty-four, and in skating that's practically ancient.”

“Look, Dad. There's Veronica!” came a bright voice behind Nancy.

Nancy turned to the speaker, a tall, slim red-haired girl with a long mane of bouncing curls. “George, isn't that Trish O'Connell, the skater we saw last year at the River Heights skating exhibition?” she asked.

“It sure is,” George said excitedly. Trish had
captivated everyone in the girls' hometown with her skating ability and her warm, bubbly personality. Behind her walked a well-dressed man Nancy assumed was her father. He was about fifty, with short gray hair and bright blue eyes.

“Hi, Trish,” George said brightly.

“Hi,” Trish answered with a cautious smile, trying to place George. “Are you family or friends of one of the skaters?”

“No, we're just fans,” George answered. “I'm George Fayne, and this is my friend, Nancy Drew. We saw you skate in River Heights.”

Just then, Veronica Taylor skated up to where they all were standing. Nancy observed that up close Veronica was even more beautiful than she had appeared on the ice. She had clear skin, large dark eyes, and full red lips. “Trish, hi,” Veronica said, smiling at the red-haired girl. “Did you just get here?”

Trish nodded. “Yes, and guess what? Dad arranged for us to share a hotel room. Isn't that great?”

“But I was going to the local YWCA,” Veronica replied. “A hotel will cost a for—”

Trish's father put up his hand to stop her. “It's on me,” he announced. “I want both of you to be comfortable for the next few days, so it's worth the money. After all, Ronnie, you're practically part of our family.”

“Well, thanks,” Veronica told him, smiling. “That's really generous of you.”

“Veronica, this is George Fayne and Nancy
Drew,” Trish said. As she said Nancy's name, Trish hesitated slightly and her green eyes fixed on Nancy. She tilted her head to one side. “Wait a minute! Are you
the
Nancy Drew? The famous detective?”

Nancy could feel herself turning red. “I don't know how famous—”

“Pleased to meet you!” Trish said excitedly, taking Nancy's hand and turning to her father. “There you go, Dad. If you have any problem with your Optoboard you can get Nancy to help you!” She turned back to Nancy proudly. “I'd like you to meet my father, Brett O'Connell. Dad is the president of Fiber-Op Corporation. They invented the Optoboard.”

“I'm still not sure what that is,” Nancy said.

Trish's father spoke to both Nancy and George. “Basically, it's a marriage between digitalized computer images and rudimentary hologram theory.”

“Oh, Daddy,” Trish said with a giggle. “Let me tell them in plain English.” She turned to the girls. “The Optoboard is a really amazing scoreboard and video monitor rolled into one. And get this—the pictures are three-dimensional! It looks like they're popping out at you.”

“I can't wait to see it,” George said.

“It hardly uses any power at all, because it all runs on one little circuit board,” Trish added.

“Trish is my biggest fan,” Mr. O'Connell said. “I do have to go check on a couple of things—so,
ladies, if you'll excuse me . . .” Mr. O'Connell made his way around the edge of the ice.

“Excuse me, but I need to leave, too. I have to practice,” Veronica broke in. “I've got only five more minutes of ice time. I'll meet you in the locker room, Trish. 'Bye, everyone!”

Wearing a pleasant smile, Veronica wove backward on her skates as Nancy and George watched appreciatively.

Nancy's smile disappeared a moment later when Veronica's foot lurched out suddenly. Nancy gasped as the pretty skater fell back, hitting her head on the ice with a painful crack.

“Oh, no!” George cried, grabbing hold of Nancy's arm. “Nancy, she's hurt!”

O
H, NO
!” Trish echoed George. She slid out on the ice and bent down next to Veronica, who was holding her head.

“Good, here comes help,” Nancy observed. In seconds a team of emergency medical personnel surrounded the dark-haired skater. They asked Nancy, Trish, and George to leave the ice.

“Can you see anything, George?” Nancy asked from behind the railing.

“No,” George replied tensely. “I hope she's okay. That fall was nasty.”

Nancy frowned. “Definitely. In fact, it looked downright odd. I mean, how many great skaters
do you know who fall doing something so simple? It seemed like something stopped her cold.”

Nancy turned as two girls skated up to the railing and moved around behind it. One was a tall, graceful girl who was about eighteen. Her white blond hair was tied back in a long ponytail. The other was a petite dark-haired girl about sixteen with pert straight bangs framing her face.

“What a terrible fall!” the petite girl cried. “Did you see her go down, Trish?”

“She just sort of flipped back,” Trish said.

“It looked nasty,” the blond skater said nervously. “I hope it wasn't anything I did to the ice.”

“Pardon?” Nancy leaned toward her.

The blond girl looked at Nancy as if seeing her for the first time. “Like, if I cut a deep rut in the ice or something,” the girl explained.

“Elaine was practicing on that patch right before Veronica,” the other girl added.

“Look!” George broke in. “She's getting up!”

The medics were helping Veronica to her feet. She was obviously in pain, but she seemed to be moving all right. The medics led her across the ice to the holding area on the south end of the rink, and then out toward an exit ramp.

“Thank goodness,” Elaine said.

“Look, Elaine,” said the petite dark-haired skater. “There is something out there on the ice, right where Veronica fell!” Without waiting for a reply, she sped out onto the ice.

“Yoko, wait!” Elaine called after her, but Yoko
was already at the spot where Veronica had fallen. She bent down, picked something up, and stared at it quizzically. She skated back to the others, holding out her hand with what she'd found.

“A paper clip?” George said, puzzled.

“May I see it?” Nancy asked. Yoko dropped it into her hand.

“That's funny,” Elaine said. “Why would there be a paper clip on the ice? A hair clip, I could see. We all wear them. But a paper clip?”

“Maybe one of the judges dropped it,” Yoko suggested. “I saw Mr. Fleischman out here before.”

“Yes, but the Zamboni machine swept the ice clean after that,” Elaine reminded her.

Trish checked in the direction of the exit ramp down which the medics had taken Veronica. “Let's go see if Ronnie's okay,” she suggested.

“Right.” Elaine shoved off onto the ice, followed by Yoko. Trish jogged along the rubber matting around the outside of the rink.

George stared after the three skaters. “They seem nice, don't they?” she commented. “Not like ruthless competitors, that's for sure. I mean, the way that girl Elaine worried that it might have been her fault—”

“It couldn't have been her fault,” Nancy put in. “A rut in the ice wouldn't have stopped a skater cold. This paper clip, though . . .” She turned it over in her hand thoughtfully.

“There's Kevin,” George said, pointing up to
the press box that hung out over the bleachers. Kevin was standing behind a large Plexiglas window, motioning to them. “He wants us to go up there,” George added excitedly. “Cool! Come on, Nan.”

The girls walked along the front row of seats to an archway that led to the arcade behind the stands. Lining the arcade were the concessions, restrooms, and escalators to the balcony and bleacher seating. George led Nancy to a small, unobtrusive elevator. After showing their passes to a guard, they rode up one flight to the press level.

“Kevin told me the VIPs and the lighting and sound people are all up here,” George told Nancy as the door opened onto a curved hallway with thick red carpeting.

They passed a door with two security men guarding it. “ ‘Optoboard Control Room,' ” Nancy said, reading the sign on the door. “Whoa. Top secret, huh, George? Can't wait to see this Optoboard in action.”

As they continued moving along the circular hallway, George became perplexed. “Wait a minute. Where do we go, Nan?” she asked. “I'm lost.”

Nancy shrugged. “Let's keep going this way,” she said.

Just then a man came barreling out of a doorway on their left, crashing right into Nancy. She stumbled backward and caught herself against the wall. Her eyes met those of the
startled reporter she'd noticed at the orientation earlier—the one with the beard and the foreign accent.

“I'm sorry,” he tossed out. “I seem to be lost. Do you know where the press lounge is?”

“Sorry,” Nancy told him. “We haven't been on this level before.”

“Oh, well,” he said with a sigh. “I'm sure I'll find it if I keep looking.” He went down the hall in the direction from which the girls had come.

Nancy and George shrugged at each other. Nancy then took in the sign on the door the man had barreled out of. “Danger! Keep Out!” was printed on it in bold red letters.

“Maybe he can't read English?” George suggested, following Nancy's gaze.

“I doubt it,” Nancy said. “He's supposedly a reporter, and he certainly speaks English well enough. I wonder what's in that room?”

“Maybe Kevin will know. There's the Worldwide control room,” George said, quickening her step and pointing just ahead. “I see their sign on the door.”

Inside, Kevin was leaning against the wall, talking to Mike, who was holding a small video camera and tripod. When Kevin saw the girls poke their heads in the door, his face lit up with a smile.

“There you are. Great!” Kevin said. “Listen, I'm hoping you can help me with something.”

“Sure,” George said. “What's up?”

“I'd like to line up some interviews with the
women skaters, but they tend to hang out in the women's locker room. Would you do me a favor and go down there to see if anyone's willing to give me an interview?”

“Sure,” George said, grinning at her boyfriend. “Anyway, I'd love to see what champion skaters are like off the ice.”

Kevin nodded. “This should be a great time to get them all together. Otherwise, I'll have to run all over tracking them down individually.”

“We'll be happy to help,” Nancy said.

“Terrific,” Kevin replied with a grin. “I'll get my schedule and a pen and we can go right now. Feel free to grab a sandwich in the meantime.”

While Kevin fished through a nearby desk for a pen, Nancy and George each picked up a sandwich from a table against one wall. As Nancy munched on her tuna, she took a quick peek past the large black TV cameras and through the bank of windows that looked down on the arena. “What a view,” she murmured, taking in the rink below.

At the moment there were no skaters on the ice. Instead, a group of workers was busily rolling out a large scaffolding unit.

“They've shut the rink down for the next few hours so they can finish installing the Optoboard,” Mike explained.

“You'll have a perfect view of it,” George remarked.

“So will everyone else,” Kevin said. “At least that's what the people from Fiber-Op claim.
They say that when those three-dimensional figures appear, they'll be visible from every seat in the arena.” He clipped a pen onto his jacket pocket.

“All ready?” George asked Kevin. He nodded and pushed open the door for her and Nancy.

“There's an elevator right out here,” he said, leading them to the left.

“Kevin, what's in that room down the hall marked Danger?” Nancy asked as they stepped into the elevator.

“I don't know,” Kevin admitted. He turned to Mike, who shrugged.

“We saw a reporter coming out of there and wondered what he was doing,” Nancy explained.

“Maybe he was really lost, like he said,” George commented. “Give that detective brain a rest, okay?”