A/N: Once again, thank you so much to everyone who has been reviewing; your support and enthusiasm is much appreciated! I'm currently in the middle of a rewrite of the end of this story, since I'm not sure I like how the original turned out, but there's still plenty more of Secrets of the Nile to get through before we get to that! Enjoy!
Once they assumed that Nasser must be the bomb's target, the rest of the pieces fell right into place, Frank mused as he tied his bow tie in the mirror. Nasser would be addressing the topic of water exploration at the banquet tonight, which meant the perfect opportunity for him to endorse some other company for the contract. Rather than risk losing the contract as well as exposure of his illegal business practices, Krieger planned to silence Nasser permanently, in front of hundreds of people... or possibly in addition to hundreds of people. With Nasser gone, Darius would be the only person left capable of blowing the whistle. And he'd be next.
"How do I look?"
Nancy appeared in the mirror behind him like a vision. She was wearing an evening gown in cornflower blue silk that set off her eyes like sapphires. She had artfully pinned up her hair to cover the healing cut on her forehead, and makeup had all but erased the bruises on her face. She gave him a shy little smile.
"You look beautiful, N-Rebecca." he said, catching himself before he could make the mistake of calling her by her real name.
"You don't look so bad yourself." Nancy flirted, giving his tux the once-over. She draped her bare arms over his shoulders and brought her lips to his, but Frank pulled back before it could become anything more than a simple peck.
"N-no word from Cooper and Nikki yet." he stammered, feeling guilty when he saw the sting of rejection in her eyes.
"Oh." she nodded, businesslike. "I wonder if they found Darius and Leila." She turned away from him, hurt, which only afforded him a tempting view of the back of her dress—cut low to her waist and laced together with crisscrossing silk cords.
Frank swallowed hard. What was wrong with him? Nancy was attractive, he'd always been attracted to her; he thought he'd dealt with that fact and moved on long ago. He couldn't be letting these desires, these misunderstandings, distract him—not tonight of all nights, when the situation was literally a ticking time bomb. Focus, Hardy. "If they don't get back soon we'll have to go without them. Doors open at 5:30."
"I know what time the doors open, Cole." she said coolly, before stalking out into the living room to exclaim over Susannah's dress for the banquet.
Frank watched her go, shrugged on his jacket, and sighed.
"They're checking invitations at the door." Susannah said nervously.
Frank ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He hadn't really thought getting into Senator Nasser's banquet would be as easy as donning a monkey suit, but he'd hoped. "Maybe there's another entrance."
They circled the building carefully, but there were no obvious unguarded entrances.
"Shame the security team isn't as diligent when it comes to bombs." Nancy remarked dryly. She'd been keeping him at arm's length since he'd declined to kiss her in the bedroom, and her occasional cutting comment let him know that he still wasn't forgiven.
People continued to pour into the Victoria dressed in their finest, completely unaware of the explosive climax planned for the evening, and Frank started to feel the tightening of fear in his chest. How were they going to stop this tragedy? Who would believe the admittedly sensational story of a distraught mother and a couple of American teenagers? He wished Joe were here to back him up. Hell, he wished Nancy were here.
"Do you think it might be time to go to the police?" Susannah asked him.
They'd talked about this, about how little proof they had of the conspiracy and how easily Frank and his friends could be arrested on false identification and smuggling charges, but Frank couldn't just stand idly by and let this happen. "It's worth a try." he said. "Why don't you go down to the station and ask them to send someone down to investigate?" At the very least, hopefully it meant Susannah would be out of the blast radius when the bomb went up.
Nancy was studying the doormen with a look of fierce concentration. "Maybe," she said, "I can cause a diversion to let you slip past."
Frank stared at her. Of course the amnesiac was the one with the plan... hadn't he learned by now that Nancy Drew could do anything? "You know what you're going to do?"
Balancing on one foot, she slipped off one of her shoes and examined it. Then, grimacing regretfully, she stooped to the sidewalk, hooked it over the curb, and gave it a sharp yank until they heard a crack. She tested the heel with her fingers and found it wobbly. "This'll do." she said in a businesslike tone, slipping it back on and balancing carefully on the broken heel.
Frank made to cross the street to the front entrance but Nancy pulled him back. "Not that door." she said, instead pointing to the smaller side entrance, which was guarded by a tall, dark-haired man. He looked younger than the guard in the front, Frank realized. He would probably be less experienced. He lingered casually behind a nearby pillar while Nancy approached the door slowly, rifling through her purse like she was retrieving her invitation. As soon as she was close enough, she let the heel slip out from under her and tumbled to the ground with a pained expression that Frank sincerely hoped was faked.
The guard rushed to her aid, and Nancy batted her eyelashes gratefully as she allowed the man to tenderly examine her ankle. By the time he helped her back to her feet, the broken shoe dangling from his hand, Frank had realized why Nancy had chosen the younger guard. He squelched a ridiculous stab of jealousy as she leaned on the dark-haired man, milking her damsel-in-distress act for all it was worth. He was so caught up in watching her performance that he almost forgot to take the opportunity to slip casually into the hotel... Almost.
Once inside, he made straight for the banquet hall doors. He could hear the chatter inside begin to die down and he checked his watch with a sinking stomach. Sure enough, it was 6:15, time for Senator Nasser to make his opening remarks.
He peeked through the doors to see a banquet hall full of people, linen-draped tables, glittering chandeliers. There was a dais set up in the front of the room, complete with a speaker's lectern. The lectern, Frank decided instinctively. That's where he planted the bomb. But it was too late: Senator Nasser was already approaching the dais.
Then Frank spotted another familiar face: Krieger, standing off to the side of the room, dressed in the uniform of a waiter.
How long would Krieger wait to set off the bomb, Frank thought furiously. Would it be detonated by timer or remote control? He would want to time it to prevent Nasser from having the opportunity to expose him. But he would have to give himself enough time to get away from the blast.
With Krieger standing so close to the podium, Frank decided this was his best chance. Bursting through the door, he sprinted up the open aisle and past the senator, falling to his knees behind the podium. Sliding back the wooden panel on the back of the lectern, he immediately found what he was looking for.
A black box. A blinking light. An LED screen that was slowly counting backwards from three minutes and thirty-seven seconds.
He felt the familiar boost of adrenaline surge through him as he stood up and spoke into the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is an emergency. Please evacuate the hall immediately in a calm and orderly manner."
A hundred or more perplexed faces stared back at him, exchanging curious glances. No one moved.
Frank sighed. So much for not causing a panic. "We have three minutes before the bomb in this lectern goes off!" he exclaimed. "Get out of here!"
'Bomb' was the magic word. The hall was suddenly filled with chatter, screams, cries, the scraping of chairs, frantic footsteps, and all manner of chaos as the banquet guests clamored for the doors. Frank ducked back behind the podium. The bomb was a simple one, technically speaking, simply an electric fuse with a timer connecting the battery terminals.
He focused his attention on the wires—black, red, and green. One of those wires would relay a jolt to the charge when the timer hit zero. The others were most likely dummy wires, or worse... booby traps. Cutting the wrong wire could very likely cause the bomb to detonate instantly.
"Cole!" Nancy had fought her way through the panicking crowd to join him on the dais. "Let's go!"
"We can't leave." he shook his head. "We don't know what kind of a charge it's packing. It could bring down the whole hotel, and there's no way it's completely evacuated yet."
"And you're going to what? Disarm it in two minutes?" she pressed, folding skeptical arms over her torso. "Have you done this before?"
"Sure," Frank said. Maybe not this particular kind of bomb, but he was familiar with the concepts. His brow furrowed as his fingers hovered over the bomb, tracing each of the tangled wires from the timer to its point of origin. "Hey, you think you could find a knife or something on one of those tables? Something sharp?"
She reached into her clutch and pulled out a travel sewing kit, extracting a tiny pair of scissors. "Will this work?"
"That," Frank said, "Is perfect."
She handed him the scissors, scrambling down on the floor beside him, heedless of her silk dress. Her feet were bare.
Frank smiled at her.
"What are you smiling for?!" she admonished, but she smiled too. "That thing is still counting down!"
The black wire seemed to be connected directly from the battery to the charge. Not a connection he wanted to mess with. He touched the red wire lightly with one finger where it disappeared out of sight behind the timer. He needed to get a look at the back.
His hands shook slightly as he turned the bomb gingerly, and Nancy reached over and placed a calming hand on his arm. "I'm sorry," he said, not taking his eyes off the bomb, "For earlier."
"You don't have to tell me right now." she interrupted. "I don't want your dying confessions, Cole. Not today."
Frank nodded, swallowing the painful lump in his throat.
The red wire was in a similar configuration to the black one, while the green wire seemed to be the only one running current through the timer. The green one, then. Basic circuitry. Laughably simple, really... if not for the fact that if he happened to be mistaken it would almost certainly mean both their deaths.
He looked at the timer. One minute and counting. "Well, here goes." He let the blades of the scissors hover around the green wire where it connected the battery and the timer. "Maybe you should clear out," he said softly. "In case this doesn't work."
"I'm staying with you." she said.
"Rebecca—"
Before he could protest any further, she wrapped her own hand around his on the scissors and, with no fanfare, snipped the wire.
The LED screen went dark. The bomb was dead.
Frank turned to her, feeling somehow angry and elated at the same time. He couldn't believe she'd just done that, just rushed ahead without him and—
She was shaking.
With a little tug she was in his arms, tight against him, while fear and adrenaline wracked her body with tremors. "Hey, you're okay." he whispered into her hair. "It's okay. We did it."
After a moment, she lifted her head, her upturned face inches from his own.
Frank kissed her.