"That's where you come in," Nancy said promptly. "You're the fashion and beauty expert. Run out and buy whatever's needed at a drugstore. Be prepared to give me a cut and blow-dry. Teresa, go back to your room before your chaperon pushes the panic b.u.t.ton. I'll arrange to have her receive a diplomatic invitation she won't dare turn down. George, get on the phone to the senator. Tell her we we"-she emphasized the word-"need the use of a tennis court that can provide absolute privacy absolute privacy. Tell her I'm testing out a theory, but don't tell her anything else."

As the other three sprang into action, Nancy sat down quietly. She felt as if the room were whirling.

Teresa's meet was vitally important-and this was the only way it could take place without alerting the terrorists. Of that Nancy was absolutely sure.

She was absolutely sure of something else as well. She had only a few short hours to complete the transformation-not just of her appearance but of her tennis game.

She, Nancy Drew, expert detective but amateur athlete, was about to play before a thousand or more people. Play against people good enough to be professional. Play well enough to carry through a triple deception-of the United States government, of the public, and of the San Carlos agents a.s.signed to keep Teresa Montenegro in line.

Could she do it?

Chapter Thirteen.

THE NEXT FEW hours were among the most frantic of Nancy's life. Within ten minutes Senator Kilpatrick sent the "armored car," as George called it, to take Nancy, George, and Teresa to a private home somewhere nearby. The girls never found out who lived there, and no one was in sight, but inside the high walls around the grounds was a magnificent tennis court.

For two hours Teresa drilled Nancy in the characteristics of her tennis style, with George acting as coach to see if Nancy followed Teresa's moves precisely.

"It'll do," George said at last. "Nancy could never pull off the subst.i.tution in a regular tournament match, but people will probably think your playing looks different because this is mixed doubles."

"Let's hope so!" Nancy said fervently. "My game's suffering because I'm concentrating so hard on copying Teresa's style. And I'd never have the stamina for a full match!"

"I would," George said regretfully. "I wish I could try it."

"Perhaps when this is over, you and I will have a chance to play together in another meet," Teresa told George gently. There was a moment's silence. They were only too aware that some of them might not come out of the afternoon's deadly games alive.

"We'd better get back so Bess can have her crack at us," Nancy said briskly.

The limousine sped them back to the hotel. Again they were whisked carefully inside, under heavy guard. Bess was in the suite, surrounded by hair and makeup paraphernalia. "I shortened Nancy's skirt so it'll be the right length for Teresa," she reported. "And I bought Nancy some tennis shoes like the ones Teresa wears. You guys should be able to fit into the rest of each other's clothes." She hurried them both into the showers to wash their hair.

The next hour was a hectic flurry of activity, with Bess presiding and George acting as her a.s.sistant. Bess and George applied bronzer to Nancy's skin. "You'd better have it everywhere," George insisted, "since you'll have to change clothes in the locker room." Fortunately Nancy had some tan already, so the deeper color was not too much of a change.

After that, Bess-who was good at it-trimmed Nancy's hair, referring to Teresa constantly as a model. Then she began to apply colored hair gel lavishly.

When she finished, Bess had matched the girls' hair coloring quite well. Next she worked over them both with brush and blower.

Last of all came makeup. Bess relied mostly on Nancy and Teresa's own cosmetics, but she was also able to do some skillful work with light and shadow.

"Be glad of what I learned when I was in those school plays," Bess muttered, blending brown and lavender under Nancy's cheekbones. "Okay, take a look."

Till then, she'd kept Nancy and Teresa away from mirrors. Now they stared at themselves, amazed. Somehow Nancy's cheekbones had grown higher and broader, the bone structure above her eyes seeming a bit more full. On Teresa the effect was the reverse. Once dressed, each girl's resemblance to the other's normal appearance was uncanny.

"Now spritz your faces with this bottled water to set the makeup," Bess commanded. "No, wait! I'd I'd better do it." better do it."

"You're not afraid this bronzer will run off?" Nancy asked apprehensively.

"Not till you scrub hard with soap," Bess said emphatically. "I tried it once. Believe me, I know! Once I was a South Sea islander for days!"

"It's time you two were going," George said, glancing at her watch. "Senora Ramirez should just be leaving for that c.o.c.ktail party. How'd you arrange that?"

"I told Dad that Senora Ramirez could use an evening out after all that's happened. He knew just the right people to-" Nancy gasped. "We've been rushing so much I forgot to arrange transportation. Teresa can't drive into D.C. in our car-not in rush-hour traffic!"

"It's taken care of," Bess said. A troubled look crossed her eyes. "Dan thinks he's driving Nancy and me into Georgetown to follow up one of Nancy's hunches. After we drop Teresa off, we're going to have dinner at a place he knows. Then we'll pick Teresa up again."

"Good thinking," George said approvingly.

"I hate not being honest with Dan," Bess said. "But it was the only thing that I could come up with."

Nancy nodded sympathetically. "I know what you mean," she said, thinking of Ned. "But if you'd told the truth, it would have been Dan's job to stop us."

"I'll be able to keep Dan occupied so he won't ask Teresa too many questions," Bess went on. "And the senator's sending some other bodyguards, who haven't seen either of you two before, to drive Teresa... well, actually you you, to the doubles match. The senator agreed with me that Teresa might be safer without her San Carlos guards than with them, so she's arranged a way to spring her from custody."

"You didn't tell Senator Kilpatrick what we're doing, did you?" Nancy exclaimed. Instinct warned her the deception should be secret even from the senator. Especially after the way Dad lit into her earlier about jeopardizing our lives, she added mentally.

"I didn't tell anybody anybody," Bess emphasized. "But I'll sure be glad when this is over."

"I, also," Teresa said somberly. "No matter how it ends."

There was a momentary silence.

The phone rang. It was Dan reporting that he was ready for the trip into D.C.

Teresa rose. Then, resting her hands lightly on Nancy's shoulders, she looked directly into her eyes. "Vaya con Dios," "Vaya con Dios," she murmured. She picked up Nancy's handbag and slipped out into the corridor. Bess followed. she murmured. She picked up Nancy's handbag and slipped out into the corridor. Bess followed.

Ten minutes later George and Nancy left too, carrying Teresa's tennis rackets and gym bag. George sat in the front seat of the government car, beside the driver. "Teresa wants to be alone," she told the other bodyguard. "She's got to psych herself up for this match."

They rode out to the Loudon campus in absolute silence. Nancy was grateful that this limousine, like the one that had kidnapped her, had tinted windows. No one could look in at her, and in the Washington area limos were too common to attract much notice.

They reached the campus. Nancy noticed that the parking lot was well filled. Apparently many people had come to watch Teresa play and help the refugees from her country.

The limousine pulled up by the gym. To Nancy's relief, security police had made the place off-limits for all but the four players. In the women's locker room Teresa's Canadian opponent greeted her pleasantly but otherwise let her alone. Nancy changed into Teresa's favorite tennis outfit and put on the new tennis shoes. Fortunately they fit well. She propped Teresa's mascot, a small doll-a replica of a San Carlos Indian woman-beside her on the bench and gazed at it somberly.

Nancy was beginning to realize all too well just how easily the switch of ident.i.ties could go wrong. I can't think about it, she told herself. I've got to psych myself into the game-into Teresa's Teresa's game. She closed her eyes and concentrated. game. She closed her eyes and concentrated.

All at once she heard a commotion in the hall. There were the sounds of a scuffle, and then George's voice was raised wildly.

"You don't understand! I've got got to see Teresa Montenegro!" to see Teresa Montenegro!"

Nancy ran to the door. George was struggling with two guards in the lobby of the gym building. She caught Nancy's eye and signaled frantically.

It was a risk, but Nancy took it. She stepped out of the locker room and strode forward to reach out for George, her own eyes flashing imperiously as she'd once seen Teresa's do. "Let go of her!" she commanded.

To her great relief, the guards let go of George and stepped back-but only a few feet. They would never let George follow Nancy into the locker room out of their sight.

George turned her head so that only Nancy could see her lips. They formed the words almost soundlessly. "Trouble. Bess phoned. Teresa phoned her at the restaurant. The big guy down south has ordered the execution of traitors everywhere to begin at dawn!" "Trouble. Bess phoned. Teresa phoned her at the restaurant. The big guy down south has ordered the execution of traitors everywhere to begin at dawn!"

She emphasized the word everywhere everywhere. Nancy's eyes darkened. "Teresa?" "Teresa?" she asked soundlessly. she asked soundlessly.

George nodded imperceptibly.

The same thought was in both girls' minds. If the San Carlos dictator-the big guy-had ordered killings, there was no guarantee that hit men like El Morro would obey his decree that they should be carried out at sunrise. El Morro might not feel like waiting!

And by posing as Teresa in the doubles match, Nancy was putting herself in terrible danger!

Chapter Fourteen.

EL MORRO, OR another hit man, could be in the grandstand crowd at that very moment! For an instant that was all Nancy could think of. Then a man wearing the uniform and badge of a tournament official opened the door.

"Two minutes to six. To the courts, please, players."

George gave Nancy a swift, tight hug and hurried off. The young Canadian woman came out of the locker room and shook hands with Nancy, murmuring, "Good luck."

The two male players left their locker room. Nancy's partner was a cheerful-looking man in his early thirties, with sandy hair. "Sorry I didn't have the time to practice with you earlier," he apologized. "I was tied up with some last-minute coaching."

Nancy smiled and shrugged.

Escorted by tournament officials-and by security men disguised as officials-the two couples marched across the road and out onto the court. There was a burst of applause as they entered. Nancy smiled and nodded like the others, but involuntarily her eyes searched the crowd.

I have to stop that, she told herself. The best way to protect Teresa is to make people believe I'm I'm Teresa! Teresa!

The other couple won the toss and chose to serve.

The Canadian woman's first serve was deep and hard. Nancy's partner returned it well, but the Canadian coach hit a great shot down the line. Nancy missed it.

"Fifteen-love," called the referee.

Nancy knew within five minutes that the deception was going to be even more difficult than she'd feared. She was in a double bind. To play well, she would have to use her own style, and the masquerade would be exposed. But if she forced herself to play like Teresa, her reflexes were slowed, and she missed shots Teresa would have hit.

Once, after she'd netted one of Teresa's characteristic backhand shots, Nancy caught her partner looking at her strangely. But the game was too fast for him to focus on anything other than his own playing.

The Canadian team took the first set easily.

George was at the rail when Nancy wearily went to her seat for the few minutes between sets. She was not allowed to enter the court, but her eyes spoke plainly to Nancy. Calm down. Don't force so much! Zen Calm down. Don't force so much! Zen. Her lips framed the last word.

Nancy frowned. Then her face cleared. George was referring to the zen of a sport, a phrase Nancy had heard her use often. It meant concentrate on the objective, on the target, not on the technique you hope will get you there.

Nancy and her partner won the next game. A faint murmur reached her from the bleachers, and Nancy resolutely put away the fear that her own tennis style might be creeping in. Concentrate on where the ball should go, as George had said. Rely on the earlier practice for the style- A gleam of light from somewhere in the stands danced into Nancy's eyes, and she missed a high volley, not even getting her racket on the ball.

There was a disappointed murmur from the crowd, followed by a ripple of appreciation as Nancy's partner ran in to save the shot, catching the ball on its first bounce. He slammed it back, and the momentum of the game picked up again.

The ball came toward Nancy, and she moved forward to meet it. But as she swung, the glint of light bounced into her eyes again. The glare was just great enough to throw her off-balance. She tripped and fell, scarcely hearing the referee's voice announcing the point for the other side above the groans of the crowd.

Pretending dizziness, Nancy knelt for a moment on one knee. But her eyes were busily sweeping the stadium.

The light had come from the far end-from the east. So it couldn't be rays from the dying sun. None of the tournament floodlights had been lit yet. Where was it coming from, and why couldn't she see it now?

Nancy's partner strode toward her, concerned about her delay. Nancy nodded at him and began to rise. Then she saw the glint again.

As if he knew she needed his help, Nancy's partner caught the next few b.a.l.l.s with some dazzling maneuvers. There was no repeat of the flash of light, and Nancy was able to return some shots successfully. Her mind was racing.

If the glint was not from electricity or the sunset, what had caused it? Sunlight from behind her? Binoculars? A camera lens? A telescope?

Then the truth crashed down on Nancy. It was was a telescope of sorts-the telescopic sight of a sniper's rifle! a telescope of sorts-the telescopic sight of a sniper's rifle!

Nancy froze. A ball smashed past her, and the glint came again. Instinctively, Nancy ducked.

She made it look like a stumble, and murmurs rose from the crowd. Nancy's partner strode toward her. Nancy shook her head. And then, with sharp clarity, she knew there was only one thing to do.

It was the Canadian woman's turn to serve. As the ball came toward her Nancy completely abandoned her attempt to imitate Teresa's style. She rushed forward to meet it with a wild forehand slam that sent the ball soaring over the crowd-directly toward the sniper.

There were gasps from the crowd. They must have a.s.sumed Teresa was cracking beneath the pressure. But one person knew better. George's eyes had been on Nancy. They followed the ball. Then they swung back to meet Nancy's for a shocked instant, and the next moment George was grabbing the nearest security guard and pointing.

From all over the stadium, officials began to dash toward the sniper.

I did my best, Nancy thought. All I can do now is hope.

She rushed back into the game, and she did not see the telltale glint again.

Nancy played hard after that, with all her skill. She knew the best thing she could do was to prolong the game and keep the Canadian pair from winning easily. She had to give Teresa as much time on the loose as she could.

"Game. Set to San Carlos," the referee called. The announcement was made over the loudspeaker. "The match is now a tie."

During the third set, Nancy and her partner played well. When it ended, they had lost the match by only two heartbreaking points in the last set!

The players shook hands. Exhausted, Nancy walked slowly from the court amid a flurry of whispers. The Canadian woman came over to put a companionable arm around her shoulders.

"You made a great comeback," she said. "Too bad you lost when the game was so close. That would have killed me!"

Nancy gave a tight grin. "You don't know how close it came," she murmured in her best attempt at a San Carlos accent.

Chapter Fifteen.