Cutting Edge by Carolyn Keene Page A

of the man. Maybe they can come up with a name to match. Too bad we don’t have a photograph.”
    Nancy nodded. “Unfortunately, he’s probably long gone by now, and the chips with him.”
    â€œMaybe,” Mr. O’Connell said. “But maybe not. He might just stay here—it would be the best cover. If this fellow is a well-known corporate spy it won’t be easy for him to get out of the country with the chip. Customs keeps a long list of corporate spies, their whereabouts, and their aliases. He’ll have to be very clever.”
    â€œHe’s already proven he’s clever,” Nancy pointed out. “My idea, though, is to keep track of him through his accomplice. If we can find her and get her to confess then we’ll have our thief and the proof to hold him.”
    Mr. O’Connell raised his eyebrows. “The girl who screamed is an accomplice?” he asked.
    George nodded. “She left some sequins behind,” George put in. “Show him, Nan.”
    Nancy fished the sequins out of her pocket and held them out to Mr. O’Connell.
    His face fell. “These look familiar,” he said softly. “Trish?”
    â€œYes?” Trish came closer and looked at the sequins.
    â€œAren’t these like the ones on one of your costumes?” her father asked.
    â€œI don’t think so,” Trish said. “I do have blue sequins on my freestyle costume for my long program, but I haven’t even unpacked it yet.”
    Mr. O’Connell was obviously relieved. “Let’s talk again soon,” he told Nancy. “Right now, I want to make some calls and get some dinner. If you spot that fellow hanging around, try to get a photograph.”
    â€œWhat an afternoon,” George said as she and Nancy watched the O’Connells walk off. “Nancy, you don’t think she stole those skates, do you?”
    â€œI doubt it, George,” Nancy answered.
    â€œWell, we’ve still got a couple of hours before the men’s singles,” George said. “Want to catch some dinner?”
    â€œI am hungry,” Nancy admitted. “Want to invite Kevin to join us?”
    George sighed. “I wish I could, but he said he’d be too busy,” she said. “I understand, but I sort of wish he’d find a little time to spend with me.”
    She looked up into the stands. “In fact, there he is, in the back row, interviewing Ann Lasser.”
    â€œCome on, George,” Nancy said gently. “Give him a break. Interviewing skaters is his job.”
    â€œWell, he sure is an overachiever,” George grumbled. “Or at least he was with Veronica. Anyway, I’m famished.”
    Nancy was glad to change the subject to something neutral. “Me, too,” she said.
    â€œWant to try Harper’s?” George suggested. “It’s not far from here, and Kevin said the food was pretty good.”
    â€œOkay,” Nancy agreed, starting for the exit. When they stepped outside, Nancy noticed an expensive-looking silver sedan with dark-tinted windows parked at the curb. As they walked out toward the street, Gilbert Fleischman hurried past them with quick strides. He slipped into the passenger side of the car, and, in the next moment, the car drove away.
    Nancy stopped short. In the split second that the door had been open, she saw the woman who was behind the wheel of the car. “Fran Higgins was driving that car,” Nancy told George. “She’s a reporter for the Morning Sun.”
    â€œBut the judges aren’t allowed to talk to the press,” George said, her brown eyes opening wide.
    â€œI know,” Nancy replied as they continued on their way to her car. “There’s a lot of funny business going on around here, George. First, there’s a paper clip on the ice. Then, a skater gets a threatening message and another one has her skates stolen. There’s the blackout, and the