Free Into Thin Air by Carolyn Keene

asked.
    â€œDuring regular banking hours, of course,” the clerk told her, adding, “That includes our new Saturday morning hours.”
    â€œSaturday morning? Isn’t that unusual for a bank?” Nancy couldn’t help asking.
    â€œIt’s getting quite common,” he announced. “It’s for our customers’ convenience. We’re just keeping up with the times. So, shall I start filling out the forms?”
    Nancy got up. “Thank you. You’ve beenvery helpful. I’ve got another appointment right now, though. I’ll come back later to open the box.” Giving the clerk an apologetic smile, she hurried from the bank.
    Nancy emerged into the bright afternoon sunshine with a sense of accomplishment. A safety deposit box would have been the perfect place for Johnson to hide the money. He’d have the only key. Was a key what that man had been searching for in the old Chinese desk?
    While she pondered the different pieces of the puzzle, a sharp light flashed in her eyes. She raised her head. The light came from a top floor window of a building across the square. The sun was reflecting off something in the window.
    At that moment the reflection disappeared, and Nancy could make out a man holding a pair of binoculars in the open window. He lowered them and stood still, staring down at her.
    His was a face Nancy recognized—the man Mark Rubin had identified as J. Christopher Johnson!

Chapter

Ten
    H ER HEART POUNDING, Nancy stared up at the man in the window. Johnson, or whoever he was, watched her for a moment longer, then abruptly moved away from the window.
    â€œHi, Nancy!”
    Spinning around, Nancy saw Bess and George coming toward her on the sidewalk.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” George asked, seeing the startled expression on her friend’s face.
    â€œI just saw Johnson,” Nancy cried, her heart racing. “Up there!” She pointed to the empty window.
    â€œI don’t see anybody,” Bess said.
    â€œWe haven’t got a minute to lose,” Nancy said, hustling her friends across the street.When they reached the front door of the building, she said, “You two go around to the back and cover it. I’ll go in the front.”
    Bess and George raced through the parking lot on one side of the building. Nancy strode in the front entrance. Pulling open the metal door, she walked into a small, dirty foyer with yellowing walls.
    A black directory hung over a set of smudged buttons and a gritty intercom. There were few names on it, and most of them had missing letters. Each floor had two apartments, one marked F and the other R. That had to mean front and rear, Nancy thought. She reached for the red button marked 6F, since the man had been watching her from the top-floor front apartment.
    There was no answer. Pressing the buzzer for 6F again, Nancy waited. Still no answer. She pulled hard on the inside door that led to the first floor corridor and a stairwell. Despite its battered condition, it was securely locked.
    Nancy considered, then pressed the button marked 6R. Almost immediately the lock on the inside door buzzed ferociously. She pushed it open. Taking the steps two at a time, she raced up to the top floor. A pasty-faced woman in a flower-printed dress stood in an open doorway at one end of the hallway.
    â€œAre you the social worker?” she demanded.
    â€œNo,” Nancy answered. “I came to see your neighbor, actually. Do you know if he’s home?”
    The woman was visibly annoyed. “Fat chance,” she said, turning back to her apartment.
    â€œWait a minute,” Nancy said, gulping to catch her breath after running up six flights. “I’m sure I saw him at the window as I was walking over here.”
    â€œLook, I don’t know nothing about nothing,” the woman said. “I stay out of their way, and they stay out of mine, know what I mean?”
    â€œSure, I know what you