A Date with Deception by Carolyn Keene

blueprints. Then Gary took out a drawing of the entire plane. It was one of the big ones.
    â€œAre we finished?” Bess asked anxiously.
    â€œAlmost,” Nancy said. “But we’ve got to make copies. We can’t take these originals out. If anyone ever traced them to Gary, he’d bethrough. No one would believe he wasn’t the spy.”
    â€œWe’d be through, too,” Bess muttered. “Okay, I see your point. But let’s hurry!”
    There was a copier in the file room, with extra-large paper in it. Nancy turned it on, praying that it wouldn’t make too much noise. It was a fairly new, expensive-looking machine, and it ran with only a faint hum.
    Nancy quickly fed the blueprints they’d selected through the copier. Then she switched it off, and they replaced the original prints in the file cabinet. Nancy hoped they’d gotten the right prints into the right drawers—it was hard to be sure, since they all looked so much alike.
    When everything was back in its original shape, they divided the copies of the blueprints among themselves, folded them carefully, and tucked them under their shirts.
    â€œThere’s just one more thing I want to check,” Nancy told the others quietly. “Bill Fairgate’s office.”
    â€œOh, Nancy, do you have to?” Bess wrung her hands nervously. “I feel like we’re tempting fate just by being here.”
    â€œI may not get another chance,” Nancy explained. “If he’s the leak, I need some way of proving it.”
    Single file, the four friends crept down the darkened hallway until they found BillFairgate’s door. Nancy tried the knob. It wasn’t locked.
    She eased the door open and went in. Gary, George, and Bess stayed out in the hall, waiting anxiously for her.
    Nancy shone her penlight around Bill’s office. Her eyes widened in surprise. The desk that had been buried under an untidy mound of papers the other day was clean and bare.
    Wondering, Nancy pulled open drawer after drawer in the desk. They were all nearly empty, and what was in them was unremarkable: pens, paper clips, rubber bands, neat files of old memos. No bank statements or brokers’ reports. No Jetstar blueprints. No notes. In fact, nothing that even remotely resembled current work!
    Nancy exhaled slowly. Bill Fairgate was up to something. Maybe he knew someone would be searching his office, and he cleared it out so no one would find anything that might incriminate him. Did that make any sense?
    She slipped back out to the hall and reported to the others. They were as puzzled as she.
    â€œMaybe he just cleaned up,” George suggested in a doubtful whisper. “Maybe the mess got to him after a while.”
    Shrugging, Nancy turned toward the exit. “Whatever it is, we can’t figure it out tonight,” she said. “Shall we go?”
    â€œI thought you’d never ask,” Bess murmured gratefully.
    â€œWe’ll have to be careful going over the fence,” Nancy warned.
    â€œRight,” Bess agreed. She patted her shirt, and the blueprint underneath it made a rustling noise. “And try not to crinkle too loudly, either.”
    Quickly and quietly, they moved through the hall to the outside door. Gary checked the guards’ schedule, then his watch, and finally nodded to himself. “We’re okay,” he told the others. “We’ve got five minutes before somebody checks this door again.”
    â€œMission accomplished,” Nancy said. “Let’s get out of here!”
    It was ten-thirty when Nancy started the car and turned it onto the road leading back to town. “So far, so good,” she said to the others. “Just keep your fingers crossed that we’ll be able to make some sense out of these blue^ prints.”
    â€œGary’s our expert on that,” George said.
    â€œNot quite,” Gary retorted, grinning. “But I’ve taken a