Nancy, Bess, and George’s Jiu-Jitsu lessons turn into a takedown of another sort in the twenty-first book in the Nancy Drew Diaries, a fresh approach to a classic series. After a close call, Mr. Drew insists that if Nancy’s going to be an amateur detective, she needs to be able to defend herself. So Nancy, Bess, and George decide to check out a Jiu-Jitsu class at Iron Dragon MMA. The technique is hard, but before she knows it, Nancy’s having a lot of fun. And then, just as class ends, the students are shaken by a disturbing sight—someone’s left a dead rat on the front desk and spray-painted “traitor” on the wall. With a big competition coming up soon, is a rival academy trying to stir up trouble to throw the Iron Dragon team off their game? Nancy agrees to help the team get to the truth, but as her investigation takes some unexpected and increasingly dangerous turns, has River Heights’s finest sleuth been outmatched? Carolyn Keene is the author of the ever-popular Nancy Drew books. Chapter One: Enter the Iron Dragon CHAPTER ONE Enter the Iron Dragon “THAT’S IT FOR TONIGHT, NANCY!” Chef Kathy called out, waving goodbye to our last customer and locking the front door. “Time to clean this place up.” I set down my ladle and breathed a sigh of relief. I loved volunteering at the River Heights Soup Kitchen, but standing at the counter and serving dinner to two hundred people was not an easy job. My feet were throbbing, my ladling arm was sore, and I could barely keep my eyes open. I hauled the now-empty stockpot over to the big, industrial sink and helped Chef Kathy, the kitchen manager, wash the dishes and get everything ready for the next meal in the morning. Kathy was a petite woman—with sparkling eyes and black hair hidden under a hairnet—but she carried vats of food and heavy boxes of supplies around with a strength that defied her small size. “I don’t know how you do this every day,” I said, awed. “I only work once a week, and I’m exhausted!” Kathy, her hands full of suds, shrugged. “You do the impossible often enough, it becomes routine, I guess.” By the time Kathy and I were finished, it was almost eleven p.m. I peeled off my rubber gloves and hung my apron on a hook by the kitchen door. “See you next week?” I called out, slipping into my jacket and slinging my backpack over my shoulder. “Yep, I’ll be here,” Kathy replied. “Thanks so much for your help, Nancy. And tell your dad I said hello!” With a nod and a wave, I stepped out onto the street and turned my collar up against the cool night air. The soup kitchen was in an older section of downtown River Heights, where many shop fronts sat empty and burned-out streetlamps rarely got replaced. There was a campaign going to help fix up this part of the city and get more help to the people who lived there. Dad was helping to organize it—that was how I became interested in volunteering at the soup kitchen in the first place. River Heights was my home, and I always tried to do what I could to make it better for everyone. The street outside the soup kitchen was deserted, and only a few pools of light illuminated the sidewalk in front of me as I walked to my car. A slender crescent moon hung in the sky, dark clouds churning past it, reminding me just how late it was. I yawned, fighting to keep my eyes open. All I could think about was getting home to the warm comfort of my bed. I just wanted to sleep. And then—a sound broke the silence. Footsteps. Behind me, and approaching fast. A bolt of adrenaline shot through me and I was instantly wide awake. Reaching into my pocket for my phone, I turned to face whoever was coming—but I was too late. A figure in dark, nondescript clothes was already on me, grabbing me by the arm and knocking the phone from my hand. In slow motion, I watched it skitter across the pavement out of arm’s reach, right before I was slammed against a wall. I shouted out in pain as my face bounced against the brickwork, making my vision blur. The mugger tried to pull off my backpack, but it was tangled around my arms and wouldn’t come loose. I tried to focus my mind and figure out what to do, but I was dizzy and disoriented. “Don’t do this,” I managed to groan. “You don’t need to do this.” “Just be quiet and let go of the bag,” the mugger muttered. “Look, if you need something, maybe I can—” The mugger shook me violently, making the world spin. “I said, be quiet! ” And then— “Hey!” someone shouted from down the street. “What do you think you’re doing? Get off her!” The tight grip on my shoulder loosened slightly as the mugger froze. I turned to see a stocky young woman running toward us, moving in and out of the light cast by the streetlamps. She stopped just a few feet away from us and raised both hands to the sky. “Look, man,” she said. “I don’t want any trouble. Just let her go. Okay?” The mugger’s grip on me tightened once again. “If you didn’t want any trouble, little lady ,” he sneered, his voice l