Looking down the street the dark brick buildings on either side converged to a distant point. The dreary walls were interrupted only by gaps where buildings had been demolished in expectation of profitable redevelopment. With the demand for commercial space extinguished by the Depression these lots were left vacant, surrounded by wooden fences. The bare, hard dirt was strewn with piles of remnant bricks and broken sinks.
The Hardy boys sat in a car with Mr. Charles. Across the street was a metal sign that read, "Al's Hero Sandwiches." Behind the steamed-up windows Prof. Lombard was seated at a booth upholstered in red vinyl. He looked a little out of place in his expensive woolen overcoat. He kept his hat on. On the Formica tabletop was a mug of coffee and a barely-touched slice of cherry pie.
"What makes you so sure that Lombard is cooperating with us and not still working with the Alliance?" asked Joe.
"If Lombard thinks about it, and I'm sure he has, there's very little chance he can copy the true plans even if the Alliance recovers them," argued Mr. Charles. "The Alliance might give up the idea of finding the plans and deliver Mr. Heinze over to the Germans without them. Once Heinze is captured by the Germans he will either reveal the location of the plans or, I'm afraid, that secret will die with him. In either case Lombard's idea of being involved in an American missile effort would evaporate. On the other hand, if the F.B.I. obtains the plans there's still a chance for him."
Charles caught Joe's grimace of displeasure but he continued. "I'm counting on Lombard telling the Alliance the truth about the plans. They might lead us to Heinze. At least it will buy us some more time to find him."
"I know Lombard hasn't committed any crime," admitted Joe, "but I wish there was something we could pin on him. I don't like the idea that he could walk out of this smelling like roses."
Charles took note of the plainclothes policemen sitting in the brown Ford on the next block and those seated at the counter in the café. Lt. Korman stationed himself around the corner and out of view.
"Duck down," ordered Charles, "this looks like them." In the late afternoon sunshine a black sedan pulled up. Charles described events for the benefit of the brothers. "Ahlberg is getting out of the car. One of his men is with him."
The transaction did not take long. Lombard had brought the fake plans in a briefcase. Ahlberg now exited apparently empty-handed.
"Let's see if we can spring this trap," announced Charles. He waited to let the policemen's car on the next block take up the pursuit of Ahlberg's sedan. "Ahlberg might spot you two. Let's hang back and follow the police."
Ahlberg's car was too far ahead to be seen but the brown Ford was easily tailed. The procession followed a route through mid-town Manhattan, eastward on 22nd Street, at a leisurely pace. "No sign they suspect a tail," remarked Frank.
"See if you can keep an eye on them with these." Charles handed Frank in the front seat a pair of opera glasses.
"You go to the opera?" asked Frank.
"Don't sound so surprised. I happen to be a cultured gentleman." Charles looked to see if they believed him. "My wife attends; it's a family tradition. One of her aunts was smitten by Caruso."
The black Buick reached Madison Avenue and turned north. It continued in that direction for many blocks, until it reached 56th Street.
"Can you make out who's that in the turquoise car?" Charles asked, pointing.
Parked there was a turquoise Auburn coupe. It was not the sort of car that was easily missed. "It's Molly Mirkin!"
"Hold on, what's Molly Mirkin doing here?" Joe demanded.
"Miss Mirkin has been writing a series on the mysterious aviator Robert Soderstrom. Soderstrom's archaeological institute happens to be housed in the Fuller Building directly across the street." Charles pointed to an office tower to their left.
"Does that have anything to do with the Alliance or Ahlberg?" Joe shot a glance at his brother, who shared his mystification.
The black Buick switched to the right lane and made a right turn.
"Ahlberg is a friend or employee of Mr. Soderstrom's," Charles continued to explain. "Molly must have seen him at the institute's office. Ahlberg was at the Yorkville Theater riot last night. I wouldn't be surprised if his gunmen were responsible for the shots fired. Molly wrote a story on it. Did you see it?"
Earlier in the day, Joe had torn out the page of the newspaper, folded it and stuck it, unexamined, in his pocket. He unfolded it now. "We should have looked at this before. There's a picture of Ahlberg right here." In the background of one of the riot photos could clearly be seen the figure of Mr. Ahlberg.
"Does everyone know this stuff except us?" wondered Joe.
"No," Charles chuckled, "hardly anyone knows this stuff. Ahlberg and Soderstrom are very secretive men. I have this information only through my F.B.I. contacts."
"Molly made the connection between the Alliance, Ahlberg and Soderstrom," Frank reasoned out loud. "Molly's interest in Heinze must have come from Soderstrom. Soderstrom at some time must have mentioned Heinze's name."
Charles, in the meantime, had made the right turn and left Madison Avenue behind. In response to Frank's questioning glance he said, "If Molly's going to wait for Mr. Ahlberg she'll have to wait a little longer."
A block later the black car made another right turn. "I don't think he's trying to evade us," Frank observed. "I think he's looking for a parking spot."
Charles' car soon cruised past the black Buick as it pulled up to the curb. He turned the next corner. "How about playing a hunch, boys? I'm going to let you off right here. You make a beeline for Soderstrom's offices. I'm sure that's where they're all headed. I'll park the car and join you later."
"You think they're holding Heinze in there, don't you?" said Joe with suppressed excitement. "Let's go get him."