The offices of the Institute for Central Asian Archaeology took up the entire sixteenth floor of the Fuller Building. It was behind double wooden doors unadorned except for the Institute's name in brass letters. The door was unlocked and the Hardys with Molly and Mr. Charles let themselves in.
Seated at the receptionist's desk was the gunman familiar to Frank and Joe from their hotel lobby. His feet were up on the desk. He had on his hat, a white shirt and a vest. His tie was loosened. His gun was prominently displayed on its shoulder strap. On recognizing the Hardys his body snapped erect in the chair. Charles eyed him with a wary gaze, as if he were a dog that might snap at his ankles at any moment. Before the gunman had made up his mind to do anything Charles approached the desk, saying casually, "You'd better let your boss know that he has visitors." The gunman's hostility was mixed with a fair amount of puzzlement. He retreated, adjusting his tie, and knocked on a door just off the reception area.
The interlopers were soon led into Robert Soderstrom's office. There were displayed the Asian art objects one might have expected: silk scroll paintings; a multi-colored Indonesian dance mask of a fanged demon; blue and white Chinese porcelain vases large enough for a man to climb into. There were two items of furniture, too, of evident Asian origin: a side table fashioned from teak and Soderstrom's Chinese desk, of gleaming black lacquer decorated with inlaid mother-of-pearl on the drawers and the sides. On the desk was a metal model of an airplane, a sleek, silvery monoplane, probably like the kind Soderstrom used to fly in Asia. Behind the desk hung a large map of the world. The room was spacious enough to be an apartment or a hotel suite rather than one man's office.
Robert Soderstrom stood behind his desk. He wore a dark gray suit with pinstripes. Even the finely-tailored suit couldn't prevent an impression of angular lankiness in his build. His hair was a golden blond fading to gray at the temples. It wasn't quite regular, suggesting that he could not be bothered spending any more time combing it. He had small blue eyes that looked inquisitive or puzzled. His skin was ruddy with deep lines on his thin face. He looked like a man who had spent most of his life standing on airfields under the sun.
The Hardys were surprised to see Otto Heinze standing in the room, apparently relaxed.
"Since you've found our missing friend Mr. Heinze," Charles said to Soderstrom, "maybe we should let you explain."
"I've met Miss Mirkin on many occasions and of course I've heard of the Hardy Boys. I'm afraid I don't know you, sir."
"My name is Nick Charles. I'm a friend of their father, Fenton Hardy. I still dabble in investigation from time to time."
This seemed to be enough for Soderstrom. He motioned for them to take seats on a sofa and armchairs arranged around a coffee table. He began talking. "As you are all here I can assume you know what my original plan was. Maybe you tailed Mr. Ahlberg from his meeting with Martin Lombard. I suppose all of you compared notes. It goes to show that we're complete amateurs at crime. None of it matters very much now. Mr. Heinze has convinced me to adopt a new strategy."
Frank thought that Soderstrom was naturally a man who spoke little. He paused frequently to consider his words. His voice was quiet. He seemed too shy to give public speeches.
"You're probably all wondering why I'm so keen to help our friends, the Germans. I'm not accustomed to giving lectures. I'll spare you the history lesson."
"You'll have to skip your theories on Atlantis," interrupted Frank.
"We are living at a time in history in which we face unprecedented opportunities and also deep and dangerous threats. You saw the murals down in the lobby? We can create a civilization that can match those achievements, but with the technology of the twentieth century. Germany is the nation that has shown the dynamism, the leadership, the grand vision necessary to build a great new world civilization. They are the rightful masters of the Old World. Soon, very soon, they will be military masters of Europe." As Soderstrom continued to speak his words gained rhetorical fire from his passionate convictions on the subject.
"What about all the nations that are overrun by this military might?" Frank objected. "What about their rights, their hopes?"
Soderstrom furrowed his brow in puzzlement. It seemed he had difficulty finding words to explain what was so obvious to him. "It's as if you were a concrete worker. You have a chance to work on a huge hydroelectric dam. I mean, wouldn't you be thrilled to have the opportunity? You're not an engineer. You couldn't create the project yourself."
"You're saying all these peoples would be happy to be conquered, so they could be part of the great master plan?"
"You've got to remember that the Germans are only doing this for the sake of our people."
"Our people?"
"Yes, the white race. Look, look at this map of the world. Europe is this tiny appendage, dwarfed by the land masses of Africa and Asia with their teeming millions. We are vastly outnumbered. Our hope for mastery lies in our intelligence, our control of technology.
"America faces grave dangers. For too long we have been a melting pot of all the wrong ingredients. We have received with open arms all the dregs of Europe and Asia. We are threatened with being outnumbered in our homeland. Our proud white civilization that so many brilliant men and women have labored so long to build could be dragged down into the primitive swamps. Long, difficult steps will have to be taken to purify ourselves. I don't underestimate the cunning of the Jewish and Communist schemers and their allies among us. But it will be a great day when we are masters of our own house again.
"Germany will be our partners in this, don't you see? We are destined to be masters of the New World as the Germans are of the Old World. We will divide the globe between us. This is where Prof. Heinze changed my view. In order to be full partners America must have the same military tools. We must develop Prof. Heinze's missile system for ourselves. I fully support Mr. Heinze going over to the American authorities. We and Germany would not threaten one another. The two would be like brother nations, with a common vision."
Joe felt a surge of repugnance at the mention of the word 'brother'. "I don't see why we should listen to any more of this garbage," he said, getting to his feet.
"Why are you telling us all this, anyway?" Frank asked.
"I thought that if you heard me out there was a chance you might come around to my way of thinking," replied Soderstrom.
"Fat chance of that," Molly said scornfully.
Charles said, "I need a drink."
Soderstrom indicated the sideboard. "Please. Be my guests. I'm expecting more visitors."
Joe noticed that Soderstrom never sat down during this entire exchange. He seemed awkward in his own office. Joe thought that the man would tear off his suit and jump into the cockpit of an airplane right now if he could. He acted every bit like the war hero and flying ace that Joe expected. That only made it more difficult to listen to his words. What was chilling, Joe realized, was that Soderstrom was only expressing his honest beliefs.
Charles and Soderstrom both pulled out decanters from a shelf in the cabinet and poured themselves drinks. "It seems that Mr. Ahlberg has been detained," said Soderstrom.
"You don't seem too concerned," said Molly.
"I know he's a discreet man."
"But you're all implicated in Heinze's kidnapping."
"Mr. Heinze will tell you that he isn't being held against his will. I don't see how there could be charges."
"And what about the shooting in the theater?"
Soderstrom had a slightly pained frown. "You can't hold me responsible for all the crimes that take place in New York."
"Mr. Soderstrom might relax more," said Frank, "if I told him that one of his hired guns was shot dead in the subway earlier this afternoon. Your friend Mr. Ahlberg is probably arranging to blame the theater shooting and the one in Earl's on the dead man."
"If my young sleuthing friends don't mind," began Charles, "I'd like to take a guess."
"Go ahead," said Joe.
"Mr. Ahlberg is your most trusted colleague," Charles said to Soderstrom. "He isn't only the handler of your hired thugs, he has a more important role. He's your accountant." Soderstorm's only response was to wrinkle his brow. "I don't mean officially, of course. Now, I don't know whether you believe in all this Atlantis baloney. That's none of my business. But it's my guess that most of the funds supposedly donated to your Institute's research are actually being funneled to fascist groups like the Alliance. Mr. Ahlberg's job is to obliterate the paper trail."
"This isn't your area of expertise, though," said Soderstrom drily.
At that moment there was a knocking at the door. The gunman opened it and a figure entered. It was Craig Shelbourne carrying a briefcase.
Heinze greeted him. "Ah, Craig. Have you brought the plans as I asked?"
"Yes," replied Shelbourne. "It was easy to put them together once I had the key." He set the briefcase down on the desk.
"Out of curiosity," said Frank, "where were they hidden?"
Heinze smiled as he explained. "Prof. Coville and I hid them in plain sight. They were in a filing cabinet in his office, but the papers were scattered among the various files. Separated like that they were hardly noticeable. We made a key indicating which page was where."
"When we found you in Prof. Coville's office…", Frank began to say to Shelbourne.
"I was only guessing. But I never found anything then. I didn't know until Prof. Heinze phoned me an hour ago."
"I hate to resort to something as crude as a loaded gun," said Charles, stepping forward with his revolver in his hand, "but I'd like you to hand that briefcase over to me."