Author's note: I want to thank everyone who has read this far. I hope you aren't too disappointed it isn't a thriller. It's funny that I set the story up as a thriller but one wouldn't materialize!
"What do you think you're doing?" exclaimed Heinze.
"I was thinking that I don't really need Miss Mirkin's help. If I have the original documents I can go directly to a newspaper and have them publish as much of it as they want. The Daily Telegram is just the sort of cheap, sensationalist tabloid that would go for a stunt like that. Once the American people realize the reach of German military ambitions, what a threat they pose, your dream of cooperation to divide up the globe like a giant watermelon is dead."
Charles seized the briefcase and, training his revolver on Soderstrom, backed up towards the door. "I'm sure that this office has a functioning intercom and you can use it to call off your goon in front. Oh, and thanks for the scotch. It's terrific stuff."
Soderstrom did as Charles suggested. Charles slipped out the door.
"He's not going to get far," Shelbourne said matter-of-factly. They did not have to wait long for his prognostication to be proven correct. Charles was escorted back into the room by two burly men.
Shelbourne introduced them. "These are two F.B.I. agents, Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Alexander. I have to tell you that I've been the agency's contact in the engineering department at New York University."
"You guys took long enough to get involved," chided Molly.
"Prof. Heinze could explain to you that he needed time to think. He didn't quite trust us. Events, you could say, forced his hand."
Joe said to Shelbourne, "You spent yesterday afternoon in Mr. Heinze's apartment trying to convince him to go to the F.B.I. It was your cigarette butt we found." Shelbourne nodded. "You were also in the doorway across the street, waiting for him, the night before."
"Craig told me about the F.B.I.'s interest when I landed," said Heinze. "Even though I hadn't decided what to do, I kept him informed."
"Did you see Toots Mayall following them?" queried Joe.
"You mean the trumpeter? I noticed him. I figured he was jealous over the girl. I didn't worry about him. I was keeping a watch for the German spies. They might have tracked Prof. Heinze down."
"I have a suspicion," Molly said, "that the Bureau doesn't particularly like you, Mr. Heinze. They'd be perfectly happy to see the German spies deal with you so long as the U.S. gets its hands on the missile plans."
The agents ignored Molly's remark. Lloyd said to Soderstrom, "The Bureau is very grateful for your assistance in this matter."
"You can count on me," Soderstrom replied with a quick nod.
Lloyd and Alexander led Charles to the door. "What's going to happen to you?" Joe asked Charles.
"I believe they intend to charge me with the theft of the missile plans, now that they're secret government documents. I guess this means your high school isn't going to invite me to give an inspirational speech to the students any time soon."
"It doesn't seem right," said Joe.
"I knew you two had a little sympathy for my cause. Don't worry about me. I think I still have enough friends in the right places to keep my humble self out of prison." He shrugged. "Give my respects to your father, won't you?" Charles made a little wave as he was taken out the door.
"Did you get what you were hoping for?" Frank asked Heinze.
"There's something that we couldn't deliver," said Shelbourne. "They probably won't want the professor to be director of the American version of the missile project. I've heard that they'll likely choose someone less controversial, someone American."
"Someone like Martin Lombard?" said Frank with some bitterness.
"Speaking strictly off the record, and just as my personal opinion," Shelbourne said, "I think the Bureau wasn't happy that Prof. Heinze was trying to play the situation to his advantage instead of taking one side or the other. There was the feeling he couldn't be trusted."
"You mean, if he could be a traitor once he could be again," said Joe, sharing his brother's indignation.
Molly added, "There's also the matter of the sort of people Mr. Heinze associates with. I can't imagine that the higher-ups in the Bureau had much sympathy for that."
"Well, that's your opinion," said Shelbourne. "I didn't hear them make a single derogatory remark about Mr. Heinze's personal life."
Molly shrugged. "I wonder what sort of notes are in his F.B.I. file."
Heinze didn't seem to care. He was smiling. "But Craig tells me the Air Force authorities are interested in locating the project in the desert in New Mexico. It would have the advantage of being far from civilian populations. It would be easier to maintain high security. For Olivia, Charlie and I, it would mean a new start. Think of it, a virtual new town dedicated to engineering advancement!"
Seeing Heinze and Soderstrom standing together in Soderstrom's office got under Joe's skin for some reason. "It's only an engineering problem to you. I thought you said it was madness!"
"Sometimes I feel that way. I question what I am doing. But it is my career."
Joe knew it was wrong to make his outburst but he said nothing more. He realized that Heinze had talked himself out of a lethal situation and that he had no common ground with Soderstrom's views. He had to admit that Heinze had a knack for landing on his feet.
Molly looked at Soderstrom. "I could still print a story exposing your ties to the Alliance. I may not have evidence in black and white but I'm a witness to what you've said."
Soderstrom smiled awkwardly. "You might write such a story but if your newspaper printed it I would, of course, deny it strenuously. I would take legal action against your newspaper. My lawyers would accuse you of mounting a smear campaign. No one would support your claims, not Mr. Ahlberg, not Mr. Heinze, not the F.B.I. I have powerful friends who value me as a spokesman for their causes. I think Mr. Heinze will find it in his interest to cooperate with us. No, I'm afraid your newspaper wouldn't take the risk of backing you." If Soderstrom felt smug he did not let it show.
Frank was stirred to anger. "I don't care about your isolationist lobbying efforts. I know you won't succeed. It's bad enough that the U.S. has allowed fascism to spread its ugliness over the globe. It would never stand by while German tanks rolled over western Europe."
"You're being naïve, young man. Politicians won't move until public opinion demands it. The American people have no appetite for armed conflict. The U.S. will be stalled in neutral for many years to come. By the time it acts, if it ever does, German armies will be on the beaches of the Atlantic."
"I can't believe that!"
"A man who is in the know gave me a piece of advice. He said, 'If you're planning on taking a vacation to Paris you'd better go sooner rather than later.'" Soderstrom grinned at his joke but looked away, as if he was too much of a gentleman to offend the Hardys.
When they were back on the street Molly said her farewells. "So long, boys. We've got to work on a case together some time." For the first time she flashed a smile at them that seemed genuine and affectionate.
"Sure," said Joe, giving her a mischievous grin, "call us when you have tickets to the Himalayas."
"Oh, I'll get there, you can count on that. But I think I'll soon have a war to cover."
"Sorry the story didn't work out," Frank added.
"Yes, well. I was thinking about my working arrangement with Nick Charles. Some Communist! But I don't want that being brought up. Not to worry, though. Another story will cross my desk Monday morning."
Shelbourne offered rides to the Hardys and Heinze which they accepted.
Joe felt tired. The day seemed to have gone on too long. His brain felt overloaded with all the listening and thinking he had done. He longed to sink back into the car seat and not have to talk.
The sky was turning violet-blue. Night in the city flickered into life, illuminated by the cool glow of neon. Joe looked at a film theater they were passing. The lights were pulsing as if moving to a jive dance beat that could not be heard. Joe felt a cold touch of guilt to see crowds of people lining up to buy tickets so they could scream at some Bela Lugosi horror movie.
Joe looked up at the cloudless sky and for a moment imagined Stuka dive bombers attacking. This was what the dreams of the master race amounted to, he thought – old people huddled in each other's arms, children screaming, people looking up helplessly at the skies.
Frank said to Heinze, "I have some mixed feelings about how this case has turned out. Things were simpler when we arrested counterfeiters or recovered stolen art works. I'm glad, though, that you're so enthusiastic about your future."
"You boys are only beginning your twentieth century education," Heinze said. "You will see much before it is over. I think that you will be unique witnesses to the history of this century, always with a fresh and youthful view."
"I think all of us will be swept into war before long. What can we do?" Frank was speaking to himself as much as to Heinze.
Heinze's usual grin was gone. His face was that of a man steeling himself to step out into the cold. "Those who have the opportunity will do what duty demands of them. The rest of us can only wait, suffer, and dream that a new, better world will emerge from this."