“He wants us to meet him at his office in New York City late this morning,”
Mr. Swift replied. “Says he’ll drive us out to his lab.”
“Swell! I vote we accept the invitation!”
Mr. Swift nodded and uncupped the phone. “Yes, we can make it, Mr.
Furster.” He jotted the address on a memo pad.
“What luck!” Tom exclaimed. “Now we’ll find out for sure whether Furster and his outfit had anything to do with these lab thefts.”
Ames grinned, then added cautiously, “If it looks as though their radio was copied from yours, skipper, say nothing. Let security and our legal staff take over from there.”
lie
LAB IN THE WILDS 117
Mr. Swift agreed. “But, in the meantime, Furster is going to have an interested audience for his sales demonstration-eh, son?”
Tom chuckled. “Extremely interested!”
He and his father took off in a Whirling Duck. They landed a short time later at the Hudson River heliport and took a taxi.
“One thing puzzles me, Dad,” Tom mused as they rode in the cab. “If Furster’s company has already copied my Private Ear radio, why that attempt to steal the plans last night?”
“Perhaps,” Mr. Swift said, “they wanted the final blueprints to check. Or, it may mean that Open Door Jack has no connection with Furster. This trip may give us a few answers.”
Furster’s office was in a midtown skyscraper. It looked small and bare and there was no receptionist. Jules Furster himself emerged from an inner room adjoining the office to greet the visitors. He was a blond, wiry, sharp-eyed man of medium height with a beaklike nose.
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