 Suspense, and the producer of radio's outstanding theatre of thrills, the master of mystery and adventure, William M. Robson. The sixth commandment is short and explicit. Thou shalt not kill, yet there are exceptions to the rule regrettably beyond number. A man who kills is a murderer or a hero, depending upon the circumstances, and circumstances of all the cases, such as the circumstances of a people's struggle for freedom. We offer you a neat point of morality to ponder as we present Escape to Death, starring Mr. Francis Lederer. And now, Mr. Francis Lederer in Escape to Death, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. Outside it's snowing more heavily now, covering the streets of Budapest with soft whiteness, covering the old uglier snow and ice with their patches of dirty gray and angry red, the red of the blood of the freedom fighters, the fools. A little more brandy, Dr. Gullner. Thank you. And tell me, doctor, how do you find it treating Russian soldiers? About the same. You know, the dying scream, the sick ones curse, the ones who are not so bad, and the guys at my nurse. And man, it's the same regardless of the uniform. I feel warm and safe. Here with me are Laszlo Kogosz, former head of the secret police and now deputy premier and marshal Nikolai Chekov, Russian commander in Hungary. And he said, Mitt, I'm quite flattered by the attention of these important men. And that is where you come in, doctor. Forgive me, what were you saying? The subject was devotion to duty and country. Comrade Kogosz was just observing how hard you have worked to preserve Hungary. Well, after all, commander, I am a doctor. It is my mission in life to save, not to destroy. Well, I look at it this way. In medicine, there are quite often times when a cancerous growth must be excised to save a life. At the moment, Hungary is overrun with a capitalistic malignancy. These idiots have chosen to call freedom, freedom, freedom from what? Themselves or those who have always defended them? Kogosz, you were right. Dr. Gerner is the only man for the job. Job? What sort of a job? Well, not that I would question any assignment. Doctor, you have been selected for an extremely dangerous mission. You are going to escape to the West. Escape? You must be joking. Hardly a joke, doctor. Why should I escape? I'm a supporter of the new regime. I am a member of the party. My wife and my children are here. My career is here. My very life is here in Budapest. Exactly. Nevertheless, you will escape to the West. And if your mission is successful, return to us. I don't understand. Look carefully at this snapshot, doctor. Do you recognize this woman? Of course. That is Corina Zanova. I delivered her child a number of years ago. Wasn't she ministered something or other in Imre Norges' cabinet? Indeed she was. Also, she has escaped us. But we know where she is. Refugee came just outside Neustadt in Austria. About 25 kilometers from the border. And you want me to go after her? Correct. You were her doctor. She has a broken shoulder by the bullet of an idiot who could not shoot straight. What is more natural than for you to help her? But how can I? You will carry a special hypodermic needle that has been dipped in a powerful poison. Is there anything finer than an injection to soothe the nerves? Quite as if. This is monstrous. Corina Zanova must not live to tell her story to the United Nations people. She is the only one who knows the truth about what has happened in Hungary. What she has to say is exactly what the West wants to hear. That will not do. But I'm a doctor. I'm not a secret agent. You are a secret agent now, doctor. But there must be others better qualified. None more so than you. But what you suggest is murder. The elimination of an enemy of the state is an act of the highest heroism. Ideological nonsense, right? I can't do it. I'm a healer. I'm not a destroyer. You spoke a moment ago of your children, your wife. Yes, but what do they have to do with it? Say nothing of your career and your life. All of these can be brought to an abrupt and untimely end. Why, you wouldn't. You know better than that. Of course we would. Very well. What must I do? That's better. And now for the details. We have prepared a special pair of shoes. The right heel contains an MVD identification tag to show in case you are taken by my man. The left, the poison needles for the hypodermic. You will also have the Hungarian Army password for the next three days. They should protect you in the event of an arrest. Well, how will I get across the border? A train leaves Budapest for Jörl and Chopron at daybreak tomorrow. You will be on the train. Now look at this photograph. Study it well. This is Lyosz Molnar. You must find him the moment you board the train. He's one of the freedom fighters most daring border runners. 20 miles west of the city, the train will be stopped and searched by Russian soldiers. You must persuade Molnar to hide with you. Take him to the third coach from the engine. A car reserved for children. Once there, you will probably be safe. Is that clear? I suppose, Commander, but what is the reason for this little game? Simply this. Molnar has been over the border a dozen times that we know of. You will use him to get across safely. I see. Is that all? No, there is one more thing. You will earn the party's undying gratitude if you make this her Molnar's last trip across the border. Well then, then you demand two murders, dear doctor, not murders, two blows for the preservation of Hungary. Yeah, yes, of course. Well now, if you will excuse me, I shall try to get some sleep. By all means, doctor, and pleasant dreams. No pleasant dreams that night. There was no sleep. There was no alternative. No escape. Before dawn, they came for me, took me to a secret police headquarters and gave me the shoes. Then they turned me loose with a group of political prisoners. At the west station, I board a creaking train and wait and wait, and they'll finally get lumbars out through the yards. Now begins the race with time. Desperately, I'll push through the cars through corridors where I'm standing here. Excuse me, please. Oh, forgive me. I must get through here. Thank you. Do you mind, miss? Where is this fool? Shall I? I twist and turn for an endless rush of packed humanity. The click of wheels singing their song of urgency. 20 miles are gone. The Russian guard will come aboard in a minute. I must contact. I have small now. No one I had not found him. He was headed the same direction as I. Moving forward. I'm all now. I'm all now. We're going the right way, but hurry. You said something. Don't stop now. Move. The Russian for board at the rear. It is their custom. We must reach the coach for the children. Push. I died, man. He wastes no time with foolish questions. With him leading, we soon reached the vestibule of the children's coach. What is your plan? You should have this. There is trouble I will shoot. You first. You're on. Of course. Now listen to me. They are looking for one man, Lyosha Molna. Are you trying to die? Come on. We have one chance. Inside. Down the aisle there. They're not of youngsters. Hide. Hold on. Eight. You understand about the Russian soldiers and those who fight them. They killed my father. I hate them all. We will hide you soon. Now you will sit on my chest. Easy. This lad. Sit across this path. What will we do if they spot us? Shoot high. That will keep the fire over the children's head. Then we must leave the coach and fight them in the vestibule. Son. Yes, sir? If they see us, you boys die with their feet and stay down. Is that clear? I will not stand for heroics. Yes, sir. Drag into individual lifetimes. Shikov and his MVD's seem not worthless. If they come one hour, we'll shoot. Losing weight grows heavy on my chest as the time drags by. Now the children suddenly grow quiet. We know they are here. You there! Have you seen a big man with black hair and a brown suit? We know he came this way. There may have been another with him. Speak up! We have gone through to the engine. Two of them. We saw them when they passed. Good. You hear that, comrade? Let's go. Not the time to breathe freely. Not yet. This was the time to wait. Put your heart in your throat. And then at last comes the sound we are praying for. The test is over. The train is moving again. All right. Get out. You must wear a thug. Here. This is for you. Give her something, spread it around so all will have a bite. Where else? One is in the open, one needs energy. Especially running aboard. Plan to cross again? Perhaps. Come. So I had enlisted the aid of the finest blockade runner in Hungary. We'll weave our way through the children to the exit. Then abruptly, Mona stops. He turns, driving the barrel is automatic into my stomach. Now, my friend. What are you doing? Men have tried to pull this one on me before. You arranged to save my life, then learn how and where I operate. But never let it be said I was too hasty. I will give you just 30 seconds to explain how you know my name and how you know the Russians would board this train today. We continue with suspense. This is Johnny Baker with Communism on the Spot. One of the great things about our democracy is that anyone can disagree with what's being done by the government in Washington. Not only that, but the government itself will protect the individual's right to have his say. If enough people see eye to eye, they can vote the leaders out of office. This is not possible under the Soviet's one-party system, where only one approved slate of candidates is offered the voter. The people, therefore, have no way of publicly expressing their disapproval of governmental policies or the conduct of high officials. The only way Soviet politicians are put out of office is through the purge. They're removal by blacklisting, transfer, or physical liquidation. And now, escape to death. Starring Mr. Francis Letter, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. Is he bluffing? This huge man was a reputation as the best blockade runner in Hungary? What does he mean to press the trigger of the heavy automatic gears shoved into my middle? Your time is almost gone, my friend. Speak quickly. If you must kill me, you must, I suppose. Perhaps in your place, I might be the same. All right, all right. Say your piece. I shoot not from pleasure, but necessity. I'm a doctor, Franz Gellner. Sometime ago, I made the mistake of criticizing our emasculated premiere in public. I was arrested and held for a month. This very morning, I was released. What has that to do with your knowing my name and that I would be on this train today? Well, last night many patriots were executed. I was marched out with a Russian firing squad, but for some reason they did not shoot me. On the way back, two of the men were joking about how pleasant it would be when they could do that to Lyoshmolna. The other replied, he would like to see your face when the westbound morning train was stopped. I see. Now, the next question. How did you know what I looked like? Well, to be frank, I do not function well with the gun pressing against my lower abdomen. Thank you. Well, as for the question, it is impossible to answer to your satisfaction. I had only a vague idea of your appearance. When I saw someone about right, I spoke to him. Well, you were the only one who did not give me a blank stare. To be truthful, I'm still not sure. Are you the much-hated Molna? A bit of chocolate, doctor. Well, Molna obtained a car of ancient vintage. The early darkness has descended on us. The bitter wind brings with it a light snowfall that makes it hard to see the road ahead. The old car... How do you feel? Except for my feet. They are freezing. Are you sure you understand about this crossing? I think so, but you'd better go all the way again. We leave the car at the edge of the woods, a few miles from Borschach. The forest extends into the Austrian border. Once there, you will surrender yourself to the Austrian border guards. They will take you to the town of Rechnitz. When you have identified yourselves, they will ship you off the land to a big camp outside Neustadt. Then, uh, you're not going with me? Not for long. The Austrians and I have a working agreement. When I do not bring much, I do not stay long. But, uh, is at your risk? Does it work what you make? I don't like that dream, Mark, doctor. There is no profit. But I take across this information. For the world. For Hungary. You see Russian vehicles. Twice we turn off across country driving without lights to avoid uncoming Soviet trucks. Then we reach the wooded sector. We check our guns, leave the car and begin the long, nerve-racking walk to the border. Russians? Oh, more tourists. I can't even be quiet. There they go. Look at that woman running. Stand this way while they are busy. You realize my age. Suddenly a foot catches me in the back and go down my face against the hard ice. I roll over gun ready. But more and I is down on one knee facing away from me. Then I realize what had made him so fat. It wasn't all coats. There are two of them in Russian uniform. He gets both before they can fire. And we are up again. At last he grabs him by the arm. See that open space. On the other side is Austria. The border guards. Where are they? Not far. They will have you before you go another quarter mile. Wait here while I hide my spray gun. In way said, I creep up behind him. When he kneels beside a fallen tree to hide the spray gun, I do it. It is easy. Too easy. This first murder. I'm running in zigzag pattern across the open snow into Austria. I don't get far before too many foreign uniforms step out from behind the trees. Do you speak German? Yes, of course. Good, come with me. I was leading over a trampled path in the snow to a long low shack full of tourists. One or two of them are near hysteria and all of their faces show the reaction of overexposure. Some sit shivering alone. Most huddle before a curved iron stove and try to drive their sopping feet. There are two men, however, who sit to one side and watch the arrivals. After a moment one of them gets up and comes over to me. I recognize him for what he is and I become acutely conscious of the MVD symbol in my right heel. Your name, sir? Dr. Franz Gölner, recently off Pest. Doctor, huh? You'll be a welcome addition. Are you asking political asylum? Yes, I'm asking political asylum. All right, doctor, we'll try to rush you through. I'll go and see if I can't scare up a medicine kit for you. There are a number of cases that need help. Excellent, I will be only too glad to help. Just a moment, doctor. Your right shoe. I look down in my heart the trick heel. The one with a Russian secret police identification in it has come loose. Now, it is slit halfway off the heavy walking boot. It's thickness protruding beyond the back of the shoe on its groove track. A man could break his dick with a heel like that. Here, let me get my gun. I'll tap it back in place. There, all fixed. Isn't that better? Yes, much better. The worst is over. All that remains is to be patient until I can be moved up the highway to Neustadt. They find a medical kit for me and I become the angel of mercy again. Preparing, mending, curing. But thinking only of my plans for Korina Zanova. Finally the day arrives. Excuse me, I use a Hungarian doctor. They said it would be with this group. Correct, Dr. Franz Gerner, at your service. You can't know how glad we are to see you. Come with me, please. Thank you. You may not realize this, doctor, but you have a number of friends here. People you have treated at some time or other. Yours must have been a very large practice. Oh, fair size, I suppose. Of course, I... Ofcetrics was my specialty, you understand? I imagine I do know quite an unheard of women here. It's you, doctor. Incidentally, I don't suppose it happened across a woman named Korina Zanova, have you? Both she and her child, let's see, I... Oh, yes, Ayah was her name. There were patients of mine. Are they here? Oh, now isn't that a shame? I think they have just gone. The Americans are flying them to New York either today or tomorrow. But I will be glad to check for you. Meanwhile, please make yourself at home here in my quarters. They go in to wash up while I see about Korina Zanova. I go into the washroom but not to wash up. I flip out the heel of my left shoe, take out the poison needle, and attach it to a hypodermic from the medicine kit. And then I... I paste the colonel's quarters. Waiting. Waiting. It is too late for the plan to fail. She must still be here. She has to be. Well, doctor, you are in luck. Korina Zanova has not yet left. She is over in the clinic this moment. She was quite pleased to hear you had escaped. She quickly crossed the compound to a large building and in through a crowded entryway. Finally, we reached in a room. And there we are. Just the Austrian colonel, myself, and Korina Zanova. Doctor, doctor, Colonel, how very nice. Almost seven years, this little Aya. You should see her. She's here somewhere. She still remembers you well. You, too, will excuse me. Don't keep her too long, doctor. The plane leaves in an hour. No, of course not. Now the final moment has arrived. And I'm nervous for the first time. The long hunt is over. I put a bag down. I open it, trying to keep my fingers from trembling as I remove the deadly needle. Doctor, is it not a blessing for us being here away from the twisted minds and the war thinking at home? Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. Tell me, Korina, how has that shoulder been treating you? A vat like any broken shoulder, I guess. To you, as my doctor, I admit, it does hurt, especially at night. I thought so. While you roll up your sleeve, I'll give you a little shot of a tranquilizing drug to make you feel better on the plane. All right, doctor. Thank you. I have found you. Do you not know never to touch anyone when they have a needle in their hand? Now you have made the doctor stab himself. Oh, I'm sorry, mommy. Will it hurt? What is it, doctor? What's the matter? Ah, Robson's production of Escape to Death by E. Scott Floor. Listen. Listen again next week when we bring you another tale well calculated to keep you in. Suspense. Supporting Mr. Letterer and Escape to Death were Norma Jean-Nelson, Margie List, Charles Rattelack, Jack Krushen, Dick Beals, Fritz Feld, Paul Dubov, and Ted DeCorsia. Suspense.