 I was a Communist for the FBI. Starring Dana Andrews in an exciting tale of danger and espionage. I was a Communist for the FBI. Many of the incidents in the story you're about to hear are based on the actual records and authentic experiences of Matt Sevettik, who for nine fantastic years lived as a Communist for the FBI. Here is our star, Dana Andrews, as Matt Sevettik. Secrecy among Communists is the product of a strange unholy philosophy. They consider it their inalienable right to make your secrets their own. And once having stolen them, they'll protect those secrets to the last breath of your life. This is the story of one such secret and too many lives. In a moment, listen to Dana Andrews as Matt Sevettik, under cover man. This story from the confidential file is marked, the line is busy. Away from the commies? It's just not done. You can put miles between yourself and your red comrades, 200 miles in my case. You can check in at an obscure hotel in a town on the border of oblivion. You can hold up and hide for a week, even 10 days, under cover of a phony excuse like a business trip. But just as you start relaxing, just as the nerves uncoil a bit. Who is it? Hologram for Mr. Sevettik. Okay. Mr. Sevettik? Yeah, I'll take it. Sign here, please. There you are. Thank you, Mr. Sevettik. Don't leave town. Instructions will follow. Webster. Webster. Why don't they let me alone? Why don't they let me alone? Why don't they let me alone? Webster, comrade Harry Webster, leader of a commie cell 200 miles away. Yet no farther away from me than, well, in this telegram. His instructions came the next morning by registered mail. Rent an apartment at 224 West Globe Street, they said. Install telephone. Wait for me there. I'm Webster. 224 West Globe Street, quiet building, unpretentious. In the lobby, I checked the names on the mailboxes, seeking some clue to this strange new commie assignment. Johnson, Resnick, Maloney, Clark, Rager, Rager. Rager, Rager, that name, the name of... Something I can do for you? Yes, I... I'm Mrs. Chanick. How do you do? My name is Svetic. So? I was just wondering about apartments. The manager... That's me. I got two apartments vacant. They both got one bedroom. That big enough? Just right. You want a lease or month to month? Well, month to month, I guess. Costs $5 more that way. Take a lease. I'd rather not. Your wife will like a better with a lease, too. Well, this is for a friend of mine. I'm just renting it for him. He travels quite a bit. Oh, I see. He's married? No, he's... We don't like noise here, you know. We don't like that. I need to worry about my friend, Mrs. Chanick. You'll vouch for him? By all means. Well... He doesn't like noise or excitement, either. He's really a very desirable tenant. Oh, may I see the apartment now? The apartment was on the third-floor rear, furnished in neat, unimaginative bad taste. I paid Mrs. Chanick a month's rent and registered the place in Harry Webster's name. Then, after a quick wire to Comrade Webster, I found the phone booth and placed a long-distance call to the FBI. There you are, operator. Bigger, this is Red. I called him yesterday. I haven't left yet. My clients have plans for me. Good or bad? Too early to tell yet. They may want me to stay here in town. How long? I can't say. They told me to rent an apartment, even named the building they wanted. Uh-oh. What's the address? 224 West Globe Street. Well, hurry up, Bigger. This is long distance, you know. What? The Albatross Tool Corporation's in that town, right? Well, that's right. The government just gave Albatross a big order. There'll be manufacturing parts for a new atomic weapon. Well, the Albatross plant is a long wave on Globe Street. Not as far as you think. Washington's assigned one of its top scientists to work as an advisor at Albatross. Your little red playmates that give their eye teeth to know what he knows. Yeah, that's probably what they have in mind. Who is he? Rager. Dr. Martin Rager. And he's staying at 224 West Globe Street. Oh, Svedic. Good. Hello, Webster. Come on in. Yeah. You didn't waste any time getting here. Naturally not. You might offer to help with your sub-leader suitcases. Well, a proletarian revolt is dedicated to a classless society, comrade. Carry your own suitcases. Oh, Svedic, if you weren't so competent, I'd despise you. There you are. Is there a phone? Yeah, it was installed this morning. Don't know who'd be calling us in this town, though. I'm not interested in our phone calls, comrade. I'm concerned with Dr. Rager's calls. Do you notice he lives in this building address? Yes. He's a pretty important scientist, I understand. Very. Important to the Americans, therefore important to us. We'll be tapping his phone. Tapping his phone? You don't expect him to be telling atomic secrets on the phone, do you? I do. You're underestimating the enemy, comrade. No, Svedic. One of Dr. Rager's associates at Albatross happens to be an associate of the Communist Party. No, I didn't know that. He'll see that Dr. Rager uses the telephone quite a bit. You know, casual conversations, after-hours, sudden thoughts, worthy of informal discussion. And you expect our agent to pump secrets out of Dr. Rager that way? One secret in small, insignificant doses. Our own scientists need the formula for one of the metals used in this project. And once he gets the formula, his orders are to clear out fast. We're tuning in on his calls to Rager's double protection, in case our man is picked up. Phone tapping? That's a primitive method. Primitive, you say? Yes, it's... Here, Svedic. Open the suitcase. What? Open it. Okay. What's all this? Wiretapping equipment, comrade. I want to brief you on this one particular phase of simple wiretapping. Don't you think I've had enough education for one night, Webster? No, once more. Describe the phone circuit. A closed circle of wire carrying voice vibrations with the current. In office or apartment buildings, terminal boxes are usually located in the basement. They contain many... On and on and on. All night, all the next day. The commie technique for education. Drum a man into submission. Drum out every conscious thought but the subject to be learned. One thought remained, though. I had to get word to the FBI. Beaker had to know. Dr. Rager had to be warned, and I was the only one to do it. But instead of protecting the national secret, I was playing stooge to a commie. Taking orders, obeying commands, holding a flashlight for comrade Webster as he searched the basement for the telephone terminal box. Here, Svedik, over here. All the lights steady. I'll open this box. Are those lines the pairs? Bring the light closer. Good. See, each pair is attached to a set of terminal posts. We loosen the wires of our pairs from our posts. So, I see. Now you'll cross them to the terminal posts of Dr. Rager's phone, eh? An apt pupil of primitive wire-debbing. Now, let's go. It's all here. Now, upstairs. Our apartment will be our listening post. Once that's arranged, Dr. Rager's private line will become our party line. Now, two things had to be done. One, I had to break that tap on Rager's phone. And two, I had to reach Beaker at the FBI. But unless I could get away from Webster, I could do exactly nothing. When Rager's phone rings, the phone will ring. We can hear both ends of his line on these earphones. Exactly. The tape recorder, Svedik. Set it up over here and I'll cut your... Careful! Sorry. Almost dropped it. What's wrong with you, Cabrade? You seem nervous, upset. I'm tired, I guess. You've kept me up almost two nights now, educating me. Maybe I'd better... Hold this for a minute. Maybe I'd better get some air. No, pull it tight. A walk might do me some good. I don't be a fool. Our work's just begun. Relax, lie down, rest. Don't burn up your energy walking the streets. Svedik, wake up, you fool. It's morning. What is it? The phone, you idiot. Look alive, hand me the earphones. Oh, yeah, okay. Someone's answered it. Start the tape machine. Mrs. Brigger on the line. Oh, the garden club meets Tuesday. Someone's husband has a rash behind his ear. No, turn off that full machine. That's how it was most of the day. Conversations with grocery clerks, club women, solicitors. The only item of interest we heard was the fact that Dr. Rigger would be home at 2 p.m. Evidently, our comic colleague knew that, too, for he didn't try to phone Rigger at all. Then, about 2.30, Webster was dozing in his chair. Oh, got it, Svedik. Okay. Turn on the tape. Rigger's on the line. Dr. Rigger, Brige, Dr. Rigger. What's happening, Svedik? I can't do garage, Dr. Your car is ready to be picked up. My car? Why, it's already, Dr. There's no one here to deliver it, so I'm afraid you'll have to call for it yourself. To be there sometime as soon as possible, Dr, we're closing early today. All right. Who is this, please? McCandoo Garage. No, no, your name, please. Or one of the mechanics, Dr. Here in town now, just a few blocks away. In a little while, he'd probably be gone. I'll reach again. I had to get to him now, right now. But how? How? How? How? As Matt Svedik and I was a communist for the FBI and the second act of our story. On Dr. Rigger's phone right here in this miserable little town. Just a few blocks from this building. But out of my reach. Now I had to reach him. He and Rigger had to know what the Reds were planning. And only I could tell them. Only... What's wrong with you, comrade? What? You're wed as a sheet. Well, that phone called Rigger. We'd better follow him. Follow him to a garage? To a garage or anywhere else. The party has a big investment in him, you know. Well, that's true, but... We can't afford to let him just... just walk away from us. These stakes are high, Webster. Any kind of insurance for the party's sake. And think of our own personal stake in this. What would happen to us if we lose track of Dr. Rigger? One of us should trail him. Relax, Svedik. There's no need for us to... You, of all people, can't afford any slip-ups now, Webster. The party put you in charge of this operation. Well, I can't very well leave here now. You'd be hell-responsible if Rigger... But why should Rigger duck out on the snow? No one knows about our... How do we know that? Suppose our agent at the Albatross plant has pushed his luck too far. Suppose the FBI knows of this tap of ours. I say you'd better follow Rigger. Well, can you handle the equipment alone? Well, I suppose I can if I... No, no, better not chance it. But one of us had better stay on Rigger's trail. Yes. Yes, perhaps you'd better go. I? Well, are you sure... Go on, go on, Svedik. Somebody's got a trail and go on. It worked. Reverse English on the old con game. Now I was free, just for a few minutes, but I was free. Free to do the work I'd been trying to do for two days. Free to undo the work Comrade Webster had accomplished so efficiently. First to the basement of the building to find that terminal box again. To break the tap on Rigger's phone while I had the chance. Here, right here. I knew this much about it. I knew that I could break the tap by disconnecting the wires of our phone from the terminal posts of Rigger's phone. I knew too that the break wouldn't be recognized by Webster right away. It would just seem as though the phone were out of use for a while. There, they were loose. Now to it. Somebody there, coming in the basement. Mrs. Chanak, the building manager. Now what? You who? Coming in the basement? The tap was off Rigger's phone now, but there was no time to re-hook the lines as they originally were. I had to get out fast. Had to get the beaker before Webster got wise to all this. Had to hurry, hurry, hurry. Taxi! Hey, taxi! The can-do garage, just about four blocks down there. Make it snappy. For a mechanic named... What the devil are you doing here? I'm looking for you, beaker. Rigger here yet? No, not yet. How'd you know I was here? I heard you on Rigger's phone. We're tapping it. Oh, that's it. I would have checked in sooner, but I couldn't shake Webster. I thought so. That's why I came here. Figured I'd better not wait any longer. If something was cooking in the red pot, Rigger had to be told. That red pot is about the boil over. They have a commie operating right next to Rigger at the Albatross plant. I know. You know, the bureau's been watching him for two months. Then what? We can't pin anything on him, though. And we've got to have some legitimate evidence before we can pick him up. Pick him up for double parking or anything. His job is to bait Dr. Rigger on the phone. Then Duck, as soon as Rigger spills information about a formula... Good. Keep the tap open. What? Keep the tap on the line. I'll tell Rigger to hand out a phony formula. Then when the commie agent tries to duck with it, we can use it as evidence to grab him, like Mark Money. Beaker, we can't just tap it. Somebody's coming down the ramp. Look, we can't use the tap. I don't want anybody to see us together, man. Now go on. Beaker, listen to me. You're supposed to be a commie. Commies don't talk with FBI agents. That's one of your aspiring comrades. For being sake, will you listen to me? Come on, man, take off. Now. Please, meet it. Nice. Just great. I'd risked my neck to mess up the tap on Rigger's phone. And now I had to risk it again to put the tap back into action. The basement again. At least it was quiet. And gloomy enough to offer a little comfort in the shadows. I'd pass the storeroom up there with the furnished room with the terminal box just a few feet away. Uh, yes, Mrs. Janik. Who is it? I can't see in this... Oh, you, Mrs. Severi. You're looking for something? Uh, yes, I... What could you want in this messy basement? Well, I, uh, the storeroom. I was just wondering about some storage space. You got much to store? No, but, uh... Well, yes. Yes, there is quite a bit. Trunks. Two trunks. Big ones. Oh, we got room for Trunks. I tell you, my husband's home. I'll tell him he should go up and get you Trunks. Oh, no, uh, no, don't bother now. You see, they aren't, uh, they aren't here yet. Not here? No, they're, they're being shipped in. Oh. Oh, not here yet. No, not another week or so. You know, afraid and everything. Oh, sure. Well, let me know when they get here. Uh, you coming upstairs, Mrs. Severi? Well, I, well, I thought I'd look around and see where the, uh, the, where the wash-dubs are. Behind the storeroom. Turn out the lights when you get done, okay? Yes, I will, Mrs. Chanick. I sure will. I waited till she'd gone up the stairs and out, then I headed for the terminal box again. I'd used too much time already. Rager might even be back in his apartment by now. The commie spy might even have called him. Rager might have given him the phony information and without the tap working, had be no record of it. That tap had to be replaced right now. I opened the lid, reached inside for the wire, and left dangling, let a match to see better. No wire. It, wait a minute. It was attached to the terminal post of Rager's phone again. Someone had deliberately replaced the tap on Rager's line. There was only one person in the building qualified to do that. What, just what do you think you are? Rager, you are an inefficient, bumbling moron. One moment, Comrade Svedik. I have a few choice words for you too. You're a... Save them. You'll need every gasp of breath to explain your negligence to the control commission. I... I'm preparing a full report of this, Webster. When stupidity and incompetence reaches these proportions... Right. I don't know what you mean. You know full well what I mean. Mrs. Chanick stopped me on my way up here just now. Who? Mrs. Chanick, the landlady or manager, whatever she called herself. I know why you were in the basement a while ago, tampering with the telephone box. She... she saw me? Of course she saw you. But I was sure no one... She saw you. She saw you open the box, tamper with the wires. She was just going to call the phone company when I showed up. Well, I could swear no one was there. It was all I could do, Webster, to nullify her suspicions. I didn't do it for you and did it for the party. I have no use for bumblers. I'm sure our leaders will... Comrade, please let me explain. How can you explain an act that violates every... Please, listen to me. All right, go on. The... the phone seemed awfully quiet after you left. Too quiet. As if the tap had been tampered with. I went down to the basement to check and found that the wires had slipped off the terminal post. Slipped off? Yes. But you put those wires on yourself? Well, at first I thought they'd been tampered with. Disconnected by something. Yeah, you expert. Virtuoso of the telephone line. Comrade, I tell you... Not only do you threaten party security with your carelessness, but you sabotage this whole project with your incompetent handling of... Yeah, that's Rager's phone. Listen in. Let's see how you can mess this up. Rager's answered it. The tape. The tape. It's... it's our comrade, our legion to Delbitros. Well, it's about time. What's he saying? Shhh. Rager's reciting a formula. Here, give me a pencil quick. There you are. He's repeating it. Is it the one we want? Quiet. I'm listening. Got it. I've got all of it. All the formula. It might be a phony. Not the way our comrade is reacting. He's a scientist too, you know. They're still talking? That's all. All right. That's all we need on the tape. Now. Now we're doubly protected. Our agent will duck out immediately to deliver the information. And if he's caught? He's expendable. We have the formula here on tape and all in this piece of paper. Let me have that paper. What? Let me have it. After your last fiasco. You think you can be trusted with that? Give it to me. What are you going to do? I'm going to phone it in to party headquarters from the payphone across the street. Just in case our agent's luck changes. But I told you we have it all on this tape. Our luck may change too. Don't forget, Mrs. Chanick. If she reports you, Webster... Why, we aren't... She wouldn't. See? How do we know? You stay here. Monitor the telephone calls in case Rager talks again. I'll be back. Comrade Speddy. What is it? Nothing. I left Webster in the apartment and walked into the street. There was a car parked at the curb just outside 224 West Globe Street. Three men were seated in the car. One of the men was Beaker. When he saw me, he stepped out of the car and headed toward the building and me. Well, pardon me, sir. Me? Yes. I wonder if you can tell me if Mr. Webster lives in that building? Webster? No, I'm sorry. I wouldn't know. I'm just passing through. I kept right on walking as the other two FBI men followed Beaker into the building. Webster, with all that illegal equipment, was about to become very inactive. The red agent at the Albatross Corporation had probably already been picked up for espionage, and I... I kept on walking back to the commies again. I'd escaped this FBI trap, so I'd probably be complimented by my red comrades. A jubileous glory, but I had no choice. If I had any choice at all, I'd choose to walk the other way. I'd choose to walk alone. Dana Andrews will return in just a moment. This is Dana Andrews, friends. Because of the nature of freedom, the democracies have inherited the destinies of many afflicted peoples. Let's pray that we never violate that trust. For humanity's greatest affliction is tyranny, and freedom is its antidote. In the story you've just heard, names, dates, and places are fictitious to protect innocent persons. Many of these stories are based on incidents in the life of Matt Severick, who worked undercover for the FBI. Next week, another fantastic adventure. Join us then, won't you?