 Tired of the everyday routine? Ever dream of a life of romantic adventure? Want to get away from it all? We offer you... Escape! Escape, designed to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure. Tonight we escape to a small ship off the coast of Borneo and an exciting tale of murderous greed as Freud A. Nelson tells it in his strange story, Seeds of Greed. This is it. The Romantic South Pacific. The languid lure of the tropics. A ship at my command to take me any place I might choose. A jewel tiara of sky above and an ocean of emerald velvet below. To my left, the languid coast of Borneo. To my right, the Sulu archipelago. Such romance. Such gentleness. Such maddening, unbearable gentleness. Not long ago, I was a carefree little monument to failure, reaping the rewards of my college education and the atmosphere a hitch in the navy had taught me to love and live. The waterfront. Maybe it's the atmosphere. Maybe it's the people you meet. Or maybe it's the margin you can make on the exchange of drinks with guys in port fat with sepae. Take this guy, Lee, for instance. An Oriental little guy who's correct English told you it was adopted. I had him figured wrong from the beginning. Mr. Braun? Mr. Kenneth Braun? Yeah. Yeah, that's right. My name is Lee. Lee Tse Tung, if you prefer. I don't. May I join you? Sure, sure, Lee. Pull up a buck for a couple of drinks and sit down. Certainly. Here. Al, same thing here. Okay. What's yours, Lee? Nothing, thank you. I do not indulge. Okay. Thanks, Al. Sure thing. Well, Lee, I've got the bait. Set your hook. What's on your mind? You have pointed out to me as a man who knows boats. Just like the navy. And also as a man who might be induced to gamble. Well, I can't contradict. But if you'll pardon me, as a man who is more than casually devoted to drink. I can take it or leave it. At the moment, my mood says take it. You're health, Lee. Yes. But for that one failing, Mr. Braun, I could offer very interesting and profitable proposal. Mr. Lee, it is considered very poor taste in the accident to profit drinks with strings attached. Good days. One moment, please. Forgive me. I was going to add a failing which we could overlook if it were to be controlled for a short time. I said I could take it or leave it. I am in the pearl business. Do you know anything about pearls, Braun? Yeah. An oyster gets a hold of a bad grain of sand. And he or she or it gets an ulcer. Bingo, a pearl. Perhaps we should take this up at another time. I am stopping at the Case Hotel. Good night, Braun. And come see me if you should reconsider. Okay, Lee. But don't wait up. I hate the warm feeling of elegance that takes me over after the fifth drink. I hate myself. I hate mourning. Worst of all, I hate waking up without a little hair of the dog and not a nickel in the poke to supply it. Out of the fog of remorse came a stolid little Oriental face. Yeah. Yeah, there's a generous soul. Pearls, he said. Well, that should be a nice substantial little proposition. Yeah. Maybe I am ready to talk business. Braun, I did not expect to see you. Come in. This is a pleasant surprise. Yeah. You mentioned something about a business proposal. Yes, I did. Hotel rooms depress me, Lee. Could we go down to the bar and talk it over? Oh, certainly, Braun. If you prefer. I prefer. You mentioned something about the pearl business. Yes, Braun. I didn't think. That is, I thought that might have slipped your mind. Well, things aren't that badly. Tell me more. Oh, we could be very useful to each other, Braun. I have the information and the equipment. You have the experience without which the equipment is useless to me. Yeah. We can turn an enormous profit in very short time. Uh-huh. I have just completed a transaction whereby I become owner of small ship equipped with certain scientific devices for probing the ocean floor. Sonar equipment. I believe that is the name. I hate to disillusion you, Lee, but you can't bounce an echo off an oyster. It'll never work. That is not my intention. Well, then how does Sonar equipment fit into the pearl business? These pearls, the great fortune in pearls, are all in one package. Ours for the taking. Salvage? Yes. I fell heir to Chartres upon the timely death of a friend. And that Chartres indicated the position of a vessel sunk during the war somewhere between the Sulu archipelago and the northeast coast of Bonio. Yeah. I have reason to know that on board at the time of the sinking was the personal fortune of a certain Sultan as well as the assets of his constituents. There was one survivor. And you hope to locate that vessel with this sounding gear? I do. Well, what about getting the stuff up after it's located? I also have diving equipment. And you want somebody who knows how to operate the gear? Precisely. What's your deal? I am prepared to offer you one fourth of any treasure we may locate. For that consideration, I could offer about one half of what I know about your equipment. I don't understand. For a 50-50 share of an elute, I could offer 100% cooperation. Oh, I see. Brown, you should. It surprises me you are not more prosperous. All right. 50-50, as you say. All right. You've got yourself a boy. To you, partner. Now one for the road, and we'll go look at your ship. OK, partner? OK, partner. Lee's stubby forefinger pointed a great circle course across the harbor to a little tub playing with her forward quarter scraping paint against the can of her mooring. She was from the orphan fleet of subchasers pressed into service out of desperation during the war. About 100 feet built to roll in a 20-foot beam. Some dreamer had her rigged for fishing. She still mounted an A-frame, outriggers, and a cargo boom at. Lee didn't speak of her with the pride of an owner. There it is, the one with the blunt end toward us. When can we go aboard? I have the papers. We can take possession immediately. What kind of shape is the power plant in? I'm really not qualified to say. I know nothing of ships, but I am sure she will need work before we... What is it you say, cast out? Yeah. I'll give me two days to work over the plant and I'll have her ship shape and shaken down. If she's standard, she's got two 6, 7 ones on the generators and two pancakes on the main plant. A couple of spare injectors and some bailing wire will see her to Timbuktu. You will need a crew, won't you? An inexpensive crew. Yeah, a couple of hands to do the dirty work. We could get by with one if you could take a turn at the wheel. Perhaps I can learn. Yes, perhaps I can learn to drive the ship. Good. I'll line up a hand. These waterfront bars are full of guys looking for a chance to go fishing. You seem to understand what I want, Braun. I will leave everything to you. You may reach me at my hotel. Okay. The next time you see her, she will be overhauled, provisioned and manned. So long, Lee. See you in 48 hours. She was in surprisingly good shape. The batteries charged right up on the generators. Her oil was clean and her linkage tight. I replaced a corroded condenser on the sonar gear. Pressure checked the diving suit and put new pistons in the compressors. One straight 24-hour shift and she was shaken down and ready for a crew. I set out to meet my man on common ground. I found him being escorted out of Casey's bar by Casey himself. You young hoodlums are a disgrace to the sea. You'd better get some salt before you start something in my place. Let go. Now get along with him. And don't be coming back. You brother of a pig! Oh, what's the matter, sailor? Slippery deck? You'll be quieter. I stick you. All right. Stow the ship, kid. The jails are too full now. I'm going to kill that pig. Get out of my way. All right. Stay out of there, kid. And stow the knife. I still get that fat pig someday. You're, uh, you're new around here, aren't you? How'd you know that? Well, you wouldn't tangle with Casey if you weren't. Where are you from? It's another. I have papers in my room. I have papers. I didn't ask you. You didn't ask me either. But I'd advise you to get rid of that knife. With a temper like yours, you can cut yourself off of a life sentence. So far this knife knows only the blood of fish. I have never been kicked by a fish. I can use a man who can handle a knife. You working? No. Come on. I'll buy you a drink. All right. Now, what's your name? Costa. The new Guillermo de la Costa. Okay, Tony. Two double shots later, I had my man. A pathetic little guy with no roots in a barren world. I set him to stowing provisions while I cleared the paper and gold braid department of the commerce building and picked up a couple hundred fathoms of useless to flake out for effect. Then I called Lee. He was impressed. You have accomplished a lot in very short time, Brown. You must have worked day and night. Yeah, I can sleep under way. Where is your crew? Below. He's stowing provisions in the galley. I see. Does he meet our specification? Exactly. Good back with not too much above it. Except a nasty temper. Good. You think he's going fishing? Let's explain these nets. Partly, Lee. Also, there's an unwritten law of the sea that gives fishing craft a wide berth. Clever, Brown. Very clever. Practical. Is everything in first-class condition? Everything. The diving gear is tight, and the sonar readings check right on the nose of the charts. Then we are ready to cast off. Any time. Then let us go. Header out west, southwest, Brown. Right into the sun. Right into the sun. In just a moment, we will continue with Escape. But first, Groucho Marx, Bing Crosby, Dr. Christian and George Burns and Gracie Allen will be back with you tomorrow night on most of these same CBS stations. Al Jolson will join Bing in another of their unparalleled exhibits of wit and song. George Jessel will be the special guest of George and Gracie. Stay tuned to CBS for this wonderful midweek Wednesday night listening. And now we return you to the second act of Escape. Three weeks at sea taught me a lot about my friend Lee. His switch from landlubber to competent mariner was too fast to be convincing. Something about the whole setup spoiled the taste of my whiskey. The only way it figured was that he really did need me to operate the gear. Beyond that, beyond that the picture changed. From the first day out, he showed too much interest in the sonar equipment. Brown, I think it might be prudent if you were to teach me the operation of this instrument. Is it very difficult, just the operation? Oh, it's something anyone can pick up in five or six months of full-time instruction. Surely not to learn just the operation of it. Well, it's not only complicated, Lee, but delicate. I think we'd be wise to keep it secured until we need it. Perhaps. Yes, perhaps. It won't be very long, Brown. When are you going to break out the charts with the position of the stuff? In due time, Brown. Well, I'll need it when we start taking soundings. Then you shall have it. It wouldn't be prudent to surrender a chart that I have been forced to defend with my very life. Would it, Brown? I get your point. I might add, Brown, that the chart alone is useless to anyone but me. The exact position is not indicated. I took the precaution of committing it to memory, lest the chart should be misplaced. The only value of the chart is that it indicates sounding lines. That makes your position clear enough. What about Costa? Do you think he might be dangerous when he finds out what we're really after? For a man to be dangerous, he must first be intelligent. Costa is ignorant. He will stay ignorant. Sooner or later, he's going to get wise. Fortunately, Costa is not equipped to get wise, as you say. He is happy in ignorance. We will not expose him to the curse of greed. What's your plan? To turn the wheel of fortune to my own needs. We must be practical, Brown. A person such as Costa leaves little impression on the world. He will never be missed if he were to... disappear. Faith will save him from the curse of greed. The late afternoon of the 22nd day, I saw Lee's methods put into practice. Cold, efficient, ruthless practice. It happened so fast I was helpless to do anything about it. Costa was splayed out on the nets near the stern sound of sleep when Lee appeared from nowhere. Without warning, Lee let fly a vicious kick. Costa's blade flashed. Lee stood motionless until Costa closed. Then Lee grabbed Costa's knife hand world twisting Costa's arm into a lever and using the momentum of his rush tossed him effortlessly over the rail to disappear in the swirling wake. Without even glancing a stern, Lee gave me the arm signal for straight ahead. A signal that pointed accusingly at me screaming accomplice. His face was still frozen in trance-like serenity when he appeared on the bridge. It is now you and I, Brown. Yeah. These things are distasteful, but on the other hand, they're distasteful. Oh, wasn't there some other way to handle it? Couldn't we have put him off somewhere in the islands? Your whole life in too high a steam, Brown. We could have put him off at some island, but then, Brown, we would have had to wonder about his welfare. Now his troubles are over. He has peace. He no longer has to struggle as you and I. He didn't have much chance to struggle, did he, Lee? He was not one to struggle intelligently, Brown. Struggling, not directed by intelligence, can destroy. Where does strength muscle fit into your theory? If you will pardon a personal reference, Brown, I long ago subscribed to the teachings of an eastern cult, which believes that the intellectual neutralizes the physical. Therefore, there is no difference in statua among men. Only a difference in mental power. We do not destroy. We merely expedite the adversary's self-destruction by his own weakness. Cost is temper, huh? Exactly. One does not think in temper. He merely acts and so destroys himself. Do I make myself clear? Not especially, but I'll think it over. Lee's insidious philosophy began to prey on my mind. I knew I was on the last leg of a one-way trip. I knew he was perfectly competent to take over the ship at any time, but I still felt reasonably safe. It would take two men to handle the instruments to locate the pearls, and beyond that, two men to get the stuff up. After that, I would worry about my failings and which one Lee would pick to destroy me. I eliminated the big one by tossing my last two bottles of whiskey overboard. Somewhere between the lower Sulu archipelago and the northeast corner of Borneo, when Lee broke out a dog-eared chart of Dutch origin. Cut it back, Braun. Now, somewhere within the radius of this circle, how fortune waits to be taken. Now, let's see. The charts indicate a sandy bottom, and that's good. The currents go southwest. It falls off the deeper water to the south. I understand the charts, Braun. Start the soundings, man. Okay, I'll start here. Let the 60-fathom line and work toward shallower water. You stand at the bar with a smoke flare. If I pick up anything, heave a flare over to market, okay? I prefer to stay on the bridge with you, Braun. Yeah, that way we can watch the instruments and each other. Okay, partner. I worked each depth line half a mile from the point Lee established as center, staying parallel to the soundings indicated on the chart. Three times over the area showed nothing but a uniform bottom. Then I took a new tack. I set the wheel in a tight circle and secured it with a lanyard. I figured the current and the torque of the shaft would take us far enough off-center on each spiral that we wouldn't miss anything big enough to register. I was beginning to think in circles when the scope showed a fast drop and then wavered erratically. Lee must have read it in my face. It showed something, didn't it? We have found something, haven't we, Braun? Maybe. What are you going to do? Back it down and check it. Oh, no. No. Drop the anchor. We won't move. We'll take no chances of losing it. Drop the anchor. I settled her bow into the current, dropped the hook and backed her down on the scope of the anchor chain until we were over the spot. Lee expertly rigged the line from the cargo boom to the cat head and hoisted the heavy diving gear out of the after-hold. His expression left no question as to the division of labor. Of course, you will make the dive, Braun. Yeah. We cannot risk losing a life when too many are necessary to complete this mission, can we? Not your life, Lee. Yeah. Yeah, I'll go down there. But just in case you have any ideas about letting my weaknesses destroy me. Oh, come now, Braun. You're not falling prey to the curse of greed, are you? No. And I don't intend to fall prey to anything if I can help. You don't have faith in me. That's right. But you must have faith in me. We must work together. Until we locate the stuff and get it up. After that, Lee, only one man is necessary. That's what worries me. Are you afraid, Braun? Does fear number among your weaknesses? Yeah, Lee. It does. I don't know how to reassure you, Braun. Do you have a solution? Yeah, Lee. I do. My life is in your hands while I'm down there. Unfortunately for you, my life is the only link you have between the pearls and this ship. Only a fool would break that link, Braun. Lee's words echoed in my helmet as I felt myself being lowered from a sheave at the end of the cargo boom. Only a fool. I knew that I was pitted against a ruthless maniac. That finding the pearls meant that one of us would die. Yet some power greater than reason forced me on. A power I recognized as greed. My weighted feet settled on bottom. My headlights sent a glaring shaft through the mercs serving only to blind me. Then my eyes adapted. Strange shapes darted in and out of the beam, splashing big shadows. I pivoted slowly, straining my eyes to the burning point. Suddenly the beam stopped short and reflected upward in a blinding glare. There she lay, a slimy hulk stern down in the sand. Her stack and superstructure eroded away and her plates hanging scab-like from her frames. A death ship washed clean by gentle currents. I headed for the quarter-deck and leaned on the crumbling vestiges of the hatch. It fell away. My light picked up a single object. There it lay, its corners worn round from shifting against the bulkheads. A teakwood chest. Brass bindings radiated from its single big hinge like the fingers of a giant hand. I felt a wave of desire grow into a surge of greed and resolve itself into an overpowering lust. I bent a line onto the chest and signal Lee to haul me up. I felt as though I was threading my life away as I paid out the line that would link the treasure with the surface, knowing that only Lee's ignorance of what the other end held ensured my shedding the heavy diving suit safe on deck. That would put us on even footing. I lost the fear of Lee's methods and thought of my own. Methods based on greed that knows no compromise. Methods of killing to keep. Then my fears passed. He couldn't kill me until the chest was on deck. Lee was like a man waiting for sentence when I climbed out of the diving suit. Well, it's there. Describe it. Describe the chest. Solid wood bound in brass. Is that all? Brass hinges like a hand. That is it, Brown. The hand of Mohammed. My reward at last. The hand of Mohammed. You mean our reward. Of course. Our reward. For a brief second we were two animals standing at bay, eye to eye appraising, each waiting for the other to move. Then as one we saw through the cloud of greed. We still needed each other until a chest was on deck. Lee swung the boomion board while I read the line attached to the chest through the eye of the sheath. He took the running end of the cat head and made a turn. His narrowed eyes fixed on me waiting for the signal to haul away. His hands turned white, bloodless as he gripped the line. I gave him the signal to haul in the line. Start it easy, Lee, and take it slow all the way. We'll stop it at the surface to keep the weight off the line. The line threaded through the sheath endlessly as time while I strained to catch the first glimpse of any bulk in the water. Again I felt the surge of greed I'd experienced below. Unconsciously I drew my sleeve across my mouth. A dark and distorted mass showed beneath the surface. Slow it down, Lee. Easy, show it. Slow it down, Lee. Slack off. You'll break your line. Slack off. He was out of control. The heavy chest lost the buoyancy of the water. The strand of the line snapped and shot a ragged end up to the block. But it was too late. The chest hit the block and the line snapped, crashing the waterlogged wood against the ragged middle of the topside. Brass fingers of the giant hand opened grotesquely, spewing a shower of tumbling beads over the surface of the water. Oh, you fool! You American fool! There they are, Lee. Look at them float down. Your little white seeds of greed. You will die, you idiot! You felt the pearls at the end of that line, Lee. They were in your greedy little hands and you couldn't let go. You couldn't slack off on the line, you couldn't let go, could you? So the hand of Mohammed sowed the ocean with little seeds of greed. You will pay for your life. All right, intelligent one. There are no odds. Pick a weakness and destroy me. Take your choice. Come on. You will die, dog. He came toward me slowly. Then he drew back, right foot poised. I was ready for it. But instead of the kick, his thumb shot out at my eyes, pushing jagged nerve ends right into my brain. Blind instinct told me to swing while I knew where he was. You will die. Not yet, Lee. How do you like that, Lee? Ducked by a blind right fist. And this? This? How do you like this, Lee? How do you like my thumbs? How do you like a mashing in your master's throat? Are you getting weaker, Lee? Weaker? Oh, where's your metal power now, Lee? Go on. Is it dead? The tropical Pacific. Gentle Pacific rocking me to death in a cradle of rusty steel. Maybe it's spring or summer or day or night. A breeze is gentle. Sent to soothe. And my eyes no longer pain. Yeah, it's gentle. Such gentleness. Such maddening, unbearable gentleness. Escape is produced and directed by William N. Robeson. Tonight we have presented Seeds of Greed by Freud A. Nelson. Featured in the cast were Gary Merrill as Brown, Ben Wright as Lee, Bill Conrad as Casey, and Tony Barrett as Costa. Special music was arranged and conducted by Del Castillo. Next week. You are sitting unarmed in an early California boom town saloon. Across the table from you is a man who has just murdered your brother and who holds in his hand a new and terrible weapon from which there is no escape. Next week we escape with an exciting tale of the California gold camps as Les Crutchfield tells it in his gripping story, The Pistol. Goodbye then until this same time next week when once again we offer you escape. Groucho Marx and who will quarrel when you label him a very funny fellow will be back on most of these same CBS stations tomorrow night with his deliriously wonderful quiz show, You Bet Your Life. You'll find Grouchos unlike any other quiz you ever heard. So join us on CBS tomorrow night for You Bet Your Life starring Groucho Marx. Now stay tuned for Hit the Jackpot which follows immediately over most of these same CBS stations. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.