 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 the day for a half hour of high adventure. Tonight, we escape to Yucatan with a man and woman who dare defy the curse of the ancient priests of Maya to find a hidden jungle shrine and millions in jewels and gold. As Les Crutchfield and Paul Pierce tell it in, The Golden Snake. It was mid-morning at the fourth day south from New Orleans when the rusty little freighter, Currie Blady, dropped a hook a mile off the port of Progresso and a broadbeam tender warped alongside. The port itself and the jungle peninsula of Yucatan beyond lay in a steamy lethargy beneath an early blazing tropic sun. I was in a hurry. I wanted customs clearance as quickly as possible for myself and the helicopter I brought with me. Then I wanted a few bottles of that subtly bitter beer that they brew in Monterey. My mysterious employer, Dr. Conrad, was waiting at the Itza Hotel in Morita, 24 miles inland. But in heat like this, he could wait a few hours longer. I beg your pardon. I presume you're Stephen Lane. Yeah, good presumption. You're right. Well, I'm Gail Barry. Hello, Gail. I'm Dr. Conrad's secretary. Oh, I begin to see how the jungle might have certain compensations. Oh, you better slow down, Mr. Lane. You're going pretty fast even for a pilot. A helicopter pilot. Not so much on speed, but I do a lot of hovering, especially around the green-eyed girls and cold bottles of beer. Would the former like to join me over the ladder? I hope you can hang on to that sense of humor. You're needed before this is over. Before what's over? A little late for curiosity, isn't it? You've already taken the job. Yeah, sure. I was flat broke. When that $1,500 check of Conrad's went through the Miami bank like gray lightning, I pulled out my curiosity and cut his throat. But now it's beginning to revive. Is that it? I'm sorry, baby. I didn't know this was a state secret. It isn't. You were hired to fly Dr. Conrad from Merida to a destination within a 200-mile radius and return for a fee of $5,000. What's secret about it? The purpose of this trip, for one thing. To visit ancient Mayan ruins buried in the jungle and only accessible by helicopter. Dr. Conrad is an archaeologist. Must be a fairly profitable racket. No. There's no profit in it at all. But, Steve, you said you were broke. Would a lot of money interest you? A lot more than $5,000. How much more? A hundred times that much. Yeah? Yeah, I'd be interested. So? Check through customs. And let's have that bottle of beer. We had the beer, all right. But we didn't have any more conversation about money. Gal was beautiful, vivacious, and talkative. But on that subject, she climbed up tight. But at certain times and with certain people, money isn't everything. It was five o'clock in the afternoon before we took off in the helicopter and flew south to Merida and Dr. Conrad. You can look down from this balcony, Mr. Lane, and there lies the town of Merida, all silver in the moonlight. And you think it is nothing unusual, perhaps, but the town is Spanish and beyond it is the jungle. And the jungle is still pure Mayan. Unconquered old and wise. Yeah, I've heard that theory before, Dr. Conrad. And you disagree with it, perhaps? I don't know. I've been watching some of the natives around the hotel here this evening and there is something about their expression or their eyes. I don't know. Well, I've spelt and met my life studying them, and I do know, Mr. Lane, the Mayans are one of the oldest and strangest races on the face of the earth. The jungle out there swallowed up their pyramids and their temples long ago. And the Spanish conquerors destroyed their records and writings. But they still speak the language and they still remember. I think it's something in their eyes, as you noticed. About the trip that we're going on, is it one of these ruined temples or pyramids? Yes. Where? South and east, more or less, within 200 miles of here. We'll have to follow landmarks. You've been there before them? Yes. There are no trails and no water. Snakes, army ants, fever. Average progress is two miles a day. And I assume that the purpose of the trip is archeological exploration? Of course, Mr. Lane. I would have no... Dr. Conrad, I checked the invoices for the equipment. They're all correct. I left them in your room. Fine. Thank you, Miss Barry. I'll sign them later. All right, Dr. Conrad. I'll be in my room if you want me for anything. Good night, Mr. Lane. Oh, good night, Miss Barry. Look, Dr. Conrad, I think it's about time you told me the real purpose of this trip. But I did tell you what makes you think that... Look, look, $5,000 is too much money for a three-day flying trip to look over some rooms. So? Mr. Lane, can you keep your mouth shut? That depends. There'll be more in it than $5,000 if it goes all right. Illegal, I suppose. No, but dangerous. More dangerous than you can ever imagine. What kind of danger? From the Mayans. This involves a violation of the most sacred shrine in their history. The theft of their most sacred object, one they won't even admit exists. Oh, treasure hunt, huh? Not a hunt, Mr. Lane. I've seen the object. I know where it is. Is, uh, Miss Barry in on this? She's merely the secretary of a scientific expedition. You and I are the only ones who know different. What about the men who were with you before? They were interested only in the ruins. They never saw the treasure. Yeah, but they do know the location of the place. No, Mr. Lane. Not anymore. Oh, why not? Because all four of them are dead. Yes, I can also tell you why Dr. Conrad didn't want to talk about it, Steve. It's because of that obsession of his, that fear of the Mayans and their vengeance. Yeah, but you feel it yourself. You told me earlier. No. Not fear. Something else. Something deeper. Oh, Steve, please get out of my room now. If Dr. Conrad found you in here, it would ruin everything. Honey, look, if I'm going to play games, I've got to know the odds. But I've already told you, Dr. Conrad had nothing to do with their deaths. I know. Four fatal accidents within a year. What kind of accidents? Different kinds. The first one happened six months after the joint expedition. Dr. Bentley and the original pilot took off from Merida and crashed in the jungle ten miles from town. They were both killed. The native guide got out with a broken leg. I see. Two months later, Dr. Pelton started overland through the jungle. A week out of Merida, he was bitten by a snake and died at one of the native Chicle camps. And the other man? His name was Dr. Blom. He tried to come north from Guatemala by canoe and was drowned when it capsized. Oh, by himself, was he? No. His native guide recovered the body. Native guide? In every case, it was a Mayan native in at the death, you might say. Yes. That's what worries Dr. Conrad. Look, were all of these men trying to get back to that same temple? I think so. Because of the treasure? Probably. They knew they'd found the long-lost temple of Kukul Khan. And they knew the legends. All right. Where do you fit in? What's the difference, Steve? You don't mind, do you? Mine. I like it. I also like to know the score. I'll do better by you than Conrad would. Much better. All right, baby. I'll buy that. Only there's one thing. Conrad hasn't told us to anybody before. How did you find out? From my father, Steve. Before he was drowned in the river in Guatemala. My real name is Blom. Yeah, I'd figured. Even though she'd never been to Yucatan before, she'd learn enough Mayan history and legend from her father to worm away into Conrad's employ. The treasure, whatever it was, belonged to her as much as to Conrad. And given halfway even odds, I'd rather play Gail's game any day in the weekend, than twice on Sundays. I lay on the hammock in my room for an hour, I guess. The lamp out, the moonlight splotching silver patterns through the bamboo slats of the blinds. I smoke one cigarette after another while I try to fit all the pieces into place. I was tired, but I'd had several drinks at Johnny Walker that I'd brought along, and I wasn't asleep. That's for sure. I didn't hear the door open. Please do not be alarmed, senor Lay. What? Lies still, make no outcry, and listen. You will not be harmed. For some odd reason, I couldn't move. I couldn't cry out. It took great effort just to turn my head and look at him. It is our desire to warn you because you are not aware of the thing you dare to do. Dr. Conrad knows, and he deserves no warning. In the scattered moonlight, I could see very little of his face except the eyes. The eyes of a Mayan. They seem very wise and a thousand years old like the eyes of newborn babies. I say to you once and only once, go not to the temple of Kukulkan. There seem to be a strange music playing far off. The plume serpent of gold must lie hidden for five thousand years, and the time is not yet. To alter the time is to die. For just an instant, the moonlight shifted. When I saw the golden banner on his forehead, raised in the front and fashioned into the fetid head of a snake. You have been warned, senor Lay. I go. Closing of the door seemed to break the spell and I lunged for the pistol on the table beside my bed. Only it wasn't a bed, it was a hamlet. Oh, God, fuck! Is anything wrong? Come on in. I was passing along the hall, I heard a noise. Who are you, anyway? Rudolfo Moreno. I am the night collector. Look, did you see the man who came out of my door just before the noise? What, senor? No one came out. What? Well, I was only a few feet away. The hall is well-lighted. But there was someone in here. I saw him. I heard him talking. He was a Mayan. Yes, said your Lay. Sometimes one from the north requires a day or two for becoming accustomed to the tropics. I must tell you, the beer in Mexico is a little more strong than you may think. No, wait a minute. So you sleep now, we talk about it mañana. Buenos noches, senor. Buenos noches. There wasn't much point in doing anything but follow the night clerk's advice. I couldn't very well go to Conrad and tell him a mysterious Mayan had come to my room to warn me. He'd sworn he'd seen no one. I didn't see how Gale could help much. I didn't want to worry you without some definite reason. So after a long time, I grew drowsy and fell asleep. Wake up, senor. All right, all right, wait a minute. What is it, marina? What's wrong? Your friend, senor. Dr. Conrad. He's heart, I think. What? What do you mean? Well, I hear him cry out. I go for help but it was too late, senor. He is dead. In just a moment, we will return you to the second act of escape. But first, Molly Goldberg's warm hearted approach to life has gotten her into mix ups over and over. But this Saturday night, Molly really shoots the works. Molly and Jake have planned a motor trip to Florida. But when the people who've been invited to ride along get together, Grand Central Station couldn't hold them all. What happens to the trip? Be listening this Saturday night when the Goldbergs bring their warm, rich humor to most of these same CBS stations. And now, for the second act of escape. I went with a night clerk to Dr. Conrad's room. I met the local physician who'd been called to the hotel. Told him to go ahead with whatever arrangements were necessary. There seemed nothing else to do. Dr. Conrad had died in his bed, apparently unmolested. His room was undisturbed, and Moreno, who from his desk had a clear view of the length of the hall, said that no one had entered or left. The apparent cause of death heartfelt you. But in a room, a half hour later, Gale disagreed with such a simple verdict. But there was nothing wrong with his heart, Steve. He died of fright, sheer fright. I know he did. All right, honey. All right. But what caused the fright? The Mayans. Maybe the same one you said came to your room. No, I'm not sure whether anyone did or not. Maybe the night clerk was right. Maybe I imagined it. He is a native, you know. Another mine, huh? Well, I could have been dreaming. No, I'd drunk. I don't know. It won't work, Steve. How could you have dreamed up the gold band you wore on his head? The same band worn by the High Priest of Kukulkan a thousand years ago. I don't know. I don't know. That's what gets me. Had you even heard of the plume serpent of gold before? No, no. Or the 5,000 years of hiding? No, of course not. They're all a part of Mayan legend, Steve. You had to learn them somewhere. Gail, you said Conrad had an obsession. What about you? I don't know. Before I came to Kukulkan, I had only one idea. To get my share of that treasure one way or another. Mayan legends were nothing more than that. But down here, it's different. Things touch you somehow inside. You mean you're scared, isn't it? Not exactly. It's something deeper. I don't know. And against that something deeper? There are how many dollars? Around two million, I think. From things Dr. Conrad let slip. How did he plan to dispose of them? There's a buyer in Mexico City. No questions asked. Conrad I did. His name kept out of it. Native vengeance again, eh? Yes. Look, will this buyer deal with us? Of course. Why should he care who brings it? Do you know the landmarks at the pyramid? This temple of Kukulkan? Yes, but... Steve, I am not sure but... Look, look, honey, look. I've got a helicopter out there at the edge of town. Within 200 miles is a fortune for the taking. Baby, I've been broke too much of my life to back down from a few pipe creams and a heart attack. How about it, baby, huh? Oh, it's no fun to be broke. Yeah, but it might be a lot of fun if we weren't. You're awfully hard to resist. Oh, I hope so, baby. Because I've got some other ideas, too, you know. What do you say? If I said no, I'd be a fool, I suppose. Oh, don't say it. We'll both be over the jitters by morning. And one thing, we won't have to worry about accidents. Our expedition won't have any Mayans along. Oh, Steve, I told you Dr. Blum was my father. He met my mother in Mexico City. She died right after I was born. But she came originally from Yucatan. And she was a Mayan. Can you tell now, girl? Are you sure this is it? We won't land if you're not. I think so. There's the old stone road bed in the jungle to the south. The pyramid runs southeast, northwest. The temple ruins are at the north. The jungle has grown up over the west slope. All the landmarks, Chek Steve. This is it. All right, honey, hang on. We're going down. The Mayans didn't know it, but when they built these pyramids flat top, they were getting ready for the helicopters. We're down! It's terribly quiet, isn't it, Steve? Yeah, especially after hearing that egg beat it for the last three hours. Well, may as well have a look. Come on, jump, baby. I'll give you a hand. Thanks. Well, I'd certainly let the old place run down. It's laying here like this for more than a thousand years, Steve. Full moons and dark moons, rains, lightning, sun and wind. Nothing moving. Only the jungle. Growing and growing and creeping up over it. Hey, now, baby, relax. We shouldn't have come here at all. We are only interlopers. Strangers not wanted. Maybe they'll like us better when we're rich. There's no use joking about it, Steve. I think you'll feel it too. We are in some terrible danger here, some kind we've never known before. It's like we're being watched. Only there are no watchers. Well, not unless you count that parrot there in the Leonas. A parrot. A feathered bird. A feathered snake. Now, look here. Look, we've talked this all out. We're here now. We're going to go through with it. I admit that I feel just as... Well, this morbid talk of yours isn't helping any of me. I'm sorry, Steve. I... I feel so strange. I... Oh, it's just nerves. Forget it. Okay, okay, baby. It's a deal. Come on. Let's go find that cave. Gail had learned from Dr. Conrad that the treasure lay in a chamber inside the pyramid. Reached by a tunnel which opened somewhere along the west face. The length of rope he'd specified in the equipment knew about how far down the west face. So we started working our way along at that level. Gail carried the rope, flashlights, and a hacksaw while I swung a machete against the lush growth of the jungle and made every out of progress a measure of hard work and sweat. It was late afternoon before I slashed through a green thicket of banana palms and saw it before me. Black and forbidding. Framed in hieroglyphic stone was the squat square mouth of the tunnel. The floor was paved with bricks velveted in green moss under trodden fifth centuries. A cool draught floated out against the jungle, heat inviting and repelling. Gail and I looked at one another for a long moment, saying nothing. And then, flashlights in hand, we walked into the tunnel. Careful, honey. Careful. It's ceiling is low in places. I'm watching, Steve. There may be snakes. Our boots ought to protect us. Seems to be widening out a little. I think maybe... yes. There's a room right ahead, Steve. Good. Good. Wonder if there's anybody home. Steve, don't joke, please. No, I'm sorry, honey. There we are. Oh, it's a big room. I'll say it is, and I wonder where it's... Steve, swing your light over there. Look. On a raised stone dies in the center of the cave, gleaming and glittering in the blaze of our lights was a great figure wrought in plates of pure gold. A massive golden snake studded in jewel with feathers of cut emerald. Steve, it's Kukulkan, the plume serpent of gold. Two million dollars, baby. Three million is closer, maybe four. Why, the gold alone and those emeralds... Let's go now. Now, Steve, before it's too late. Now I see why Conrad included hacksaws in the equipment. Here, honey, you owe my light. What are you going to do? Oh, money bags has to be cut up before we can pack them out. May as well see how much of a job it'll be. Steve! No! Yeah, what's the matter? There's something here. Something old and wise and powerful. It's watching us. I can feel it. Oh, now wait, baby, don't... Anyway, it's really too late to do anything today. We've seen it now, Steve. Let's leave it just the way it is, just until tomorrow. It's almost dark now. Please, please, Steve. All right, girl, all right. Come on, let's get out of here. I pitched our camp on the level top of the pyramid, not far from the helicopter. Spread our sleeping bags and build a fire in a pile of stones. It was dark by the time we'd eaten, and a round full moon flooded the ruins in the miles of empty jungle with an eerie light. I lay back and I watched Gale sitting across the fire from me, staring into the strange night lost in her own thoughts. Another thing had happened while I was gathering rocks for the fire. I'd lifted a large flat stone and found under it a golden band like the one worn by the Mayan who'd come to my room. Gale had put it on her head without a word, and it fit perfectly. She still wore it, and now and then the polished gold caught flashes of light from the fire and from the moon. It was very late when I drifted off to sleep. It must have been a sound that woke me, but I think it was the odor that saved me. But I think it was the odor that seeped into my sleep. That was it, the odor, pungent, aromatic, and for a moment unidentifiable. And then I came suddenly awake, saw by the fire's embers that Gale's sleeping bag was empty. I sprang to my feet. At the moment I recognized the odor of raw gasoline. Saw the dark surface of the helicopter glistening and wet in the moonlight, and saw Gale walking toward it with a flaming stalk of dry thatch in her hand. What are you doing? No, stop it! She paid no attention, stood like a sleepwalker watching the burning flames she'd set afire, the golden band gleaming on her forehead. Then I was running, stumbling headlong totter. Gale! Gale, come back, Gale! She didn't hear me. She moved slowly away, looking towards something that I couldn't see beyond the fire. Nor did I see the vine that caught my foot and sent me crashing onto the sharp rock. I lay there on the ground, unable to move, blinded by concussion. By the blood that ran into my eyes, I tried to call out again and could make no sound. I could see Gale moving away past the burning plain swaying as she walked, trance-like an alien. I seemed to hear again the weird music of Merida far off somewhere in the night, and then in truth or in delirium, in the shadows, past the fire, I saw them. Saw them waiting for Gale. They were clothed in white, and their eyes were Mayan, wise and old and powerful. And on each forehead gleamed a golden band, the high priests of Kukulkan. Senor, you feel better now, no? Better? I don't know. Who are you? Only poor farmer, Senor. Farmer? Where am I? In my castle, Senor. You have been very ill from a baboon to the head. But how did I get here? Three days ago you come from the jungle, fell at my door. I take care of you. Well, thank you. Thank you very much. Sometimes you fight with me, say crazy words, but I know it is only the head is broken. I was running. I fell against a rock. I just can't remember much after that. No matter, Senor. Tomorrow I take you to Merida. But how can you? But so simple. In my cart with the burro. It is only seven miles. Seven miles? But I was two hundred miles from here. Senor, three days ago you come out from the jungle. Tell me something. Are you a Mexican? Senor, I am a citizen of Mexico, but by birth, I am Mayan. I have flown five times since into Yucatan, into the dark lands and the uncharted jungles. I've searched through tumble ruins, morse-grown, rotted. I built fires on ancient pyramids at night and cried aloud to the silent moon. But never again found the temple of Cucacan. Nor the plume Serpent of Gold, or a beautiful girl named Gail. I know I never will. Escape is produced and directed by William N. Robson. Tonight we have presented the Golden Snake, adapted for radio by Les Crutchfield from an original story by Paul Pierce. Featured in the cast were Anthony Barrett as Steve Lane, Jeanette Nolan as Gail Berry, and John Hoyt as Dr. Conrad. Also heard were Rick Valin, Harry Bartel, and Paul Fries. Special music arranged and played by Ivan Dittmires. Next week... You are stranded on the Yangtze River, 1500 miles from Shanghai, and in the midst of all the displaced humanity of China, somehow you have been marked for destruction, from which there is no escape. Next week, we escape with an exciting tale of fair intrigue and danger on one of the most colorful rivers of the world, as John and Gwen Bagney tell it in the Shanghai document. CBS's famous anti-crime series, Gangbusters, presents a real-life police story, the case of the wise young owl. This Saturday night, remember to be tuned in to CBS, where Arthur Godfrey's digest of winter humor is heard every Saturday night, the Columbia Broadcasting System.