 I was a communist for the FBI. Starring Dana Andrews and an exciting tale of danger and espionage. I was a communist for the FBI. From the actual records and authentic experiences of Matt Sevetik, come many of the incidents in this unusual story. Here is our star Dana Andrews as Matt Sevetik, who for nine fantastic years lived as a communist for the FBI. Nine years of walking a narrow, tortuous path with sheer drops to oblivion on both sides. Nine years of quiet, desperate fear that somewhere, sometime, I will take a false step and go plunging to disaster. Nine bitter, lonely years with my own life, a cheap pawn in a great international chess game between the forces of freedom and the forces of enslavement. In a moment, listen to Dana Andrews as Matt Sevetik, under coverman. Andrews as Matt Sevetik, under coverman. This story from the confidential file is marked, Courier of Disaster. Speeding along US Highway Number One, a hundred miles out of Washington DC, speeding toward New York City, and disaster. Beside me in the car, Comrade Smith watches my every move. We're making good time, Sevetik. Good time, a hundred miles out of Washington, a hundred and thirty more to New York. The car is like a prison, a speedometer steady like the sights in a gun, and no way to stop it, no way to get out, no way to get to a telephone. Over and over in my mind I review the steps that brought me to this point, to this point of no escape. Over and over I try to find some way out. Nothing, nothing. It's hard to believe it began just twenty-four hours ago when Comrade Rev Chinko, my cell leader, called me to local party headquarters. You haven't memorized Comrade Sevetik, the name of the girl? Yeah, our Gladys Fluring. The hotel in Washington? The Belmont Room 616. Time, 8.30. Good. Any questions? Yes, this is courier work. We have specialist paint for this work. Why take me? This job requires the single talent of being able to give the impression that you're anything but a courier. And since you've never done it before, you've been chosen. All right. I board the plane here and go to Washington. I arrive tonight. Contact Gladys Fluring and she will give me further instructions. And the package. What is this package, Comrade Rev Chinko? Must be something pretty important, huh? Important enough, Sevetik, so that even I don't know what it is. Important enough so that our regular courier system is being bypassed. Helen, I'll just have to pack a few things. You won't have time. I've got to take some... You've got to do nothing, but go to the airport now, with me. At the airport he waves goodbye to me just like a friend waving goodbye to a friend. I hold up my end of the act and wave back, and we take off. In Washington, after making sure I'm not being watched or followed, I duck into a phone booth and dial my FBI contact. Well, this girl this is red. I read horror things. Things are looking up. Matt, how are you? I'm not sure, Johnny. Where are you calling from? I'm right here in Washington. What are you doing here? Courier work. Matt, that's great. Where are you going? I don't know. Well, maybe I do. I'll discuss this on the phone, Matt. Can you meet me in Don's lunch room at the corner of 6th and East Street? It'll have to be quick in 10 minutes. The last booth on the left. Right. Good to see you, Matt. Sit down. What did you mean on the phone, O'Drisker, when you said, maybe you know where I'm going? Who's your contact here in Washington? The girl. Well, the name of Gladys Floring. Huh? And you're going to New York. You know her? Sure. She's a sitting duck for us, but we let her operate like a decoy so we can bag the rest of the flock. We've been trying to bust open their courier system for a long time. A few nibbles around the edges is the best we've been able to do. But we want as a lead to the top man in New York. This may be it. You know a lot more than I do, Johnny. I've got an appointment with this Gladys Floring at 8.30. She's got some microfilm, Matt. Important. Yeah, so I thought, carry through. You'll be able to lead us to the New York contact. I hope. You know what the microfilm is? I don't worry about it. It's only half the story, no good by itself. Then I'm to go through with my assignment all the way through. Don't worry, we'll be on your tail. The microfilm is important, but only with the other half. And we don't know where it is, or if they have it. Whatever happens, go through with your mission. Look, if something comes up and I can't reach you... Don't worry about it. We'll have a man at the railroad station, another one at the bus depot and a third at the airport. All right, Johnny. Look, Matt. And remember, no matter what happens, follow through with your part. No improvising. Got it? Got it. Me, I... We were looking for room 616. Yeah, I thought... Gladys Floring. Yes. You are Gladys Floring? You disappointed? No. Oh, no. And are you Phillip? George? Charles? Not Tom Dicker, Harry, either. Oh, then who are you, friend? You're a slave, Miss Floring. That's a headache. Come in, comrade. You're on town, precisely. You have my instruction? Of course. Business first. I have something to deliver to you. That's a tiny package to be so important. This is all? For the moment. You're to wait here. Well, I can think of no pleasanter occupation. What am I going to do with this package? Put it in your pocket. You're to deliver it. To whom? I don't know. Come on. Sit down, comrade. Comrade Spedick. The party's always right, huh? Mm-hmm. The party says if we find friends within our ranks, it's so much the better. Hooray for the party. Oh, it's so nice to be able to relax and be yourself with someone you trust. By all means, comrade. Be yourself. Comrade Spedick. Oh, company. It's such a moment. Comrade Smith. Come in. Mr. Smith. Well, it's good to meet you, Spedick. We have a job to do. Fine. What is it? Oh, very simple job in easy stages. We take a little trip, deliver a little package. Simple, eh? Depends. You said, we? Yes, I will accompany them. My instructions were... Your instructions were to take instructions, eh? You were to take possession of the package until we get to New York. When do we leave? Now. Good. How do we go, train, plane or bus? By car. Car? But I thought... You thought what? Well, I thought we were in a hurry. I thought driving would be the least practical way to get to New York. Exactly. Not to be expected, eh? Yeah. And that is why we're driving. Come along, Spedick. We'll go out through the basement. My car is two streets away. All right, Smith. We'll have time to pick up my toothbrush at my hotel. No. We will leave from here, together and immediately. But my hotel bill has to spend paid. Well, the party is very thorough. Always. Well, Spedick, want to say goodbye to Comrade Flurig? Go and haste, Comrade. Return with speed. For a better tomorrow. Not one stop. 115 miles out of Washington. The FBI is probably still waiting at the airport. The railroad station or the bus depot. There's no way on earth for them to know that we're traveling by car. I've been watching through the rear view mirror ever since we left Washington. No luck. No one is following. In this prison of a car. And that package burning a hole in my pocket. Beside me, driving is Comrade Smith. And I've got to get to a phone. Our gauge is a little low, Spedick. We'd better pull into this gas station. There won't be another for 20 miles. Well, I'm glad to stretch my legs. I'll be right back, Smith. Right back? I'm going to wash up. Powder your nose, eh? Okay, I'll wait for you. The washroom is on the side of the station. Right outside the telephone booth. The call to let the FBI know where I am. What kind of car we're driving in? Where are we headed? Long distance. Long distance. I want to call Washington. Washington, D.C. What number in Washington, please? I want to call the... Wash up a bit, Comrade Spedick. All right. I was just... No wash basin in a telephone booth, Comrade. What number in Washington, please? What number in Washington, Spedick? Andrew, starring as Matt Spedick. And I was a communist for the FBI. And the second act of our story. They say laugh in the whole world laughs with you. But they never heard Comrade Smith laugh. Especially when he just caught me trying to make a phone call when I was supposed to be in the washroom of the gas station. In my pocket is a package containing microfilms and my mission for the communists is to deliver it to someone in New York. Now, here at the wayside gas station, halfway between Washington and New York, I've missed what may be my last chance to get in touch with the FBI. Or perhaps anyone else from the way Comrade Smith laughs. There's no wash basin in this phone booth, Spedick. What are you doing here? My love life is no concern of the party. Your dreams are a concern of the party. Comrade Floring is a party member. Certainly, you know. No phone calls, Spedick. This work is new to you. Let's get back to the car. There isn't much traffic, Smith. Why don't you let it out a little? We can't afford to get a ticket delayed. Yeah, we can't afford... What's that sign say? You are now entering the city of Millersville, New Jersey, population 17,000. Look for a park on the right. Yes, we're to meet someone at an evening band concert. Oh. Another chance, maybe. Another chance to get to a phone. We've got to get the FBI back on our trail, or they won't... Ah, there it is. Now, if we follow this road through the park, do you hear anything? No. Ah, now there it is. Through those trees, see? Now, let's go. Look, you can take care of this without me. I'm gonna grab a bite at that refreshment stand over there and I'll come meet you. No telephones here to call a camera. It's bloating, Smith. Come along. I'll leave you. All right, sir. Teller who plays the tuba in the band. Oh, here. Come along on this side. This is the picnic break. Do we have a code word? Some identification? One word. Let's check out. Oh, here. Behind the band stand. The band will be waiting. Ah. What is that instrument, sir? That tuba? That's right. It's an instrument that has always fascinated me. Can I offer you a cigarette? Thanks. Got a light? No. But Revchenko has. Oh? Well, we'd better go over behind that tree out of the wind. You, uh, have the package. Where's yours? It's by the counter. Show him, comrade. Mmm. You look like two peas out of a pod, don't you? Give it to him. Thanks. What do I do with him? Your instructions are, when you arrive in New York, go directly to the Newsreel Theater on Broadway in near 42nd Street and find two seats on the aisle in the third from the last row. They're from the last? You'll keep an empty seat between you. And someone will ask, is there an empty seat for me? You will sit between you. You'll have both packages in your left-hand jacket pocket. The empty seat will be on my left then. Right. The man will sit down, all you'll have to do is wait until he removes the package from your pocket. That's all? That's all. Your assignment will be finished. Simple, man. Yeah. Well, the break is over. I gotta find my lip again. Thanks for the smoke. Let's go, Svetech. What's, Svetech? I'll get to New York too late for me to call Gladys. I'll give her a bus from here, then. No phone call. Remember, Svetech? I can't understand your single-minded desire to telephone comrades flooring. Well, when you've done your duty... Yes. You think a real war, don't you? Let's do our duty first. Why so silent, Svetech? Only another 55 miles to New York. Any more stops? No. No more stops until we get there. Nothing to do but sit back and relax. Relax. That's 55 miles from New York. 55 miles with a tired humming. Both halves of the precious microfilm in my pocket now. And no way to stop the car. No way to stop this whole business from rushing to its finish. Unless something happened to Smith and I could dispose of the film. But that would tip my hand and I'd be of no more use to the FBI. Besides, my instructions from O'Driscoll were explicit. No improvisations. Go through with it. Go through with it. You may have club compartments, Svetech. Pack a cigarette. Have one? No, thanks. You're angry, Svetech. Yeah, I'm angry. You need a little discipline, eh? The first time I met Gladys Floring, I, too, didn't pay any attention to what I was doing. She's beautiful, isn't she? She's a party member. Make your head spin, doesn't she? Shut up! Shut up! No orders about not talking, Smith, are they? No instructions you and I can't talk. I suppose she has other party business tonight. Wouldn't you like to talk to her? Wouldn't you like to check up on her? Shut up, Svetech. She's my wife. Ah, I thought so. The party uses her talents well. You dog. Looking at her with your filthy eyes. Why don't you go back to her, Smith? Go back to her now. I'll keep on. I'll deliver the packages. Now, you listen to me. Listen to me, Svetech. I am a communist like you. You can't trap me. You can't make me break my orders. I know you don't want to call Gladys for yourself. You only want to try to break me down, but you can't do it. You can't do it till you're here. All right, Smith. All right. Then we can go on. Now, no more, eh? No more stops. No more needling. Nothing, eh? Nothing. Good. Now, we understand each other. I think I have my problem. I think this is a problem. When the man who laughs sitting next to me, driving, has a problem every day of his life. A problem that eats into him and destroys his soul. Now we're through the hell and tunnel, and still we keep on. There's nothing I can do. No way now to prevent the accomplishment of my communist mission. Ah, there's something about New York City, Svetech, that stirs my blood. It's hugeness. It's greatness. It will be ours someday. Cut across 40 seconds, Pete. Oh, there it is. Now there's a parking lot there, close to the theater. We buy tickets and go into the theater, and my head spins. How to stop it? How to stop it? What to do? You sit down in the third from the last row, near the aisle, and keep a seat vacant. And I don't see the news reel, I don't hear the sounds, the pounding in my heart. No matter what comes, shouldn't I destroy the microfilms? I had lost it, get up and run from the theater. What does it contain as a microfilm? Blueprints, specifications? I cast around, and is there an empty seat for me? My pocket, and takes out the two small packages. I can't even see the space in the darkness. And then, a few moments, he gets up and leaves, Smith and I wait. Then we're out on the street again. Our mission accomplished. You're going to stay here in New York? I guess so. Any place I can drop you? I'm returning to Washington. Good luck. Good luck. We just had a lot of good luck. We've done our jobs. That is good, eh, comrade? Yeah. Wow. This is red, I'd like to speak to you. Hi, red, how are things? I'm not briscoe. What are you doing in New York? Matt, get on your bicycle. Where to? There's a tobacco store in the corner of 53rd and 8th. How long before you can get there? By taxi, ten minutes. I saw, I didn't know... Come in. Who here? The bank. Followed instructions. I couldn't get to a phone. We didn't leave by train or bus or plane. I didn't get a chance to call you. Yes, we figured that out. You said that microfilm glad his flooring hand was one half the information. We stopped at Millersville and picked up the other half. Millersville. Who was it? The tuba player in the band. There was an evening concert there. We'll take care of them. What use is it? Too late now. The packages were delivered. They're gone. I didn't dispose of them. Maybe I should have. No. No, Matt. Huh? We've got them. You've got them? No, Johnny. We figured out pretty quick. You must have gone by car. Oh, you knew I went by car? There's no one following you. We've had the license number and description of comrade Smith's car. No files for months. Oh, of course. I didn't think of that. I flew here to New York and we had the tunnels and the bridges covered like a championship fight. We spotted you when you stopped to pay your toll. And you followed from there? Sure. And you followed us into the theater? Well, you were on your own after that. We followed the guy who took the seat between you. Oh. And he led us right to the spot we wanted to get to. They're down at FBI headquarters right now. You look sort of beat. Maybe a little relaxation tonight. A date. No, thanks, Johnny. You might be somebody's wife. I walk down New York's busy streets alone, watching the friends, the couples, the normal happy people enjoying their normal happy lives. For me, there's no normalcy. No happiness, no peace. For me, there's only the emptiness of a friendless world as I walk alone. Dana Andrews will return in just a moment. This is Dana Andrews, friends. Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote, I'll what avail the plow or fail, or land or life if freedom fails. Let's be sure freedom does not fail. The story you've just heard is based on notes from the files of Matt Saavedic, FBI undercover man. Names have been changed and events modified for obvious reasons. Next week, another exciting adventure out of Matt Saavedic's experiences will take a few minutes for the FBI. So be with us then. We'll be expecting them.