 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. How 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. The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. You'll find that quotation in the Bible. I found the proof of it in the communist party. It wasn't hard to find at all, but believe me, it was brutally hard to accept. This story will illustrate what I mean. In a moment, listen to Dana Andrews as Matt Sevetik, under cover man. This story from the confidential file is marked, The Crossed Heart. Strange town miles from home. You know what it's like. You walk the streets, looking for secrets or surprises. Study the crowds, the blur of bland, impersonal faces. Seeking someone you might know, something familiar to give you that sense of belonging. That's how it usually is with strangers, but I was an unusual stranger. My visit to this town was sponsored by the communist party. I wasn't permitted to take my natural instincts with me. Every instinct, every action and reaction was planned and prescribed by my far-seeing red comrades. I was to report to this address, a private residence. I was to ask for a Mrs. Breen. Then I was to let nature, as authorized by the commies, take its course. How do you do? Good evening. I'm looking for Mrs. Breen. Mrs. Breen, won't you come in? Come in, young man. Come in. You'll catch your death out there. This little old lady, the shawl, the white hair, the rimless glasses. No. She was the type you write songs about. Not the sort you're associated with. I followed her through the gloomy, age-heavy house into a room that had been set aside as a little office. Watching her gestures, so gentle, so prim and proper, I felt sure that somehow the commies or I had made a mistake. There we are. It's so much more comfortable in here, isn't it? Yes. Yes, it is. Now, let me see. Oh, I'm forever misplacing those applications. Here we are. Your name, please. Hmm? Oh, uh, Sevetik. Matt Sevetik. S or C? C. C-V-E-T-I-C. Uh, Mrs. Breen, I think... Your age? I think there's been some... Well, never mind. Let's just say over 30 under 40. All right? All right. Now, I'd say you're about six feet tall. About that. Now, any preference of two types? Types of what? Oh, silly girls, of course. Girls? Look, I... Now, now, now, nothing to worry about. All information is strictly confidential. Our service is licensed by the state. What kind of service? Same as anywhere else. Once you subscribe, I give you three names and telephone numbers. Chosen according to your personal tastes and specifications. If you aren't satisfied, just call in and I'll give you three more. $15 for a month's service. 25 for three months. That's the usual rate? Oh, now, don't start fretting. I've been expecting you, Comrade. Forgive me for confusing you so. We just have to be so very careful, you know. I know. Now, I've arranged a date for you for tonight. A date? Well, that's why you're here, isn't it? Is it? I'm not the least bit sure why I'm here, Comrade Breen. Mrs. Breen, Mr. Svetik, we must be careful. Must, must, must. Okay. Well, tell me about my date. Her name is Clara Malone, a good client. A very important client to the club. I see. She's a widow with quite a bit of money. Rather pretty, too. You call for her, take her to dinner, and most important, you collect an envelope from her. What's in it? Money. She owes the club some money. See that you bring it to me immediately. Now, here's her name, her phone number, her address. Here you are. Vika, this is Red. Oh, good. I just joined a Lonely Hearts Club. What? A Lonely Hearts Club. Some kind of commie front. Okay. Well, I don't know yet. I'll know more after tonight. What's tonight? My first date. Clara Malone, a wealthy widow, I understand. I called her a while ago and got no answer. Well, keep at it, Matt. Well, not yet. Just be there when I need you. I'm on Clara Malone's line. It was getting late now. Mrs. Breen's place was closed, and I couldn't risk violating party orders. So I decided to go directly to the address Mrs. Breen had given me. Maybe by the time I got there, Clara Malone would have arrived, too. I don't know him yet, I guess. I could see a light in her apartment through the crack in the door. Either she was out or she... Hello. This might be Clara Malone. She didn't look like she needed a Lonely Hearts Club to supply her with dates, but then you never know. She came straight for this apartment. Looking for someone? Oh, yes. I was looking for Mrs. Malone. I'm Mrs. Malone. Clara Malone? Oh, no, I'm Judith, Clara's sister. Isn't she home yet? Well, she hasn't answered the door. That's funny. Is there anything I can do? Not exactly. See, Clara and I have a date for the night. Oh. Well, come on in then. She should be home any minute. All right. She might have run down to the store. What's the matter? What is it? What's the matter? Holy smokes. A good reason for not answering the door. She was dead. My first instincts told me to get out of there fast. But from the looks of things, her death was a suicide. And Judith wasted no time in calling the police. The police inspector, a tired, shabby little guy named Bychek, thought it was a suicide tool, but he wasn't sure. And in his job, he had to be sure. Sorry we had to bring you two all the way down here, but you know how it is. Sit down, Mrs. Malone. Thank you, Inspector. Yeah, you too. Uh, what's your name again? Servetic. That's right. You were a friend of the deceased, Svendick. No, I never saw her before tonight. This is my first day in town. You told me you had a date with Clara. Well, yes, it was a blind date, a mutual friend. How about her, Miss Malone? Is this guy a friend of your sister's? I don't know, Inspector. Don't you share that apartment with your sister? Yes, but Clara dated a lot of men I knew nothing about. Too many, I suppose. Too many? She's been terribly unhappy since her husband died. Lonely and unhappy. Any special reason for killing yourself? Finances? No. She inherited a lot of money from her husband. He didn't care about money much. Inspector, do you think it wasn't suicide? I mean, do you think that Clara was... Oh, it looks like suicide, all right, Miss Malone? Probably is. But the coroner's report isn't in yet. There are a few funny angles to this mess. But who? Who would want it to hurt Clara? She was a lonely widow. She had money. She dated a lot of strange guys. Too many, you said. Like Sweetic here. Somehow he knew her phone number and address, but he didn't know her. Just a minute, Inspector. I'm a cop, Sweetic. My job don't give me much time to trust people. Listen, I'm a... Never mind. Skip it. Didn't go. Both of you. Sorry for all the trouble, Miss Malone. All right, Inspector. I won't heckle you unless it's necessary. Thank you. Say, Sweetic, what? You better stay around town a while. If the coroner comes in with any surprise decisions, we'll want you for questioning. I couldn't leave town anyway. I was under orders from the Reds. But I couldn't let the police know that. I had some vital questions to put to sweet old Mrs. Breen, like how did the Reds figure in Clara's death? If it was murder, it was I to be the patsy for the party. But she wasn't to be found. Her house was dark, locked up. I waited around a while. No use. I headed for my hotel to get some sleep. You're back early. How did you get in here? Oh, please don't be angry with me. I told the room clerk I was your mother, and I wanted to surprise you. Well, you did. You're full of surprises. I just didn't want you to be burdened too long with that envelope, temptation, you know. What envelope? The envelope you collected from Clara. She's dead, Mrs. Breen. Cold stone dead. What are you talking about? You know full well what I'm talking about. Clara Malone was dead when I got to her apartment. It looks like suicide, but it may be murder. Murder? Skip the performance, Mrs. Breen, and get this straight. If that phone rings, it'll be the police. It's been ringing all evening. Oh? It will probably ring again. Well, if it does, it's because the cops have a good reason to suspect me of killing Clara Malone. I'll have to tell them about you and your Lonely Hearts Club. No, Comrade Stettich. You mustn't do that. No? Watch. The party can't afford to be involved in that sort of thing. If you did that, we'd see that you... The phone, Comrade Stettich. Well, aren't you going to answer it? Look, if it's the police, I'm going to... Just remember, young man, the police operate according to bourgeois concepts of justice. The party has its own concept. Yeah. Yeah, I know. You'd better answer the phone. Answer it, Comrade, right now. Hello? Andrew, starring as Matt Severick, and I was a communist for the FBI and the second act of our story. The telephone can be an instrument of torture, and right now, I was its victim. The receiver was at my ear. I'd spoken a greeting into the mouthpiece. Then there was a moment's silence, bitter, excruciating silence. A glance at Mrs. Breen standing in my elbow told me that a murder charge would be delightful compared to what the commies would do to me if I told the truth to the police. Yes? Inspector Bychek is trying to get you all evening. What do you want? Now? Well, it's pretty late. I know. You got the coroner's report? Yeah. Well, I'll be down. I was saying, Comrade, the party has its own way of treating those who violate its confidence. You mean they let me be charged with a murder? I didn't commit. Well, what can they do, Comrade? After all, what's more important? The life of one young man or the life of the proletariat revolt? You look nervous. It's late, Inspector. I'm tired. Me, too. We got the coroner's report on Clara Malone. He's satisfied that it's suicide. Well, then what do you want? I'm not satisfied. Smenic, why'd you come to this city? Business. What business? Just business. Business with Clara Malone? Oh, no. That was just a date. Yeah. Arranged by a mutual friend. A business associate? All right. Here. Look. The report from Clara Malone's bank. She inherited $300,000 when her husband died. Look what's left. She's practically broke. Where did it go? Wherever it went, it went during the last year or so. Somebody was bleeding this dame dry, Smenic. She has a couple of kids to wait at an exclusive private school, but she has. You didn't know that? No. Smenic, I warn you, either you tell us what you know or... Don't threaten me, Inspector. Well, then talk, you idiot. I'm trying to give you a break. Clara Malone was the victim of a shakedown, Smenic. Whoever's responsible is just as responsible for her suicide, directly or indirectly. In spite of you, I intend to find out who and why and how. Well, I wish I could help, Inspector. Yeah, I'll bet. Okay, Smenic, get out. Get out of here. Secretly, I hoped Inspector Bychek would fulfill his threat. I left police headquarters praying silently that he'd be able to pin his suspicions on Mrs. Breen and the commies, but I couldn't help him. I'm sure I might have been noble and named names, but nobility comes hard when you know the commie technique for vengeance. The streets of this strange city were even stranger now. They were empty, silent, wet with that pre-dawn mist. Whoa! It's ready. It's ready. Go in here, hurry. Sorry, pal, I'm going the other way. Get in the car, Smenic. Get in. Hey, what's a big idea? Let go, I can't. Get in, I said. Any trouble? No trouble, Comrade Breen. You keep mighty odd hours for a woman of your age, Mrs. Breen? I'm dedicated to my work. It makes a difference. That's all for now, George. Okay. Are you all right, Comrade Stettig? No, I don't like being shoved around by that goon boy of yours. He's Comrade Stettig. I'd like to know what you told the police. Nothing. Oh, now come there. If I did tell them anything about you or this club, don't you think you'd know by now? Well, you're right, of course. Do the police know anything about us? Just hunches. The coroner called Clara Malone's death a suicide. But the inspector thinks there's blackmail involved. Where did he learn that? Not a fool, you know. He checked Clara's bank account and learned that she went through a lot of money in a big hurry. I wonder how much that sister of hers knows. Not too much from what I could see. We've got to be sure, Comrade. We've got to be sure. Well, she's... Would you mind finding out for me, please? What? Well, you've met Judith. You've talked with her. Find out what she knows about the club, the blackmail, anything. If she knows more than she should, then... Then what? We'll see. We'll see. Your job now is to find out what she knows before she tells the police. The commie web was being spun again. This time, the victim was to be Judith Malone. I had to keep her free of that web somehow. But I had to keep myself clear of the web, too. Maybe there was a way, some way, to turn the web against the spinner, to strangle the commies with their own vicious weapon. It was worth a try. One good try. Beaker, this is Red. Hi, what's up? I need some bugs and lines, fast. Small mics, okay. They don't know you at the local field office, do they? No. Yeah, Roger's Market down the street. There'll be a package for you there in an hour. Oh, Matthews. Okay. Pick up your groceries in an hour, Mr. Man. And my groceries were waiting for me in an hour. The package was camouflaged pretty well, but I knew the equipment I needed was there. Coils of wire, small microphones, earphones, the works. My next step was to call Mrs. Breen and tell some whoppers. You mean she knows the whole story? Yeah, Clara told her everything. But Judith has a pretty sensible attitude about it. Oh, she's more sensible than that. There's one simple way to keep Judith quiet. Oh, no. Violence, no. Terms, yes. Did she tell you that? She hinted at it pretty strongly. You'd better phone her, make an appointment, make her an offer. Is it her place? No, cops all over the neighborhood. Tell her you realize that silence is golden. Tell her you have some important information about her sister. That should do it, I hope. I checked in at Mrs. Breen's place later and learned that she'd made an appointment with Judith Malone for 8.30 that night. About six o'clock, Mrs. Breen decided to go out for a bite to eat. Want to join me, comrade Svitic? No, thanks. I'll stay here. Judith may change her mind. Can't take any chances. Well, you're probably right. Incidentally, you'll be here tonight when I see her, won't you? You don't want me here. Too many of us might overemphasize the importance, make her boost the price even more. All right. And remember, she's quite a little actress. She'll play the innocent role right up to the hilt, but don't let her fool you. Don't worry, young man. I'll be back soon. Don't take your time. I've nothing to do anyway. There was plenty to do, of course. As soon as Mrs. Breen was gone, I unwrapped my groceries, which I'd hidden in the shrubs outside the house. As quickly as possible, I wired her office for sound. One tiny microphone under the rug near her desk, another near the big armchair. I ran the wires up behind the draper's out the windows and into the shrubs, where the miniature recording setup would be located. Back in the little office, I was about to test the microphone. Svitic, where is Mrs. Breen? Well, she went out for something to eat. Why? That Malone dame is here. Now? Well, I thought he ate 30. Well, she says she was nervous. Couldn't wait. I better get Comrade Breen. Oh, no, no. I'll go. I know where she's eating. Uh, have you been here in the house all this time? Sure. Where'd you think I'd be? Why? Nothing. Just curious. That's all. I went out the back door to avoid Judith. There was no chance to test the equipment now. No chance for anything but cold, naked luck. When Mrs. Breen went inside to meet Judith, I ducked behind the shrubbery, switched on the recorder, dusted the earphone, and prayed. Now come on, come on, pick it up. Pick it up. Come on, please. Pick it up. Please, please. About time we got straight to the point this Malone, I'm willing to pay any reasonable price for your silence. Silence? What have I to be silent about? Oh, let's stop playing possum young lady. We'll go to any lengths to stop you from telling the police what you know. We prefer to do business on a purely financial basis. So here are my terms. And I expect you to accept them. We have all we need to hang the blackmail charge on Mrs. Breen and the local commie speaker. That'll clear me with the party. Be sure the local papers get the same story. And I'll phone Inspector Bajek to tell him to expect the record. He has it already. So soon? I had it delivered to him direct. But you'd better call and explain what it's all about. I'll do it. Yeah, Beaker. Soon. Later I stood in the shadows across the street from Mrs. Breen's house. A police car was parked at the curb. One by one I saw the lights in the house blink out. Then the door opened and Inspector Bajek came out with Judith, Mrs. Breen and the red goon George. When the car drove away, the street became a dark ribbon silence stretched across the strain city. Again, walking across town, I felt the hollow distinction that only a stranger can feel. But I'd be a stranger in any city, anywhere. I had to be. It was my job. I had to walk alone. Andrews will return in just a moment. This is Dana Andrews, friends, with a reminder that most precious commodities increase in value as they become less accessible. But freedom is the one exception. The more the world sees of it, the more valuable it becomes. Let's increase the value of our freedom by sharing it with the world. In this story, as in all others, names, dates and places are fictitious to protect innocent persons. Next week, another fantastic adventure. Join us, won't you?