 I was a communist for the FBI. Starting Dana Andrews in an exciting tale of danger and espionage. I was a communist for the FBI. Many of the incidents and the story you're about to hear are based on the actual records and authentic experiences of Matt Sevetik, who for nine fantastic years live as a communist for the FBI. Here is our star, Dana Andrews, as Matt Sevetik. To use it similarly, communism is like a time bomb, innocent enough on the surface, just a box. It isn't until you get inside that you find the dynamite intended to blow you apart. I know because for nine years I was inside the party. I met the red dynamite on its own terms, and one thing I found out while working as an undercover man, you mister, yes and you too lady, your target for that red explosion, the explosion that was my job to help prevent. In a moment, listen to Dana Andrews as Matt Sevetik, undercover man. Under man, story from the dental files marked the dangerous dollars. Young communist league $6,109.44. News paid in full, contributions up three and a half percent. Good. The committee for the protection of the foreign born? 11,200, losing four, contributions down 0.5. Notice this collection from Conrad Hart, Excel is awful. I was assigned to the communist committee in charge of collections for the district, and I watched the figure up Conrad Noor's adding sheen. Money, big money, from reds and from just plain suckers. Due paid monthly, contributions paid as often as could be squeezed out of so-called voluntary donors. Subversive activity is expensive, and it was my job to commit for it. And to make sure the FBI knew where the money came from, and they're in. Come on, get your popcorn here, mister. Be a sport, feed the pigeons. Sure. Get an order of 17 peanuts. 17's a lucky number. For a man who eats red popcorn. Oh, J. Cox, house business. Lousy. But I love blowing this down whistle. That's what I like about the FBI. The agents have so much time. Never mind my talent. Did you trace that money? Yeah, I think so. The big push-on goes to party headquarters in New York, of course. But there's one that's picked up by a special messenger. Regularly? Well, fast six weeks, anyway. Who's the messenger? Who gets the money? I don't know. And the messenger I know only by number. 43. The blonde woman. Paul, beautiful if you like the type and who doesn't. Slavic accent. She's due to make a pickup tonight. Good. I'll have men waiting to tailor. Important? Bloody. This is a hot one, Matt. Meet me by office tonight at 11. I want to give you a rundown. Listen. Come on, buddy. You've window shop long enough. Meet it. Make room for the customers. Yeah, big jamboree hot here. Here, comrade. All increases, 79. Satisfy national headquarters, comrade Matt? Pleasant, perhaps. Satisfy them, no. Okay, comrade Nora. I think we've done enough for tonight. Let's wrap it up and... Oh, comrade Matt, it's her. 43. Good evening, comrade. Good evening. Your package is there on the desk. 18,000. And $10. Count it. I'm sure it's right. Your figures are always right. The sign of your intelligence. Well, believe for me. You're a very interesting man, comrade Fetik. Someday we may be able to meet on more social terms and discuss your intriguing nature. Good night, comrade. Good night. Comrade, did you see that coat? Mink. And that dress, why it was outrageously bourgeois. She should be investigated. I don't trust that one. Don't forget, she's on special assignment. Undoubtedly, her clothing is a requirement. Well, it's time for us to close up. Will you walk me home, Matt? Comrade Matt? Well, I'd like to, but not tonight. I want to pick up some things at the drug store before it closes. Well, there's one on the way to my place. I wouldn't mind waiting. Well, sure, on interest because she was lonely. Or could she have somehow discovered I was to meet my FBI contact that night. It wasn't until I was entering Nora's apartment that I was reassured of her motive. Come on, Ian, I want you to meet my children. Children? Well, that's what I call them. Here, babies, come to mama. Oh, here they come. Holy cats. Cats. My babies. Aren't they beautiful? Yeah, it was a pretty tragic sight. A homer girl so starved for affection, she adopted cats to take the place of the children she'd never have. As soon as I could, I ducked out, and after a complicated series of turns and doubling back and forth to throw off any possible tail, I went to the federal building and up the rear way to the office of my FBI contact, Frank Jacobs. Oh, hi, Matt. You're late. Yeah, I had an unexpected delay. Uh, what is it, Jacobs? It's an MVD agent, Krasnoff. He the guy 43 is delivering to him? We think so. Only we don't know that he's a he. What? All we have is the name Krasnoff. Otherwise, it's man, woman or monkey. You pay your money, and you take your choice. They've got men following 43. If she takes that money to Krasnoff, you'll know soon whether he's a man or not. Krasnoff's sex is not the problem. What is? Sabotage. Krasnoff was the commie secret police agent behind a job in a West Coast aircraft plant a while back. A production for weeks. They got proof? Yeah. We got him nailed if we can find him. If? If I come 43 like a blanket, she'll lead you to him. Maybe. And it seems too easy. Krasnoff is the Red's top agent. Word we've gotten is that Krasnoff plans to import a small but highly trained group. Specialists in arson, demolition, and murder. Phew. Yeah. It's a kind of organization we can't afford to let get started. And that's the why of it, Matt. Krasnoff and that money have got to be stopped. 261124. Who's calling? Just a moment. Comrade Matt, it's a Mr. Jorgensen for you. I'll take it here. I've got it, Nora. Of course, I'm sorry. Hello, Mr. Jorgensen. I didn't expect you to call me here. I know it's dangerous, Matt, but I had to talk to you fast. Oh, your wife's operation didn't go too well last night? You guessed it. Where was it done? 43 was trailed to a small resort called Skyline Rancho, up in the mountains about 100 miles north of here. The resort is a commie hang-on. No one can get past the desk unless he's a rep. Oh. Uh, have you tried another doctor? If you mean force, no. So? Well, we've got to get an agent inside that resort. Someone who can move around, find out which one of the guests or employees is Krasnoff. Where the money is, what Krasnoff plans to do with it. That sounds like a tough operation. You'd better have a good surgeon. We have. Who? You. What? Sorry, Matt. But you're the only one who can do it. There's a commie you can get in. You've got a vacation coming. Take it. At Skyline Rancho. There it was. Right in my lap. It was that kind of assignment, so the first thing I did was to make sure my life insurance policies were paid up. The next thing was to get off from work without arousing suspicion. Comrade Nora, my assistant, made it easy. Comrade Matt, here's a doctor. Matt, what's the matter? Oh, I guess I'm just tired out. Oh, what a headache I got. You should take a rest. Oh, I can handle things for a few days without any problem at all. Do you think you could? You wouldn't mind? Oh, certainly not. You know I'd do anything for you. Well, yeah. I wonder where to go. Oh, goodness, there's plenty of places to go, Comrade Matt. The Chateau Regal, the Victor Ski Lodge, Skyline Rancho, or... Skyline Rancho? Sounds like it might be nice. All right, Comrade, you've made up my mind. I'll go. Welcome to Skyline Rancho, Mr. Sebedek. Here, thank you. I'm Mr. Hungerford, the owner. Odd coincidence you're coming to this resort. It was well recommended. I'd never heard of it. Who recommended it? Hey, I want to write and thank them. Nora Bayless, my assistant. Why not call her? You'll get the answers quicker. You're a clever one. Come with me. I'll show you around. Skyline Rancho turned out to be a small group of... and a main lot, flat, heavily wooded mesa. After seeing my bag stowed in bungalow number eight, I let the suave hungerford take me to the main lodge to meet the other guests. Oh, Hungerford, there you are. Let's go outside. Come up and I see this clear tonight, and Vega is unusually bright. Later, Charlie. Matt Sebedek, Charlie Grace, all right? About the things in our heavens. It's just disgraceful. Which one? You met them all, but which one was Krasnoff, the MVD agent? The last one I met was a squat ape of a man with black fingernails and an expression like the devil with a hangover. This is Mr. Cain, Matt Sebedek. All right. Then you're long? Nah. It's nice to see you're having such a happy time. Later that night, I decided to make my own private way of the resort. I found nothing interesting around the bungalows, and the stables contained nothing but horses. But when I left the stable, I found myself pinned in the brilliance of two powerful flashlights that blinded me. It's late, Sebedek. You'd better go to bed. This night air's cold. It could be the death of you. The powering as Matt Sebedek in I was a communist for the FBI and the second act of our story. So far, I was getting no place in my search for the MVD agent Krasnoff. All I had done was met a few guests at Skyline Rancho, and from the darkness received a warning about which I was still worried the next morning as I shaved. Oh, for the love of Pete. Now what? Tom! How are you this morning, Mr. Sebedek? None the better for that warning last night. Warning? Don't be coy. You're not the type. But I recognized your voice. Look, I'm on vacation. What your deal is here, I don't know and care less. Good morning. What did that mean? You. Me. What are you doing in my bungalow, Comrade 43? I like being in your bungalow. Well, why? Why not? Because it's early morning and I... Now what have you got against morning? Nothing but... Yeah? Matt? Yeah. Hello, Mr. Jorgensen. How are things with your mother? Oh, all right. She had a few early complications, but at the moment she's holding her own. Doctors' diagnosis very dangerous. Worse than expected by the symptoms. I'll let you know how things develop, Mr. Jorgensen. So for heaven's sake, stop calling me. I understand. I'll wait for your call. That bum. What is it, Matt? Oh, nothing. Mom's been a little sick and this friend of hers keeps calling me to find out how she is. Well, let's forget other people's troubles and work on our own. Yeah, only start with you being the reason for me being threatened last night. I will if... If you sit here beside me. Okay. Now make it good, come at 43. I'll begin with my name. It's Connie Marachek. You know mine? Yeah. And you know I'm on special assignment for the party. What? Sorry, Matt. It's secret, even to you. But it's very important to the party, so much so that when I saw you up here, well, let's say the coincidence made me suspicious. To Hungerford? And when he saw me taking a walk around in the dark, he pulled that flashlight routine. It was his idea of teaching you a lesson. I apologize, Matt. I should have waited before saying anything to Hungerford. I agree to that. Threats give me a headache. Oh, why don't you lie down and put your head in my lap? Let me rob your temples. Sure. Go to it. Nice lap. You like me just a little, Matt. You ever find a man who didn't? I never found a man like you before. Well, Connie, what would have happened if Hungerford had decided I was really a spy? He'd have shot you, I guess. But you're not a spy, so let's not talk about it anymore. What do we talk about? Why talk at all? Head for you better? What head? I better go. But do me a favor, Matt. Those walks. Don't take them. Connie gave me a smile that could have melted a 10-foot snowdrift and left me with one very positive determination to take that walk everyone was so worried about. I ran into my first obstacle in front of my bungalow, a hollow-chested plaid coat supporting two binocular cases and waving a long, jaunted brass telescope. Good morning. Good morning. Who are you? It's afternoon, and we've met, Mr. Grace. Oh, yes, Mr. Spettich. I remember now. My goodness, call me Charlie. Everybody calls me Charlie. Good for them. Bye. Don't go. I will show you. I've seen it. Why don't you puddle on to the main lodge, Charlie? You're ants waiting. Charlie Grace gone. I headed in the opposite direction, past the stables, searching for whatever it was I wasn't supposed to see. My first success was a faint path leading into the trees, a footpath. Two miles through the trees, I found Krasnov's secret, a tiny airstrip and camouflaged hangar. In the hangar, a powerful black cabin plane with extra wing tanks all full to the top. It was information worth a big risk. I hurried back and took the risk by calling my FBI contact Jay Cox from a pay phone in the lobby of the main lodge. What's on speaking? Jay, this is Matt. I'm sorry, but this is hot, and I can't double talk it. Krasnov's got a plane stashed out on an airstrip back in the trees, a cabin plane, no NC number, painted black, extra tanks all full. A guy staying here named Cain, his nails are full of black grease. I figure he... Krasnov? I haven't spotted him yet, but I'm playing footsies with his messenger, 43, her name's Connie Maracek. Maracek, got it. You'd better get Krasnov fast. Black plane, night flight, wing tanks, long flight probably to Canada or Mexico. I hate to ask you to do this, Matt, but you'd better Jimmy that plane first thing. Do what? You have to. We can't let him escape now. You know anything about planes? They got wings and they fly. In that case, open the engine cover, reach in and grab something. Then what? Pull, but comes loose, you're right. It was nearly dark when I made it back to the plane, and my luck held as I opened the engine cover and yanked loose a copper tube that spewed gasoline. It was the plane's fuel line, and that was when my luck started to run out. For across the clearing, I could see hunger foot and Cain heading toward the hangar. I retreated into the dubious shelter of some boxes in a far corner and waited. Come on, Cain, let's get this plane out on the field. Why do I get the tool room open? I want to give the motor a last check. Come on, let that go. Cain, you've checked it a dozen times already. But I want to be... I should forget it. Now, come on. Help me roll the plane down to the end of the strip so Krasnov can take off without delay. I watched as the plane was pushed out and down the field several hundred yards. It was turned into the wind ready to take off, so they thought. When the two men headed back to the hangar, I got an idea. I tied a long piece of wire to a heavy wrench on the table inside the windowless tool room. Ran the loose wire out to my hiding place among the boxes. When hunger foot and Cain entered the hangar, I yanked the wire so it pulled the wrench off the table in the tool room. What's that? It came from the tool room. Let's take a look. It was close timing. When hunger foot and Cain moved cautiously into the tool room, I came out from behind the boxes and moved to the open door then... Hey! What is this? Open the door! The room had no windows, so I knew the two heads were in for keeps until that door was opened. Scratch two. Next stop, Krasnov. But you have to flush a quail before you can shoot it. So back at the lodge, I dug up the last of my nerve for a bluff that had my heart pounding like a pneumatic drill. Matt, what's the matter? You look so... Connie, I've got to talk to you. What is it, Matt? Look, I don't know what assignment you're on, but if it's got anything to do with someone named Krasnov, get him out of here in a hurry. Why? FBI men. Two of them. I overheard them talking. Where? Are you sure? I'm sure. One of them followed hunger foot and Cain into the woods, back of the stables, and the other left said he was going to bring up the rest. Rest? Where they talk to got a whole army coming in. But they can't. That is, we have to get away before... We? You mean this Krasnov person and you? Yes. You may as well know the whole thing now, Matt. You've proven I can trust you. The money I delivered went to Krasnov for him to use in organizing a sabotage ring. Charlie, come here quick! Of course, my dear, but do be quick. I want to plot the position of Sagittarius. Who can drop the act? Matt, this is Major Krasnov of the secret police. Tell him what you told me. When Connie spoke, Charlie Grace changed, and suddenly the harmless stargazer didn't seem quite so harmless. After I told my story, the NBD agent went into action, racing through his bungalow and picking up a valise. Then with Connie in tow, he vanished down the path to the airfield. I waited near the stables, and in 16 minutes by my watch, they were back, running. Matt, that's the plane, not work. The FBI man booked a fuel line. We'll have to use a car. No, you... Huh? I mean, that is, the FBI will be watching the road. Yes, very probable. We'll have to get out of here before they move in. Wait a minute, I've got it. Take horses. You can shortcut down the mountain to Asheville and catch the train there for the city. Of course. They won't be expecting us to use horses. True. And we can charter a plane in the city. Thanks, Comrade Spetic. You've been a great help. It was my pleasure, Major Krasnoff, believing. I watched Krasnoff and Connie ride their horses into the darkness. Then in the main lodge, I went to the payphone and made a call that was a real pleasure. Jorgensen. Hi, Jay. Better meet the train coming in from Asheville. A couple of people on it. You'll want to see. Krasnoff? Yeah. I found out. He's a he. You'll know him. He'll be with Connie Mericek. Oh, and he'll be carrying a valise. Take good care of it. It's full of happy cabbage. Don't worry. We'll take care of it. And while you're at it, send a squad of men up here to make a phony raid to cover my story. They'll find two men locked in the two room of the hangar. Got it. You coming back to the city? Sure. I've got to get back to my little red cabbage patch. There it was, another fragment of the story. A man's life is made up of bits and pieces. Only a purpose can give them meaning. I found my purpose in the underground fight against communism. It was no fun, but don't mistake me. It was worth it to know I was helping in the struggle to keep freedom alive. It was worth it even though it cost me my friends and made me a man who always had to walk alone. Our star, Dana Andrews, will return in just a moment. This is Dana Andrews. Many of the stories of Matt Svedic's underground war against communism are dramatizations of incidents from Matt Svedic's own confidential file. Compiled during the nine years, he was a communist for the FBI. To protect the innocent, all names, dates and localities have been changed. Next week, we'll bring you another exciting adventure of Matt Svedic. We hope you'll join us.