 The National Broadcasting Company presents Herbert Marshall as the man called X. Wherever there is mystery, intrigue, romance, in all the strange and dangerous places of the world, there you will find the man called X. The Istanbul Express is speeding through the night, our route from the fabulous city of Baghdad. The next stop is Ankara, Turkey. Aboard the train is Ken Thurston, the man called X. Suddenly the door of his compartment bursts open. That's right, come in. You take these, eat them for me, please. Huh? Cigarettes? Much more than that, as you know. That box of cigarettes contains lights have gone out. Yeah. It looks like they... wait, crowd. Don't get down fast! Yes, Miss Brooks? A call for you, sir. It's Mr. Thurston. Oh? From Kayseri, Turkey. Kayseri? What's he doing in...? Don't ever mind, Miss Brooks. Put him on. Ken, you should have been an Istanbul by now. What are you doing in a place called Kayseri? The Chief. A beautiful... Now, look, Ken, your report at the consulate of Istanbul is more important than a dozen girls. The police don't think so. The police? Yeah. Ken, what in blazes are you talking about? Chief, the customers. Well, what's the... Henry Ebers. Good Lord, Ken. Yeah. But Ebers was murdered in Ankara during the war. That's right. But I forget. When you tipped off that the enemy is working on plans for a radio-controlled rocket bomb with an atomic warhead... Yeah. We went over all that at the time, Ken. If any other country had him, the Bureau would have heard of it. But now... What about those cigarettes? I sent them open. Information about those plans? No. But it was necessary for me to speak with you. Oh, well? I am a man of incurable curiosity, Mr. Thurston. When I learned of the poor, unfortunate girl who was murdered in this compartment just before we stopped at Kayseri, I... Oh, but I forget my manners. My cards, sir. It will introduce me. Mm-hmm. Pea, lebbiad gift. Full-stale tobaccos. Yes. Only the most excellent tobaccos, Mr. Thurston. There is a fine art, too, cultivating a fragrant mellow leaf, you know. Yeah. You were talking about your curiosity and the murdered girl. Ah, yes. So I was. You know, Mr. Thurston, I have always felt that some invisible bond exists among people who travel together. That is why I could not sleep tonight until I learned more about her. No doubt she was an old friend of yours. What makes you think so? I am not one to be blind to the obvious, Mr. Thurston. She was in your compartment at the late hour of the night. Well, so are you. Yes, yes, of course. Undoubtedly, you knew her name. She didn't have time to introduce herself, Mr. Lebed gift. Too bad. It would have made things so much easier for the police. They have been unable to identify her, you know. That bush you're beating around is getting pretty big. How about coming to the point? Well, there is no point, Mr. Thurston. I merely wish to congratulate you upon the ease with which you convinced the Cassare police of your innocence. But then you were wise enough not to mention the name of Sparrison, weren't you? Sparrison? But then you do not know Sparrison, do you? Of course not, how could you? You better stick to cultivating tobacco, Lebed gift. You won't do what you are with me. And speaking of tobacco, you have a cigarette. Oh, I am embarrassed, Mr. Thurston. It was unpardonable. Let me not offer you one sooner. Please, I'll try one of these. Thanks. Custom made by Cupian Tobaccoist of Ankara. And I see your name printed on them. Yes, they are truly remarkable cigarettes, Mr. Thurston. Oh, I don't know that. Maybe I'll have Cupian make me up some for me. Unfortunately, I am afraid you will find that rather difficult. The Cupians cater only to a select list of customers. I do not think they would care to take an order from you, sir. Thank you for a very pleasant conversation. And good night, Mr. Rex. I have been desolated by this inconvenience to you, Mr. Thurston. I assure you, delays like this are not customary at Hotel Imperial, but your room is ready for you at last. I'll have the boy take you up at once. Boy? Boy? You were ringing for me? Oh, no, no. Show this gentleman to room 219, please. 219? Such a haul on the wall. Now, room 322, for instance, would be... You will show this gentleman to room 219. Okay, but he won't like it. This way, please. Hello, Mr. Thurston. Glad to see me, Mr. Thurston. I thought you would be surprised to see me. Well, naturally, you want to know what I'm doing here. Well, of course, if you're going to be class-conscious about those things... Pagan, I'm not surprised to see you. I'm not glad to see you. And I don't want to know what you're doing here. Thank you, Mr. Thurston. Thank you. I... Well, anyways, now that you're here, I can quit being a bellboard. What makes you think so? After all these years, we've worked together. Doing things for me, you wouldn't stop now. Imagine me, Pagan Zeltschmidt, working as a bell hop. I can't imagine you working anything. Mr. Thurston, I've worked in every big hotel in Turkey waiting for you to show up. Ever since Ms. Brooks told me you were... Ms. Brooks again. Well, can I help it if she likes my accent? Anyways, I've decided I'll go back to work for you, like before. Without payment, even. Well, maybe there should be a slight consideration. Pagan, I'm very happy as I am. Come on, open up. This is being very short-sighted, you understand. A reasonable man would... Look out, Pagan! Get down! I told you you wouldn't like this room, Mr. Thurston. It's not the room. It's the balcony. That's where those shots came from. Let's have a look. Goodbye, Mr. Thurston. The clerk wants me. I hear bells ringing. Oh, relax. Whoever it was, it's gone now. People are always shooting at you, Mr. X. Do you have to have so many enemies? It's an occupational disease. Well, then you should go to see a doctor. There's nobody here in this balcony. Hmm. It opens onto a dozen rooms. You could have disappeared into one of them. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Move your foot, Pagan. Huh? You're stepping on something. So what? It's only a half-smoked cigarette butt. Yeah. We're printing on it. Y-E-V. Now what could that mean? It could mean that a man named Lebedief doesn't smoke his cigarettes down far enough. Is there something I can do for you? Well... I beg your pardon? No, I was wrong. Everything in an old-fashioned tobacco shop doesn't have to be mellow and musty. Oh, you do not find coupéans that way? I don't find a coupéan that way. That is if you're one of the family. Yes. I am Marilyn Coupéan. And like all of my family, I am here to sell tobacco. Good. I'm here to buy some. For a moment I had my doubts. I'd like some custom-made cigarettes, Miss Coupéan. Of course. What blend would you prefer? I'll take the recommendation of the house. Oh, you have confidence in our choice? I have confidence in the choice of Henry Evers. Henry Evers? Yeah. An old customer of yours. You remember him? Who are you? My name's Ken Thurston. Mean anything to you? Ah, yes. Yes, Mr. Thurston, it does. What's your recommendation? Well, leave this shop now and do not ever return to it. That's not the recommendation I was looking for. It is the only one you will get. What about Evers? Did he get one like that, too? Henry Evers is dead, Mr. Thurston. Draw your own conclusion. Yeah, I have. They are not pretty. Then you are going? Sure. If you want Lebediev's company instead of mine. Lebediev? What do you mean? The car that just pulled up outside the door. Lebediev is at the wheel. He's got two thugs with him. But he cannot find me here. He would kill me. He's tried it on somebody else, I know. But why you? Well, there is not time to explain. Come with me. Quickly. Before he enters. There is a door at the back of the building through this stock room. We can leave by there. You can leave, Marilyn. Not me. But that man, Lebediev, is a killer. You do not know him. That's why I'm going to hang around to get better acquainted. Here. Take this. This is the key. It's to my hotel bedroom. 219 Hotel Imperial. Wait for me there. But, mister... Do as I say. We'll have printed a talk over later. All right. Whatever you say. I'll... Ken! Ken, in back of you! Look out! In back of... Mose. What? Who are you? Can't see. My head, oh. I see you are recovering consciousness at last, Mr. Testot. Yeah. Yeah, it looks like it. Who are you? Colonel Mengus. Turkish military intelligence. At your service. Who's that? Who's that lying beside me? Mr. Kupion. The owner of the shop. Kupion? Why help? Here's a minute, Colonel. This man's dead. As dead as two bullets in his heart can make him, Mr. Teston? Who did it? I will let you supply the answer to that. What? The slugger I have here has been fired twice. It was in your hand. I see. I regret that I must place you under arrest on suspicion of murder. Why not check with Marilyn Kupion first? She can tell you I didn't kill her father. It would be rather difficult to get Miss Kupion to testify, Mr. Teston. Yeah, why? We received a call from the authorities in Kaysiri. Not 30 minutes ago. They have just identified the girl who was killed in your compartment of the train. Her name was Marilyn Kupion. Yes, gentlemen. What can I do for you? I am Colonel Minkus, military intelligence. I wish a key to this gentleman's room. Oh, yes, of course. But wait, Colonel Mankus. That will be impossible. This gentleman is not a guest here. Your memory is slipping. The name's Teston. I visited here about an hour ago. I'm sorry, sir, but there must be some mistake. We have no one here but that name. Here is our book. You can check the registrations for yourself. Thanks, I will. Well, Mr. Teston? There seems to have been a fast shovel around here. My name got lost in it. But we can pin this thing down right now, Colonel Minkus. Just how do you propose to do that? By going up to room 219. What do you say, Monsieur? Say, it's impossible. My bride and I have occupied this room for our entire honeymoon. Is that not correct, mon petit chumam? Are you satisfied now, Mr. Teston? There is none of your luggage here. The windows are unbroken. Oh, I wonder. Monsieur, it is just as I have said. My beautiful one and I have occupied this room for ten gorgeous days. Is that not right, my friend? Oui, à la main, oui. Pardon, Monsieur, Madame, for this intrusion. Good day. Mr. Teston. Mr. Teston, you are now formally under arrest for murder. Military car will be here at any moment. We will wait for it in front of the hotel. You're wasting your time playing with murder, Minkus. There's bigger gain to be found in Ankara. Perhaps, Teston, you will have your opportunity to prove what you say in due course of time. Is that the car you're waiting for? What car is that? Oh, the one right there. This way, Mr. Teston. Good work, Pagon. Now, step on it. Shouldn't we talk about few financial arrangements first, Mr. Teston? Oh, no. Later you would have hit that gas. Absolutely not. I'm a man who believes in cash and aligns strictly. We don't budge one inch until I... Oops, we're off. He's told you the truth. Marilyn Coopian was killed in your compartment on the train. Then what goes? Don't tell me there are two of you. No, Ken. My real name is Evelyn Rosier. I am Marilyn's cousin. She asked me to use her name in Coopian's tobacco shop while she went to the Turkish border to meet your train. Well, I suppose it all adds up, but I still don't see why. Now, let's start from scratch. How did Henry Evers and the Coopians happen to get together? Well, during the war, the Coopians were part of the Allied underground, and Evers asked them to hide some very important papers for him. They were to release them to no one but Evers, to you, Mr. X, and shortly after he left the shop, Evers was murdered. Why didn't the Coopians try to get in touch with me? Well, they knew then that someone was on to them, so they closed the shop and left the country. Then whoever wanted those plans had to wait for them to come back here? Yes. The Coopians returned only last week. Then Marilyn read your visit to Turkey, remembered the papers, and left to turn them over to you on the train. They were in a box of cigarettes. She must have taken along the wrong box. Any idea who might have killed her? It could only have been Lebed, yes. Oh, busy little soul. Who is he? He is a small-time international agent. He works for whoever will pay him the boast. But it was one of his men who knocked you out in the tobacco shop. And who killed Coopian there? That I do not know. When I managed to break away from that man who struck you down, I went to the hotel imperial as you told me to. Only the key you gave me would not open the door. Lucky for you, I saw her trying to open it and offered my invaluable assistance. We compared notes, Ken, and were discussing the situation in the car when you came out with Colonel Menges. A pretty snuff who set up, eh, Mr. Thurston? It boils down, Pagon. Eva's papers are still somewhere in Ankara, and someone's trying to get me out of the way while he finds them. That was the reason he planned that hotel room frame-up to make sure I'd have no alibi, and that Menges will arrest me. Then what do you intend to do, Ken? Hide out until after dark. Then I'm going back to the tobacco shop. Uh-huh. Exactly like I figured. And here is just the place for you to hide. You're kidding. Mr. Thurston, I happen to have a room in that lovely building. It is yours for the asking. At the mother's little rental, of course. How much? Well, considering we've been such good friends all these years, the mere pittance of a thousand piasters or 80 bucks cash. Well... Here you are, Pagon. Absolutely not. I won't take one piaster less. You're giving it to me? What choice do I have? Come on. Believe me, Mr. Thurston, you won't regret this. Such a cozy little nest. Nobody bothers nobody here. Even the mice know this. That I believe. So long, Pagon. Goodbye, Mr. Thurston. Have a pleasant... I'm not going anywhere, this is my room. It was your room. I'm renting it now, remember? But the police are chasing me, Mr. Thurston, for aiding and debating a murderer to escape. Good luck, Pagon. You won't get any more than 20 years. 20 years, Mr. Thurston? Couldn't I possibly sublet a little space from you? Well, the closet, maybe. Maybe. For a snide consideration. I knew you could depend on me. Now, how much? A thousand piasters. A thousand? Oh, Mr. Thurston! Halfway down the alley. In the shadows near the back door of the tobacco shop. Mr. Thurston, that's a man standing there. Just like out in the front. Yeah. Looks like Lebedev's expecting me. He's got all influences covered. But, Pagon, we have to get into that shop. We're going to. We'll move back into the shadow of this loading platform. The wall keeps us hidden from him. Now, if I can move it, I'm sort of... Here's one. What are you going to do with that old tin can? Toss it out down the alley. Like this. Who's there? Figure out before I shoot! He's coming this way. He'll kill us, murder us. Maybe even knock us up conscious. Quiet. All right, let's have it. What the... What are you doing? Just this? Looks like they didn't miss a trick. Unfortunately, they got here before we... A box of cigarettes. Well, well. Mr. Thurston, look at the name of those butts. Henry Evers. Then these are the cigarettes we are looking for. We've found them, Ken. Let's tear open a few of them and see. There is nothing in them, Ken. Nothing but tobacco. We have found a blind trail. Well, maybe not. How many cigarettes did Kupyan pack in a box? Fifteen, I think. Well, there are only eleven here. What happened to the other four? Maybe somebody smoked them. Fans for rockets, don't make good smoking, Pagon. No, Lebedyev must have got them. And if he's only a small-time agent, he won't have contact with any principals. He'll have to sell those plans to someone else. Tell them? To whom? Maybe to someone called Sparrison. Sparrison? Where did you learn about Sparrison? Lebedyev mentioned him on the train. Tried to make me believe he was connected to the murder. What did you know about him? Well, I had forgotten, Ken, but Sparrison was the man the Kupyan suspected of killing Henri Evers. Why, he is as big an international agent as Lebedyev is a small one. Do you know anything about him, where he hangs out? Yes, yes I do. The Kupyans told me Sparrison owned the Byzantium Artwear Company in Istanbul. And if Lebedyev has gone there to sell the plan... Yes, yes. Let's see if we can get him on the building. Wait, Ken. This is the place. The Byzantium Artwear Company. It's a creepy-looking joint. Only those dim lights shining inside. Maybe the place is closed, huh? So we'll have to come back in a datum, huh? What happened? Better luck next time, Pagan. Come on. Pagan is the right, Ken. It does look deserted. Sure, sure. Who'd want to buy any of this old junk anyway? It's the time of the night. Let's come back in the morning, okay, Mr. Reddy? Mr. Reddy came from the gallery in the back. Come on, but stay behind me. I'm one tried to kill him. So he isn't the one who fired at us from the... Look out, down! Ken, you hit him. Yeah, you all right? Yes, yes, I'm all right. What about you, Pagan? Pagan, where are you? Right here, Mr. Thurston. I was running to help you and I got lost in the dark and you hit Ken. He was trying to get away through that window when you... Yeah. But there is a door, Nub. He is one of Lebedev's men. Where is he? Look, look in his hand. Cigarettes. Yes, the fall they were missing from the box at Ankara. Looks like Lebedev's power double-crossed him. Sure. When Lebedev came here to sell them to Spearsen, this guy decided he would make the deal. Ken, open them quickly. I'm afraid these may be duds, too. Oh, no. Wow. The things we've been looking for. Yes. Those? I could take bigger and better pictures with my number 2 brownie. It's microfilm, Pagan. Microfilm of the plans for an atomic rocket. It is? Well, anyways, that no good Spearsen can't gather them now. Don't be too sure, Pagan. What do you mean? You are so right, Mr. X. She's got a gun. Drop yours, Ken, quickly. Sure. Good. Now the microfilm. Throw it to the floor, over here. Why not? Good. And thank you, Ken, for disposing of the opposition. Without your help it would have been more difficult for me. I might have had to pay for these plans. You waited a long time to get hold of them. Haven't you, Miss Spearsen? Of course. Who else could profit so well with them? Tell me, was it second guessing, Ken? Hardly. You gave yourself away to the back of shop in Ankara when you knocked me out. Why, Ken, I cried a warning to you. Oh, yes, so I turned away from you and then woke up with a lump on the back of my head. Very clever, Mr. X. Is that all? Not by a long shot. You knew about the real Marilyn's death when only the killer and the police could have known. Well, even the best of us sleep up now and then. You, for instance. Knowing who I really am, you come to Istanbul with me, hoping to get the plan for the rocket. But I haven't. Now there is nothing left for me but to kill you. And now. Better look behind you before you pull that trigger. Oh, no, Ken. That trick will not work with me. Goodbye, darling. Okay, Colonel Mengers. All right, let me have that dog. No, you let go of me. Not until I have that gun. Take it easy, Pagan. All right, all right now. Nice work, Mengers. You see, Miss Perisson, this time you should look behind you. But even more to the point maybe you should look ahead. Yes. You and all those like you who believe you can terrorize the world with your weapons and power and reap a harvest of destruction and enslaved peoples. Well, you're wrong, Miss Perisson. Dead wrong. The freedom-loving nations of this world will never pay that price for peace. Remember that. Oh, that Mengers, take away. And now, here is our star, Mr. Herbert Marshall. Thanks for being with us. Next week, our story is called One Way to Makassar. It is filled with adventure and mystery in the midst of the islands of Spice at the back door of Asia. I really think you'll enjoy it. As usual, Pagan Zosmit was paid by Leon Bolasco. So join us, won't you, when next I return as The Man Called X. Good night. The Man Called X starring Herbert Marshall is a J. Richard Kennedy production and is directed by Jack Johnstone with music composed and conducted by Felix Mills. Tonight's transcribed story was written by Sidney Marshall. All characters and incidents used are fictitious. And any resemblance to actual persons or incidents is purely coincidental. And so until next week, same time, same station, this is John Storm saying good night for The Man Called X. Three times mean good times on NBC. Tomorrow night on NBC marks the premiere of the Hedda Hopper show. Ms. Hopper, who has been writing about Hollywood and its residents for many years, now brings her personality to the air. During the new Hedda Hopper show, you'll hear your favorite motion picture stars and people of international importance. Listen tomorrow for Hedda Hopper and remember too. Saturday night means your hit parade for the nation's top tunes. So listen on NBC. Now stay tuned for Nightbeat. More good times on NBC.