 I was a communist for the FBI. Starring Dana Andrews in 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. They never say so, but after a while you learn that no visitors are allowed in the Communist Party. During my nine years as a red, I learned that when you come to the party, you come to stay. Should the visitor try to leave, he immediately becomes a patient. Condition critical. Treatment drastic. And as in this story, not expected to survive. In a moment, listen to Dana Andrews as Matt Sevetik, under cover man. The differential file is marked. The same place, the same faces. Comrade Keller, comrade Richie and the others. The same talk, the same thoughts, treachery. Malicious intent disguised as the philosophy of the proletariat. But there was something wrong. Tensions seemed to crackle through the atmosphere. Comrade Keller, the cell leader, was too withdrawn and distracted. Even reports of party progress hadn't moved him. He was thinking of something else, something he didn't like. It showed in his thin, gaunt face. It even edged in his voice. All right comrades, all right. Make arrangements to stand by for emergency calls. Every one of you is to be available at any time within the next 48 hours. The reason? We have a traitor among us. A traitor! A comrade determined to sell us out. Well, that's a strong accusation, Comrade Keller. Are you sure of this? A direct report from the party police, comrade Sevetik. I thought that you especially would be interested. Was I that traitor? I mean, I was the only one. Was I that traitor? I made a mental roll call of the comies present as we walked toward the door. Ritchie? No. He was Keller's pet groom boy. That brass knuckle of virtue also for the group. They were talking together at the desk right now. Dora? Uh-oh. Radovich. There, it was coming now. The party bird dogs had flushed out a traitor and I... Radik, you stay here. Shut the door. Okay. What's on your mind, comrade? What do you think is on my mind? I've been discussing this situation with comrade Ritchie here. We're taking extreme measures. Extreme measures. Yeah, traitors are unhealthy. This one will be the unhealthiest of them all. Ritchie. You're sure you know this, man Keller? Yes, and you do too. Do I? Comrade, comrade, too active. He knows too much. We know he's been in touch with the FBI. With him? Dumb, comrade, dumb. His name, Stedik, is Kimball, Henry Kimball. Kimball? Yes, the courier for this area. The liaison man for all the cells in this region. He's selling us out to the FBI. I can hardly believe it, Keller. Seems he's been using the payphone in the lobby of his apartment building more than his own phone. A tap was put on it. We learned that Kimball is offered to be the government's surprise witness when our national leaders are brought to trial. Kimball has got to be stopped, Stedik. What do you want me to do? It's got to be quick and clean. It's got to be an accident. Yeah, I'm pretty good at accidents. Ritchie will handle it. And I? You'll stand by in case he needs any help. Great, just great. I read with turning white and I had to help block him out. I vowed my allegiance to Ritchie, told him to call me if he needed me, then headed for a phone booth. A booth as far from coming headquarters as possible. I dialed the FBI and talked to my contact. Beaker, this is Red. Hi, something wrong? Yeah, who's Henry Kimball? One of your comrades, why? What else is he? What is he to the FBI? Are they tagged in that? Yeah, tagged and labeled for the obsolete file. We need him for that trial, Matt. He's volunteered to come. I know it. The whole party knows it. Fine, fine. There's a goon on his trail right now, Beaker. You better get to him. Okay, we'll find him. I'm just a few blocks from his apartment. I'll check up there. Be careful, O'Chump. We don't want to overcrowd their obsolete file. From the street outside Kimball's apartment house, I could see a light shining in his flat. That was good. The FBI took him safely away. Oh, Kimball. Oh, hello, Richie. What do you want, Betty? Put that gun away and I'll tell you. I thought you might be Kimball. You were told to stand by for orders. What are you doing here? I came here to get Kimball out and he opened. The kind of accidents we want can't happen in his own apartment. No, come on in. Weirdly shows up. Suppose he doesn't show up. The party's got a net out room. When someone spots him, headquarters gets word fast. I check in by phone every ten minutes. Hey, sit down. Make yourself at home. Kimball won't be using this place much longer. I sat down. Richie paced the room, glancing at his watch every few seconds. Finally, it was time for him to call Keller again. Had anyone seen Kimball yet? They spotted him. Right of his song just a few minutes ago. He's driving that blue convertible to his. He's heading toward Ocean Highway. Well, let's go. Uh-uh, not you. Why not? This is a big fat one, Svedic. This one is all mine. About three, four minutes ago, Beaker, Kimball's headed for Ocean Highway. So's Richie. Get there first, Beaker. For heaven's sake, get there first. After that, there was nothing to do but wait. I went to party headquarters and waited with Comrade Keller. Keller was a wreck, pacing, circling the phone, waiting, circling, pacing, waiting, waiting, waiting. Stop filming those fingers, Svedic! Sorry. Why doesn't he call? Why, why? Take it easy, Keller. He'll call. He'll call when he's done. Wait a minute, I'll go. Hello? What do you mean? He saw me following him, changed his course. Hand, hand, hand? Yeah, an accident. It was gone right off the road. Those cliffs are high. I'd say it was a fatal. Mission completed. The red mission completed. Kimball had tried to leave the commie road for the straight and narrow, but he wasn't careful enough. It had led him right over a cliff. Now, Comrade Keller, there's no longer a clue. Fatal accidents were great fun to Keller. News like that relaxed him. What could be funnier? What could be more amusing? No, Svedic. And now to report our success to control conditions. You think they'll enjoy it as much as you, Keller? I'm sure they will. Yeah, you're probably right. Tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, first thing, our cell will meet to find a way to weed out the other traitors. This may be fun after all, Svedic. More fun than we expected, Earth Svedic. So Keller left to meet with the control commission and I went home. It was difficult to sleep at night. The next morning at the cell meeting it was obvious that Keller had had even more difficulty than I. He wasn't laughing anymore. His eyes were red-rimmed and sunken. The cheeks were even more hollow than he was. He looked grim and he had good reason. You saw the newspapers coming at you? You read these papers? I'll read them for you. I'll read them to you just as the control commission read them to me when the edition hit the street. Listen. Government witness in mystery accident. Henry Kimball, a communist courier who had secretly volunteered to testify as a government witness in the forthcoming trial of red party leaders was found seriously injured last night. You're here, not dead, not dying. You're seriously injured. FBI agents arrived on the scene of the accident only minutes after it occurred. A spokesman for the Bureau reported that they had good reason to believe Kimball's mishap had been pre-arranged and pre-medicated. You wonder why I'm upset? You wonder why I act this way? Well, I wonder how the FBI just happened to be so close to the scene of the accident. I wonder why they believed the accident was pre-arranged. Well, what have you to say? What does anyone to say? Comrade Keller. I noticed that Comrade Ritchie is absent this morning. He'll be absent every morning from now on, Stedick. He failed at his most important assignment. He'll suffer the same penalty as any traitor of the cause. Now, what about Kimball, Comrade? What if he lives? If he lives, he'll have more to say than ever before. Well, you said you knew there were other traitors in league with Kimball, didn't you? Yes, Comrade, and it's time we found them. Kimball must be silenced completely and the traitors must be found. All right, that's all, Comrade. I said that's all, that's all. Get out, all of you. All of you, out, out, out. All but you. Yes, Comrade Stedick, you. You stay right here. But what? For good reasons, Stedick. For very good reasons. Calling as Matt Stedick and I was a communist for the FBI and the second act of our story. For the second time in two days, Keller had dismissed the cell and ordered me to stay. That'd be the first time. But this time, this time, he'd found a leak in the party line. He was looking for its cause and he'd ordered me to stay. He was looking right at me. For good reasons, Stedick. Very good reasons. May I sit down? No. What do you want? I spent the entire night with the control commission, Stedick. We had no time to sleep. When the newspapers came out, they talked and I listened. Yeah, that's fine. To be sure you're the right man. I still don't know what you're talking about. I'm talking about Henry Kimball. He's still alive in that hospital. Can you blame me for that? No, you imbecile, of course not. Then what? I made a grave mistake assigning Kimball's accident to a fool like Richie. Richie failed. You'll have to succeed. You want me to murder Kimball? It's got to be done. If he lives, he'll testify at that cryo. At this point, the job needs intelligent handling, fast-thinking, polished technique. But Kimball's in a hospital. The FBI probably has a security screen around him that you think... Exactly why we need a man like you. And if I fail? You won't fail. Richie failed. You know what happened to him. Guarded like Fort Knox. Beaker, I've got to get into that hospital. No, Matt. Look, if I don't get in, the party will send another red to do the job on Kimball. And his intentions would be a lot less honorable than mine. No one's permitted in there without clearance, Matt. Well, you can clear me, can't you? It may be rough, Matt. If I don't make it look good to the commie speaker, I'm a dead pigeon, and they'll send someone else to get Kimball. Okay. Get out of the hospital first thing tomorrow. Apply for a job as a ward attendant. I'll see that you're assigned to Kimball's ward. I followed Beaker's instructions. It wasn't too difficult. Every hospital in town was crying for help, experienced throughout a while. I wasn't told, but I knew that my application would have to be cleared by the FBI because of the security screen around the place. Beaker saw to it that the application was pushed through fast. Even Keller was surprised when I told him I was fired. Without experience, Betty? It seems impossible. They're short of health, Keller. That's no secret. You locate the room, of course. You'll waste no time. That's your first opportunity. You enter that room. And then what? This? A half-a-dermot. I don't know how to do it. Sheryl's technique won't be necessary in the arm, leg, anywhere. One injection of this fluid is all he'll need. This hypo will take care of everything. A hospital at night, and the uninitiated seems to be alive with sounds that emphasize the silence. A faraway cough, a moan, or the hiss of labored breathing coming in the darkened room. I wasn't a very efficient ward attendant. My clumsiness irritated the nightmares beyond words. She found every excuse to be away from me. That part was fine. It gave me a chance to empty the poisonous fluid from the syringe Keller had given me and refill it with sterile water. At least if I had to administer this to Kimball, it wouldn't do any harm. Matt! Matt, answer me! What? Oh, yes, ma'am. Bring me that tracheotomy tray and hurry up. Which tray? The tracheotomy tray is on the second shelf and hurry. This patient is... And next time you work nights, don't wear leather heels. This is a hospital, not a dance floor. Oh, I'm sorry. You better fill the water features in the room. We'll be busy later. All the rooms? All of them. I can't leave this patient now. I thought 412 was restricted. It is, but you've been cleared. You can enter 412. Oh, listen to that. It's a sorry state of affairs when a ward attendant has to be cleared to fill water pictures. Go on, go on. There won't be time later. Room 412 was Henry Kimball's room. I visited every room on the floor before entering that room. I didn't know what to do. What could I possibly do with my plakie, the commies, without actually harming Kimball? Never to plainclothes men or perhaps a federation stationed at the door to Kimball's room. He'd been watching me casually as I made my round. I hoped he'd stop me. But he didn't. He just nodded and smiled. After all, I was just another hospital employee, cleared by the FBI. Inside Kimball's room, the night light was glowing dimly near his bed. Kimball lay still. Very still. As I approached his bed, though, he would keep toast with this thing. I scooted around the bed, filled a small water-pigeon in the large one I was carrying. Okay. Okay, Mr. Kimball. There you are. Just turn your head a little bit so I can get this to you, ma'am. Get this to you, ma'am. You're shredded. You're shredded! You're a red commie. He told me there wouldn't be any commies here. He said the Reds couldn't find me. You're a red. You're a commie. Moose! Moose, he's a Red! He's trying to kill me! He's trying to kill me! He killed me! No! No! That did it. The man guarding Kimball's room thought to it that I was relieved of my duty fast. I'd been called a commie. Maybe the patient was just hysterical or delirious or out of his mind. But maybe Kimball was telling the truth too. I was taken into custody. The guard called the local FBI office. The car was sent for me. I was taken downtown. Then I waited. Then waited. Then waited. There was activity behind the doors in the inner office. Voices. Tealing my doom, no doubt. But Beaker warned me that he probably couldn't help me. I got caught. They were motioning me inside now. FBI men who had no idea I was risking my neck to help them. None of them knew. None of them... All right, fellow. Thanks a lot. I'll handle Svetika alone. Hello, Beaker. She knows I probably couldn't help you. I know. I know. Well, where do I go from here? Back to the Reds. What? Yeah, you've been cleared. Go on now, take off. In math. For Pete's sake, be careful. I can't afford to lose all his sleep. There was still a few hours left in the morning. I spent them walking the streets. Kimball was safe. But how safe was I? I'd hoped to find some means of keeping the Reds happy. Something to make them think I'd done my job for them and done it well. But now, there's no chance of that. No chance of... Wait. Just one big fat minute. Well, Svetik, how'd you make out with Kimball? Speak up, Svetik. What happened? What's wrong with you? I want an audience with a control commission, Keller. And I want it now. What are you talking about? You heard me? I want a report. What happened with Kimball? I want to know. After I see the control commission. You! You! You! All right. All right. You'll see the control commission, all right. And they'll see that you suffer the penalty for failure, for insubordination, for... Come on. And Comrade Commissioner, this fool was assigned to follow your orders to administer that hypo to Kimball. And he failed, Comrade. Failed. This is food, Svetik. It's true, Comrade Commissioner. I did not give Kimball a hypo. I suggest you explain and explain fully. Sure. When I entered Kimball's room, I found him in a semi-delirious state. So, go on. He was ranting and raving about the fate of his friends. Not Comrade, my youth. Friends. He wanted to know if they'd be treated the same way by the party. Would they be killed? Would they meet accident? As he did. These were the worries he was ranting about. So, go on. Go on. I knew if I waited long enough, I'd learn the identity of those friends. I'd discover who the other traitors are. The ones preparing to sell us out. You did I. Go on. You learned the names? Yes, I did. Who? One of them was Comrade Ritchie. Oh, no wonder he didn't finish the job on Kimball. And the other was Comrade Keller. What? You Keller? You? He's crazy, Comrade Commissioner. He's lying by insufficient evidence. Maybe this is stronger. This? The hypodermic? Yes. This is the hypo Keller gave me to poison Kimball. Go on. Check its contents. You'll find that poison to be nothing but plain sterile water. He's lying. I tell you, I swear he's lying. He's lying. You can't believe him. You can't, you can't. You Comrade Sretik, you may go now. No, no, don't let him go. He's lying. Stop. You may go, Comrade Sretik. Yeah, I'm a hero. But be careful, Beaker. They won't give up on Kimball, you know. They couldn't get in without our help, and we don't intend to help any authentic red. How's Kimball's health? Better. Doctor says he's out of danger. How about you, man? Are you? Out of danger? For the moment I am. Just for the moment. That was all. I hung up, stepped out of the phone booth, and walked away. Where to? Which way? Home? No. Too many memories. Too many shadows heavy with might have been. The party headquarters? Oh, I'd be welcome there, all right. But I couldn't go like that. Not so soon. Friends? There are no friends when you walk this road. There can be no friends when you walk. And Druze will return in just a moment. This is Dana Andrews' friends. You can't give people freedom. They have it to begin with. You can give them tyranny, but not for long. But tyranny is no substitute for democracy. It's a challenge. And as long as there is an America, that challenge will be accepted. In this story, as in all others, names, dates, and places are fictitious to protect innocent persons. Many of these stories are based on incidents in the life of Matt Severick, who worked undercover for the FBI. Next week, another fantastic adventure. Join us then, won't you?