THE CASE OF COMRADE T

Heat. Heat. [Music] [Applause] [Music] The time is the present. The place an American city. The man Edgar H. Tilman. Alias Arthur Tolbot, alias Eugene Turner, alias Everett Torin. He is known in the Communist Party by the name of Comrade T. Well, comrade, you've failed again. miserably. You're a record. A disgrace. You're a disgrace. You were within my power. I'd give you a shot. But it isn't. Not here. Not yet. Well, comrade, but but enough. Look at your record. One failure after another. Your assignment to the electronic equipment company. A report from the aircraft company, from the chemical company. Worthless. You're not stupid. A fool and a failure. Yes. But you're not stupid. We don't use stupid men. We don't waste our time training them as you've been trained. We must have results. We don't tolerate failure. You don't understand. It hasn't been my fault. You see, these people are no longer as well. I don't think you know what we're up against. No. Look about that electronics company where you learned absolutely nothing. Believe me, it was impossible. That place was really tight. They acted like they knew I was coming and they weren't taking any chances. They had the kind of setup that we don't find very often. Fortunately, the only way in was through the gate on legitimate business. They were running a tight shop, and even before I got in, I could tell it would be tight all the way through. I got in with a confidential clearance as eh Tillman number AH2144 draftsman in the engineering department. My cover story held up and the forged papers prepared by the comrades in our document section got by beautifully. The secret assembly area was my primary target. It was guarded around the clock with admittance by special badges only, issued in exchange for regular badges and only to authorized personnel. Even the top brass had to go through the same routine. They simply weren't taking anything for granted. Everything we wanted was in there in its final form. My assignment was to get it, but I couldn't even get in. There just wasn't any way. My alternative was the usual, gathering items of confidential data as we have so many times before. Items that together add up to a secret picture. It was easy with the drawings I was working on. All I had to do was exercise reasonable care in copying them one section at a time and then take them home. There was nothing to it. I had everything I worked on in no time at all. But I couldn't get my hands on anything else. They'd been sold on buttoning up and they bought all the techniques. Their document control system was perfect, or so close to it that I couldn't figure out a way to crack it. Every classified paper that came into the department was marked, numbered, and logged in. When they follow the system, there's nothing much we can do about it except go to work on people. It was the same thing when the documents were transmitted even within the plant. Trying to subvert the messenger wouldn't have helped either. Those double wrappings made it impossible to do anything that wouldn't be a dead [Music] giveaway. Their working documents were kept in locked files and signed for whenever they were taken out or brought back. That section should have a weak point as it does in a lot of places. What we wanted was right there in those files. All the pieces of confidential data that would add up to the secret picture. All I had to do was figure out the way to get them. The girl in charge was a natural for the standard approach. If she would let me have details of the parts connecting with the ones I was working on, I could do a better job because I'd know more about what I was doing and I'd be glad to sign for them. She understood perfectly, but the planned regulation was that she couldn't release anything unless the individual had an official need to know. Being cleared wasn't enough. She'd be glad to check with the department head if I wanted her to. I stopped her fast and decided to try another way. The reproduction department is a spot where we sometimes can do pretty well. They almost always mess up a couple of copies when they start a run. These rejects may not look pretty, but they're legible. And if I hung around often and long enough, I thought a lot of worthwhile stuff might be picked up. It's a proven technique. But it didn't work here. Everything that wasn't counted and accounted for went into those locked cans for burning, and all the master copies and used stencils went into a safe file. I wasted a lot of time here. Ours, the companies, and mine. Several evenings a week I stayed after quitting time. I kept one step ahead of the guard till he passed the department. The patrol schedule was every 40 minutes. Plenty of time now. Somebody in that department was bound to slip up sometime. I went over every filing cabinet every single time. How many times have we been able to work a drawer open because the bars were put in carelessly? Not this time. I went through every unlocked desk, too. Nothing. I didn't know then that they made a regular practice of changing the patrol schedules periodically. I knew the guard wasn't permitted to search me since he hadn't actually caught me committing a crime. So, I showed him my empty lunchbox and use my prepared cover story. For once, it was a good thing I hadn't found anything. Good for you, perhaps, but not for us. You failed your assignment. Well, I wouldn't have if you'd given me a little more time. Why was I ordered to quit? questioning your orders, Comr? No, certainly not. We have the information now, don't we? Yes, we have the information now. We got it from the newspapers. Yes, we have it now when they want us to have it. And it's too late to do us any good. We needed it when you were there. How long ago, comrade? You know, we always get the information we want in time. Time is what we're fighting for. Perhaps you don't know that information kept secret 3 months, 6 months, a year can make all the difference in the world. But look in your file. My assignment to that aircraft company. Was that a failure? You sent back nothing from there. No, that plant was too tight. But what about the clever way I got the lead to the subcontractor? I worked at the big plant under a new name, just long enough to find the right person to help me unknowingly. It was a girl, a very pretty girl in just the right job in the plant. For the sake of the party, I made her like me, but I couldn't trust her to help me directly. We both knew that the company had a big secret contract coming up. And I told her that I had a friend whose company would be bidding on a subcontract. I told her it would help my friend if he knew who he would be bidding against. I wouldn't ask her to do anything dishonest, but she could tell me who would be bidding, couldn't she? It took a while, but I got the information I was after. a complete list of the subcontractors who would be receiving invitations to bid. She was such a pretty girl and so very helpful. After that, it was simple. A new name, a whole new set of papers, and a new job with one of the subcontractors she told me about. They had been cleared for classified contracts before, but since they didn't have one at the moment, there wasn't any problem. It wasn't long before the papers I wanted came across my desk. The invitation to bid, complete with plans, specifications, schedule requirements, everything. I had the whole story before the equipment even went into production. It was a good plan, and it certainly worked. thanks to the help of my stupid little friend at the aircraft factory. What about that key engineer from the chemical company? Who picked him? I certainly didn't. And who gave me an apartment in his building so that I could arrange to drive him to work every day and make him talk? 45 minutes each way, an hour and a half every day with a man who had exactly what we wanted. I was working in his department and he knew that I was cleared when I got the job at the company. He talked all right about everything except what we wanted to know about. I kept on asking leading questions and he kept saying that I didn't need to know that I was just as well off not knowing. I didn't pick him for a prospect, and it certainly isn't my fault that he wouldn't talk. But it was my idea that turned the trip's home into a potential gold mine. Almost every night, he'd bring an envelope home with him. It was an envelope of work, and it was always unsealed. On the way home, we'd stop at a supermarket to pick up the things his wife had ordered by [Music] phone. We did it regularly, and it would always take at least five or 6 minutes for him to check the items and pay for them. I didn't mind waiting in the least. The test shots I was taking told me that my system really worked or would work whenever he brought classified material along. It was so easy that I always took a couple of shots of things that looked interesting, even though I knew they weren't what we wanted. It was so easy and so safe. Except for that one time when his wife hadn't ordered anything. It was close. All right. But I got away with it that time and all the times after that. It would have been perfect if he'd ever brought home any classified information. In other words, you failed again. It wasn't my fault. It was your fault. An intelligent operative would have gotten the information. He would have made the man talk. Americans are great talkers. Traditionally, they don't know the need for reserve. They believe in free speech. They talk. They brag. Here, look at this. Telling the world that they've got secrets to keep. We know exactly where to send our agents. People who work for these companies are human beings. Tease them, challenge them, laugh at them. It's hard for them not to talk and easy for an intelligent agent to make them talk. Even for a fool like you. Wait, wait. You're right. Look, look. Remember this? I spotted that one, didn't I? You can't see I failed on that one. It was a tight plant, too. Just as tight as that electronics plant. But I got a job the same way with a different name and a beautifully documented cover story. It was so tight they might have had me stopped if I hadn't kept my eyes open and used my head. The break came with a routine phone call asking me to step into the boss's office. I wasn't relaxing even for a moment, but when they did, I was ready for them. The work of several departments funneled through the office. If that girl would talk, she could tell us an awful lot we wanted to know. But there wasn't a chance. Like everybody else in the place, she did everything right. Like it was almost second nature. She was smart, too, and neat and efficient. But she made one little mistake that was a windfall for us. She didn't realize that someone else could transcribe her shorthand notes. That was the first time. After that, I was a frequent visitor to her office until, for some reason, she changed her habits. You can't call that assignment a failure. No, it wasn't a failure. It was just plain luck. Assignments like that are too important to be left to luck. Americans aren't so stupid as to make the same mistake twice. Our agents must succeed by method rather than chance. It's not my fault, I tell you. These people are waking up. They're becoming more and more conscious of our efforts. And the work is getting harder all the time. Yes, it is getting harder. That's why we have to work harder. Now more than ever, we can't afford to fail. We must develop new techniques. We must depend on method rather than luck. Yes, of course. I understand. And that's why you're going to be sent back for further training. Further training? Where? There is only one place. And there they have even less patience with failures than we do. But my work, I I I've told you it's getting difficult. What I'm up against. Other agents aren't failing. Look, I've been trained. You have the reports from the school. I admit I was careless, but well, I won't be again. And think of all the time and money that already has been spent on my training. Better to spend it on new people instead of wasting it on me when all I need is another chance. Think of the opportunities we'd be missing. There's so much even just one man can do. I I don't want to go back. I I don't need to go back. No, it's a privilege. I deserve to go back. Just give me one more chance. I give you my word of honor that I won't fail again. Believe me, I'm I'm only thinking of Well, there goes your boy. I don't know. I hope not. We've been on his trail for a long time. We spotted him when that guard turned him in. We've been tailing him since the engineer from the chemical company reported him. Are you going to pick him up before they send him back? I don't think so. I have to check the office. He's led us to several other members of his apparatus. I don't think they want to scare the others away until we can get them all. Anyway, I don't think they're going to send him back. Actually, he's been doing pretty well, hasn't he? Too well. This is their way of showing appreciation. They want him to do better. Nice people. Yeah. Great. Very well, comrade. We'll recommend that you be given one more chance. But if you should fail again, I won't fail again. What will my next assignment be? What name will I use? You'll be informed. Thank you very much. And you, comrade, just one moment, comrade. Yes. Your contribution to the party fund. I made my contribution to the party fund. Yes, but you've had jobs in American factories at the wages they pay American workers. Make it again. The time is still the present. The man, a traitor to his country, known in the Communist Party by the name of Comrade T, is on his way to a new assignment. For the moment, he is bait for bigger game and is being allowed to continue his assignment. You have the ways and means for stopping him and others like him whose names are not yet known. Their success or failure depends on you. [Music]