01x07 - The Devil's Platform

[bunniefuu]

The old cliché
that politics makes strange bedfellows...

is only too true.

At one time or another, various and
sundry politicians have found themselves,

when it proved expedient,
of course,

sharing a blanket with the
m*llitary, organized crime...

disgruntled, g*n-toting
dairy farmers,

the church, famous athletes,
the comedians... the list is endless.

But there was a senatorial race
not so long ago right here in Illinois...

where the strangest bedfellow
of all was found under the sheets.

The strangest...

and certainly
the most terrifying.

July , Springfield, Illinois.

Eric Berringer, self-made millionaire
and heavy contributor to many causes...

was driving to a late candlelight
supper with his wife, Vivian.

He didn't know it, of course, but his
last supper had been the night before.

August , Lake Michigan.

Dennis De Silva, former
advertising genius...

and now speechwriter for
the incumbent Senator Talbot,

was cruising on the family
schooner, sh**ting Star.

Never was a boat so aptly named.

August . Preelection
time in the Windy City.

Oh, sorry.

The people's candidate...

Fearless, independent
and energetic.

Why can't the people's candidate be like
the rest of us... timid, insecure and lazy?

Palmer's rise
had been meteoric...

From obscurity to a well-appointed,
spacious suite of offices...

high up in the Brandon Building.

Palmer was good copy.

From nowhere to odds-on
favorite candidate for state senator.

No one knew where in
the hell he came from.

Meanwhile, up on the th floor,

Stephan Wald, Palmer's
recently hired campaign manager,

a veteran of two honestly run congressional
campaigns, was telling him where to go.

- Palmer, you are a crook.
- Oh, now, Steve.

Steve, why don't you save those colorful
descriptive phrases for the opposition, huh?

Don't you try to con me. I went back to
see your old constituency in Dantonville.

Oh, you didn't
miss a trick, did you?

Bribery, extortion,
misappropriation of funds.

Those accusations are made
all the time in politics,

especially when
you win elections.

You didn't win that election. You stole
it. You bought it with laundered money.

But you're not gonna buy the state
senate, not with me as your bag boy.

I like the way you've
run the campaign, Steve.

I'm going on to bigger things. I'd like you
with me. But if you're determined to quit...

You don't seem to
get the picture, Bob.

I'm not just quitting.
I'm blowing the whistle.

That would be a mistake.
We better talk about it.

Sure. I'll talk about it,
to the D.A.

- I can't let you do that.
- You can't stop me.

Mr. Wald,
you forgot your brief...

I was a young man
when I started waiting for that elevator.

But there's two things that just can't be
rushed... anyone who is paid by the hour...

and an office building elevator.

Stephan Wald's stock in
life was about to bottom out.

- Get the crowbar.
- Yeah.

Some
advice for pedestrians...

When you're run over
by a strange dog,

if you can't get his number,
at least get his license tag.

The
events in the elevator...

made me late for my
appointment with Robert Palmer.

They told me at his office that
he'd left for a televised debate.

I was heartily disliked at
that particular TV station,

so I settled for observing the
debate in the stimulating atmosphere...

of one of Chicago's
gentleman's clubs.

It's a double play...

Owen to Walker to Jefferson.
And that'll do it for the Cubs.

After four innings of play, for Chicago, no runs,
two hits, no errors, three men left on base.

Hey, Louie.

- Take off your hat and catch the game.
- No. No, thanks.

- But there is one thing I would like.
- The name of a good tailor?

- No.
- A drink?

You know I never drink when
I'm in uniform. Could I use your telephone?

There's a pay phone
in the men's room.

Since when do I have to wash
my hands before I use a telephone?

Now, tell me. Have I ever taken
advantage of our friendship?

- Not yet.
- Well, I'm about to.

- looks back at second base.
- Change that ball game to channel , huh?

That's an educational channel.

That's right. Don't you want to learn
who your new senator is gonna be?

I don't even know
who my last senator was.

That's what I love about you, Louie. You're
really into the important heart of things.

- Here's the pitch. Benell swings.
It's a ground ball... - Go on, channel .

- Hello, is Tony there?
- The issues between our two candidates...

Senator Talbot...

and his challenger, dark horse
of the opposition, Bob Palmer.

- Never mind.
- Ladies and gentlemen, unfortunately Mr. Palmer...

is not here in the studios
at the scheduled airtime,

and his campaign headquarters
has no comment...

Where's our white knight?
Getting his charger reshod?

We return to the program
now in progress,

starring Alice Faye and John
Payne in Musical Holiday.

Who you voting for, Kolchak?

Personally, I've always liked Alice
Faye. She's got the biggest eyes.

The
pitcher, Torres of Boston.

Again, a one, two, three inning.

Now, listen, Updyke, our
evening subscribers go to press by : p.m.,

and they damn well better
have a verdict by then.

Well, write it both ways. If he's innocent,
we'll save the guilty story for somebody else.

Did you get the elevator
story on the wire?

Oh, boy, did I get it on the
wire! Here's a picture of the dog.

Strange, isn't it? That that particular
elevator dropped like a b*mb.

What do you mean, particular?

Stephan Wald was on that
elevator. Now he's dead.

Well, you would be too
if you dropped floors.

Unless I was a lucky dog, hmm?

Stephan Wald was Robert
Palmer's campaign manager.

- I'm not following you, Carl.
- Remember Eric Berringer? Hmm?

Couple of weeks ago, he flew his car nonstop
right off the cliff down to the bottom of a gorge?

Well, he was a heavy
political contributor, yeah.

And Dennis De Silva, yeah?

He was the chief speechwriter for
Senator Talbot... gone. Finished. Out.

Yeah, but nobody's so much
as whispered foul play.

And the authorities,
apparently, are unconcerned.

What authorities? Listen, the Titanicwas
full of authorities. Look what happened.

Neville Chamberlain was an authority.
Look where we... The Second World w*r.

Carl, do not wax professorial.

It just happens to be, uh, a
string of accidents, that's all.

It's striking both sides of the political fence.
That makes it obvious that it isn't motivated.

- Sure. Terrific.
- Did you put the story on the wire?

- Sure, it's on the wire.
- Did you insinuate anything in the elevator story?

Which political party did
you point your finger at?

Who's gonna sue us now?

Tony, would I... -
Remember what happened last year?

If I want
to say it, I'll write it!

- Miss Emily!
- Buongiorno!

Welcome home from your
vacation. Did you have a good time?

Absolutely marvelous.

Italy is just themost
beautiful place on Earth.

Oh, you should be very proud
of your heritage.

Rome was magnificent.

The Trevi Fountain
and the Spanish Steps.

And one day, we almost
met "Lina Jollobrigida."

- Really?
- Yeah. Well, that's, uh, that's very good.

Very good. Well, now that we're all
rested, we can get back to work, can't we?

- Yes.
- Terrific.

- This is for you, if you're hungry.
- Who? For me?

- Oh, well.
- Is that for me?

- Yes. And this is for you.
- Oh.

For me? Oh, Miss Emily,
you shouldn't have.

Well, let's see what's in here. Well,
they certainly wrapped this very well.

Well, let's see.
What do we have here?

Artichoke pasta?

Well, it's not
available in this country.

And it has half the calories
of regular spaghetti.

Uh, that's because it's made of
artichoke paste instead of flour.

Oh, it's a hat.

Well, Carl, now you can get rid of
that bird feeder you been wearing.

Go ahead. Try it on.

Uh...

- Do you like it?
- Oh! It's-It's-It's-It's... marvelous.

- What else did you get?
- Oh, well, now...

- this is for Ron, and this is for one of the girls.
- Uh-huh. Uh-huh.

- And, uh, this. This is for me.
- Well, wh-what is that?

Well, it's holy water. And it was
blessed by Pope Paul VI himself.

- Really?
- You know, I had once planned to enter the priesthood.

And then the Inquisition ended
and all the fun went out of it for you.

Thank you very much, Miss Emily.

- Get in here! I want to talk to you.
- Yes, sir.

Excuse me.

Oh! Oh, Marge.

Don't push your luck, Kolchak. You've already
rubbed me the wrong way on the elevator story.

Tony, I just mentioned that another death
israther unusual. That's all that I meant.

- This is your dog picture?
- Yeah, that's my... What happened to it?

It disappeared. Tony, it was right
there in the solution. I saw it as it...

Get me Henry De Witt
of the Dantonville Herald.

In Dantonville!

Carl, maybe the dog just ran off. You
know, his master's voice and all that?

No. No, Tony, it was...
It was in the pan.

Carl, get back to work, will
you? Just do the Palmer interview.

Find out why he missed that TV debate yesterday.

Hello. Henry,
Tony Vincenzo here.

Yeah, fine.
How's yourself?

Look, uh, Henry,
I'll tell you why I called.

I've got a reporter here
called Carl Kolchak...

who's just burning to do an
in-depth piece on Robert Palmer.

And I knew Palmer was
from your area, so, uh...

Well, you should be proud of him,
Henry. You've got a ton of material?

Look, Henry, will you do me a favor and send
over a packet here to Kolchak at the office?

Thank you very much, Henry.

- Tony, I saw it. It was in the picture.
- Kolchak, go!

Go.

Go. Just go.

Thinks I'm some kind of sl*ve.
The medieval years are over.

Go! Go. Go.

Welcome home, Miss Emily.

For a
man who seemed to be a comer,

Mr. Palmer certainly picked
a weird time to absent himself.

- Mrs. Palmer?
- Yes.

Carl Kolchak,
Independent News Service.

I was supposed to
interview your husband.

- I'm sorry. My husband isn't home right now.
- Do you know where he is?

- No.
- Well, he's well-known for being prompt and perfect.

Uh, aren't you worried
about his disappearance?

Oh, I don't think
he's disappeared.

Bob is always running off to secret
meetings in smoke-filled rooms.

I'm sure we'll hear from him.

Well, as long as we're here, why don't we have
a little chat? You can talk about your husband.

- What does the candidate like?
- Privacy.

Your
name's Lorraine, isn't it?

Yeah. But you can
call me Mrs. Palmer.

Uh, thank you, Mrs. Palmer.

Uh, what's it like
living with Bob?

- He's perfect.
- I wish I were.

- So do I. Good night.
- Uh, before your husband became a senatorial candidate,

not much was known about him,
and his background is very sketchy.

- It's hard to fit together.
- It's very late.

And if you want answers, I'm afraid
you'll have to go to my husband for them.

- Well, that's... What I'm trying
to do is find some... - Good night.

Expletive deleted.

Whew!

Good evening.

Did you at least find out
where he'd been?

- Yes, of course.
- Where?

- He said he had been in a deep depression.
- Well, aren't we all?

Stephan Wald's death
upset him, he said.

He was still too upset to
grant me an interview, he said.

- But he looked as calm as a Buddha, a plastic Buddha.
- When do we get the interview?

Tony, I had a small accident, uh, that I'd
like to put a voucher in to get repaired on.

Why don't we wait? Maybe it'll
heal by itself. What happened to it?

Would you believe me if I
told you that the same dog...

that jumped out
of the elevator at me...

- showed up in front of Palmer's house and att*cked me?
- No.

Would you believe that
two plus two equals four?

- When do we get the interview, Carl?
- When do I get my coat repaired?

Are you trying to tell me that you're
concerned about the way you look?

Miss Emily brought you that nice new hat and
you insist on wearing that eyesore. Why, Carl?

- What don't you like about this hat?
- What's under it.

August , : a.m.

An early morning phone call from
the late Stephan Wald's secretary...

brought the usually
sartorial Robert Palmer...

to an unexpected meeting
at a spot in Lincoln Park...

historically reserved
for lovers.

You made it.

You made it sound urgent. Any
particular reason to meet here?

I thought it would be a good
chance for us to be alone together.

I'm very busy.

I can remember when
you always had time for me.

I don't ever remember having
time for aimless chatter, Susan.

Hmm. Robert T. Palmer,
young man in a hurry.

You don't need me
anymore, do you?

- Mm. Easy come, easy go.
- Right.

- Is this it?
- Not quite.

You remember the day Steve
got k*lled in that elevator accident?

I'm trying to
forget that, Susan.

He wasn't only my campaign
manager, he was a good...

I ran into the hall just as you and Steve
got in the elevator. He forgot his briefcase.

- So?
- I went through it.

Well, are you gonna tell me
what you found?

A sealed envelope addressed
to the district attorney.

What was in it?

Facts, figures, dates, names.

Enough information to start
a whole investigation.

You know, Bob, we
both underestimated each other.

I don't know how you got out of that
elevator, but you won't get out of this.

Will money do it?

Got nothing else going for me.

No!

I know I pumped six
sh*ts in that dog. I don't believe it.

- Hey, you better call an ambulance.
- Yeah.

Roger. This is rescue unit .

Proceeding to Queen of Angels
Hospital with dog att*ck victim.

Name... Driscoll, Susan Marie.
Address... Coriander Way.

The name rang a faint
bell from the time I'd visited Palmer's office.

I figured there are dog
bites and there are dogbites.

Usually, they don't
send you to the hospital.

However, I knew one canine
who could do that kind of work.

Hey, where do you think you're
going? You can't go in there.

The dog att*ck victim,
Susan Driscoll?

- She was just rolled into emergency.
- Yeah? Messed up?

Bad. The ambulance drivers think that she'll
make it. But, of course, they're not doctors.

Yeah. Sure, sure. Uh, did you,
uh... Wh-What kind of dog was it?

- He was big.
- What color was he?

He was, uh, black and brown.

- Black and brown. Did you get a sh*t at it?
- Yes, sir.

- Did you hit it?
- Possibly.

What do you... Possibly?
What do you mean possibly?

Do I have to drag it out of you?
How far away were you from him?

Oh, several paces.

Several paces? Paces? What is
that, three feet? Thirty feet? What?

Well, it was the
damnedest thing that I ever seen.

I mean, we were point-blank.

And, of course, we get shook sometimes
when we have to fire our weapons,

but we weren't that shook.

- Yeah.
- Now, the dog...

The dog seemed to
like the firepower.

- What?
- He didn't move.

He just stood there. I ain't
never seen nothing like that.

- That's weird.
- Yeah. But you can't go in there.

- Well, can I at least get a picture of you?
- Yeah. Go right ahead.

Okay. Thank you very much.

Thank you very much.

Are you trying to tell me that
there was nothing mysterious...

about this
Susan Driscoll's death?

- Are you a medical journalist?
- No, of course not.

Why should I bother wasting my
time explaining something technically...

that you obviously
wouldn't grasp?

Come on, come on, turn off
the bubble machine, Doc.

It's not technical, medical
nonsense that you're worried about.

It's legal technicalities. Flak from
upstairs. That I understand very well.

Well, I'm a doctor, Mr. Kolchak, and I am
not some functionary who is paid by the hour.

- I don't fear my superiors.
- Oh, goody-good for you.

Yes, it is good for me.

Okay, Doc.

Then, uh, when your superiors see the
story, they will read that Susan Driscoll...

d*ed under
mysterious circumstances.

Mr. Kolchak.

You called?

What's mysterious about it?

- You a crime reporter?
- You know I'm not.

Well, then how could I
possibly explain to you...

the technical side
of putting a story together?

You couldn't possibly grasp it.

Miss Driscoll d*ed of hemolysis.
Cerebral vascular blockage.

- I think she was m*rder*d.
- And I think you're irrational.

She was in a deep state of
shock from the dog att*ck.

She had what is
commonly called a stroke.

- And that's your statement?
- Mm-hmm.

How does the song go, Kolchak?
"Different strokes for different folks."

Had a checkup lately?

The Kolchak family album?

Listen, I'm trying to identify a breed
of dog here. Maybe you can help me.

See, the animal had a body
something like this,

but it had a big head like this.

- See, with pointed ears. But it had red-orange eyes.
- Sounds like a mongrel.

Well, I thought mongrels were
even-tempered and nice, friendly dogs.

This one tried to k*ll me.

Well, dogs are instinctive
judges of character.

Well, it's the paws, you see.

I mean, this one had five toes on it, and I
can't seem to find it anywhere in the book.

No domesticated normal dog has five
toes, only wild dogs from Africa or Asia.

If you met one of those, you'd certainly know
it. They're the most ferocious of wild animals.

What is this, Updyke,
Zoo Parade?

Don't you have an assignment
you should be working on?

Tony, wild dogs only
have five toes, but this dog...

Yeah, I heard, I heard.
They have five toes.

Maybe one of them
can work the typewriter.

Maybe one can even replace you
and get more work done.

Oh, that's funny. That's
really very funny. I'm working.

Oh, are you? Weren't you
supposed to be covering...

the incumbent Senator Talbot's
question-and-answer session with the public?

Nothing is going to
happen there. Nothing.

He's gonna dish out the usual pabulum,
just like all the rest of the politicians.

Senator, according to the latest
polls, you're trailing by a sizable margin.

Do you have any comment on that?

Well, Dan, people still pick
their leaders in the voting booth,

not by answering pollsters.

And we haven't reached
voting day yet.

Does that mean we can expect some big
developments between now and election day?

Like one of your famous bombs
to drop on Mr. Palmer.

Now, what kind of a b*mb
could I drop on Mr. Palmer?

He's as pure as the
driven snow, by what I hear.

Anyway, for right now, I'm gonna get
away from all of this for just one day,

join my wife and family
up at Lake Hollow.

Oh, thank you all and God bless.

- Listen, there's one other thing, Senator.
- No more comments.

Senator, are you surprised at the
support that Mr. Palmer has gotten?

Listen, I'll tell you what. If we could
arrange a debate between you and Mr. Palmer,

would you be interested in that?

It's not going to work.
No, sir.

All right, Senator,
enjoy your holiday.

What's wrong with that maniac?

I'd been a little
late for my assignment on Senator Talbot...

and knew that Vincenzo
would go through the roof.

But now I had a new story, one I
was sure Vincenzo wouldn't like...

That political campaigns are generally
littered with pollsters and rhetoric,

but this one was littered
with corpses.

Listen, Talbot
wasn't sloshed, was he?

Uh, we don't know. The
coroner's making a full report.

Wouldn't make any difference though.
The other car swerved into him head-on.

- No. Any skid marks?
- Only from this car.

- This one, Talbot's?
- Yeah.

Well, that other driver must have
been stoned right out of his gourd.

Either that or he had a
heart att*ck. One or the other.

Uh, we don't know.
Haven't found him yet.

You're kidding.
Nobody, but nobody,

even including Lee Petty,
walks away from a wreck like this.

- Well, somebody did.
- You got a make on the car?

Yeah. Stolen from an
orthodontist over in Decatur.

Oh, that's terrific.
Just terrific.

Well, there's no blood. You would've
had to use a torch to cut him out.

- How didhe get out?
- Well, we haven't got any answers.

I'll do you a favor.
I won't quote you on that.

Oh, boy.

Why do I eat at Manny's?

What are the first symptoms
of botulism? Do you know?

Sorry, Carl, am I
keeping you from something?

Oh, hi, Tony.

Well, Palmer isn't Irish,
but he sure is lucky, isn't he?

Well, it's terrible
about Senator Talbot,

but it doesn't necessarily
mean that Palmer is a shoo-in.

Oh, no, no, of course not. No, the governor
will just appoint an interim senator...

to fill out Talbot's term.

Somebody that Palmer can just
walk right over come election day.

Well, since Palmer
is gonna be senator,

doesn't it behoove you all
the more to get off your duff...

and write something about him?

- Doesn't this smell to you, Tony?
- What does?

This campaign's had more
fatalities than a Labor Day weekend.

And who breezes through it, just cool as
a cucumber, right into a legislative seat?

- Yeah.
- I mean, unexplained accidents,

medical puzzles,
driverless cars, huh?

Well, with some digging, we
could turn up a political scandal.

And, boy, that would sell. That would
put a news outfit right on the map.

- Mm-hmm.
- But it could also wipe one out, Carl.

And everywhere this hound,
this canine beast...

Well, I don't mind political
exposés if the facts are there.

But, Kolchak, why does our political
exposé have to have a dog in it?

- Uh-huh, but it's not any particular dog, Tony.
- It's a dog, Carl.

Now, I don't wanna hear
anything more about it.

Why do I ever get
my hopes up with you?

- Hey, Bernie.
- Hi.

- Uh, two bucks. Postage due.
- What's this?

Oh, that's from Henry De
Witt, the Dantonville Herald.

That's the Palmer material.

Now look, read it. Write up something I
can use. Something constructive, sensible.

Uh, first, Uncle Sam
wants two bucks.

- Don't look at me, look at him. He ordered it.
- Yeah, two bucks.

Uh, all right, come on in
here, Bernie. I'll give it to you.

Hmm.

Oh.

- Here, let me help you.
- Thank you, Ron.

Oh, no, no, no, not there. Put
them on Carl's desk. They're for him.

Thanks, Emily.

Why won't Vincenzo do
something about that elevator?

Hmm.

- Find what you're looking for yet?
- Mm-mmm.

Well, I went all the way over to
the Parklawn branch to get these.

"Satanism."

"Power Through Witchcraft."

You're not gonna be reading these
things on into the night, are you?

Mm-hmm.

Well, whatever turns you up.

On, Emily, on.

I've got it!

Uh, please, Mr. Vincenzo,

something has simply got to
be done about that elevator.

Tony, here it is. Here it is,
right here. See, the amulet.

First the dog had it, and now Palmer's
wearing it. See, right in the picture. See?

I'm not a complainer.
You know that.

See, devil worshippers make pacts,
contracts with the prince of darkness.

- What's the normal heartbeat?
- They achieve great wealth, power, high office, whatever,

- but they sell their souls to the devil.
- Now, how much could it cost?

One of these days, someone's heart is
just gonna give out climbing those stairs.

The devil confers upon them
the power to transform themselves.

Now please, Carl, let me finish,

and then you can have
your little chat.

My own sister's husband dropped
dead simply climbing to the attic.

Of course,
he was overweight too.

Tony, Tony,
Palmer is an evil incarnate.

He is going to go all the way to
the White House, to the Oval Office.

Tony!

That's what's wrong with
this country. Nobody cares.

Try to warn them.
Do they listen? No.

Nobody listens.
Nobody cares.

Try to do a job and...

Your nose is
growing longer, Ron.

It's okay, Emily.
God will understand.

I hope.

Don't stay late.

Sometimes
if you want a job done right,

you just have to
foul it up yourself.

The local real estate scam
had it that the Palmer house...

had once belonged
to a defrocked minister,

but it looked like the house
inGone With the Wind,

only this one
had gone to the dogs.

I noticed the Palmers
were conversing in a downstairs den.

So, not wanting to disturb them, I looked
for the press entrance. There was none.

But where there's a window, there's a way.

Bob, you have got to
get out of this.

You talk about this as though it were
another boring luncheon with your mother,

as though I can go to
a phone and call it off.

I love the way you take
that civilized tone with me.

Don't you realize the
trouble you're in? We are in?

Don't you realize what we're
dealing with? Who we're dealing with?

There are no clauses or subparagraphs in
the contract which allow you to back out.

Then there must be a way,
a church or a minister?

A church. Now really,
Lorraine, grow up.

I have no intention
of backing out.

Yes, it is costly.

But there's the old American
adage, "You get what you pay for."

I'm afraid.

Bob, let's drop the whole thing...
the offices, the election, everything.

Let's just go somewhere
and live simply.

I thought we were
living simply, Lorraine.

It may not be too late.

Where are you going? Can't we
finish a simple discussion anymore?

I don't think I can get to the end of this
session without some more Beaujolais.

I invoke you,
Baphomet and Asmodeus.

All spells against me
congregate.

Within this beast,
be that your fate.

Sour blood from withered fruit.

You must grow
from blighted root.

Life from death let spirit soar.

Stay each man's hand,
let blood restore.

All this I see in scarlet spore.

This is my will...
to evils flee.

You may come out now,
Mr. Kolchak.

I'm waiting for you.

Well, your insatiable desire for a story
has brought you to a sorry state, hasn't it?

I know all about
insatiable desires.

I suffered with the problem
myself for quite a time.

And, uh...

And now all of your
desires are sated?

One by one, they seem
to have disappeared.

Soon they'll all be gone.

A few years ago, I was
offered a proposition.

I had the choice of a dull,
undistinguished career...

Because to be quite frank,
I was pretty much of a zero...

Or the choice of the path
that lies before me.

- Which is what?
- Don't be a fool, Kolchak.

You know I can go
all the way to the top.

Now, I'm gonna need
powerful allies in the press.

You're a good reporter,
not a great one.

You have personality flaws that are going
to keep total success from your grasp.

But you are, nonetheless,
a very good reporter.

You would like,
more than anything,

to have the Pulitzer Prize...

Though publicly you scorn
the very concept of awards.

You would like more than
anything else to get to New York...

and work on a major daily paper.

You would even like a
suede-backed chair at your desk.

Not leather, suede.

Such small ambitions really.

Your editor is Anthony Vincenzo.
He frustrates you terribly.

You blame him for your problems,

but you know that you, yourself,
are responsible for most of them.

Well, I...

Mr. Kolchak, all those stumbling
blocks can be very easily put aside.

You can have as little as you want
and much more, starting tonight.

Do I...

Do I have to
sign my name in blood?

Yes.

Well, I'd like to think
about it for a while, if you don't mind.

I'm sorry, Mr. Kolchak. The
offer expires almost immediately.

Uh, well...

Uh, what if I don't agree
to the terms of your deal?

The pact I'm party to
specifies blood sacrifices.

I've offered lambs and goats
and sometimes higher forms of life.

You... would be
that sacrifice tonight.

Oh.

What is your answer?

Well, that's very generous
of you, but, uh,

do you mind if I had a talk
with my attorney first?

Nice doggy.

Good dog?
Nice doggy.

Nice dog.

I gave my copy on Palmer
to Vincenzo for his editorial comment.

It was the way
he crumpled it up...

that gave me the distinct
impression he wasn't going to print it.

And Robert Palmer, white hope of the
blue collar, darling of the demographics,

the popular explanation
is that he was kidnapped,

possibly k*lled by radicals.

A tragedy, people said.

They don't realize, of course, that
he did keep one campaign promise...

The promise of his soul to his
master, the prince of darkness.

Lorraine Palmer drove off
before I could get to her.

Her car was found the
next day, but she never was.

Wherever she is, I hope she
has a dog to keep her company...

and fetch her slippers...

and lick her hand.