01x16 - License to Kill---Limit Three People

[bunniefuu]

Ladies and gentlemen,
good evening.

Clete Roberts reporting.

Another crisis in the Far East,

and more diplomatic double-talk
on all fronts.

There are rumors
of a new tax increase

that would hit the pocketbook
of the average wage earner.

Washington also hints at a new
policy of, uh, home loans.

Locally, the electronic genius,
David Tate,

the founder of Tate Industries,
escapes from sanitarium....

Tate Industries is
your company,

isn't it, honey?
Shut up.

...disastrous fire today,
when a huge...

Look, you better
get out of here.

...following the threatened
resignation

of four councilmen over...


♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Mr. Wickersham!

Mr. Wickersham!

Mr. Wickersham!

Hold that light,
please.

Thank you.

Excellent, Mr. Wickersham.

Excellent.
Thank you,
Mr. Hayden.

Very good, Mr. Johnson.

Excellent, Donald.

Rondell, very,
very good.

Where's Mr. Mannix?

Right here.

Well?

Well, I took a shortcut.

Mr. Mannix.

Can't win 'em all,
Mr. Hayden.

Mr. Wickersham,
you must help.

You can save his life.

Miss Leavitt?

David didn't k*ll
anybody!

I told you over
the phone,

Intertect doesn't take
this sort of case.

I'm sorry.

Mr. Wickersham,

you're refusing
this case

because you think
he's guilty.
I have no opinion.

The trial court
will decide that.

Who'll decide
if there's no trial,

if he's sh*t down
by the police?

The police won't
hurt Tate

if he doesn't
resist arrest.

Mr. Wickersham,
please.

I know what
happens

when a man is accused
of being a cop k*ller.

sh**t first and ask
questions later.

David Tate is wanted
for three murders.

He's been described
as a homicidal maniac.

You can't expect the police
to take unnecessary chances.

Label a man
a mad dog,

and it's-it's okay
to sh**t him.

Miss...

Yes?

Yes, I'll be there
immediately.

I'm sorry,
Miss Leavitt,

but we can't
touch the case.
Mr. Wickersham,

I've been David's secretary
for ten years.

I've been with him
almost every day.

He's not a
m*rder*r.

You're not
a psychiatrist.

You can't say whether
he is or he isn't.

David had a nervous
breakdown.

At his worst, he wouldn't
have hurt anyone.

Only last Friday the
doctors said he was
as good as cured.

He would have been
released this week.

Well, if he was cured,

and knew he was going to
be released,

why did he break out?
I don't know.

I just want him
protected.

Find him and then turn
him over to the police.

I'm afraid he'll
be k*lled.

And I'm afraid he might
k*ll any of my men

who went after him.

Look, Miss Leavitt,
I've tried to be reasonable.

I'm... evidently, I'm not
reaching you.

The fact
of the matter is,

the man is known
to be a homicidal maniac.

I cannot expect any
of my men

to take on a job
like this.

Lou.

I'll take it.

Why?

As a kid I was bitten
by Frank Buck--

you know, Bring 'Em Back Alive?

Thank you,
Mr. Mannix.

Thank you very much.

Joe.

You get in between Tate
and the police,

and you may not be able
to bring yourself back alive.

Remember, he's still
an escaped lunatic.

The police are going
to hate anyone

who's trying to protect
a cop k*ller.

Stay away from them.

Hello, Lieutenant.

It's been a
long time.

Mannix.

Get lost.

I'd just like a little
information.

You're not gonna get
involved in this case.

A police officer
was k*lled.

The police officer
wasn't the only one k*lled.

Thanks for telling me,

but the other two were
also k*lled by Tate,

and he belongs
to the police.

Uh, this girl who was
sh*t here last night...

Beverly Borden?
Mm-hmm.

She ever call herself
BeeBee?

Why?

Just a missing persons
check for a client.

Oh?

Who's the, uh,
who's the client?

Now be reasonable,
Lieutenant.

You know
office policy.

Reasonable policemen
get sh*t.

Not by me.

Now, if Beverly Borden
was never known

as BeeBee, why tell
me and I'll, uh,

be on my way.

Well, our book
on her has, uh,

seven aliases.

BeeBee could have
been an eighth.

How do you figure Tate was tied
in with the Borden girl?

Mannix, I get a,
a strong feeling

that you're very interested
in this case.

Got any idea
why Tate would k*ll her?

Now, look, I told you...

Just to save me from running
down a false lead, Lieutenant.

All right.

The girl was average height,

slender,
a lot like Tate's wife.

She was partially
turned to the door.

He must have thought it was his
wife and his best friend.

Uh, you got her address?

The morgue.

Well, before that,
she shared a pad

at the Mariposa Gardens
with another doll.

Good-bye, Mannix.

Now, look...
Good-bye.

Bye, Lieutenant.

Miss West?

Yes?

My name is Mannix.
I'd like to talk to you.

About what?

Beverly Borden.

You another cop?

Private.

You know someone
who got m*rder*d,

you sure don't get
much sleep.

Cops had me up all morning
asking questions.

Well, here's
an easy one.

How well did Beverly
know David Tate?

She never mentioned
his name.

The cops said he k*lled
her by mistake.

Murders by mistake
always sound phony to me.

If he didn't know her,
maybe he didn't k*ll her.

She was a real
nice kid.

Who else beside a nut
would knock her off?

One possibility--

maybe Walters' k*ller wanted
to eliminate a witness.

Or, someone had a grudge
against her,

and k*lled Walters so he
couldn't identify her k*ller.

It had to be a nut.

I knew Thorney.

Real nice fella.

Nobody with
any heart

would have k*lled
either of them.

Hi, Freddie.

Hi. I didn't know
you had company.

See you later.

Oh, that's okay.

He's just some
sort of a cop.

Not a for-real one, though.

And what were you talking
about to some sort of a cop?

You know-- about Beverly.

Out.

Now, wait a minute, Freddie.
Don't rush me.

I might want
to talk to you.

You in more
of a hurry now?

No.

Maybe you can tell me who
sent Beverly to see Walters.

You know, I think I might
just cut you up a little.

I don't think you'll
need that anymore.

Who introduced
Beverly to Walters?

I did, when he saw us
out together once.

You're lying.

You don't believe me, ask him.

You all right, honey?

I'm reading a little trouble
with the tachometer.

What's it turning
in the cockpit?

Check.

They're ready.

Hey, where can
I find Robert Hartigan?

Out there.

Are you press or newsreel?

I'm neither.

Then it better wait.
Mr. Hartigan's busy.

So am I.

Mr. Hartigan?

I'm Mannix, I called
you earlier.

Oh, I didn't expect
you so soon.

Go for a ride?

I usually like to see
where I'm going.

That's an advantage
in any business.

In this case you can watch
the instruments.

We're running a test on
a new I.L.S. system.

Coming?

You, uh... get passing
grades in your tests?

Obviously.

They bury failures.

Claustrophobia?

Well, it's, uh...
pretty cozy.

You fly?

A little.

Then you'll appreciate that
box in front of you.

It weighs
and a half pounds.

It's a complete I.L.S. system
for the private flyer.

Now every man can have the same
advantage the big airlines have.

All the pilot has to do is
keep those two lines crossed.

Jerry, I hope your
telemetry is recording.

We're on our way.

Reading you perfectly.

Lift off.

Pete seven-three
Tango, to tower.

Ready for takeoff.

We're going to be on television,
so smile when I pass the tower.

Seven-three Tango,
clear.

I can't see your face,

but knowing what a ham you are,
I can bet you're smiling.

You were very close to
David Tate, weren't you?

Best friend I ever had.

I wish he were
here now, watching

this thing work.

Dave was like a kid
about gadgets.

I show your left wing down
seven degrees.

Check your horizon.

I see it.

Look, you've got other
things to do.

I'll just... wait.

What altitude do you read?

- - .

I show under four.

Something's wrong
with this altimeter.

Oh, there it is.

Turning crosswind.

Sorry.

Now, uh, what was it you
wanted to know?

Uh... about David Tate.

Dave was the greatest guy
in the world

till he had his breakdown.

He was a magician
when it came to electronics.

All the basic patents
we started with were his.

The breakdown had nothing
to do with, uh...

testing of the new instruments?

Just overwork.

Dave got the idea somebody
was conspiring

to steal the business.

Turning downwind now.

You wouldn't like to scrape off
a little of this black paint

and take a peek, would you?

Don't worry, Mr. Mannix.

I have every confidence
in that gadget.

That's nice.

Did, uh... Tate have any reason

to believe there was a
conspiracy?

Base leg.

Who'd conspire? Thorney?

Poor devil, he loved Dave.

John Burke-- he wouldn't
conspire or do anything else,

unless he could justify it as
a cost-accounting procedure.

That leaves me.

I could ask an obvious question.

And get an obvious answer.

No, I'm afraid Dave was
further off his rocker

than any of us thought.

Turning on final.

I'll hold airspeed
to knots.

I read airspeed ...

No, it's dropping back.

Something's wrong
with the altimeter.

Still hanging up.

Nervous, Mr. Mannix?

Yeah.

So am I.

That's what makes it fun.

On glide path.

Airspeed's coming up again.

Altimeter still
hanging up.

If I'm correct, our wheels
should touch in seconds.

Who k*lled Thorney Walters?

Altimeter still hanging up.

We're down.

Must be thrills in your
business, too, Mr. Mannix.

Seven-three
Tango to tower.

All in one piece.

Permission to taxi
at intersection.

No... Dave k*lled
Thorney Walters.

And the tragic thing of it is

is... Thorney would have
cut off his arm

to help Dave, anytime, anyplace.

Watch your eyes.

The sun can be bright.

Well, David Tate's off
of the hook, Hartigan.

He wasn't emotionally capable
of committing m*rder.

I just had a long talk
with his psychiatrist,

and David Tate couldn't
k*ll anyone.

Now, if his own psychiatrist
says he...

You're lying, Mannix.

Tate's psychiatrist is
attending a medical
meeting in Amsterdam.

Holland?

Mannix, I'm sick of you.

If I had just half a chance,

I'd put you in jail so deep
that you'd get the bends.

Now, Lieutenant, you know...
Now, look!

If you so much as even mention
the name David Tate...

Did David Tate have
reason to believe

there was any financial
hanky-panky, Mr. Burke?

A man in a mental institution

can find many things
to worry about.

That's not a direct answer.

I can't help you.

Can't, or won't?

You can leave now, Mr. Mannix.

Can, but won't.

You were supposed to be
David Tate's dear friend.

And you're a stranger.

If I knew where David was,

I might be an accessory
after the fact.

Excuse me.

Yes?

Thank you.

You're employed by Intertect.

Ruth Leavitt engaged
your services.

I told you that.

And I had my secretary check.

Fair enough.

Now, can you help me
find David Tate?

No.

I have no idea where he is.

But there is Mrs. Tate.

Where is Mrs. Tate?

She hasn't been seen
for two days.

The lady controls her husband's
stock in Tate Industries.

Now, if I, as treasurer
and secretary

were to call a special meeting,

she'd want to be here to protect
her husband's interests.

Or her own?

There shouldn't be any conflict

between husband and wife,
should there?

Mrs. Tate has assured me

she will always keep me apprised
of her whereabouts.

And I have no reason
to doubt her.

Mountain hideaway.

Do I forget where I saw this?

You're trying to help Mr. Tate.

I can't believe Mrs. Tate
wouldn't want me

to offer you every cooperation.

♪ ♪

Scotch.

Hi.

Hello.

What are you drinking?

Scotch.

Make that two doubles.

It's a quiet night, huh?

You can say that again.

Why don't we, uh,
go to a booth, huh?

You know the story about the,
uh, two golfers that went

into the locker room.

One of them started
to undress.

He was wearing...

Two beers.

Where's your friend?

In the little boys'
room, I think.

He's a funny fellow.

He's a funny fellow!

He's a riot.

♪ ♪

Who's there?

Joe Mannix, Mrs. Tate.

I called earlier.

Come in.

Thank you.

You don't look
like a detective.

You want a drink?

Sure. Uh... scotch.

Every time I do something--
mix a drink, anything--

I always figure
I might be doing it

for the last time.

David could be out there
with a g*n at that moment.

Or you might be hit by a
teaspoon from a flying saucer.

Cheers.

He's tried once.

He thought he k*lled me when
he sh*t Thorney and that girl.

He's bound to try again.

I don't mean to get
personal, Mrs. Tate,

but, uh, was there any
reason why he expected

to find you with Walters?

If I told you there wasn't,
would you believe me?

I might.

Thorney was a great guy with the
girls, but I wasn't one of them.

Okay.

Thorney was-- despite what my
poor, psychotic husband

may believe-- completely
loyal to him.

To loyalty.

Who hired you-- Burke?

No.

Then it was Ruth Leavitt.

She always had a thing
for David.

How did he feel about her?

Hard to say.

I never caught them,

if that's what
you're asking.

But you tried.

Not too hard.

I figure it's a lonely life.

We're all entitled to whatever
comfort we can get.

Very sporting of you.

It's especially lonely
out here.

Are you looking for
comfort, or protection?

Protection...

but I wouldn't refuse
a little comfort.

Would you?

It's a great offer.

But?

I've already got a client.

I'll double the ante.

You don't have to.

I don't think your husband
tried to k*ll you.

I'm too old for
bedtime stories.

A husband wouldn't sh**t
the wrong woman.

He'd know his wife too well to
make that kind of a mistake.

The k*ller sh*t Walters and the
girl in a brightly-lit room...

Get down!

Come on, into the other room.

Stay down.

Hold your fire.
We're police officers.

Was that Tate doing
the sh**ting?

I was too busy
keeping my head down.

I didn't see anybody.

Take the patrolman
and search the grounds.

Right.

This is Gould.

Give me the lieutenant.

That was a cute one you pulled
back at the saloon, Mannix.

I wasn't sure who you were.

Gould. Homicide.

My partner's name is Calder.

We want a roadblock.

We just missed getting Tate.

Right.

What happened?

Mrs. Tate?
I'm a police officer.

Did you see anyone?

It was David, wasn't it?

Why did you turn
on the light?

I panicked.

I'm sorry.

Would you mind waiting
in the other room?

Let's you and me talk.

About what?

How you knew this address, how
you knew Tate would be here.

Well I had an appointment with
her, Burke gave me the address,

and, uh, I didn't know Tate was
going to be here-- if he was.

Well, who was outside
sh**ting, the Easter Bunny?

You followed me.
Maybe somebody else did.

Try again.

We were coming anyway.

No phone calls.

Would you like it better
if I put you under arrest?

For what?

Interfering with the law.

Destruction of public property.

I'd like to see the judge's
face when you tell him

you were interfered with
in plainclothes,

in an unmarked car and offering
no identification.

Nothing. Just a lot
of dirt out there.

Mannix here.

Give me Wickersham.

I've been waiting for your call.

What have you been doing?

Getting sh*t at and, uh...
interfering with the law.

How are things behind the lines?

Quiet.

The only loud noise has been

the sound of Ruth Leavitt's
check bouncing.

Mr. Wickersham,
you must believe me.

I did not deliberately cheat
your company.

I'm sure of that.

The bank said you were
overdrawn by three dollars.

I forgot to allow for
a service charge.

Re-deposit the check.

I will.

But you cashed a large check
the day before you came to us.

Why did Tate need that money?

You're ridiculous.

What did Tate do
with that money?

All right,
let's forget it.

I didn't want this case
in the first place.

And when Mannix finds out
that you're not cooperating,

he won't want it either, so
hire yourself another detective.

And you'd better do it quickly,
before the police

run you in as an
accessory to m*rder.

Because they'll get Tate and
trace the money back to you.

All right.

David phoned me
after he escaped.

Later he met me and
I gave him the cash.

He didn't say why
he wanted it.

Have you seen or
spoken to him since?

You know of anyone who has?
Now, don't hold back, please.

As far as I know, I'm the only
one he contacted,

except for John Burke.

He visited David at the
sanitarium

the night before he escaped.

That's odd.

Mr. Burke didn't mention
that to Mannix.

That's all you've got?

Well, what more
can you want?

There's all of Tate's relatives,
down to a nd cousin.

Names and addresses
of all business associates,

fellow alumni
and social acquaintances,

pedigrees on his barber,
his dentist and the guy
who washes his car.

Beautiful.

That's all
beautiful information,

none of which I can use.

Now will you stop being
stubborn, Joe?

Now you haven't the faintest
notion where Tate is, do you?

No.

That's where
the computer can help.

Tate doesn't exist in a vacuum.

He has some contact
with someone somewhere.

His habit patterns
are the same.

What he is has roots
in what he was.

What he was might
tell us where he is.

Okay, then why don't you ask
that, uh, mechanical marvel

about his habits,
his talents, hobbies...?

That's all here.
Now come on.

Grab a handful.

Here, tennis in school,
not very good at the game.

Played contract bridge.

Considered unskilled
at the game.

Likes to fish.

Who doesn't?

Wait a minute...

Started Tate Industries
from a small workshop

in a converted garage.

I wonder...

Hey, that line of thinking

is going to call for a lot
of old-fashioned legwork.

How are we fixed for
old-fashioned legs?

I can think of two.

Oh, now wait a minute...

Joe, you're on your own.

You took this job knowing

I wouldn't risk
a man's life for it.

That still goes.

You can walk away
whenever you want.

You just hired a new man.
Just a minute...

Just a minute, buddy.

Where's the new
man you hired?

Inside.

Thanks.

Sorry.

Mr. Tate?

Who are you?

Put down the g*n,
Mr. Tate.

You a policeman?

No.

Open your coat.

Take out the g*n...

slowly.

On the fender.

This g*n has a hair trigger,
Officer.

You fire, it goes off, too--
we're both dead.

I'm not a police officer.

No?

The name is Mannix.

I work for Intertect.

Ruth Leavitt hired
us to help you.

Then why the g*n, Mr. Mannix?

Because I may be
a homicidal maniac

and you believe in taking
reasonable precautions?

Something like that.

That's very wise of you,

since I have a hunting license.

I see.

Don't humor me, Mannix.

I mean it.

I really do have
a license to k*ll.

They don't execute deranged
people in this state.

I'm betting you're
not deranged, Tate,

and that you k*lled no one.

As yet.

Still, since you say you are,
in effect, working for me,

why don't you just put the g*n
on the fender, very carefully?

If that is a hair trigger,
I'd really appreciate it

if you'd, uh,
point it someplace else.

In a moment.

Please empty your pockets.

Why?

You know who I am, Mr. Mannix.

I'm still not sure
about you yet.

J. Mannix. Intertect.

Okay.

What's this?

Stay where you are.

I can hardly read
it from here.

Directions to my cabin.
Where did you get them?

John Burke.

Why did you break out
with less than a week to go?

Because Thorney Walters
and my wife, Elaine,

were planning to take Tate
Industries away from me.

John Burke told me what was
happening to my stock.

In another few days, it
would have been too late.

Walters?

That puzzled me, too,

but John had it straight
from Elaine.

You realize you've just come up
with another motive

for k*lling Walters.

You're right.

Over there.

Inside.

They're playing you
for a sucker, Tate.

Not any longer, Mr. Mannix.

Not any longer.

♪ ♪

Selma, Mannix here.
Now listen carefully--

get the police over
to John Burke's house.

Tell them...

Thanks.

John Burke is dead.

m*rder*d.

Oh, no.

David...

David didn't k*ll anyone.

Would you like to
take another guess?

Mannix.

Well, it's nice to see
you again, Hartigan.

Why the g*n?

Bob, I'm scared.

You ought to be.

A lot of people
have been k*lled.

Am I going to be another
one of Tate's victims?

I'm not sure I know
what you mean, Mannix.

A homicidal maniac is loose.

Nobody's safe.

You worried about
my sanity?

Is he alone?

Go outside and check.

David.

The g*n, Mr. Mannix.

I was wrong
about Thorney Walters,

but not about you.

I realized finally that
John Burke might be next.

I got there too late.

David, I swear,
I didn't do anything.

David,

you've been through
a terrible experience.

The two of you.

You had it all
planned, didn't you?

Get me out of the way,

and the whole thing just
fell into your laps.

Why don't you do something?

He's got
a loaded g*n.

David, listen to me.

I wouldn't do anything
to hurt you.

Believe me.

Mannix, this man is sick.

You heard him-- he'll k*ll us.

You, uh, you can't be positive.

He's already k*lled
Walters and Burke.

I don't think so.

He was busy locking me
in a garage

just about the time
Burke was k*lled.

But then, maybe he
did k*ll Walters.

Maybe he does intend
to k*ll you.

Oh, David,
listen to me...

Here! Now, you stay put.

Hartigan, where are you?

Hartigan, you'd better
stay down.

Bob!

Bob!

Bob!

I told you he was insane.
Now do you believe me?

You've got to get us
out of here.

Let's clear up
a few things first.

Bob!

What's the matter
with you, Mannix?

He's going to k*ll me.
He's got a license to k*ll.

You and his wife
saw to that.

Bob!

You've got a g*n. Stop him.

Stop him yourself.

What?

Why don't you just
stop lying?

You lied to him about
your affair with Walters

and almost drove him
out of his mind.

Now, let's hear the truth.

Yes, Elaine.

I'd like to hear that.

I did lie about Thorney.

But...

there's never been
anyone but you, David.

You want me to try
again, Elaine?

David, whatever happened
is my fault.

I'll take full
responsibility.

I'll give you a confession.

Not good.

In writing.

Come on, you know
that any confession

given at gunpoint
is inadmissible.

And you'd repudiate it the
minute you got out of here.

You want me to write
it in blood?

No.

No, I think you've provided
enough blood already.

Who are you to talk?

You just tried to k*ll us both.

You're wrong, Mrs. Tate.

If he really wanted to k*ll you,

neither one of you'd
be standing here now.

What's that supposed to mean?

Mrs. Tate should have known

her husband has trophies
as an expert marksman.

Here, show them, Tate.

Even our computers knew that.

He only misses
when he wants to.

That's right, Robert.

Now tell me something that makes
me want to miss again.

Mr. Mannix...

I guess you're right, Hartigan.

I think he really
intends to k*ll you.

I'd better get
the police.

Wait!

I'll tell you anything...
anything you want to know.

Not just a confession, Hartigan.

Let's start with some things
that only the k*ller would know.

I used the same g*n on Burke
that I used on Walters.

I was gonna throw it
into the ocean...

...but I couldn't be sure I
didn't need it

until Tate was caught.

It's behind the circuit
breaker box in my garage.

You see? You see?

He just admitted it
was all his idea.

I don't think the
lieutenant is impressed
with your innocence.

But then, detective-lieutenants
are tough to convince.

Ask me.

All right, Mannix.

We can get along
without you.

Now, you were lucky
in this case,

but if I ever catch you

interfering in police
matters again...

Yeah, I know,
I'm in big trouble.

Miss Leavitt.

Everything
all right?

Okay.

Mr. Mannix...

Mannix, I'm sure
you deserve kisses,

but from me will you
accept a handshake?

That's what I work
for-- affection,

gratitude and personal
satisfaction.

Oh, by the way, you can make the
checks payable to Intertect.