06x15 - A Game of Shadows

[bunniefuu]

By

by

Gordon?

By

May I help you?

I'd like to see Mr. Mannix.

Can I tell him who's calling?

Joe, a Miss Linley to see you.

Oh, uh, please,
come in, Miss Linley.

Sit down.

Thank you.

Uh, what can I do for you?

I'd like you to find a man
named Gordon Cameron.

This Gordon Cameron?

Suspected of murdering
Mrs. Olson

and getting away
with $, in jewelry?

He didn't do it, Mr. Mannix.

You mean the police
are looking for the wrong man?

He wasn't there
when Mr. Olson came home?

He may have been at the house,
but not to rob or k*ll anyone.

Oh.

Why do you think he ran?

I don't know.

Miss Linley, uh,

just what is your interest
in Gordon Cameron?

You might say this is personal.

I see.

Then I can understand
your faith in him.

But there's really nothing
I can do.

I'm sorry.

Please, Mr. Mannix.

Wherever Gordon is,
he's... he's alone.

I have to do something.

Joe, maybe you could...
Peggy--

There is nothing
I can do to help,

unless he's arrested
or gives himself up.

Yeah...

Now, maybe if, uh, you give me

something to work on--
anything.

For instance, uh,
what was he doing at the house?

I just don't know.

All I know is that Gordon
would never k*ll anyone.

There has to be
some other explanation.

Please, Mr. Mannix,

find out what really happened
last night.

Regardless of what I find?

You know, if I dig up evidence
to nail down his guilt,

I've got to turn it over
to the police.

Regardless of what you find.

Al right.

I still can't understand it.

Of all the people
I've ever known,

Gordon was the last person...

How long had he worked here
at Viking Electronics?

Oh, about five months.

Satisfactory?

He had a natural aptitude
for electronics.

He could have gone right
to the top-- here or anywhere.

And as far as you know,
he had no criminal record?

Personnel made the usual

security check
before hiring him.

They found nothing.

Had he ever been
to your home before?

Just once.

Or perhaps twice.

My wife likes to...

She, um...
used to invite the staff

for a cocktail party
on special occasions.

But, uh, Cameron wasn't invited
last night?

No.

Mr. Olson, have you any idea
what happened?

Well, I have to go along
with the police.

They think he got a key
to the house somehow.

While he was taking the jewels
out of the safe,

Myra must have come downstairs.

When she recognized him,

he had to k*ll her.

I... I imagine that she tried
to run outside.

I'm... I'm sorry, Mr. Mannix.

I shouldn't be here
this morning.

I know I'm not making any sense,

but I... I just couldn't
face that house.

I, uh, wonder
if I might have a look

at Cameron's security file.

Yes, certainly.

Aileen.

Show Mr. Mannix
Gordon Cameron's file, please.

Yes, sir.

Thank you, Mr. Olson.

Something wrong?

It's gone.

Are you sure?

Yes.

Who else has access
to these files?

I'm the only one, really.

The security office
has duplicate keys, I suppose.

Are they, uh,
normally kept locked?

Only at night when I leave.

He certainly covered his tracks,
didn't he?

We don't know
that he took the file.

What are you hoping
to do, Mr. Mannix--

Prove that Gordon Cameron
didn't k*ll Mrs. Olson?

You want him convicted,
even if he's innocent?

If he didn't do it,
why did he run away?

That's a question
everybody seems to be asking.

Thanks.

By

No photos, huh?

Not one.
How about prints?

Plenty of those--
and at the Olson house, too.

Did you run a check on them?

Yeah, nothing in our files.

I sent them in to the CID
in Sacramento.

Did, uh, he come back here
last night?

Well, if he did, nobody saw him.

What about his car?

We got a description.
No luck yet.

You know, this guy lived
like a monk.

Yeah, or somebody
who hadn't planned

on being around too long.

You, uh, just browsing, Joe,

or did you find something
you'd like to buy?

Oh, uh,
Gordon Cameron's girlfriend

doesn't seem to think he did it.

Did you expect her to?

Come on, Joe,
this one's open and shut.

We'll pick this guy up
before the day's over

in some backwoods motel.

Maybe we find the jewels;
more likely we won't.

Yeah, but why, Dan?

He had a good job,
a girlfriend, a future.

A $, future, Joe?

Yeah.

By

Crazy fool could've k*lled you!

Yeah, thanks, huh?

You, uh, debt collecting?

No.

Bail bondsman.

No. Why? Should I be?

Well, looked like that creep
was trying to hit you.

Why would he do
a thing like that?

You want me to find out?

I got his license number?

Come on, let's, uh... let's talk
about it over a cup of coffee.

Uh, no, thanks.
Maybe some other time, huh?

Yeah, sure.

Uh, here's my card.

Uh... call me.

Jerry Vane,
private investigator.

One of the best,
if I say so myself.

What's your name?

Mannix.

Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Man...

Joe Mannix?

First whiff of a job
I get all month,

and it turns out to be
Mr. Private Peeper himself.

Now, look, uh...

Oh, no, no, no, no.

Please, please,
I wouldn't hear of it.

Uh, consider it, uh,
professional courtesy.

You know, one...
one pro to another.

Thanks.

I mean it.

If anybody's going to turn up
Gordon Cameron...

you're the guy, Mannix.

Hop in.
Let's have that cup of coffee.

What gave you the idea
I was looking for Cameron?

It's nothing to be ashamed of.

That grand reward
Viking Electronics has announced

is enough to get even you
off your mink-lined sofa.

Are you, uh,
looking for Cameron, too?

You kidding?

I've been bearing down on this

ever since the first flash
came over the radio.

Getting anywhere?

Eh, nowhere.

I could sure use that reward.

Things have been rough, huh?

Rough? Oh...

I tell you, this new divorce law
is k*lling me.

Listen, I used to be top dog
in my field-- uh, surveillance.

You know, keeping an eye
on the love nest

and all that sort of thing.

Now, who needs evidence?

Now I ask you,
why would they pass a law

to drive a little guy
out of business?

Hey, Mannix.

Why don't we team up on this,
uh, Cameron thing, huh?

We could
split the reward, -.

Sorry.

-?

Now look, I'm really grateful
for what you did,

and if there's
any way I can help...

Well...

just don't look over your
shoulder on this thing.

That'll be me,
yapping at your heels.

Who knows,

maybe a crumb will fall
off the table, huh?

Fair enough.

Mr. Mannix's office.

Peggy.

Oh, hi, Joe.

Check out a station wagon,
brown and white,

with the license number -BEL..

Anything wrong?

Well, he was aiming at me.
I'd like to know why.

Right.

Oh, Peggy.

Get me Sheila Linley's
address, too, huh?

Just a second.

Ah. Here we are.

Just a minute!

Miss Linley... may I come in?

Of course.

Do you have any news of Gordon?

No. How about you?
No.

Look, uh, I'm sure the police
have a court order

to put a tap on your phone.

Now, if he has called,

they'll know it,
and you could be in trouble.

He hasn't phoned me.

Yeah. Maybe the idea of a phone
tap occurred to him, too.

You know, he's a puzzle,
this Gordon Cameron.

There seems to be two of him.

One of them is likable,
good at his job, well educated.

And the other, uh...

can elude the police,
bury his car,

and, suddenly, you have
the picture of a faceless man.

Faceless?

In more ways than one.

His file at Viking Electronics
has disappeared.

The police can't seem to get
their hands on a picture of him.

There isn't even a record of his
driver's license at the DMV.

Now, I was wondering if
you had a picture of him.

A snapshot would be fine.

Oh. I'm sorry, I don't have one.

Did he say where
he worked before Viking?

They may still have
a file on him.

I don't know;
he never mentioned it to me.

Well, did he mention
where he went to school?

Or college?

Even a class picture
would be something.

I'm sorry I can't help you.

You know, you're becoming

a bit of a puzzle yourself,
Miss Linley.

A man you say
you're in love with...

you don't know where he worked
last, or what school he went to.

You don't even have
a picture of him.

Maybe you want him to
remain faceless, is that it?

I'm sorry, Miss Linley.

Maybe it'd be better all around

if we just let the police
take care of it.

Mr. Mannix...

I didn't tell you
everything this morning.

Just what did you leave out?

I still believe that
Gordon's innocent, but...

well, he never
talked about himself.

Or his background,
or even his family.

And I accepted that.

But I always wanted
a picture of him, and he...

always put it off for
some reason or another.

Then, one day,
we were at the marina,

and I took a snapshot of him

when he didn't expect it.

He didn't say anything,

just laughed,

and said that he'd drop it off
at the drugstore.

Then when I went to pick it up,

it was blank.

They said that the whole roll
had been exposed to the light.

Did you, uh,
ask Gordon about it?

No.

I couldn't.

It would be like accusing him.

But that's only part of it.

This came today.

What does it mean?

It's a, uh,
Post Office Box number.

$, in U.S. currency,

high-denomination Swiss,

British, German banknotes.

. caliber revolver,

a newspaper clipping,
and a Canadian passport,

issued in Montreal to a...
William George Bailey.

Is that the man
you know as Gordon Cameron?

You still believe
in him, Miss Linley?

I don't care what it looks like,
Gordon isn't a m*rder*r.

This clipping is from
the Ashton Tribune--

That's a college town
up the coast.

"Man k*lled at Pike Point.

"Coast Guard and local fishermen
were alerted by Sheriff Gary

"to watch for the body
of Whitfield Summers, ,

"believed k*lled yesterday when
his car went off the road

"at Pike Point, and plunged
feet to the rocks below.

"His landlady, Mrs. Bunny Mason,

"formerly of the
Golden Girls piano duo,

said he was a quiet man who
appeared to have no friends."”

Can you think of any reason
why he'd keep this clipping?

No.

Did he ever mention anybody by
the name of Whitfield Summers?

No.

Peggy, uh...

get all this stuff downtown
to Lieutenant Ives, huh?

I'll give him this passport
when I get back.

Where are you going?

To Ashton,
to see a former Golden Girl.

Mrs. Mason?

I did ring. Twice.

Oh. Well, I have a single
on the back for $ a month,

and I have a bachelor
on the alley for $.

I'm not looking for
an apartment, Mrs. Mason.

Oh.

Vacuum cleaners... insurance...

magazine subscriptions.

I'm a private investigator.

Oh, from Los Angeles!

Oh, boy, that's a real town.

I just love L.A. to death.

Join me?

Uh, not before noon, thank you.

Oh, uh... just a freshener.

Good tastes in musical talent
are bound to come back

one of these days--
don't you think so, doll?

That's why I'm practicing again.

Well, I'd, uh,
say that's pretty good timing.

Mrs. Mason...
Bunny.

Bunny.

A young man by the name of
Whitfield Summers

used to live here.

Yes, he was in B--
a very nice young man.

No trouble at all.

He got k*lled. Did you know?

Uh, you told the reporters

that he didn't seem
to have many friends.

I was wondering if,
by any chance,

you ever saw him with this man?

Are you kidding me?

About what?

That's Whitfield Summers.

The dead man?

Are you sure?

Sure I'm sure.

What's his face doing
on another man's passport?

That's a good question.

Say, how does it happen
so many people are interested

in him after he's dead?

What people?
Well, there was an uncle

showed up a few days
after the accident.

Then a few weeks later,
there was a girl.

Uh, you wouldn't happen
to remember the date

the girl was here?

Would I remember?

Oh! I remember the day,
and the hour.

It was my birthday,

and she barged in while I was
listening to Phil Pfeiffer.

He's our local DJ, you know.

And he dedicated a record
to little old me!

Bunny...

The date?

Oh, February .

I'm Aquarius.

Uh, did you get her name?

Well, if I did,
I've forgotten it.

She said she was his cousin.

What did this cousin look like?

She wore sunglasses,
was a brunette,

and had long hair down to here,

and a skirt up to here.

Mm.

Well, thanks for your help.

By

Mr. Mannix for
Professor Thompson.

Thank you.

I'm George Henderson, uh...
Mr. Mannix.

I'm Professor Thompson's
assistant.

I'm afraid he's busy just now.

He's in the middle of
a very involved experiment.

Well, he wasn't busy when
I called ten minutes ago.

Well, there was a sudden
complication that we couldn't

possibly have anticipated.

It could take some time
to straighten it out.

I can wait.

Unfortunately, his whole
schedule is sh*t for today.

Perhaps tomorrow.

Or could I help you?

Well, how long ago did you come
to Ashton, Mr. Henderson?

Five months ago.

Was that before or after
Whitfield Summers was k*lled?

If you mean the young man who
ran his car off the road...

after, by a week or two.

Then you can't help.

In that case, Mr. Mannix,

give this to
the guard at the door.

It's red tape, but we're
on a government contract.

Professor Thompson?

Oh, you must be Mr. Mannix.

Professor, I've suggested that
Mr. Mannix come back tomorrow.

It's all right, Henderson.

Come in, come in.

Somehow I got the impression

I wasn't wanted in here,
Professor.

Don't mind Henderson.

It's his job to spare me
from interruptions.

Now, what can I do for you?

Professor, do you know this man?

I did know him,
but he's dead, poor fellow.

You knew him
as Whitfield Summers?

Wasn't that his name?

It seems he had several names.

Can you tell me
what he did here?

Well, we're developing
special electronic techniques

for satellite control.

He was very valuable to me,
to the country.

Can you think of a reason why
he should fake his own death?

Do you have proof that he did?

He's living in Los Angeles
under another name.

I'm trying to find out why.

Well, I'm sorry,
I can't help you.

Would you mind telling me what
this is all about, Mr. Mannix?

A woman was found

in her swimming pool last night,
choked to death.

The police think
that she was k*lled

by the man you knew
as Whitfield Summers.

That's absolutely impossible.

And why do you say that?

Well, when you've worked
side by side with a man

month after month,
sometimes around the clock,

wrestling with
the same problems,

reaching for the same stars,

you get to know
how a man's mind ticks,

what makes his heart b*at.

And you most certainly know
if he's incapable of m*rder,

no matter how great
the provocation.

Yeah.

Have the Los Angeles police

turned up any prior record
on this Cameron?

I don't recall having mentioned
the name Cameron.

Unlike the professor,
I read the morning paper,

from the front page headlines

to the last miscellaneous sale
in the classifieds.

There was only one woman found
dead in a pool in today's issue.

And the man the police are
looking for is a Gordon Cameron.

Yeah.

Maybe tomorrow's issue will
fill you in on his prior record.

Thank you, Professor,
for your cooperation.

Oh, Mr. Mannix.

If you do find him,
will you tell him

that I will do
everything I can to help?

I'll do that.

Mr. Mannix...

Give this to the guard.

You gonna trust me
to make it on my own?

I wonder how much he knows.

Here we go.

It's all in there, Mr. Mannix,
what there is of it.

About : p.m., Whitfield
Summers left the university

to drive his car
back to his apartment.

At least, that's where he told
one of the lab men he was going.

Instead, he turned south.

Now, witnesses said
he was traveling

in excess of the speed limit,
but not dangerously fast.

But when he got to Pike's Point,
he failed to negotiate the turn,

went over the side
and crashed on the rocks.

When we recovered the car,
there was blood in it,

but no body to be found.

Were you satisfied at the time
there was an accident?

Well, why not?

I mean, uh, we checked it out,
you can be sure of that.

The boy had no bad associations,
no gambling debts,

nothing to link him
to, uh, blackmail or women.

That boy lived such
a clean life, it was unhealthy.

Didn't you find it strange
that you never found a body?

No, not really; two other cars
went over at that same point

the previous month,
we never found

any of those occupants either.

There can be mighty tricky
currents around these parts.

What about his effects?

What happened to those?

Well, an uncle picked them up
the day after the inquest.

Yeah, that's, um,
"Elmer P. Sherwood.

North Avenue,
Philadelphia.”

That's right, that's him.

Summers' only relative.

There was a girl that said
she was a cousin

that went to see his landlady.

Yeah, she never
showed up around here.

Was there, uh, any crime
committed here

round about that time?

Well, let's see.

Yes, but it didn't
amount to much.

Well, what was it?

Well, somebody broke into
Warren's garage

and started fooling around
one of the cars.

Charlie Ross pulled his g*n,
took a sh*t at him,

which the guy took off
like a deer.

Charlie Ross is
the night watchman.

When was that?

As a matter of fact,

that was the night before
young Summers was k*lled.

Would you, uh, mind
if checked out the garage?

Well, not at all.

Just about everybody
will be gone by now,

but Charlie will be there.

Charlie?

Charlie?

We got a report of a sh*t.

Yeah, it's my g*n.

What happened anyhow?

Uh, some guys jumped me.

Hey, Sheriff.

Over here.

Why, it's Charlie Ross.

Why don't you fellas
take a look around, huh?

Charlie, did you get a chance
to see who it was?

Snuck up on me from behind.

Never got a chance.

I wonder what it is they wanted.

Search me.

Who's he?

Oh, this is Mr. Mannix from L.A.

He's a private detective.

I was on my way over here
to talk to you, Mr. Ross.

Maybe those men knew that.

What would I know
that'd get anyone so fired up?

The night before young Summers,
from the university,

went over the cliff,
you fired a sh*t at somebody.

Yeah.

He was fooling around
the trunk of a car.

Any idea what he was after?

Uh-uh.

But as far as I know, he got
what he was looking for,

'cause when I looked
in the trunk,

there wasn't nothing there
but the spare.

I wonder if I could
talk to the owner of that car.

Be kind of difficult,
Mr. Mannix.

Belongs to the Summers kid.

The one that went over
the cliff.

Hello, Mrs. Fair.

Hello, Miss Linley.

Is he back?

Yes, he is. Go right in.

Thank you.

Mr. Mannix?

What did you find out in Ashton?

Before we get down to that,

maybe you'll tell me
what you were doing up there.

I've never been
to Ashton in my life.

You saw a woman by the name
of Mrs. Bunny Mason,

you asked about
the late Whitfield Summers,

you pretended to be his cousin,

and you were
wearing dark glasses--

To hide your tears, no doubt.

I don't know
what you're talking about.

Well, let me
lay it out for you.

Please.

The man you knew
as Gordon Cameron

is really Whitfield Summers,
or seems to be.

He arranged for his own death
in Ashton.

A girl fitting your description

questioned his landlady
on February .

Well, lookit, it wasn't me.

I swear it, it wasn't me.

You asked me what I found out
in Ashton, I'm telling you.

Joe, Lieutenant Ives wants you
to come down to headquarters

right away, if you're not busy.

I'll be there in minutes.

All right, Mr. Mannix.

You've made your point.

You think that Gordon's guilty,

so you don't want
to go on with the case.

You still believe
he's innocent, don't you?

Yes, I do.

I'll say this for him.

Whoever he is
and whatever he's done,

this Gordon Cameron has
a real flair for making friends.

Well, if that's all
you found out now, Mr. Mannix,

that's not a bad epitaph, is it?

For a m*rder*r.

Nice of you to turn it in, Joe,
even hours late.

It's, uh, these little signs
of cooperation

that make you so invaluable
to the department.

Well, I turned in the rest
of the stuff, didn't I?

Yeah, and I'll mention that
in your defense,

at the hearing
to revoke your license.

Wait a minute.

What about all the legwork
I did for you in Ashton?

With a busted skull
for my troubles.

Joe, this was a nice, tidy,
open-and-shut case

till you stuck your nose
into it.

Now look what I got--
a jigsaw puzzle.

So that's why you sent for me,
to tell me you're in trouble.

No. Here.

The FBI report
on Cameron's prints.

Negative.

Aside from that wild story

you came in here with
a minute ago,

this character Cameron
was never born,

baptized, drafted
or even buried.

His driver's license
is a forgery.

This guy makes up names
as he goes along.

Well, it's your baby now, Dan!

Thanks.

Well, hi.

Your new partner was, uh,
wondering where you were.

My what?

Jerry Vane, of Mannix and Vane
Private Investigators.

He would've preferred it
to be Vane and Mannix,

but I told him that was
a little bit pushy.

Yeah.

Oh, you don't have to knock.

Just breeze right in.

Hello there, pal.

Hey, that's good stuff.

Glad you like it.

Hey, uh, I thought I'd drop
around and give you a report.

Old guy I know
used to be a private eye.

Well, he, uh,
he smells that reward

and he wants to get
a piece of my action.

So I tell pop to nose around

and, uh, I'd give him a fin
for any goodies.

Well, he comes up with a couple.

sh**t.

They help you any,
maybe you'll reconsider?

Huh?

I still say
we'd make a great team.

Let's just have
the goodies, okay?

Well, uh, the license number

of that wagon that almost
got you was a phony.

No surprise, huh?

There's my secretary's note
on it.

"Evelyn at DMV called.

Wagon license number a phony.”

Well, there goes a fin
down the drain.

It was, uh, nice of you
to drop by. Thanks, Vane.

Now, now, wait a minute,
wait a minute, wait a minute!

How about this?

Pop gets to the girlfriend
of a guard

at Viking Electronics.

She says that the Cameron
dossier was swiped

out of the security file.

I'm out another fin?

Call me when you and pop come up
with any more goodies, huh?

Yeah, well, I suppose I wasted
another fin on the Olson bit.

Well, you can't win 'em all.

Yeah, well, wait a minute.

What about the Olsons?

You didn't know?

Finally!

Well, it seems that
Mr. and Mrs. O weren't seeing

eye-to-eye the last year or two.

And she was getting ready
to give Mr. O the gate.

Now, did this bother Mr. O?
Uh-uh.

He's already got something
else going.

A young girl, uh, or six, uh,
straw blonde, a stunner.

Well, they'd been getting away
with it for months, pop said,

right under everybody's nose.

How?

Wouldn't fool you or me
for a minute,

but you know,
the sucker public.

A dark wig and big shades.

Do you believe it?

Yeah, well, uh, pop said that it
was under everyone's nose.

Meaning what?

I didn't ask... but I will.

Yeah, do that and then
get back to me, huh?

Right.

Peggy, call Lieutenant Ives.

Tell him to get over
to Viking Electronics.

I think I've solved part
of his jigsaw puzzle.

Mr. Olson.

Well, Mr. Mannix,

what's so urgent that it
couldn't wait ten minutes?

It's about Gordon Cameron.

What about him?

His real name is
Whitfield Summers,

and he arranged for his own
death in a town called Ashton.

Well, it's forming a pattern,
isn't it?

But are you any closer
to finding him?

Can't say that I am.

The police seem stymied, too.

You know, it's really incredible

that a m*rder*r
can simply vanish

in a regulated society
like ours.

I don't think

your wife's m*rder*r has
vanished, Mr. Olson.

I think he may be closer
to us than we realize.

In fact... sitting right
there in that chair.

If this is a blackmail
attempt, Mannix,

it won't get you anything
but a jail sentence.

Aileen, wait outside, please.

You'd better stay, Aileen.

After all, you're involved
in this, too,

right up to your dark glasses.

Call the guard. Throw him out.

And while we're waiting,

I'll explain how you did it,
shall I?

Mannix, you're out of your mind.

Am I?

Do you think we'll find
it too difficult to prove that

your secretary took the day off
on February

and went to Ashton?

Mrs. Mason should be able
to identify her

with wig, dark glasses...
or without.

Shut up! He's only bluffing.

It's no use. They know.

She, uh, she wasn't involved.

Except for checking Gordon
Cameron's background.

My wife was a cold-hearted
snake, Mannix.

She got what she deserved.

Did Gordon Cameron?

He had something to hide.

Or why would he arrange
his own death

and turn up here,
under a false name?

He's no worse off
than he was before.

What did you do, uh...

ask him to meet you
at your house?

Yes.

He thought he was in
for a promotion.

And then you k*lled your wife,
and you returned

when you knew
Cameron was there.

You knew his background
and you knew he'd run,

rather than face
an investigation.

Very neat.

And you still have the $,
in jewelry.

What's this all about, Joe?

Oh, Mr. Olson is in
a confessing mood, Dan.

Where are you going?

To tell my client

her boyfriend isn't guilty
of m*rder.

Hello.

Look, I just wanted
to tell you that...

that I'm safe.

I'm not gonna stay on long
enough for them to trace me.

Hey, I miss you.

I'm sorry.

What number do you want?

No, it isn't.

No, there's no one here
by that name.

Don't hang up!

I suppose you know
who this is.

What do you want, Vane?

I'm delighted to know that
you've been resurrected

from your watery grave.

I'll do anything you ask--
just let her go, okay?

Oh, we'll let her go...

after you're safely back
in the fold.

Now, if that meets
with your approval,

I'll tell you where
we'll be waiting.

Hold it right there!

Are you hurt?

No.

What happened?

I-I tripped
and nearly knocked myself out.

You're lucky
there are a lot of names

in that phone directory.

What did they want?

They were holding me hostage
so that Gordon would meet them.

Where were they gonna meet,
do you know?

A place called Ocean World,
in the aquarium.

I want you to call police
headquarters.

Get a hold of Lieutenant Ives.

Tell them to get there fast.

Okay.

By

by

You've led us quite a dance,
haven't you?

Where is Sheila?

She's safe.

And she will be as long
as you cooperate.

How do I know that
you won't harm her?

Don't tell me you doubt
my word.

Where do I go?

There's a boat waiting
off the Mexican coast.

You'll be flown there tonight.

You know,
we never really believed

that absurd death
that you arranged.

We knew that, sooner or later,
you'd have to surface.

Hold it right there!

By

Who was he?

He was the man I reported to
when I first came to America.

I was recruited and trained
to learn everything

Professor Thompson
was working on.

After I had it all,

Vane was to arrange a accident
for the professor.

And after you got to know
the professor,

you couldn't go through with it.

So you arranged your own
death and disappeared

to throw Vane off the track.

Right.

Well, I'm glad it's all over.

By

You're government, right?

That's right.

How long have you known
about this?

Well, the day he disappeared,
he sent us a note.

It was a real shocker.

He told us all about the plan.

He admitted his guilt %.

But he also warned us
that, because of his defection,

there might be an attempt
on a professor's life.

Washington sent me here

to give him
round-the-clock protection.

So you knew all along
that Gordon Cameron wasn't dead.

Sure.

We wanted to give him
political asylum,

but we didn't know
where to find him

until the L.A. police
sent us his prints.

Then you showed up and...

You used me as a bird dog.

It was the only way to go.

Thanks a lot.

Till we meet again.

Thank you.

What do they got
to look forward to?

Well, we'll tidy up
the loose ends.

Give them a new identity.

Hide them in some
out-of-way spot.

And hope the other side
gets tired of looking for 'em.