Are you willing to undertake a dangerous mission behind the enemy lines, knowing you may never return alive? What you have just heard is the question asked during the war to agents of the OSS, ordinary citizens who to this question answered, yes. This is Cloak and Dagger. Black warfare, espionage, international intrigue, these are the weapons of the OSS. Today's story, the Trojan Horse, is suggested by actual incidents recorded in the Washington files of the Office of Strategic Services. A story that can now be told. August 1942, report to OSS headquarters in Casablanca from agent Henri Fontaine in France. Contact with girl Gabrielle Monet was made in the Bluebeard Cafe in Paris. I went there alone on the evening of the 15th, and sent her a note with a waiter asking her to come to my table when she'd finished her song. Then I sat and waited. German officers were spread about the room as they were spread about all of occupied France. I wondered what they would say if they knew why I had come. You send me this note? Oui, Mademoiselle. Will you join me? Why not? I drink with anyone these days. What will you have, eh? What have you? Let me taste from your glass. It is very bad wine. You are right. The only time a girl may get good wine nowadays is when she drinks with the Bosch. Never mind, I'm not thirsty. I enjoyed your song. Is that what you wanted to tell me? I think you are wasting your time here in Paris. Paris is wasting her time on Paris these days. I can offer you a better position in Casablanca. What did you say? Who are you? My name is Henri Fontaine. I too have a good position with the American OSS in North Africa. What are you saying? Before the Germans came to France, I was a poor poet. They did me a service. Now I'm a rich spy. You sit here in a room full of Germans and tell me this? What makes you think I will believe you? What makes you think I won't turn you over to the Germans if I do, eh? Mademoiselle, I am not such a brave man. Neither am I a fool. We have kept you under observation for months. We know you better than you know yourself. Is there anything you'd like to know about yourself? What do you want of me? On our side we have only the very best. Forgerers, counterfeiters, cutthroats and spies. Will you join us? Just tell me what you want me to do. Agent Henri Fontaine in France to Agent Steve Lytel in Casablanca. Arrangements have been made to transport the girl Gabrielle Monet to the south of France and then to Casablanca. Awaiting further instructions. Over. Bonjour. Bonjour. The roses will bloom early this year, I think. Three. But not too early, I hope. Good. Good. I've been waiting for you. It is dark. I can't see you well. Is the girl with you? She is here. Gabby, say something so our friend will know you are here. I am tired. Did you have difficulty reaching my safe in Paris? Not too much. With swarms of displaced persons all over France to mingle with and a slight bit of help along the way from the underground, it was not too bad. Good. Good. Now follow me. I will take you to the fishing school. But I'm so... I know. I know. You're tired. Cheer up, Gabby. You'll have a nice long trip by water to rest up. And then another nice long trip by auto to Casablanca. Oh, I like automobiles. In the old days, I like nothing better than a pleasant ride. But Gabby did not like the automobile trip to Casablanca. It was probably nothing like the old days. I drove up front alone while she was fitting the trunk of the car behind gasoline drums. There were gunnysacks in a Moroccan rug thrown over her. Across everything, a heavy canvas cover lashed down with just enough air left for her to breathe. We drove that way over rough roads for several hours. When it got dark, I pulled over to a side lane and let her out. Gabby, come out. Come out. Oh, my back. It is broken. I will gladly massage it for you. You are too kind. Not at all. No, thank you. Pity. Why did we stop? To give you a chance to stretch your legs. And a cigarette if you want one. Oh, I would die for one. Give, give, give, give. I have one lit here. Oh, thank you very much. You see, I tried to be gentle. I tried to make up for the inconvenience I am causing you. Ah, that's funny. I remember what another poet once said. A German, by the way, but not a Nazi. His name was Goethe. What did he say? He said, be gentle with women. Remember, they were made from a broken rib. I am not amused. I'm sorry. You are always smiling. Do you enjoy the war? I am a poet. There is poetic excitement in being behind the lines, working underground. I enjoy being a spy. Well, I am no matter hurry. You will do. You still have told me nothing. Why did they send for me? You remember a German named Paul Vogel? Paul? What do you know of him? Tell me. Not now. The time is late. But I must know. Throw away your cigarette. Why did you mention his... I said later. We have a long journey ahead. If we pass the border post, I will tell you. If we do not, the words and minutes will be wasted. Altola! I thought I would never reach the border. It's been a long trip. Where are you headed? Casablanca. Do you have anything to declare? No, nothing. Let me see your passport. Here you are. All of a sudden I spotted a small black dog sniffing and whining at the trunk of the car where Gabrielle was hidden. The customs officer had not noticed him and I knew I had to find somewhere to keep him from noticing. Ah, one becomes stiff after so long a ride. While he was looking at my passport, I went to the back of the car, picked up the dog by the neck and started to pat him. Your passport seems to be in order, but what's the matter with Jeff? Nothing. Perhaps he does not like to be picked up. If he did, he wouldn't try to bite you. Better put him down. I knew if I put Jeff down, he would go back to sniffing around the trunk. I felt like strangling that cute little black puppy. Well, put him down. I have taken a fancy to him. How do you feel about selling him to me? Well, I... You are serious, monsieur? Oui, I like him. Come, come. How much? Oh, take him. There are two more like him around somewhere. Thank you. He will liven up the journey. Wait. Before you go. Yes? What is in your trunk? I said, what is in your trunk? Let me put the dog in the car and then I will show you. The trunk, I will show you. You see? Gasoline drums. Yes, I see. Very well. Close the trunk. I may go? Of course. Thank you again, for sure. August 27th, 1942. Report to OSS headquarters in Washington from agent Steve Lytel in Casablanca. Fontaine and the girl arrived. I knew as soon as she walked in that Paul Vogel could not have forgotten her. I only hoped her memories of him weren't too strong. Now, as you know, Miss Monet, this is an international zone. We are in effect neutrals. In Casablanca, we pass each other in the streets. Germans, Americans, Vichy and Free French. You can imagine what a hotbed of international intrigue we have here. Oh, I know nothing of that kind of intrigue. Then perhaps we can broaden your horizons. Hold it, Henri. Now listen to me, Debbie. The head of the German Armistice Commission in Casablanca is a man named Paul Vogel. Does that name mean anything to you? We knew each other once before the war. Knew each other? He was an attache to the German consulate in Paris. You almost married him once, isn't that so? That is my business. I'm afraid we've made it our business. Now, Debbie, we've kept close watch on you these past months, and we're sure that you're no Nazi or Vichy sympathizer. Oh, I hate them all. For what they are doing to France. But Vogel, what are your feelings toward him? I haven't seen him in years. That's not answering my question. If he is a Nazi, I have no feelings toward him. All right, then. Now, the open secret here in North Africa is the planned American invasion. The closed secret is where and when. Now, that's what Paul Vogel wants to find out for German headquarters. I still don't understand what I... You're to tell him, Sherry. What? Henri's right. You're to take up this friendship with him once more. Give him all the information he wants. You'll get it direct from us. What? Give him your permission. Now, rest assured it'll be the wrong information. You understand now? I'm beginning to. Good. We have a job for you at the Three Lanterns Cafe. Starting tomorrow. Agent Henri Fontaine and I were at the Three Lanterns Cafe the next night when Gabrielle opened there. The cafe was packed, but even the crowd around the bar, officers with ribbon chests, waterfront riff raff, and black marketeers, all of them were quiet when she sang. She was wearing a red dress. In the spotlight, her face looked smaller and whiter, and her hair looked blacker. There wasn't a man in the room who could take his eyes off her. I wondered how soon it would be before Paul Vogel came in and saw her too. A girl like that could make you forget the war, I still. I've got a wife back in Syracuse. Can she wear red like that? My wife can be trusted. And this girl? She and Vogel were pretty close in the old days. I know my own kind. She can be trusted. I hope you're right. The success of the whole American invasion may hinge on it. A lot depends on how hard Vogel falls for that little maid up there on the bandstand. Steve. Hm? Vogel is just come in. That's all I wanted to see. Come on, let's get out of here. Excuse us. Pardon. Pardon. This table is free, waiter. Edwildo. Oui, our Vogel. You wish to see the wine list? Oh, I... That girl. How long has she been here? The singer, you mean? She started only tonight. Tell her to come to this table when she's finished. You understand? Oui, I understand. No, you don't. You only think you do. Go tell her what I said. And bring a bottle of your best wine. And I had no idea it was you, Paul, when the waiter came to me. I like you to walk back into my life so quietly after making so violent an exit. Ah, the world is small after all, Gabi. I'm amazed to find you in Casablanca. I can say the same of you. What are you doing here? I arrived here a few days ago, but I've been in North Africa for months. Tangier, Rorant, Tunis, singing. How were you able to leave France after the occupation? You should know how well I always got along with Germans. You don't seem angry with me any longer, Leafy. After that last time six years ago. Life is too short to be angry for too long at anyone. Besides, I was a fool to have been jealous over that silly blonde with the bad legs. I've even forgotten her name. Suzanne. Ah ha. I see you have not forgotten. Excuse me. Oh, it's our wine. Gabi, how good it is to be with you again. How good it is to be with you, Pa. Ah. For you. For me. Now, we will drink to what is to be, Leafy. To what is to be. You could have no better guide through Casablanca than I, Gabi. Come, what else would you like me to buy you from the market place? A scarf perhaps? A gold scarf to put around your hair, yeah. Have you taken many girls to the market place, huh? Will you be forever jealous of me, Leafy? What is it, the French in you? Aye, it is the woman in me. I imagine you are in great demand by the women here. The chief of the German Armistice Commission. How did you know that? I know more than you think. Oh. Would it interest you to know the name of one of the most important American agents in North Africa? Who? Steve Lytel. What do you know of him? I know him. And he knows the details of the planned American invasion. Come. I will buy you a gold scarf. Well, have you nothing to say of what I just told you? I knew that already. I too have agents. However, thank you for telling me. I can promise you more than a gold scarf if you find out additional information for me. Is this possible? It might be. Very possible. Agent Lytel in Casablanca to OSS in Washington. The girl, Gabrielle Monet, has been on the paid employ of the German government here for several weeks, according to our plan. And we'll transmit to them the Dakar cover project. September 1942. Report to OSS headquarters from Agent Monet. I had a feeling that things were going too smoothly. I seemed to be holding my breath, waiting for something to go wrong. And on the night of the 29th, it did. Paul Vogel was in my room above the cafe. We were listening to my record of our favorite song. Oh, Liebling. Liebling. You'll have to go soon. It is late. Forget the time. Who would think it would come to this again, Gabrielle? After that day in Paris, when we quarreled so much. I remember that day. We showed poor judgment to argue out of doors. It was raining. I got a terrible cold in the nose. Poor Gabi. Let me kiss that poor nose. Oh, Shirley. Oh, Paul. You really must go. But before you do, I have a paper for you in my purse. Dates when high officials will be in Casablanca. Stay a moment. I want to talk to you. You're hurting my arm. Let me come, Paul. Germany is paying you well for this information you are giving us. I know, Paul. Please. Some of it is useful information, but none of it is as important as I would like. I will try to do better. You had better do better. You know what would happen, Gabi, if I found out you were crossing me. I would not cross you. It is nothing for me to twist your arm like this. Such a small arm. Think what I could do if I really tried to hurt you. You hurt me now because you don't trust me. What do you want? You claim to know this American like that. I do. You claim you get your information from him. Is that all he gives you? What about his love? Does he give you that too? Paul, the shoe is on the other foot now it is you who are jealous. How foolish of you. Think what I lied to you. Gabi. Gabi. Oh, Gabi. If you ever lie to me, I would rather see you dead at my feet than standing, looking at me and lying. You hear what I say? Yes, yes, I hear. I hear. No, no more wine. I must keep my head clear to think of what you have just told me. Now are you satisfied that I am earning my money? Baccar. So the Americans will land in a few weeks at Baccar. Very likely, very likely. Baccar is strategically important. It will be more important if the German fleet is there to stop the invasion. That bungled attempt at a landing on Dr. Gould's leadership failed, so the Americans probably figure we would not dream that they would try it again in the same place. One American, Steve Lytell, does not dream you nor this. Are you going to tell German headquarters? But of course, this is something they will want to know. He believes it, Steve, every word of it. Good. The German fleet is being sent to stop the invasion at Baccar. Good, Gabby, good work. Steve, ready your report. Justin from Gibraltar. What is it? No, no, no, let me tell it, Geoff. General Clark will rendezvous on October 21 at Point Agri near Algiers. You know what that means? Final preparations for the Iran invasion. Nothing must go wrong now, nothing. November 4, 1942. Something very wrong happened. Paul came to my room just before I was ready to go downstairs to the cafe. Paul! Gabby, your friend Lytell has been playing you for a fool. Do you hear what I say? I don't understand. The invasion is not Baccar. I just learned myself it's to be Iran. Iran! The German fleet on my suggestion is waiting in Baccar for nothing. Paul. And will continue to wait for nothing. Paul, it can't be. Do you know what this will mean to me? Do you realize what the high command will do to me for this? Please, please, Paul. I'm ruined. Perhaps, perhaps your latest information was wrong about Iran. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. It all ties in. Today, the Americans wanted me to believe the... Gabby, what had you to do with this? Now what are you saying? I'm getting tired of your suspicions. One day you trust me, the next day you don't. You're French. What kind of French? Instead of questions, ask yourself this. Would I betray you, Paul? Not Germany, but you think. Look at me. Look at your Gabby, Anas. No, of course not. Not you. You wouldn't dare. There may still be time to stop the Americans at Oran. I must get back to headquarters and let them know by radio. I should have done that right away instead of coming here. Have a drink first. No, no, later. It will not be easy for you to tell the high command this. A drink will fortify you. Yes. Perhaps, perhaps you're right. One drink then. Paul sat on the edge of the couch, his head in his hands. I remember thinking how very blonde was his hair, how large his hands. It was not difficult for me to drop half the L tablet from my purse into his glass as I poured the liquor over it. Here you are. Good afternoon, Christian. Poor Paul. Poor little one. You look so tired. Where are you going? To put on the record you like. We played it so often lately, Paul, that one of these days it will just rise up in protest. You're tired? No, no, why should I be tired? I must go now. I've had my drink. Hear my record through, then you will go. No, no, now. I must go now. You're so good to me, can't you? You love me. You love me very much. Shhh. His head had fallen on his arms and rested on the table. The tablet had begun to work as I knew it would. I got the automatic pistol that had been given to me by the Americans and shot him twice through his very blonde head. Report from Agent Gabriel Monet. Fini. Well, it ought to come any minute now, news of the invasion. I've had word that Eisenhower and Clark were injured broader on November the 8th. I'll let you both know as soon as something comes through on the radio. Are you all right, Femi? Me? Don't concern yourself. You did what you had to do, it took courage. If I had thought about it longer, perhaps I would not have had the courage. You cannot know. I think I do. He meant a great deal to me. A long time ago. I killed him. Listen to me. I told you something once that the poet Goethe said. He also said this. Give up what perished long ago. Let us love what's living. Do you hear, Gabby? Do you hear? Listen, listen. Yankee, Franklin, Midway, Lincoln, Robert, Harry. That's it, that's it, the code name. Robert's arrived. The invasion's begun, do you hear? Did you hear, Gabby? Did you? Yes, yes, yes, I heard. And once again, the report of an OSS agent is closed with the words... Mission accomplished. A further adventure in black warfare is next week's. Cloak and Dagger. Heard in today's story were Jane White, Barry Krueger, Leon Janney, Joseph Julian, Karl Weber, Raymond Edward Johnson, Guy Sorrell, and Bernie Gould. Script was by Winifred Wolf. Music under the direction of John Gart. Today's true OSS adventure was based on the book Cloak and Dagger by Corey Ford and Alastair McBain. This has been a Louis G. Cowan production under the supervision and direction of Sherman Marks. Stay tuned for the second big mystery high adventure on NBC.
