You, finding life rather dull, dreaming again of exotic places, wishing you were somewhere else, we offer you escape. Come with us now to England and the story of an innocent man caught up in a murderous web of international intrigue as Jeffrey Household tells it in his exciting new novel, A Rough Shoot. It had happened on an autumn evening, so silent and peaceful that no one could have a thought of human violence. And now I was walking home from Mr. Blossom's farm in Dorset, on which I had rented the hunting rights, the rough shooting for the season. As I approached our house where my wife and children were waiting supper, I took a last anxious look back over my shoulder, across the meadow dotted with clumps of thorn, gorse and bramble, stretching away until it vanished in a mist of grey and green. And then I hurried on into the house, glad for its cozy warmth and feeling of security. What kept you so long, Roger? I'm sorry, deadly. Where, where are the boys? They've had their supper, I've sent them to bed. You must be starved. I'm afraid I'm not hungry, but I need the spot of whiskey. Roger, what's the matter? I don't quite know how to tell you, my dear. Tell me what? What is it? Well, I, I, I'm out there on the shoot. Just, just a little while ago. Roger, what happened? Cecily, I, I, I can hardly believe it myself now. Tell me what happened. All right. I killed a man. What? It's true, Cecily, I, I, I killed a man and then I threw his body in the sump. Roger. It, it, it's true, Cecily. But, but you couldn't have. I don't believe it. Listen to me, Cecily. You see, I, I was walking back from Mr. Blossom's farm and I saw three men bending over something by a hedge. I, I, I thought they might be poachers. So I, I started toward them when a, a cock pheasant suddenly flew up in front of them and then one of the men shot it with an air pistol. Well, well, it made me angry and I, I lost my head. You see, if, if they were poachers, I wanted to teach them a lesson to frighten them. So I, I, I let one of them have a charge of bird shot in the seat of the pants and then it, it fell forward onto the ground and he lay there kicking for a moment and then, then he was, he was still. I, I ran up to him, I, I turned him over and I found that he'd fallen onto a sharp spike that he'd been working with. Oh, Roger, how terrible. It was driven into his head. It killed him. Then you didn't, it, it was an accident. Yes, I know it was, but no one will believe it now. But why, Roger? Because I've hidden his body under ten feet of water in the sump. Why did you do that? I don't know why, Cecily. I don't know why I did it. I just lost my head, that's all. Roger, you said there were three men there. Yes. What became of the others? Well, that, that's the strangest thing of all, Cecily. When he fell, they turned and ran. But, but why? I don't know why. How do you tell the police? I can't tell the police. Mr. Blossom will go to them. It happened on his farm. He'll go. No, Blossom doesn't know about it. Surely he'll find out? No one will find out. That is, not until the body is discovered. What about his friends, the men who saw it? What Cecily is, if those two men were going to the police, they'd have stayed to identify me. But they ran away instead. Don't you see, for some reason, they didn't want me to identify them. Well, if they were poachers. Oh, no, no, they weren't poochers, I'm sure of that. Then what were they doing there? I don't know, my dear, but... for my own protection, I'd better find out. How? Well, the only thing I can do is to go back there and see what I can discover. Oh, won't that be rather dangerous? Well, it would be more dangerous not to find out. Yes, yes, perhaps it would. Oh, but don't be careful, Roger. Yes, of course, my dear. Of course, I shall. I went to a garage in town, I rented a bicycle, and I pedaled out to the back acres of Mr. Blossom's farm. Out to where only a couple of hours ago I had killed a man. It was a gusty night, the trees along the road were enveloped in mist and creaked and whispered in the wind. I came to the great hedgerow of thorn and holly, a rattle of whose branches and dying leaves made enough noise to cover the sound of my approach. And there I stopped and looked about into the milky and uneasy world that surrounded me. And suddenly, parked on the road ahead, I saw a motorcycle and sidecar. I left my bicycle, I crept down the road past the motorcycle, staying close to the hedgerow. All right. I told you we shouldn't have made you such a charmer. In this business you've got to take chances. I don't like it. He saw us. You're bound to come back. Shut up and get away. I've had enough of your complaining. Oh, but I... Shut up. What was that? I don't hear anything. No, something here in this hedge. Give me that flashlight. Turn off that thing. Here he is. All right, you come out of there. You... You... You... You... You... You come back here. Come back, I say. I raced back down the road, still gripping the shovel I'd snatched from the man who had attacked me. And when I reached their motorcycle, I stopped just long enough to slash the exposed delicate wiring of its engine with the shovel and then ran on. A few minutes later I was pedalling furiously home. Next morning, after seeing Cecily and the boys off to church in the village, I decided to go straight to Mr. Blossom's farm, avoiding for the present an investigation of the scene of the hit row. I thought it best to see if I could discover anything from Blossom before exposing myself further. As I approached the farmhouse, I noticed a big shiny limousine parked out by the barn and Mr. Blossom in the yard talking to his landlord, Robert Hayne Hasingham. I would have preferred avoiding Hasingham on that particular morning, but they had already seen me, and so I walked on and into the yard. I've seen everyone about these premises who's new around here, and I just... Mr. Blossom, I was just wondering, and I was very strict about poachers. Ah, good morning, Colonel Payne. Good morning, Hasingham. Mr. Blossom. Good morning, sir. Well, I've just been protecting your hunting rights. What? What do you mean, protecting them? Some poachers about. How do you know that? One of the men, the man who saw them, he came to me. Well, now he shouldn't be bothering you with that. I don't understand why a man who saw someone poaching on my hunting preserve wouldn't come to me. Perhaps he tried. Perhaps he couldn't find you. Who was he? Well, I haven't any idea. I never saw him before in my life, Colonel Payne. Mr. Payne, if you don't mind. Or just Payne, I'm not fancy, but not Colonel. I'm only a military man in case of war. Your military heritage is something you can't ever cast aside, Payne. If you're trying to recruit me for your People's Union organization, you might just as well forget it. Many of your fellow officers are in it, Payne. I doubt if there are very many. All right, all right. A few. But we don't want everyone. I don't like your outfit, Hasingham. It's too exclusive, in my taste. Discriminating is the word. Fanatical is a better one. And perhaps fascistic is the best of all. We are not a political organization. Well, I still don't like it. You'll come around, Payne. You'll have to come around. I'll have to. You're not talking to one of your hirelings, Hasingham. Colonel Hasingham, we must get back to town before 10. In a moment, Hayart. Of course, Payne, we shouldn't argue. Men like ourselves, whose basic interests are so close. Are they? Colonel Payne, this is Mr. Hayart. Mr. Hayart? Why, yes. Nothing unusual about that. It was the mister I wondered about. How so? Are you an executive in the People's Union? Yes. Why? I thought all executives were officers in your organization. But I am a kind of officer, Mr. Payne. What kind? Security. Intelligence work? In a way. Sort of super policeman? Sort of. You see, Payne, we have men of varied abilities in our organization. Hasingham, we'll be late for the meeting. Yes, yes, of course. You're right. By the way, Mr. Payne, do you ever go shooting in the early evening? What? Oh, I know. Of course not. That's odd. Why? Why should it be odd that I don't shoot in the early evening? Last evening someone was shooting on your game preserves. Well, what of it? It happens all the time. What are you trying to imply, Hayart? Why, nothing, sir, but it seems curious that a man who loves to shoot wouldn't be interested in who poached on his own grounds. Good day, sir. As I walked back across Ploasen's farm, across the great expanses of close rabbit turf dotted with dents thickets of bramble, it seemed more and more clear that Hasingham's and Hayart's questioning of me about the previous night's shooting meant only one thing. They were somehow involved with the man I had killed. And then it suddenly occurred to me that theirs was not a personal interest, but that the people's union was mixed up in all this. I wished more than ever that I had gone to the police immediately. Ahead of me, a hare suddenly dashed out of a thicket and scampered away across the water. Stay where you are. What? You are a foolish man, Mr. Tain. What do you want? You are an amateur at intrigue, Mr. Tain. You are no competition for Hasingham. Are you a friend of Hasingham? He would like me to be. Or rather, once he would have liked me to be. Hayart? Hayart needs no one. He is evil unto himself. You... you are German. I was German. Then you mean you are a Nazi. Ah, the loyal Englishman who never forgets a war. Perhaps. I can. You are a bungler. Your English bungling delayed my plans. How stupid to shoot at von Kleek. Von Kleek? Yes. You bungled into killing a man you don't even know. That is terrible luck, my friend. I am not your friend, nor are you my enemy. Do you know why? Because I don't care about you. I don't care whether you live or die after we have served each other's purposes. After? Who are you? Mordell. General Mordell. A general without an army. A useless of all useless things. Mordell? I will refresh your memory. I was part of the Nazi general staff. There was a point in the war where some of us, some generals who had put Hitler into power, decided his leadership was no longer useful. He could have led us to victory, but he was leading us to defeat. Worse, to total destruction. Ah, yes, yes, Mordell. The Nazi general staff. Correct. They said you were dead. They said all of us who failed to kill Hitler were dead. And it was true, except the one. For this one, for me. I want nothing to do with you. Listen, my dear fellow. Three former friends killed my family after I failed in the bomb plot. Three good staff officers. Since then I've had but one mission in life. To kill them. I waited. Two are gone. The last one was due to land here on a plane until... Do you want a plane in this field? There's a strip a plane can land on about 100 yards west of us. Von Kleek was helping to install one of the radio beacons they'll use to guide the plane in. When you shot him, it upset everything. Now I want your help. It's ridiculous. When you shot Von Kleek and threw his body in the sump, you committed yourself to helping me. I'll have nothing to do with you or your plans. A murderer never has a choice. It was an accident. Which has become a murder. How do you know that I won't kill you? Because you need me. No matter how vehemently you protest the association. Because I can help you. What could you possibly do to help me? I can get evidence against Hasingham and Hayart which can destroy them. On what basis? The People's Union. The People's Union? That's a farce. No one cares about it. No. It is more powerful than you think. Exposing it can set you free. The courier who will arrive on the plane in this field, he will carry a portfolio. And what will be in the portfolio? Passion. You might use to convict these men of sedition. Sedition? Are you implying a fascist coup? Why, that's ridiculous in the English. Precisely why it is possible. Assuming what you say to be true. It is true. Assuming that I believe that. Assuming the People's Union think I stumbled onto something last night and may either testify against me or kill me. They will. Unless you help me. What must I do? Kill the courier? No, I will do that. You will merely be my accomplice. We will return to Escape and today's story, a rough shoot in just a moment. Edmund O'Brien stars as yours truly, Johnny Dollar, radio's most expensive exciting insurance sleuth. Johnny Dollar writes up the fanciest expense accounts and while he's doing it, he takes his listeners along on thrilling unusual insurance sleuths. Johnny Dollar is a very well-known and while he's doing it, he takes his listeners along on thrilling unusual insurance investigations of arson, robbery and murder. Every Wednesday night, listen in over CBS radio as Johnny Dollar totes up his swindle sheet while he treats you to action and mystery galore. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar, will be in action later tonight on most of these same stations. And now, back to Escape. Nothing to eat for me, sir. Ah, such an understanding wife you have, Tang. Never forces her husband to do anything he does not want to do. I had a wife once and children. They killed my family because they couldn't find me. Nothing moves you, does it? Nothing. No compassion for the outcast. You created your own monster and it destroyed you. No one made you do it. Exactly. No one. You're right. I do not seek pity, nor do I give it. The German general staff created Hitler and part of the staff eventually changed its mind. Yeah, falling out of feed. Don't worry, Mrs. Paine. Your husband and I cannot have a falling out. We are not bound together by loyalty. We have more powerful motivations. I, revenge. Your husband, fear. Fear and revenge. All your life, fear and revenge. Don't you think your good Hasingham and Hayat function the same way? Hasingham's a fool. He'll come to his senses soon. Never. You don't understand the British mind, do you? I understand the fascist mind. It's getting dark. Shall we go to the field? That's all right, my dear. What a shame it would be if we were to fail and what a success. Your wife and children would be left alone. You're a cruel man. A vengeful man, as the courier will discover when he lands. Don't worry, my dear. It will be all right. Ah, the ex-soldier speaks in all his bravery. Come, then. As we had for the last three nights, we approached the landing strip from the woods. The whole affair seemed fantastic. For three nights, Mordell and I had hidden at the north end of the landing strip and waited for the plane to arrive. In spite of myself, I was going impatient. Wait. What is it? The men. They're waiting down the gully. Well, then the plane must be due tonight. Yes, it will be tonight. Come. We may not have much time. Perhaps we don't have time for anything. We must move the radio beacons. We can't move both of them. Those men are too close to the south beacon. But if we move the north beacon just that one, it would bring the plane right to us. Well, if it comes in from the south, but if it comes in from the north, it will stop in front of us. We must take that chance. We were close enough to recognise Hyatt's voice. He was talking to the other men. We couldn't catch what they were saying, so we began to make our way slowly from thicket to thicket, pausing, waiting endlessly to see if we'd been detected. Finally, we came to the radio beacon. It was larger than a wireless set and would require both of us to carry it. We took it and as quietly as possible carried it to the far end of the field, near the woods, and set it up on its spiked legs. Then we stepped back into the trees and waited. Mordell pulled something from his pocket. It won't be long now. What do you have there? An automatic piston. English make, I prefer them. Didn't you bring one thing? No, of course not. Of course not? Why of course not? Oh, why? I don't know. I haven't carried one since... Since the war? Certainly you couldn't conceivably think of killing anyone except in a war. Then you really are going to kill that man on the plane. That has been obvious since our first conversation. You're determined to kill him. If he's the man I'm looking for, then I'm certain he is. The minute he steps off the plane? Oh no, I'll wait. He must know it is I, Mordell, who is killing him. I must first remind him of many things. I must first... Mordell. Yes? I'm going to turn myself in to the police. By all means. I don't need you any longer. I... I can't... Well? Why don't you go? Afraid? I'll not have any part of this murder. You're going to throw yourself on the mercy of the court. There is no justice in the courts? The two such estimable gentlemen as Hayart and Hassenham testify against you. You have enough... The plane is coming in. And it's coming in from the south. Now. Lower. Lower. He's coming to our beacon. Ah. Your last chance, Taint. Coming? Yes. Yes, I'm coming. You there. In the plane. Hurry. Don't stand there. Follow us. Who is it? What Greek is it you? We can talk in the woods. Jump from the plane. It is the police. Hurry. Tell the pilot to go now. I can't see your face. Quickly. Get that plane out of the IOC. Hassen. All right. For nurse. Into the woods. Yes. Yes. I follow. Come back. Come back. Stop. Don't breathe. Hassenham. You fool. Hassenham. Be silent, Lux. What? Silent. This way. I think he went into that ticket there. Over this way. Follow me now. Hassenham and the others ran off in the wrong direction. With his gun, Mordell prodded the reluctant Lux deeper into the woods. And then stopped. It has been six years, Lux. I did what was ordered. I tried to stop it, but everyone who was a friend of yours was suspect. Everyone. It had to be done. My good friend Lux. My old comrade in arms Lux. The murder of my family Lux. I didn't really do it. Reinslott did it. I was only there, Mordell. That's a lie. That's true. Don't understand. You had failed. And if we followed your example, if we turned on the fuhrer also, there wouldn't have been anyone left to prepare. For what? For defeat? For destruction? What preparation was needed? No, no, no, no, no, no. To prepare for afterwards. Look, look. In this briefcase, a list of names meant all over the world. Still ready to help. Strong men, important men. Here, Mordell. Look, Mordell. In the briefcase. Step back, then. Throw it to me, Lux. Let me see it. Stay. I helped you. I upheld my part of the bargain. It was no bargain at all. You had no choice. Now, Lux. What was this about preparing for afterwards? Yes, yes. Prepare. We had to prepare the staff. Hitler himself meant nothing any longer. But we needed time to make plans to protect the staff. A lot your preparations did. That's why our Rome, Mordell, Rome. We did well. You live in the past and defeat. We are not defeated. Little by little we come back. Little by little we take over important work. Big work. An illusion. Like the illusion we all had once. The illusion of the defeated. Our Colonel Hussingham and the art. Illusions? This is the same idiot song you sing. Oh, Mordell. Don't you see? There is no past for us. No murdered wife. No murdered children, Lux. No past all forgotten. This had to be done. I had to go along with the others. You outdid the others. You can't. The past is over. We altered our duty. Good friend, good friend. You can't do it. Don't try to interfere. This is England. It's not Nazi Germany. Be silent. Lux. Mordell, you'll never get out of England alive. The police will. The argument is over. No more to lose. For my wife. Mordell. For my daughter, Lux. For my son, Lux. Up there. Up there. To the right. Hussingham, you'll kill us. Follow me. Through here. Down the hollow. Here's Lux. Leave him. Leave him. Come on. I am not meant to run. Give me the briefcase then. No, no, no. I will go. There. Don't take time to fire back. I can hardly, hardly move. Mordell. Mordell. I'm hit. I'm hit, Englishman. You dance for me? The briefcase. Give it to me. No. Let go of the briefcase. They're in here somewhere. I know I hit one of them. Well, I'll be careful. Ha, ha. Here he is. What move? Mordell. Give me a briefcase. I don't know. But find the briefcase. Go back to where we found Lux. All right. Come on. Over here. Over there. Where was he? Over there. I crept quietly to the edge of the woods and then ran as I had never run before. It was raining when I reached the village, and as I walked through the deserted streets toward the familiar blue light that glowed over the entrance to the constabulary, I wondered if the police would believe the incredible story they were about to hear. And then I remembered the briefcase under my arm with its documents and its proof. Sergeant, my name is Roger Tain. Four nights ago, I shot a man. You'll find his body in the sump from Mr. Blossom's house. Under the direction of Norman MacDonald, Escape has brought you a rough shoot by Jeffrey Hussle, specially adapted for radio by Arthur Ross and starring Ben Wright. Featured in the cast were John Boehner, Stan Waxman, Mary Lansing, Howard McNear, Larry Dubkin, and Lou Krugman. The special music for Escape is composed and conducted by Leith Stevens. Next week, Escape with us to New Guinea and the story of a man who was to die at the hands of Papuan cannibals. The second his watch stops ticking, as Hugh Cave tells it in his unusual tale, The Silent Horror. The meanest crooks who deliberately trap teenagers into a life of crime, those are targets for tomorrow night when Agent Shepard and the FBI in Peace and War tackle first offense specialists in a manhunt packed with action as well as human interest. Don't miss CBS Radio's startling FBI in Peace and War program tomorrow evening on most of these same stations for thrilling insight into rackets and racket smashing. This is Roy Rowan speaking. This is the CBS Radio Network. Thank you.
