Stand by for crime. Hi, Chuck Morgan again. Did you ever participate in a full-scale revolution? Well, I had that dubious pleasure less than a month ago, and when I say pleasure, I use the word loosely. Anyway, I've made a good story, and I'd like to tell you about it. You see, Pappy Mansfield, owner of radio station KOP here in LA, or High Workers Newscaster, is a showman of the first water. When he heard rumors that the Raymond Escobar faction in the tiny South American Republic of Parana was going to attempt to overthrow the Leopoldo de los Rios regime, he contacted the powerful 250,000-watt station in Paolo, Parana's capital city. They set up a short-wave deal whereby I could broadcast the show back to the United States. Then he bought tickets for Carol Curtis, my blonde secretary, and me on the Braniff Airlines. We left International Airport on a Sunday evening, and two days later, we're nearing our destination. Only a short while longer, Glamourpus, and we'll sit down at the Francisco airport in Paolo, and I'll bet you'll be glad to get there. Oh, I don't do it. It kind of scares me. I don't know a thing about South America. You don't? Why, Glamourpus, South America extends from about 12 degrees north of the equator to about 56 degrees south of the equator. It covers an area of 7,200,000 square miles and has a population of 100,195,000. Oh, get in. Now I suppose you're going to tell me you also speak Peranian or whatever that is. Oh, put it in, actually. Well, speak some at me. Te amo mucho. Well, I'll be... What does that mean, Chuck? Oh, come on, now don't be stupid. Everyone knows what te amo mucho means. Well, I don't. And I don't believe you do either. Oh? Oh, I think you're making it up. Fasten your safety belts, please. Fasten your safety belts, please. Well, Glamourpus, this looks like the end of the journey. Yeah, they must go to bed early around here. I can't see a thing below. That's because you're looking out of the wrong window, birdbrain. Look over here. Oh, Chuck, it's like a fairyland. Isn't it? Oh, there must be millions of lights. I had no idea Paola would be so big. Well, what do you expect, a backcountry settlement? Paola, my sweet, is one of the most modern cities in the world. There's our most South Americans. Oh, oh, there's the airfield. See it? Yes. You all set? Uh-huh. Oh, I'm as set as I ever will be, but I'm still scared. Oh, ho, ho. Senor Chuck Morgan. Yes, that's right. You must be Pedro Falcon. I am sorry, senor, I am not Pedro Falcon. I am a member of the great and glorious forces of Ramon Escobar. Ramon Escobar? But I thought that we were going to... You North Americans think too slowly, senor Morgan. The revolt led by General Escobar was successfully accomplished yesterday. Oh, no. General Escobar now sits in the seat of power, formerly occupied by that scoundrel, Leopoldo de la Frios. And you, senor Morgan, are his prisoner. The trouble with most Americans who travel abroad is that unthinkingly they're too sure of themselves. And unconsciously, Carol Curtis and I follow the pattern. We protested violently at being treated like criminals. We offered to show our credentials, and we didn't get the chance. In less time than it took us to realize exactly what was happening, we were detoured around customs and forced into a curtained automobile, persuaded by a couple of blunt-nose pistols pressed into our backs. Our captor, Senor Pancho Ortega, he said his name was, was polite, but adamant. You will refrain from attempting to look from the automobile, or in any way to attract attention. To do so would be most disastrous for both of you. I'm going to be pretty disastrous with you, my friend. Just wait until the United States Consulate finds out about this. The United States Consulate, I can assure you, is not going to find out. No? Well, don't be too sure. Everyone in Piranha knows we're here tonight. We've had more publicity than your whole two-bit revolution. Precisely, senor Morgan. That is why you are our prisoner. I don't get it. You will get it, as you say, in due time, senor. We rode for about an hour, making a lot of turns and keeping it at a moderate pace. Twice in the distance we heard sounds of gunfire, which indicated that Raymond Escobar's coup wasn't so completely successful as our friend Pancho had wanted us to believe. After a while, the automobile made a final turn and slowed down. We bounced along a cobbled street for a short distance and then stopped. You will get out, please. Now, look here, friend. You've gone far enough. If you don't... Please, no talking. But if we can't talk, how are we going to... The same goes for you, senorita. Oh, all right. Pancho led the way through an unlighted doorway we followed. His two henchmen were directly behind us. One of them produced a flash light, which revealed a flight of brickety stairs. We all went up. At the top was a small landing and a door. Pancho opened the door. We followed him inside. Someone snapped a light switch. It was a bare room, consisting of a table, two chairs, and a couch. A naked electric light bulb hanging from the ceiling gave the place a dismal, unlived-in look. There was one window. Very well, senorita. You will wait here. What for? How long? Listen, you don't seem to realize how you're sticking your chin out on this deal. If you don't let me talk to the United States Consulate, I will... Please, senorita. May I suggest that you make yourself comfortable until I return? I feel caros. Come. Well, senor Morgan, we're in a fine mess. Shut up. Relax, glamopus. Locked. That doesn't surprise me. Chuck, this window's got bars on the outside. Yeah, well, that isn't surprising either. We wouldn't have been left alone if there was a chance of getting out of here. Chuck, why are we taking prisoners? And why don't they let us see the American Consulate? And what are we going to do? You ask those questions as though you expected me to come up with the answers. Well, you usually do have the answers. This is a heck of a time to conk on on me. Come on, hang on to that sense of humor, glamopus. You may need it. If that's a sense of humor showing through, then I'm going to be grinning in my own funeral. Oh, say something nice to me, Chuck. I think I'm going to cry. Now, look, glamopus, get this. We're in a spot. If you start making matters worse by boiling... Uh-oh. Well, back so soon, senor? I promise you only a short wait, remember? You step this way, please. The room we followed Panchavendu was a duplicate of the one we'd left. Only this one had more lights, more furniture, and more people. The first person that caught my eye was a lovely, raven-haired girl. She was sitting at a table, directly beneath the electric light bulb. Beside her was a man. I looked at the man and felt goose pimples breaking out all over. Chuck. Yes, I see. He looks exactly like you. There is a slight resemblance. Slight resemblance? Why, he's a dead ringer. Good afternoon, senorita. Senor. Ah, so you noticed it too, eh? It is most uncanny, no? Yes. I mean, Chuck, say something. I think our host wants to talk about our glamopus. You are quite right, senor Morgan. First, let me introduce myself. I am Leopoldo de los Rios, president of the Republic of Parana. De los Rios? But I thought... You thought that my loyal follower Pancho was a member of the Ramon Escobar forces? Hmm. Quite. Only by posing as such was he able to enter the airfield and drive you away as his...guest. Guest? Yeah, that's a hard one. All right, Rios, what's the rest of the story? As you pointed out to my loyal supporter Pancho, your arrival here received more publicity than our... What was your expression? Two-bit revolution? Horny should have been the word. What's the trouble with you North Americans? You treat a revolution outside your own country so lightly. Nuts. You're amused. Hundreds of people were killed and you are amused. Oh, no, Mr. Rios. We didn't think it was funny at all, did we, Chuck? Keep quiet, glamopus. All right, senor. You read about me coming down here in the papers, so what? And saw your pictures. All right, okay, so there were pictures. Please, senor Morgan, this belligerent attitude will get you nowhere. Put yourself in my position, in the position of any Paranian. There is talk of a revolution. You plan to broadcast it over your radio as though it were some sort of cheap spectacle. Thousands of people have been killed and you make sport of it. All right, you said hundreds before, but never mind. You've got a point. I admit it. I apologize. Now, where do we go from here? For the moment, senor, you will go nowhere. It is I who am going. Well, that's okay with us. You go your way, we'll go ours. Unfortunately, it will not be simple for you to go your way. You see, senor Morgan, your thirst for publicity brought you much of it. Your picture was published and republished. And even I, senor Morgan, could not fail to note the strong resemblance between us. All right, okay, so we're twins. Now what? Now, senor Morgan, I will take your papers, all of your credentials, and escape from Parana. What? Senor Morgan, it is an excellent plan I have. Well thought out and it shall be well executed. You are out of your mind. No, no, no. Far from it. At the moment, I am the deposed leader of my country. The police and the military are systematically searching the city. The time is short. It is inevitable that they will find my hideout here. And when they do? Ramon Escobar, senor Morgan, has issued a decree. I am to be shot on sight. Look, do you realize what that means? If he takes your pages and... You be quiet, glamour purse. Go ahead, Rios. I think you understand the situation, senor. Since you North Americans make so light of our small revolution, since you think it is so amusing to come down here and make a spectacle of what to us is a most serious affair, you should have your chance to be a, what is it you say, a sport about the whole thing? I think I get what you're driving at, senor. You're going to take my credentials and posing as me, you're going to take the first plane out of here for safety. Precisely. You're going to leave me here and when Escobar's gang catches up with me, I'm going to be executed in your stead. Oh, not necessarily. You are, I think, a clever man, senor Morgan. Gracias. Perhaps you can avoid capture until I return from Cuba. Cuba? Yes, I shall leave the plane in Cuba. There I have many influential friends. There I shall reorganize my armies and one day return to Parana to liberate my people from the tyrant Ramon Escobar. One day return? And when will that one day be, senor? Who knows? A month, six months, a year. And during that time I'm supposed to hang around here ducking the cops and the army who will stop at nothing to get a rope around my neck. If you're still alive when I return, senor, you will be sent back to your country a free man. Well, that's mighty quiet of you, chum, but I have other ideas. So? Yes, so. Your flunkies have failed to frisky the one of us when they picked us up at the airport. All right. Did you ever see one of these before? Yes, yes, many times. That is a Colt 45 automatic, a very effective weapon. Do you intend to shoot us all with it, senor? Only if you're stupid enough to try to stop us from getting out of here. Carol? Yes, Chuck? Go over and see where that door leads to. No one in this room will attempt to spoil your fun, senor. It is outside the room you will be stopped. I'll take that chance. It's open, Chuck. There's a hole outside on the stairs we came up. Good. Now stay where you are, all of you. One false move and you get it. Get out in the hole, glamour plus. As soon as I close the door, lock it. All right. I stepped quickly through the door, banged it shut, Carol turned the key. We spun toward the stairs, but we stopped. Five men were gathered at the head of the stairwell. Drop your guns, they are. We had our choice of shooting it out or being shot ourselves, so I decided to shoot it out. At the moment, I couldn't think of any alternative. Drop to the floor, glamour plus. Well, our attempt to escape had failed completely. The last thing I remember was dropping to the floor beside Carol, thinking what a crummy way this was to die. Six thousand miles from home in a country about the size of Rhode Island, and no forest lawn where a guy could get a decent funeral. Then something hit me on the side of my head and it was curtains. I woke up on the couch in the room where Carol and I had spent the first five minutes of our imprisonment. But despite that throbbing ache in my head, I thought I must surely be in heaven. The standing over me was an angel. I shut my eyes and opened them again. She was still there. She had raven black hair and eyes the color of midnight, and the skin that would shame the petals of a rose. This, senora, feels better? Oh yeah, yeah, like a million dollars. Drink this, please. What is it? It will stop the ache. I took the stuff and drank it. What did I have to lose? It tasted like the devil. But the ache had stopped in my head. Then I discovered two things. There was a bandage tied neatly around my head. And the angel with the rose petal skin was a girl who had been sitting at the table beside De Los Rios. Ah, so it's you. You feel better, see? Yeah, yeah, thanks. Where's Glamourpus? Glamourpus? Carol Curtis, the girl who's with me. Oh, oh, she's quite safe. I will take you to her in a moment. Why not now? First, I have to make what in the United States I believe you call the proposition. Uh-oh, I hope you didn't mention to Glamourpus that you were going to say that to me. Let me explain, please. I am Conchita Cortez, the sister-in-law of Leopoldo De Los Rios. Well, baby, I wouldn't brag about it. You must realize what a serious position you are in, senor Morgan. Unless you permit me to help you escape, you will surely be captured and executed. Now, wait a minute. Let's take this once over lightly, chicken. Did you say that you would help us to escape? I did. What's the catch? The catch, as you call it, senor, is that you take me with you. What? I want to go to the United States. I must go to the United States. Oh, I see. And you figure this is your chance of getting out of the country, eh? It is more than that, senor. In North America is my fiancé. He waits for me there. A whole year he waits. We wish to get married. Well, that figures. Now, about this plan of escape, sir. I know this city well. I have many friends and much jewelry to be used as gifts. Well, I'm still in the position of having nothing to lose, so okay, Conchita, it's a deal. This was beginning to seem like a bad nightmare, the awakening from which was becoming increasingly uncertain. Conchita snapped off the light and took hold of my hand. You do not mind? No, not to the contrary. Follow closely, please. And do not make any sound. We went through a door and into another darkened room, stopped a moment to listen. Far off, the machine gun began its angry chattering. It was a bell explosion, sounding like a grenade in silence. We moved across the floor and Conchita opened a second door. Sudden light exploded out at us. I heard the sound of quick footsteps. And then Carol had her arms around my neck. Chuck, oh Chuck! Take it easy, glamour pose. Everything's going to be all right. Oh, Chuck, I was afraid. Who's this? This, sweetheart, is Conchita Cortez. Quite a kid. Yes, yes, I see she is. You can drop the little boy's hand now, darling. He's not afraid anymore. Oh, I am so sorry. I did not intend to. I was not thinking. Lots of girls stop thinking when Chuckie Boy turns on them. And then listen, lay off glamour pose, will you? Conchita is going to get us out of this mess. She's also going back to the States with us. Oh, she is? I do not want to appear rude, but there's so little time. That machine gun fire I do not like. It means there is still resistance. All right, we're ready. It's any time you are, little one. Let's go. We stepped out into a cobbled alley, turned right and headed for the lighted street. Near the mouth of the alley we stopped, a man had suddenly appeared around the corner. He was in uniform and carried a rifle. He stood peering into the alley's gloom. He started towards us, and Conchita said... Wait! Do not move. Her heels clicked away on the cobblestone. The soldier brought the gun down. Conchita spoke to him softly, and he allowed her to approach. They stood a minute talking. Then we saw Conchita reach into her handbag. Chuck. Yeah? You called her little one. What? You called her little one back there in the room. Called her? At a time like this you bring up a stupid... Listen, I called her little one because that's her name. Conchita means little one in Perinean. Chuck, I'm sorry. You better be. Conchita returned, and she led us back to the street. The soldier had disappeared. As a matter of fact, there wasn't a soul in evidence anywhere. We crossed two intersections, then made a right turn and the business district of Peola was before us. Looking as much like Sixth and Olive in L.A. as Sixth and Olive looks like Sixth and Olive. Only there weren't any people, or traffic. I could feel Carol's hand begin trembling in mine. She was getting that same sense of eeriness. Suddenly Conchita stopped holding up her hand. Listen! It is the patrol! They're coming this way! Quick! Beyond that building is an alley. In the alley is an automobile. We must hurry! We didn't have a chance. The patrol came around the corner and saw us. There was a shout of command. The soldiers broke ranks and ran towards us. Quick! Into this building! Hurry! Inside, both of you! Let me bolt the door! We're on the ground floor of an office building. There was a large plaque on the wall. I glanced at it and then I did a take. Look! This is station P.A.R., the radio station from which I was going to do that broadcast. Chuck, if Pedro Falcon is here, he'll help us. Yeah. Pedro Falcon was taken prisoner yesterday. This station is now on the head... You'll raise your hands, please. All of you. Mr. Leopoldo de los Rios, you are the prisoner of Ramon Escobar, president of the Republic of Parana. You've heard the old American expression, out of the frying pan into the fire? Well, that was us. The man with the gun ordered us into a waiting room that had been converted into temporary headquarters for Ramon Escobar. The general himself, a short, swarthy man with a waxed moustache, sat behind a table that was big enough for a director's meeting at the AT&T. Inside of me, he leaped to his feet. Rios! So, you were unable to escape as you boasted, eh? Now, take it easy, General. I'm not Rios. My name is Morgan. I'm an American. Oh, you are not Leopoldo de los Rios. Yeah? Oh, come, come, Leopoldo. Do you take me for a fool? He is telling the truth, General Escobar. This is not Leopoldo de los Rios. Oh, and I suppose you are not Conchita Cortez, Leopoldo's sister-in-law. Yes, that is true. I am Conchita Cortez. But you must believe me. This man is Señor Morgan, a citizen of the United States. I see. And who is the lovely creature standing beside him? I'm Carol Curtis, and you can tell his monkey face to let go my arm. Well, well, such a fiery spirit. Corporal! It was obvious we weren't getting anywhere with the general. Whether or not he believed I was Leopoldo de los Rios, he didn't seem to bother much. He had himself a couple of fine prisoners, and he was delighted. I was beginning to weigh my chances of getting hold of the corporal's rifle when something happened. Hi, Chuck. Hello, Carol. Pappy! Now I've seen everything. How did you get here? Oh, Pappy, I was never more glad to see anyone in my life. Oh, you can see. Oh, Mansfield, you know this Leopoldo de los Rios? Leopoldo, my foot. That's Chuck Morgan. He works for me. The blonde girl is Carol Curtis, his secretary. Oh, this is de los Rios. His face is very familiar to me. Chuck's face is familiar to me. Listen, General, does your friend de los Rios have a Yankee accent, or hadn't you noticed it? This is something I had not thought of. Well, you better think of it beginning now. Come on, you two. We're getting out of here. Okay, Pappy. Wait. The girl stays. Which girl? Concita Cortez. She stays. She will remain as hostage. De los Rios will not attempt to leave Farana so long as he thinks she is in danger. Not just a minute, General. You're wrong again. Concita goes with us. Oh? And why is it you say this? Because I made a deal with her. She agreed to help us escape if I promised to take her back to the United States with us. Escape? But she did not succeed in helping you escape, sir. That's not the point. We made a deal. She tried to keep her part of it. I'm going to keep mine. And if I do not permit... You'll permit, General, first because it was Concita who contacted the American consulate, which in turn contacted me. And second, because if I'm not back at the consulate in 15 minutes, that broadcast I was telling you about is going on the air. There were short waves set up over there, and the American people are just waiting to hear the details of this revolution of yours. I see, I see. And a lot is going to depend upon the nature of those details. Your credit rating with the United States government, for one thing. I see. Perhaps this would be important to the future of Parana, eh? Well, it seems likely. You might as well count on Uncle Sam to get your country back onto its feet. Everyone else does. Yes, yes. This is most important. Most important indeed. Very well, it is a bargain. You will make the broadcast and explain to the people of the United States that the government of Parana is now... Good old Taffy. And what a liar he was. There wasn't any short wave set up at the American consulate, but General Escobar didn't know that. However, I did make a brief talk from Station PAR, stating the facts of the revolution and refraining from any personal comment. Then the four of us were given safe escort to the airfield. That big four-motored Braniff airliner took off five minutes after we reached the field. Taffy squeezed himself into a seat beside the beautiful Conchita. Taffy's sure having himself a time, isn't he? Look at that old boy. He's getting a boot out of being so close to South American beauty. What does that mean? So were you. So was I what? Getting a boot out of being so close to South American beauty. Ah, now, Glamopost. I found out something. What? Conchita doesn't mean little one. You just made that up. Now, look, Glamopost, under the circumstances... And I found out something else, too. What? I found out what Teomucho means. You found out what Teomucho... What does it mean? Well... Well? Say it in English. Okay, Glamopost. I love you very much. Oh, Chuck.
