The Prepper Broadcasting Network - IWCF 059 The Crossed Heart

Episode Date: August 20, 2026

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I was a communist for the FBI. Starring Dana Andrews and an exciting tale of danger and espionage, I was a communist for the FBI. The actual records and authentic experiences of Matt Severic. How many of the incidents in this unusual story. Here is our star Dana Andrews as Matt Savatic, who for nine fantastic years lived as a communist for the FBI. The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked.

You'll find that quotation in the Bible. I found the proof of it in the Communist Party. It wasn't hard to find at all, but believe me, it was brutally hard to accept. This story will illustrate what I mean. In a moment, listen to Dana Andrews as Matt Sabatic, undercover man. This story from the confidential file is marked, the crossed heart. Strange town miles from home. You know what it's like.

You walk the streets, looking for secrets or surprises. Study the crowds, the blur of bland impersonal faces. Seeking someone you might know, something familiar to give you that sense of belonging. That's how it usually is with strangers. But I was an unusual stranger. My visit to this town was sponsored by the Communist Party. I wasn't permitted to take my natural instincts with me. instinctory action and reaction was planned and prescribed by my far-seeing red comrades.

I was to report to this address of private residence. I was to ask for a Mrs. Breen. Then I was to let nature, as authorized by the commies, take its course. Well, how do you do? Good evening. I'm looking for Mrs. Breen. I'm Mrs. Breen. Won't you come in?

You? Come in, young man. Come in. Now you'll catch your death out there. This little old lady, the shawl, the white hair, the rimless glasses? No. She was the type you write songs about, not the sort you associate with reds. I followed her through the gloomy, age-heavy house into a room that had been set aside as a little office.

Watching her gestures, so gentle, so prim and proper, I felt sure that somehow the commies or I had made a mistake. There we are. It's so much more comfortable in here, isn't it? Yes. Yes, it is. Now, let me see. Oh, I'm forever misplacing those applications. Here we are. Your name, please? Hmm?

Oh, Severic. Matt Sevedic. Yes, or C? C, V-E-T-I-C. Uh, Mrs. Breen, I think... Your age? I think there's been some... Well, never mind. Let's just say over 30, under 40.

All right? All right. Now, I'd say you're, oh, about six feet tall. About that? Now, any preference of the types? Types of what? Oh, silly girls, of course. Girls?

Look, I... Now, now, now, nothing to worry about. All information is strictly confidential. Our service is licensed by the state. What kind of service? Well, same as anywhere else. Once you subscribe, I give you three names and telephone numbers. Chosen according to your personal tastes and specifications.

If you aren't satisfied, just call in and I'll give you three more. $15 for a month's service, $25 for three months. That's the usual rate? No, now, don't start fretting. I've been expecting you, comrade. Forgive me for confusing you so. We just have to be so very careful, you know. I know.

Now, I've arranged a date for you for tonight. A date? Well, that's why you're here, isn't it? Is it? I'm not the least bit sure why I'm here, Comrade, Breen. Mrs. Breen, Mr. Svetich. We must be careful. Must, must, must.

Okay. Well, tell me about my date. Her name is Clara Malone, a good client. A very important client to the club. I see. She's a widow. with quite a bit of money. Rather pretty, too.

You'll call for her, take her to dinner, and most important, you'll collect an envelope from her. What's in it? Money. She owes the club some money. See that you bring it to me immediately. Now here's her name. Her phone number, her address.

Here you are. Deke, this is red. Oh, good. I just joined a lonely hearts club. What? A lonely hearts club. Some kind of calming. front.

How come? Well, I don't know yet. I'll know more after tonight. What's tonight? My first date. Clara Malone, a wealthy widow, I understand. I called her a while ago and got no answer. I'll keep at it, Matt.

Well, not yet. Just be there when I need you. I'm on Clara Malone's line. It was getting late now. Mrs. Breen's place was closed, and I couldn't risk violating party orders. So I decided to go directly to the address, Mrs. Breen had given me.

Maybe for the time I got there, Clara Malone would have arrived too. I could see a light in her apartment through the crack in the door. But either she was out or she... Hello? This might be Clara Malone. She didn't look like she needed a lonely hearts club to supply her with dates, but then you never know. She came straight for this apartment.

Looking for someone? Oh, yes. I was looking for Miss Malone. I'm Miss Malone. Clara Malone? Oh, no. Judith, Clara's sister. Isn't she home yet?

Well, she hasn't answered the door. That's funny. Is there anything I can do? Not exactly. See, Clara and I have a date for the night. Oh, well, come on in, then. She should be home any minute. All right.

She might have run down to the store. What's the matter? What is it? What's the... Holy smokes. I had a good reason for not answering the door. She was dead. My first instinct told me to get out of there fast.

But from the looks of things, her death was a suicide. And Judith wasted no time in calling the police. The police inspector, a tired, shabby little guy named Bycheck, thought it was a suicide, too, but he wasn't sure. And in his job, he had to be sure. Sorry, we had to bring you two all the way down here, but you know how it is. Sit down, Miss Malone. Thank you, Inspector.

Yeah, you too. Uh, what's your name again? Svetik. That's right. You were a friend of the deceased, Svetic? No, I never saw her before tonight. This is my first day in town. Well, you told me you had a date with Clara.

Well, yes, it was a blind date. A mutual friend. How about her, Miss Malone? This guy, a friend of your sister's? I don't know, Inspector. Don't you share that apartment with your sister? Yes, but Clara dated a lot of men I knew nothing about. Too many, I suppose.

Too many? She's been terribly unhappy since her husband died. Lonely and unhappy. Any special reason for killing herself? Finances? No. She inherited a lot of money from her husband. She didn't care about money much.

Inspector, do you think it wasn't suicide? I mean, do you think that Clara was... Oh, it looks like suicide, all right, Miss Malone? Probably is. But the coroner's report isn't in yet. There are a few funny... angles to this mess. But who?

Who would want it to hurt Clara? She was a lonely widow. She had money. She did it a lot of strange guys. Too many, you said. Like Svetik here. Somehow he knew her phone number and address, but he didn't know her. Just a minute, Inspector.

I'm a cop, Svetic. My job don't give me much time to trust people. Listen, I have a... Have it. Skip it. Didn't go. Both of you. Sorry for all the trouble, Miss Malone. It's all right, Inspector. I won't heckle you unless it's necessary.

Thank you. Say, uh, Svedic, what? You'd better stay around town a while. If the coroner comes in with any surprise decisions, we'll want you for questioning. I couldn't leave town anyway. I was under orders from the Reds, but I couldn't let the police know that. I had some vital questions to put the sweet old Mrs. Breen,

like how did the Reds figure in Clara's death? If it was murder, was I to be the Patsy for the party? But she wasn't to be found Her house was dark, locked up I waited around a while No use I headed for my hotel to get some sleep You're back early

How did you get in here Oh please don't be angry with me I told the room clerk I was your mother And I wanted to surprise you Well you did You're full of surprises I just didn't want you to be burdened too long With that envelope

Temptation you know What envelope? What envelope? Well, the envelope you collected from Clara. She's dead, Mrs. Breen. Cold Stone dead. What are you talking about?

You know full well what I'm talking about. Clara Malone was dead when I got to a apartment. It looks like suicide, but it may be murder. Murder? Skip the performance, Mrs. Breen, and get this straight. If that phone rings, it'll be the police. It's been ringing all evening. Oh?

It will probably ring again. Well, if it does, it's because the cops Perhaps have a good reason to suspect me of killing Clara Malone. I'll have to tell them about you and your lonely hearts club. No, Comrade Stetic. You mustn't do that. No? Watch.

The party can't afford to be involved in that sort of thing. If you did that, we'd see that you... The phone, Comrade Static. Well, aren't you going to answer it? Look, if it's the police, I'm going to... Just remember, young man. The police operate according to bourgeois Consternet. of justice. The party has its own concepts. Yeah. Yeah, I know. You'd better answer the phone.

Answer it, comrade, right now. Hello. Starring as Matt Cibetic, and I was a communist for the FBI and the second act of our story. Telephone can be an instrument of torture. And right now, I was its victim. The receiver was at my ear. I'd spoken a greeting into the mouthpiece. Then there was a moment's silence. Bitter, excruciating silence. A glance at Mrs. Breen standing in my elbow told me that a murder charge would be delightful compared to what the commies would do to me if I told the truth to the police. Yes? What do you want? Now? Well, it's pretty late. I know. You got the coroner's report? I'll be down. I was saying, Comrade, the party has its own way of treating those who violate its confidence. You mean they'd let me be charged with the murder?

I didn't commit. What can they do, Comrade? After all, what's more important? The life of one young man or the life of the proletariat revolt? Come in, Swedick. Sit down. Over here. I look nervous.

It's late, Inspector, and I'm tired. Me too. We got the coroner's report on Clara Malone. He's satisfied that it's suicide. Well, then what do you want? I'm not satisfied. Svetik, why'd you come to this city? Business?

What business? Just business. Business with Clara Malone? Oh, no, that was just a date. Yeah. Arranged by a mutual friend. A business associate? All right.

Here. Look. The report from Clara Malone's bank, she inherited $300,000 when her husband died. Look what's left. She's practically broke. Where did it go? Wherever it went, it went during the last year or so.

Somebody was bleeding this dame dry, Swettick. She has a couple of kids who were at an exclusive private school, but... She has. You didn't know that? No. Swettick, I warn you. Either you tell us what you know or... Don't threaten me, Inspector.

Well, then talk, you idiot. I'm trying to give you a break. Clara Malone was the victim of a shakedown, Svetic. Whoever's responsible is just as responsible for a suicide, directly or indirectly. In spite of you are... I intend to find out who and why and how. I wish I could help, Inspector. Yeah, I'll bet.

Okay, Spetic, get out. Get out of here. Secretly, I hoped Inspector Bichick would fulfill his threat. I left police headquarters praying silently that he'd be able to pin his suspicions on Mrs. Breen and the commies, but I couldn't help him. Oh, sure, I might have been noble and named names, but nobility comes hard when you know the commie technique for vengeance.

The streets of a strange city were even stranger now. They were empty, silent, wet with that pre-dawn mist. Sweary. What? Go in here. Hurry. Sorry, pal. I'm going the other way.

In that car, Sway. Get in. Hey, what's a big idea? Let go. Let's go. Let's get in, I said. Any trouble? No trouble, comrade, Breen.

You keep mighty odd hours for a woman of your age, Mrs. Breen. I'm dedicated to my work. It makes a difference. That's all for now, George. No. Okay. Are you all right, comrades, Fittick? No.

I don't like being shoved around by that goon boy of yours. Please, comrades, Fettie. I'd like to know what you told the police. Nothing. Oh, now come there. If I did tell them anything about you or this club, don't you think you'd know by now? Well, you're right, of course. Do the police know anything about us?

Just hunches. The coroner called Clara Malone's death a suicide. But the inspector thinks there's blackmail involved. Where did he learn that? Well, he's not a fool, you know. He checked Clara's bank account and learned that she went through a lot of money in a big hurry. I wonder how much that sister of hers knows. Not too much from what I could see.

We've got to be sure, Comrade. We've got to be sure. Well, she... Would you mind finding out for me, please? What? Well, you've met Judith. You've talked with her. Find out what she knows about the club, the blackmail, anything.

If she knows more than she should, then... Then what? We'll see. We'll see. Your job now is to find out what she knows before she tells the police. The commie web was being spun again. This time the victim was to be Judith Malone. I had to keep her free of that web somehow. But I had to keep myself clear the web, too.

Maybe there was a way, some way, to turn the web against the spinner. To strangle the commies with their own vicious weapon. It was worth a try. One good try. Beaker, this is red. Hi, what's up? I need some bugs and lines fast. Small mics, okay?

No. Yeah, uh, Rogers Market down the street. There'll be a package for you there in an hour. Matthews. Okay. Pick up your groceries in an hour, Mr. Mayor. And my groceries were waiting for me in an hour. The package was camouflaged pretty well, but I knew the equipment I needed was there.

Coils of wire, small microphones, earphones, the works. My next step was to call Mrs. Breen and take. tell some whoppers. You mean she knows the whole story? Yeah, Clara told her everything. But Judith has a pretty sensible attitude about it. Oh, she's more sensible than that. There's one simple way to keep Judith quiet.

Oh, no. Violence, no. Terms, yes. Did she tell you that? She hated at it pretty strongly. You'd better phone her, make an appointment. Make her an offer. Shall I visit her, please?

No, cops all over the neighborhood. Well, tell her you realize that silence is golden. Tell her you have some important information about her sister. That should do it, I hope. I checked in at Mrs. Breen's place later and learned that she'd made an appointment with Judith Malone for 8.30 that night. About six o'clock, Mrs. Breen decided to go out for a bite to eat. Want to join me, Comrade Svetik? No, thanks. I'll stay here.

Judith may change her mind. Can't take any chances. Well, you're probably right. Incidentally, you'll be here tonight when I see her, won't you? You don't want me here. Too many of us might over-emphasize the importance, make her boost the price even more. All right.

And remember, she's quite a little actress. She'll play the innocent role right up to the hilt, but don't let her fool you. Don't worry, young man. I'll be back soon. Don't take your time. I've nothing to do anyway. There was plenty to do, of course.

As soon as Mrs. Breen was gone, I enwrapped my groceries, which I'd hidden in the shrubs outside the house. As quickly as possible, I wired her office. for sound. One tiny microphone under the rug near her desk, another near the big armchair. I ran the wires up behind the drapers out the windows and into

the shrubs, where the miniature recording set up would be located. Back in the little office, I was about to test the microphone. Sredek. Where's Mrs. Breen? Well, she went out for something to eat. Why? That Malone Day, Miss here. Now? I thought 8.30 was... She says she was nervous. Couldn't work.

I better get comrade. Oh, no, no, I'll go. I know where she's eating. Uh, have you been here in the house all this time? Sure. Where'd you think I'd be? Why? Nothing, just... Just curious, that's all. I went out the back door to avoid Judith. There was no chance to test the equipment now. No chance for anything but cold, naked luck. When Mrs. Breen went inside to meet Judith, I ducked behind the shrubbery, switched on the recorder,

just at the earphone, And prayed. I'll pick it up. Pick it up. Come on, please. Pick it up. Please, please. About time we got straight to the point, Miss Malone, I'm willing to pay any reasonable price for your silence.

Silence. What have I to be silent about? Oh, let's start playing, parson, young lady. We'll go to any lengths to stop you from telling the police what you know. We prefer to do business on a purely financial basis. So here are my terms. And I expect you to accept. We have all we need to hang the blackmail charge on Mrs. Breen and the local commies, Beker.

Good. I'll let the police know it was an FBI operation. Okay, that'll clear me with the party. Be sure the local papers get the same story. And our phone, again? He has it already. So soon? I had it delivered to him direct, but you'd better call and explain what it's all about. I'll do it.

Yeah, Beaker, soon. Later, I stood in the shadows across the street from Mrs. Breen's house. A police car was parked at the curb. One by one, I saw the light in the house blink out. Then the door opened, and Inspector Bycheck came out with Judith, Mrs. Breen, and the red goon, George. When the car drove away, the street became a dark ribbon of silence, stretched across the strange city. Again, walking across town, I felt the hollow distinction that only a stranger can feel. But I'd be a stranger in any city, anywhere.

I had to be. It was my job. I had to walk alone. Drew's will return in just a moment. This is Dana Andrews, friends, with a reminder that most precious commodities increase in value as they become less accessible. But freedom is the one exception.

The more the world sees of it, the more valuable it becomes. Let's increase the value of our freedom by sharing it with the world. In this story, as in all others, names, dates, and places are fictitious to protect innocent persons. Next week, another fantastic adventure. Join us, won't you?