DOC SAVAGE Program Number Eleven "The Impossible Bullet" CAST DOC SAVAGE.............Deep, cultured, impressive voice, outstanding. MONK...................Small, shrill voice, tough guy in a pleasant way. JEN....................Slightly harsh voice, uneducated, hardboiled gal. BROWNIE................Harsh voice, crook type. BIZ: 1--Doc's trilling sound. 2--Blows of fight. 3--Footsteps on wood. 4--Muffled footsteps (in woods) 5--Clank of rifle placed on table. 6--Door slam. 7--Thumps. 8--Click of rifle breech opening. Playing Time: 14 minutes. Script by: Lester Dent (Kenneth Robeson) EFFECT: (DOC'S TRILLING SOUND) ANNOUNCER: What's that? EFFECT: (DOC'S TRILLING SOUND) ANNOUNCER: That, ladies and gentlemen, is the danger call of Doc Savage, and the beginning of another adventure-packed drama brought to you by Cystex. Listen! BIZ: (MUFFLED FOOTSTEPS AND HOLD UNTIL CUE TO CUT) DOC: Nice scenery, Monk. MONK: Yeah, Doc. So these are the Ozark Mountains. DOC: Well, we're on the edge of the Ozarks at least. The Oklahoma-Arkansas state line is near here somewhere. MONK: State line, oh-Hey! Look out, Doc. Look out! BIZ: (CUT FOOTSTEPS) JEN: Get your hands up, you two. MONK: She's got a gun, Doc. DOC: So I see... What is the reason for this reception, young lady? JEN: Shut up! Now turn around! ANNOUNCER: Danger! Mystery! Thrills! Crashing action! These are always to be found wherever Doc Savage goes. He has become famous as a man who helps others out of trouble, has this giant man of bronze, Doc Savage, and calls come to him from the far corners of the earth, asking his help. And Doc Savage always answers and helps those who want his assistance. He never lets them down. And that is what Cystex does, too. (PLUG) And now let us get back to Doc Savage and his present trouble. Doc, a giant man of bronze, was walking through the red-oak covered Ozark mountain foothills with his assistant, Monk, who looks as if he were first cousin to a gorilla. A young woman stopped them. The girl was good to look upon, but not so the rifle she pointed at them. MONK: Put the gun down, sister. JEN: Shut up, monkey face! Turn around. MONK: Say, I don't like people calling me monkey face! DOC: Better do as she says, Monk. MONK: Aw-w, okay, Doc. JEN: That's better. Now, hold it! DOC: What-- JEN: I'm going to search you, Doc Savage. DOC: You know my name? JEN: Almost everybody knows it, don't they? DOC: What do you mean? JEN: Your name has been in the papers often enough. Doc Savage has quite a reputation. Even us mountaineers know that. DOC: Why are you holding us up? JEN: You'll find out soon enough! MONK: Say, Doc, she's a good-lookin' kid. JEN: I can't say the same for you, monkey face. MONK: Now listen, sweetheart, I don't like-- JEN: (INTERRUPTS) Don't call me sweetheart! Oh, oh! BIZ: (SHORT STRUGGLE DURING WHICH JEN GASPS DESPERATELY) EFFECT: (BRIEF PAUSE) DOC: Good work, Monk! You caught her attention. MONK: I figgered if I could get her lookin' at me, you could grab her rifle. When I called her sweetheart, that done the trick. DOC: I got the gun, all right. JEN: Two wise guys, eh? MONK: Just two city slickers. Didn't your maw ever tell you to look out for city slickers? JEN: Aw, rats! BIZ: (CLICK OF RIFLE MECHANISM AT BREECH OPENING) DOC: Monk, look here! Her rifle is loaded with blanks. JEN: A-course it is loaded with blanks. I didn't want an accident. DOC: You did not want to shoot us? JEN: No, I didn't. I just wanted to search you for guns. DOC: You wouldn't have had much luck shooting us. You see, we both wear bulletproof vests under our clothing. JEN: You don't take many chances, do you? DOC: We try not to. JEN: I suppose you won't help me now. DOC: What? JEN: Won't help me. It was my message that brought you over here. DOC: You sent that telegram to Tulsa? JEN: Yes. I walked to Sallisaw and sent it. MONK: She may be lying, Doc. DOC: That is true, Monk. But she seems to know what it is all about. JEN: I can tell you what was in the telegram. DOC: Go ahead. JEN: The telegram said: "My father in a jam where only your help can save his life. Dangerous to give full details over wire but can you come to log cabin sixteen miles west of Sallisaw. This is matter of life and death. Come if you possibly can." And it was signed "Jen." That is my name. I am Jen Morgan. DOC: That is how the telegram read, almost word for word. JEN: Will you help me? DOC: I am sure I can't say yet. I must know more about it. JEN: Let's go. We can talk while we're walking. DOC: Wait a minute! Where are you trying to take us? JEN: To my father. DOC: What is your father's trouble, Miss Morgan? MONK: Yeah. And why the big rush, young lady? JEN: My father has been shot. MONK: Shot! JEN: Oh, hurry, won't you? He is badly wounded. You are a licensed doctor, Mr. Savage. I read that in a newspaper one time. Please look at dad, won't you? DOC: All right. Let's get going. Ah, permit me to carry your rifle. JEN: Sure, carry it, if you wants. It's kind of heavy. BIZ: (FOOTSTEPS MUFFLED AND HOLD UNTIL CUE TO CUT) EFFECT: (PAUSE) DOC: Why not call on a regular doctor, Miss Morgan? JEN: I don't dare. DOC: Didn't dare? Why not? JEN: The sheriff might have found out. DOC: The sheriff! Say, what are you getting us into? BIZ: (CUT FOOTSTEPS) MONK: Say! Mebbe this is something the sheriff oughta know about! JEN: Oh, don't call the law in on this! Please don't! I-I'll-- Listen, don't go to the sheriff...please! DOC: What has your father done? JEN: He hasn't done anything. But the police think he killed and robbed that wealthy oil man in Tulsa, Benjamin Cargile. MONK: I read about that in the newspaper. DOC: Yes. We both read it. JEN: Benjamin Cargile was an oil man with a lot of money... oodles of money. DOC: Yes. Very wealthy. And he was a stamp collector. JEN: A what? DOC: Collected stamps. You know postage stamps, like they put on envelopes. JEN: Oh. Funny thing for a rich man to do--collect junk like that. DOC: The postage stamps Benjamin Cargile collected were not exactly junk. In fact, his collection was reported to be worth more than half a million dollars. The murderer of Benjamin Cargile stole the entire collection. Presumably, Benjamin Cargile came upon the thief and was shot. JEN: Somebody saw the killer running away from the house, didn't they? That's what we heard. DOC: The newspaper story said nothing about that. JEN: Then the police are keeping it quiet. They're looking for my father. The man seen running from the house looked like dad. But it wasn't him. Honest, it wasn't. DOC: So that's it. JEN: You don't believe me, do you? DOC: I haven't said. JEN: Will you help me? Please, Mr. Savage. I want you to dress my father's bullet wound, then help prove his innocence. DOC: How did he get the wound? JEN: He was shot. DOC: You said that earlier. Who did it? JEN: We don't know. DOC: Don't know? JEN: Dad was standing in front of the cabin, and the bullet struck him without warning. We never saw a soul. DOC: This is very mysterious. MONK: Durned if I believe a word of her yarn, Doc! JEN: (STARTS SOBBING AND SOBS UNTIL CUE TO CUT) (SPEAKS OVER SOBBING) You don't believe me! DOC: Now, now, let's not have any tears! JEN: Neither of you believe me... And I so wanted you... to help my father. DOC: Don't cry. JEN: You are so famous, Mr. Savage. You've gotten so many people out of trouble... and I hoped you would aid us. DOC: Stop crying. Everything will be all right. JEN: But this man... Monk... called me a liar. MONK: Aw, I didn't mean it. JEN: (STOPS SOBBING) Then you'll help me? EFFECT: (PAUSE) DOC: We'll do our best for your father, Miss Morgan. MONK: Let's go. BIZ: (MUFFLED FOOTSTEPS AND HOLD UNTIL CUE TO CUT) EFFECT: (PAUSE) MONK: Whew, this brush is getting thick! BIZ: (CRACKLE OF BRUSH, MUFFLED, OVER FOOTSTEPS) JEN: The cabin is just across this creek. MONK: Over there, eh? JEN: Watch out for that cut bank, Mr. Savage. You'll fall into the creek! Oh... Oh... you're falling. BIZ: (THUMPING) EFFECT: (PAUSE) DOC: (AWAY FROM MIKE) Now that is what I call clumsy. MONK: You hurt, Doc? DOC: (AWAY FROM MIKE) Just a few bruises. Wait! I'll climb up. BIZ: (LOW CLATTERS, HEAVY BREATHING) DOC: (CLOSE TO MIKE) Whew! I'll be more careful in the future. Luckily, I did not damage your rifle. I was carrying it when I fell into the creek. MONK: Lucky you fell on a gravel bank, Doc. That crick is about dry. DOC: Yes. Otherwise, I'd have taken a bath. JEN: Want me to carry my rifle? DOC: I can handle it. I hope not to fall down again. JEN: Let's get going, then. BIZ: (FOOTSTEPS GO AWAY FROM MIKE) EFFECT: (PAUSE) BIZ: (FOOTSTEPS APPROACH MIKE AND CUT) JEN: This is the cabin. MONK: Kinda ramshackle place. JEN: (HALTINGLY AS IF EMBARRASSED) It's the best we can afford. MONK: (WITH RED NECK) Er, er, I didn't mean-- DOC: Poverty is no disgrace, Miss Morgan. Shall we go in and look at your father? JEN: Yes. I'll open the door. BIZ: (DOOR OPEN) JEN: You go in first. BIZ: (FOOTSTEPS WHICH CUT SUDDENLY) MONK: Doc! (YELLS) Doc! It's a trap! DOC: Careful, Monk! BROWNIE: Careful is right! Git 'em up, you guys! Drop that rifle! DOC: A beautiful trap. BROWNIE: (YELLS) Drop that rifle, I told you! JEN: Don't bust a blood vessel, Brownie. That's my rifle he's carrying, and it ain't loaded with nothing but blank cartridges. MONK: So you tricked us. I figured you was a phony all the time. JEN: (LAUGHS) Ha, ha! Is your face red! BROWNIE: Pipe down, honey. Get that rifle from Savage and put it on the table. You're sure it's loaded with blanks, so it can't hurt nobody? JEN: Sure, it's loaded with blanks. I put them in myself. BIZ: (CLANK OF RIFLE BEING PLACED ON TABLE) JEN: There you are... the rifle on the table. DOC: Who are the two men with you, Brownie? The gentlemen with the handkerchiefs over their faces? BROWNIE: Friends of mine. DOC: Do we get an introduction? BROWNIE: Don't get funny. They don't want their faces seen. And they ain't sayin' a word, see? DOC: Two birds of a color, eh? BROWNIE: Aw, lump that! Jen, you roll 'em. Search 'em. JEN: Okay. EFFECT: (PAUSE) JEN: They're not carrying any guns. BROWNIE: Sure? JEN: Haven't you heard? This Doc Savage never carries a gun. BROWNIE: One of these barehanded heroes, eh? MONK: You let Doc get his hands on you and it won't be funny! BROWNIE: Oh, yeah! Pipe down, you missing link! Honey! JEN: Yes? BROWNIE: Bring out that suitcase. BIZ: (FOOTSTEPS) (DOOR SLAM) (FOOTSTEPS UP TO MIKE AND CUT) JEN: Here it is. BROWNIE: Put it on that chair. Doc Savage, you and your friend have a look at what's inside that suitcase. BIZ: (FOOTSTEPS) EFFECT: (PAUSE) MONK: (SURPRISED) Good night' Postage stamps. DOC: Postage stamps is right, Monk. And some of them are very rare. MONK: Doc--these stamps! DOC: Yes, Monk! MONK: That oil man who was murdered in Tulsa, old Benjamin Cargile. His stamp collection was stolen! DOC: Exactly. These must be the stolen stamps. BROWNIE: You two guys are pretty wise. If you'd just kept your traps shut, I'd have told you all that. DOC: You and your gang stole them and murdered Benjamin Cargile? BROWNIE: I ain't sayin' nothing about that. Just lay off the subject. DOC: You're guilty, all right. Your having the stamps proves l that. BROWNIE: Shut up about it! DOC: What do you want with Monk and myself? BROWNIE: You know stamps, don't you? DOC: Yes. BROWNIE: Well, we don't. DOC: I fail to understand. BROWNIE: It's like this, Savage. There's half a million dollars worth of stamps in that suitcase. Some of them are worth fifty thousand dollars, or so, and others ain't worth a dime. We want you to sort them out. You can see they're all mixedup. Sort them out, and put each in an envelope and mark what it's worth on the envelope. DOC: I see. BROWNIE: You'd better see! DOC: You decoyed me out here to tell you what your loot was worth so you wouldn't get swindled when you started disposing of it. BROWNIE: (LAUGHS) Ha, ha! Sure! You were the only stamp expert we could think of. We were stuck until we saw in the paper that you were visiting in Tulsa. DOC: Clever. BROWNIE: You bet it was clever! DOC: But it's not going to do you any good. BROWNIE: Hey, hey! Get away from that rifle! BIZ: (CLATTER OF FOOTSTEPS) DOC: Drop your gun, Brownie! JEN: Don't do it, Brownie! He's got my rifle, and there's no thing but blank cartridges in it! BROWNIE: I ain't forgot. Drop it, Savage! DOC: Brownie, don't make me shoot you! BROWNIE: Why, you-- BIZ: (SHOT) BROWNIE: (YELLS) Oh-h-h, my arm! MONK: You broke his arm, Doc! DOC: Grab those other two! BIZ: (BLOWS OF FIGHT AND HOLD UNTIL CUE TO CUT) (DOC AND MONK AD LIB OVER FIGHT) MONK: You got one, Doc! DOC: Watch out, Monk! BIZ: (SHOT) MONK: Thanks, Doc. He was about to plug me when you... knocked his rifle up. Take that (BLOW)... and this (BLOW)... Hey, Doc... there goes the girl! She's runnin' away! DOC: Let... her go! BIZ: (CUT FIGHT) MONK: Whew-w-w! Are we good! All three of 'em laid out cold as mackerel in a refrigerator. DOC: None badly injured, though, fortunately-for them. MONK: The girl got away. DOC: Let her go. Maybe this will scare her into reforming. Hm-m-m... I'd better bandage Brownie's arm. He's bleeding badly. MONK: Doc? DOC: Yes. MONK: Tell me something. DOC: Of course, Monk. MONK: How did you shoot that guy with a gun loaded with blank cartridges? DOC: Simple. It was merely the result of a precaution. MONK: It don't look so simple to me. DOC: Remember when I fell into the creek? MONK: Sure. DOC: I did that deliberately, to get a chance to drop a small pebble into the rifle barrel. Blank cartridges, as you know, are merely cartridges with a charge of powder, but without any bullet. The pebble dropped into the barrel served nicely, since I picked one that was round and of hard rock. MONK: Huh! And I thought you must be gettin' old or somethin! when you fell into that crick. DOC: And you evidently thought I was childish when I seemed to believe that girl's yarn. MONK: Her story was kinda thin, wasn't it? ANNOUNCER: Tune in next week at this same time for another thrill packed adventure from the career of Doc Savage, the man of bronze. Cystex brings you these dramas with the permission of Street and Smith, copyright owners of Doc Savage Magazine.