All language subtitles for The Untouchables - S03E13 (The Gang War)_000

He's out of gas.

He's made dead-stick
landings before.

Scratch one airplane.

And one pilot.

It's unfortunate.

Tonight's episode...

Starring Robert
Stack as Eliot Ness.

Co-starring Victor
Buono, Bruce Gordon,

John Kellogg.

And narrated by Walter Winchell.

Prohibition, 1932.

The city of Chicago
was consuming alcohol

at the rate of 32
million gallons a year.

The figures are incredible,
but they are documented.

86,000 gallons a day.

It was manufactured
in everything

from massive distilleries
to grimy bathtubs.

It came into the brawling
city by truck and motorcar,

by pop bottles and pipeline.

All of it was illegal.

Most of it was bad.

Some of it was poison.

A mere trickle, less
than one percent

of this staggering total,

was the finest liquor
money could buy,

the purest scotch
and rye whiskey.

It came from Canada.

For the speakeasy proprietor

who would assure
the silk-stocking trade

of a steady supply
of imported scotch,

the rewards were enormous.

But the risks were even greater.

All right, the party's over!

Front door.

For Eliot Ness and his men,

the violence which exploded
at an isolated roadhouse

30 miles from Chicago
was the first indication

that a major gang
war was about to erupt.

Frank Nitti's men.

Nitti?! What are
they doing here?

I wish we knew.

How many hurt in here?

Two dead, three
critically injured.

One was just a kid.

Coed from Northwestern.

The manager is
back there, Eliot.

His name is Grayson.

All right, let's have it.

Well, we were minding
our own business.

All of a sudden,
these guys come in

and start shooting up the joint.

Your men with machine guns...

you were just protecting
yourselves, huh?

Well, sure.

We've been getting
anonymous threats.

Where are you from?

Chicago.

All of you?

Please.

They're taking my
girl to the hospital.

Why did you come here, son?

We had our commencement
exercises at the university.

We just wanted to celebrate.

Bill?

Ask one of the state boys
if they'll escort these people

to County Hospital, huh?

Right.

Get anything? Plenty.

Somebody's been
supplying these roadhouses

with imported liquor, stuff
you can't buy in Chicago.

It's pulling the
money trade out here.

From the looks of
things, Nitti doesn't like it.

What will we do
about the manager?

Put him under arrest
for illegal sale of alcohol,

contributing to the
delinquency of minors,

unlawful possession
of automatic weapons.

It'll be a pleasure.

All this good booze...

we've got to find out
where he's getting it.

We better.

If we don't, this
state could be in

for the biggest gang war

since Capone
discovered the tommy gun.

Lucky!

They call you Lucky?

What is that name, for laughs?

Frank...

I tell you, they
was waiting for us.

They had their own
guys with choppers.

It was a massacre.

And you came straight back here?

What happens if
you was followed?

We wasn't followed, Frank.

Not a chance.

What bugs me is...

is how they knew we was coming.

There's no way they
could have known.

They was just ready for us.

Two months ago,
you couldn't get a shot

of scotch or Canadian
booze in the whole town.

So, now, all of a sudden,

half a dozen clubs
are serving the stuff.

Where are they getting it?

Well, if I knew
that, I wouldn't...

What happened?

Somebody tossed a bomb.

Hi.

Hi.

Wanted to see
how you were doing.

Fine.

I'm doing fine.

Daddy, please don't get angry.

About tonight, I mean.

Jimmy and I were...

just having a good time.

Come closer.

I can hardly see you.

Listen... Daddy...

I'm awfully sorry
about... my new dress.

I guess I ruined it.

I'll need another one.

But I promise...

I won't ask for another nickel
my whole sophomore year.

Nurse.

♪ ♪

Jimmy?

How is she?

She didn't even
want to go, Mr. Ness.

I talked her into it.

It isn't your fault, Jimmy.

What am I going
to tell her father?

What is it, Rico?

The Montmartre Club.

Somebody just tossed a bomb.

How many this time?

What do you mean?

How many people hurt?

Luckily, the club was closed,

but six pedestrians and
a taxi driver were injured.

We don't know yet how badly.

That makes 12 in
less than three hours.

Well, there won't be any more.

Here's the Cook County line.

And here, here, here

and here are the most
expensive clubs we got.

And here, here, here and here

are roadhouses, and each

one of them is opposite
one of our clubs.

And they all got
this imported liquor,

and they're taking away
so much of our business,

we can't even
afford to pay the help.

You think this is an accident?

Nobody said it was
an accident, Frank.

You call Guzik.

You tell him to get
in touch with Detroit.

You tell him I want
100 guns in town

by day after tomorrow.

Frank, I think we ought
to discuss this quietly

before we make any decisions.

All right, we'll discuss it.

And when we're
through discussing it...

we'll hit.

Why aren't you and
your men inside?

We're waiting for a warrant.

A warrant?!

Nobody will file a complaint,

so we got no right in
there without a warrant.

Hold it, Ness.

You got a warrant?

Yeah, we'll take it...

What are you doing here?

I'd like to talk to
Mr. Nitti alone.

All of you, out.

Stay where you are.
You got five seconds.

Get out!

Now, wait a minute!

I'm the boss! I'll tell
you when to leave!

Hey!

This yours?

Yeah, and I got
a permit for it, too.

How do you like that?

I like it fine.

You're making a
big mistake, Ness.

You get out of here.

What's the matter, Frank?

You're a little nervous tonight.

Somebody try to knock
you out of the organization?

I told you to get out.

Who is it, Frank?

Who's moving in on the Big Boy?

Somebody bigger,
stronger, smarter?

What are you talking?

Sure, somebody's
starting outside the city,

outside Cook County.

Slowly moving in till
he squeezed you dry.

No liquor in your speaks,
no blood in your veins.

Nobody does that
to me... nobody!

Why not? The word's out.

Every hood in town is
saying Frank Nitti's weak,

Nitti's soft, that he's
ready to be pushed over.

When's the last time they
called you the Enforcer?

When Big Al was around

to fight your battles.

When Big Al was
around to hold your hand!

But you never could sit
in Big Al's chair anyway!

Why you...!

Thanks, Frank.

You're under arrest for
striking a Federal officer.

You got to be kidding!

How do you like the evidence?

You can't pull me
in on a rap like this.

Watch me.

Frank Nitti had been booked

at the Cook County Jail

at 11:55 p.m. on September 17.

To his surprise, he was
released from custody

less than 36 hours later.

The charge is dropped.

I knew you couldn't
make it stick.

Where's my gun?

Gun?

Did he have a gun when
he came in, Sergeant?

No, sir.

You... you got the gun.

I also got some advice for you.

I don't care what you and
your kind do to each other,

but if one more human
being is hurt in this town,

I'm going to set you
up for a life sentence.

You mean like this?

Try me.

Just step out of line once

and Hobson's going to put
a bullet in me with your gun.

What kind of a game
are you playing, Ness?

And I'm gonna arrest you
for the attempted murder

of a Federal officer;
that's a life sentence.

And that charge we'll press.

You, you're a witness.

You heard him say he had my gun.

What gun?

You think it'll work?

It's worth a try.

The town's filling
up with gunsels.

If Nitti turns them
loose, it'll take

the National Guard
to clean up the mess.

But it cost us a fortune
to bring those guys in!

Well, send them back.
Okay, Frank, you're the boss,

but you was the one
that wanted to hit!

I changed my mind.

I'm gonna try something else.

Bring him in.

Swede?

This is the manager of
the Blue Lion Roadhouse.

He's been "in
conference" with the boys

ever since we posted
bail for him this morning.

All right, manager,
you ready to talk to us?

Oh, that's good.

Who set you up in business?

Surigao.

Suri what?

Surigao.

Panis Surigao.

Ever hear of that guy?

Yeah, I know him.

He used to run the
opium traffic in Hong Kong.

Surigao.

What kind of a country
we running here?

Every time you turn
around some lousy foreigner

is trying to muscle in.

Where do we find this Surigao?

Côte d'Azur.

It's on the Old Farrell Road.

How's he getting the stuff in?

I don't know.

You can work me
over all day long.

I can't tell you any more.

All right.

You get on this telephone
and you call this Surigao.

You tell him I'm
coming over to see him.

You tell him I'll be there 11:00

and there'd better
not be no fireworks

or he's going to regret it.

Now, dial.

At the moment when Frank Nitti

was planning to
visit the Côte d'Azur,

its owner, Panis Surigao,

was responding to
an urgent summons

from a deserted field some
eight or ten miles away.

How long has he been circling?

Over a half hour now.

He must almost be out of gas.

Have you signaled
for him to come down?

At least a half a dozen times.

He's probably in
some kind of trouble.

Signal again.

He's out of gas.

He's made dead-stick
landings before.

He's not going to make this one.

He's not even
gonna make the field!

It's too late, Aaron.

Did you see this happen?

We seen it. Heard it, too.

Sounded like he was out of gas.

Did you see if
the pilot got out?

Mister, if you was in
that when it come down,

do you think you'd have got out?

Come on, Mama, we
better go call the police.

Scratch one airplane.

Mm-hmm.

And one pilot.

It's unfortunate.

The Old Farrell Road...

about five miles
from the county line.

Got it.

How soon can you
get here, Mr. Ness?

About a half hour, if
the traffic's not too bad.

Anything we can
do in the meantime?

You might set up some lights,

so we can see what we're doing.

Check.

Thanks, Captain.

A plane carrying a load
of Canadian whiskey

crashed and burned
at a farmhouse

just outside the county line.

Let's go.

I put them in
your private office.

You think you should

go in there without
some of the boys?

I hardly think Mr. Nitti
is foolish enough

to try to harm me
in my own club.

Ah, Mr. Nitti, we are honored.

You're Surigao?

That is correct.

Since we're in the
same business,

I thought it was time we met.

I expected you to
find me before this.

Well, sometimes we're a
little slow but we're thorough.

Mm-hmm, so I've heard.

Uh, Mr. Temple, pour
the gentlemen a drink.

Forget it.

My men don't drink
when they're working.

A most sensible
precaution, Mr. Nitti.

I congratulate you.

Never mind the fancy talk.

Where are you getting this?

Surely you don't expect
me to tell you that.

Mr. Capone don't
like competition.

He thinks you ought
to share the wealth,

you know what I mean?

And if I say no?

We'll wipe you out.

You tried that the
night before last

with rather unfortunate results.

The next time we don't
send two cars, we send 50.

You think you can
handle pressure like that?

I've been prepared
for it for a long time.

You see, Mr. Nitti, you
control Cook County.

But I control this county.

You try to bring in 50 carloads

of Chicago hoodlums

and you may very well take back

50 carloads of dead ones.

You talk a real good battle.

Our skirmish at the Blue Lion

should have convinced
you that I can also fight one.

But a major battle is not
going to help either of us,

and I have an
alternative suggestion.

I'm listening.

I'll stay out of your territory,

and you stay out of mine.

Not a chance.

Well, now, don't be
too hasty, Mr. Nitti.

I have my own private
police force in this county,

under the able leadership
of our local sheriff,

whose election I
personally supervised.

If you wish to face those odds,

it's your privilege.

Let me give you a
piece of advice, Surigao.

A lot of smart operators have
tried to buck the organization,

and nobody ever succeeded yet.

There's always a first time.

And a last.

If I was you, I'd remember that.

You think he's bluffing

about that private police force?

He's got six clubs
in this county,

and they're all
operating wide open.

Do you think he could
do that without protection?

Oh, he's got his
police force, all right.

If you're right, it's
gonna be real rough.

Al told me once there's a
way to break into every setup.

If you can't make it
through the front door,

try going around to the back.

What's going on?

I don't know.

Looks like some
kind of accident.

That's Ness!

Rope off the area
around the plane, hmm?

Why don't you boys get out a
tablecloth and have a picnic?

Oh, we're sorry, Officer.

What's going on?

Plane crashed.

It's none of your
business. Now move on.

Yes, sir.

You know, the Feds wouldn't
investigate plane crashes

unless the plane was
carrying something special.

Harry, pull over

when you get
around the next curve.

I got a job for you guys.

Uh, check the brush
over in that area.

Oh, Mr. Ness.

Captain.

Well, there it is,
what's left of it.

Pilot killed, I suppose?

Well, we don't know.

He didn't die in the cockpit.

We figure he must
have been thrown clear.

Could he have been taken out?

I don't think so.

The people that own
this farm were here

seconds after the crash.

They didn't see
anyone leave the plane.

They thought the
pilot was still inside.

It's possible he's still alive.

Going somewhere, flyboy?

I always thought pilots
wore big white scarves.

Can't count on nothing nowadays.

And now back to...

At 1:55 a.m.,

two hours and 18 minutes
after the plane crash,

state and federal investigators

were completing their
preliminary examination

of the burned aircraft.

It was a Curtis-Robin monoplane,

registered to
Prebble Air Service.

They have a field
about 20 miles from here

down on the state highway.

I've read their ad in
the Chicago papers.

Don't they run an air circus
out there on Saturday afternoon?

Yes. According
to the local people,

they're quite a famous group.

All ex-World War pilots,

and if local
gossip has it right,

they accounted for
about 100 German planes.

How many of them are there?

Three.

Prebble and another were Army.

The third was an
English squadron leader.

And now they're
picking up a fast buck

in the smuggling business, huh?

Well, it beats meeting
von Richtofen at dawn.

Thanks, Jess.

Right.

They're taking off.

The Feds, I mean. Yeah.

They still got the
state cops out there,

so don't let him up.

Okay.

You ever been grounded before?

There's a farmhouse over there.

I seen it.

A car out in back.

Yeah, all we need is

one little key. A key
and a whole lot of brains!

I should've done
that in the first place.

Yeah. A little while
longer, and we'll move.

Yeah.

Hello?

Where can we find Mr. Prebble?

Well, if it's about
money, old boy,

I doubt if you'll
find him at all.

Oh... Oh, that's
a bit different.

Oh, uh, this way.

Johnny, this is Mr. Ness.

Hi.

He's a Federal agent.

Oh?

Mr. Ness, this is John Prebble.

I'm Tony Masters.

What can we do
you for, Mr. Ness?

Prebble, Masters.

That leaves Miller.

Miller?

That's right. Miller.

Oh, Rusty Miller.

Well, you remember him, Johnny.

I can't seem to.

Well, of course you
remember him, old boy.

He was always tattooing himself.

Oh, yeah, that Miller.

Yeah, he hasn't been
with us for a while.

Since when?

I can't seem to remember.

It's been such a long time.

Like about four hours?

Two hours ago, a plane
crashed and burned

at a farmhouse about
20 miles from here.

It was traced to this hangar.

But you don't know Rusty Miller.

Come on, Lee.

Mr. Ness...

What happened to him?

You're flying liquor
in from Canada.

I want to know
who you sell it to,

who runs the operation.

We fly freight and passengers.

You're wasting your time.

Where's Rusty?

Who's buying it, Prebble?
Who pays your salary?

Mr. Ness, I'm
afraid we can't trade.

You see, we've made
a bargain with the devil.

Miller wasn't in the
plane when it crashed.

He disappeared.

If you can break that bargain,

call me at that number.

People shouldn't fly.

If man was supposed to fly...

Be quiet, Aaron.

Sorry to bother you, folks.

We're in a big hurry.

The pilot.

He must be the pilot.

This man's got a gun.

What is this? Easy!

Easy.

You just stay where you are.

That's right, he's the pilot.

We're taking him where
he can get himself fixed up.

Oh, he looks bad.

Uh-huh. So, we, uh,
thought we'd borrow your car.

Course we got to have the keys.

Car keys?

That's right, Pop.

The kind that makes the car go.

Come on.

I-I don't know where they are.

Do as I tell you!

I don't know where they are.

Come on.

Where are they?

I don't know where they are.

Yeah, well, where'd you put 'em?

Are they in the
drawer in the bedroom?

I don't know. Well, look!

You don't want your
missus to be a widow,

be all by her lonesome

just because of
some... some keys?

Come on!

Oh!

Now, there goes the hero.

He all right?

Yeah, I'm fine.

You bring your cannon over here.

No!

No. The-The car keys are in...

in the top shelf
in the cupboard.

Farm people are supposed
to be more friendly.

I'm sorry. I... Don't be.

You're a very brave man, Aaron.

"Prebble Air Service."

Huh?

Oh.

It's Celia and Emily Peckham
talking about the accident.

Hello, Emily?

This is an emergency, Emily.

Margaret Phelps.

Could you get off the
line for a minute, please?

Doesn't it seem strange to you

that we haven't
heard from Surigao?

His men must have been
there when the plane crashed.

That's right.

Maybe we ought to
have a talk with Surigao.

I mean, if Rusty
comes back here,

then he's bound to wait for us.

That won't be
necessary, gentlemen.

All right, start talking.

About Mr. Miller?

About Mr. Miller.

Well, as you guessed,

my men were at the
scene of the crash.

As it happened, so was I.

But you didn't
bother to let us know.

I felt that a telephone
call on a party line

monitored by half
the countryside

was hardly the way to tell you.

Particularly
since, by that time,

the police were on the
scene, and it was known

that Mr. Miller's plane was
loaded with contraband.

Hello?

Yeah, speaking.

What?

Well, when?

Yes, I understand.

Thank you, Mrs. Phelps.

Yes, thank you.

Did you leave two men at
the scene of the accident?

I left no one.

What is it, Johnny?

Well, Rusty's alive.

I mean, he's hurt
pretty bad, but he's alive.

Two men brought him into
a farmhouse at gunpoint.

They stole the car, and
then they-they took him away.

I have many contacts in
the business, gentlemen,

and I promise you I
will get Mr. Miller back.

Oh... just one thing.

I think it would be unwise

to use any of our usual
landing fields tomorrow night.

You'd better land
directly at the warehouse.

Mr. Surigao, we're
finished flying booze for you.

I mean, that stopped with Rusty.

That's rather inconsiderate
of you, Mr. Prebble.

You expect me to
rescue your friend,

and in the same
breath, you tell me

you won't complete the flights.

All right.

All right, we'll fly, but
you better make sure

you keep your
promise about Rusty.

Well, I don't
suppose it will come

as any great surprise
to you, Johnny,

but I think the
devil is a filthy liar.

Yeah. In spades.

Right now, he's the only
hope we've got of finding Rusty.

You think it was Nitti's men?

Undoubtedly.

You're not really going
to try to get Miller back?

I'm not a complete
fool, Mr. Temple.

Nitti's the immediate problem.

Why?

Because he's not a fool, either.

He knows now that we're
bringing the liquor in by air.

He will conclude

that light planes cannot
supply an operation this big,

and that, therefore, we
must have a stockpile.

He will ask Mr. Miller the
location of the stockpile.

Maybe Miller won't talk.

I think we can rely on Mr. Nitti

to find a way of persuading him.

Within a matter of hours.

Well, then, shouldn't
we find another location

for the warehouse?

No.

We are going to have to
face a showdown with Nitti

sooner or later.

The warehouse would
be an excellent spot,

particularly since he
has no way of knowing

that we're expecting him.

Will you be there?

I wouldn't miss
it for the world.

For 11 hours after Rusty
Miller's arrival in Chicago,

Frank Nitti, in deference
to Ness's ultimatum,

had used every means
short of physical violence,

to persuade Miller to talk.

By 7:00 p.m., however,
Nitti finally resorted

to the kind of persuasion
he knew best... brute force.

I'll tell you something, Frank.

Yeah?

This guy ain't gonna
talk. Oh, he's got to talk.

He's the only chance we've
got of finding that warehouse.

You do what you want...

the more we work him over,
the more stubborn he gets.

Bring him in.

All right, Swede.

Give me Broward 7195.

Somebody there named Prebble?

Let me talk to him.

It's for you.

Hello?

Got a friend of yours
here named Miller.

Rusty Miller.

Who is this?

Never mind who this is.

I want some information.

You're flying booze in
for a guy named Surigao.

Where does he keep the stuff?

Look, uh, let me talk to Miller.

Here, talk.

Hello?

Hello, Ace. You all right?

I never felt better in my life.

Look, uh, what's this all about?

Uh, Johnny, don't
tell Nitti a lousy thing!

Your friend's gonna
be a dead hero, Prebble,

unless you start talking.

All right, the, uh, warehouse
is an abandoned farm.

It's a barn.

It's out on the
Old Farrell Road.

Six miles past the cutoff.

How much booze they got there?

I don't know, they got 4,000
or 5,000 cases, I guess.

Look, Mr. Nitti,

if we don't see Rusty
back here in one hour, alive,

then we're gonna personally
help the Feds cut you to pieces.

He'll be back but
not till we make sure

you're leveling with us.

W-When will that be?

Tomorrow morning.

Oh, and one more thing,

if Surigao finds
out we're coming,

you don't have to
expect Miller at all.

4,000 or 5,000 cases...

in an abandoned barn
six miles past the cutoff.

We're gonna need choppers
and two more good men.

When? Tonight.

You can't tonight. Why not?

We're supposed to
deliver a shipment tonight.

Prebble and Masters are liable

to get caught
right in the middle.

Now, listen, punk.

You been in the middle
ever since you started

flying that booze.

Get him out of here!

Well, we can be absolutely
sure of one thing...

If Frank Nitti has Rusty,

our dear friend and
colleague Surigao

isn't gonna get him back.

Well, Mr. Surigao
can just whistle

for tonight's shipment,

because I'm not gonna
move from this office

until we see Rusty.

Come on.

The collapse of Rusty Miller

triggered the
government's action

against the impending gang war.

The pilot was removed
to Cook County Hospital

and Eliot Ness summoned
his deeply troubled colleagues

of the Prebble Air Service.

Where is he?

In there; he's under sedation.

Will he be all right?

Don't worry, he'll be all right.

For what it's worth, Mr. Ness,

we're not gonna fly
that booze any more.

It's worth a great deal to me.

If you don't show
up on schedule,

won't Surigao be suspicious?

How did you find
out about Surigao?

Miller and I had a long talk.

Nitti's going to hit
Surigao's warehouse tonight.

Oh, I see.

Then you'll let them
maul each other

and collect the survivors.

That's what I'd like to do,

but I'm paid to stop
murder, not encourage it.

What do you want us to do?

I want you to do what
you promised Surigao.

I want you to fly.

At 10:37 p.m.,

three hours after Ness
met with the flyers,

a dark sedan proceeded
along the Old Farrell Road.

Its destination: the
liquor warehouse

belonging to Panis Surigao.

Flyboy was telling the truth.

How much farther?

I don't know; I've never
been on this road before.

Hey, what's that?

What is this?

All right, Nitti, back to town.

You ain't got no
right to stop me.

I ain't breaking any law.

What kind of a
phony rap is this?

Consorting with undesirables.

Come on, get in!

So far, so good.

The next step may
be a little rougher.

How did it go?

Okay.

As well as I could see
from up there, they got Nitti.

They're on their way in now.

What's the matter?

Just look at all the
armament around this place.

Yeah.

If Ness walks into
this, it'll be a massacre.

How can we stop him?

Have they got you
about unloaded?

Almost.

Well, you'll be taking
off in a few minutes.

You'll think of something.

How much further?

Another two or three miles.

It must be nearer than that.

That plane's awful close.

He must be out of control.

Look out... Look out,
here he comes again!

It takes a lot of nerve
to do that in the dark.

Something's wrong,
that's for sure.

We better figure it out now.

We may not have another chance.

Maybe he isn't coming.

Patience, Mr. Temple, patience.

If I know Frank
Nitti, he'll be here.

Do we let him
get out of the car?

Why take chances?

Mr. Surigao!

Wait till they
get into the open.

Hold it, Surigao!

You're covered! Hold it!

Hold it! Come on, drop them!

Panis Surigao, purveyor
of fine beverages,

petty tyrant, commander in chief

of his own small army,

died as flamboyantly
as he had lived.

With his destruction, the
threat to the Capone Empire

was reduced to a
small troupe of men

who were eventually
to destroy it.

The Untouchables.