Original subtitles

This is the story behind the most incredible series of murders

to ever occur in the city of Seattle, Washington.

You never read about them in your local newspapers

or heard about them on your local radio or television station.

Why? Because the facts were watered down,

torn apart, and reassembled... In a word, falsified.

Saturday, April 1st, approximately 2:35 a. M.

Merrisa, one of the three belly dancers at Omar's tent,

a well-known bar in the pioneer square area.

She was through for the night and on her way to St. James street,

where she could catch the 3 a. M. Bus that would take her

to her small apartment in the shoreline park area.

Anxious to get home, she planned to take a shower and go right to bed.

She never made it.

Is someone there?

Please, can't you take me? I only wanna go to shoreline park,

there's someone back there, please!

A few nights later in the barroom of the Seattle press club,

one Tony Vincenzo by name, city editor by profession,

bilious grouch by disposition,

renewed acquaintance with a dear old comrade of the fourth estate.

- Hi, Charlie, - Mr. Vincenzo, how are you?

- Okay, - good,

the usual, Mr. Vincenzo?

- Yeah, yeah, - okay,

where you been living, in a cave?

There's a world of facts outside, stumble out and take a peek at 'em,

- get your brains out of hibernation, - oh, no,

you can't expect me to believe this, this doesn't make any sense at all!

What's the difference, if it's true?

You're a newsman, not a critic,

- well, I am! - Take a look at this, then,

take a look around that corner,

see if there isn't someone there

who looks like he just came from a performance of the front page.

Don't lecture me about press responsibility, cabbage head,

I knew more about the press the day I was born than you do now,

- oh, yeah, - oh, yeah,

can you read English, or do I have to tell you what it says?

See, right there...

V- a-m-p-i-r-e, vampire, that's what it says right there,

can you read the official coroner's report?

"Blood drained from a victim's b..."

- Yeah, - real odd,

there's nothing wrong with me,

- yeah, - real odd,

Vincenzo!

Hello, Carl,

- what are you doing in Seattle? - What did I do in Las Vegas?

You fired me, that's what you did,

no, no, I didn't fire you,

in that case, you can hire me,

right, Vincenzo?

Get this straight, Mr. Kolchak...

No carnival or hoopla tactics on this paper,

this isn't fun town, usa,

this is Seattle,

we have standards here, we mind our p's and q's,

we hew precisely to the Mark,

yes, sir, Mr. Crossbinder,

you can count on me minding your p's and q's, yes, sir,

that's what happened to cotton mather, huh?

Don't underestimate him,

he may be old, but his fangs are potent,

so, what's my first assignment?

What's the matter?

Okay, murder one, three days ago,

a belly dancer named merrisa, she was strangled in an alley,

Tuesday, April 4th. First stop, police headquarters

to introduce myself and see if any later information

had come in about the Ethel Parker killing.

There was nothing new.

No useful leads given by the victim's friends,

acquaintances, or family.

Standard medical examiner's report.

So far, the murder was a one-way street to nowhere.

Make an appointment with my secretary,

I said make an appointment,

- I don't make appointments, - you're gonna have to,

- captain, I'd like to make a... - Morrison,

captain, I... wait a minute! What's the matter?

I just wanna talk to the captain,

second stop, Omar's tent, no leads.

Ethel Parker never mixed with customers,

had no known enemies, kept her problems to herself,

unmarried, all her relatives in Massachusetts,

she'd left the mainstream of life without making a ripple.

Third stop, the apartment of charisma beauty,

given name, Gladys wheems,

one of the two other belly dancers at Omar's tent.

- Charisma beauty? - Who are you?

Who's there, Wilma?

Miss beauty?

Yes, I am,

excuse me, I beg your pardon,

my name is kolchak, I'm with the daily chronicle.

I'd like to ask you a few questions,

- would you like a chocolate? - No, thank you very much,

what I'd like to ask you is...

She was something less than helpful,

and I soon departed, made a bit uneasy by the looks

directed at me by her husband, Wilma krankheimer.

Fourth stop, the floating premises of Louise Harper,

last of the belly-dancing trio at the supper club.

Scherazade?

- Louise Harper? - Oh, hi,

I can't talk to you now, I'm late for class,

if you wanna sell me something, come back later,

I really don't have any money for extras,

so you'd just be wasting your time,

- yeah, but I... - Listen, I'd like to talk,

but I am so late for class, professor brown will kill me,

my grades are not too good as it is,

how I'm gonna graduate, I will never know,

there simply is not enough time to do all the things I've gotta do,

may I introduce myself?

My name is kolchak of the daily chronicle.

When could I ask you some questions about Ethel Parker?

You'll have to come by the club, that's the only time

I have to talk to you,

I am so late, I know he's gonna flunk me,

thanks for the information,

don't mention it!

You know there's been a murder, don't you?

I also know that Seattle is the northwest's largest sea port,

men come and go like the tide,

and the murderer is probably in Yokohama by now,

she was wrong...

He was still in Seattle, working up his list of victims.

Cocktail waitress Gail Manning,

disposed of some time after 2 a. M.

On the morning of Thursday, April 6th,

a block and a half from the first murder.

Right there on top, boys,

captain, what do you intend to do about this?

- Who are you, anyway? - My name?

Kolchak, with the daily chronicle.

I'd like to ask a couple questions on this,

- get this guy off my back, - will you wait a minute?

Captain, I got a lot of problems to take care of,

"strangulation, neat and quick, no new elements,"

was all they told us,

until the medical examiner's report the next afternoon.

In attendance, captain Roscoe shubert

of the Seattle police, and his staff.

Holding forth, Dr. Christopher webb

of the county medical examiner's office.

Checking underneath the victim's hairline,

we located what appears to be a needle puncture

near the base of the skull...

From which a small amount of blood was removed,

was there any puncture or loss of blood in Ethel Parker?

We haven't checked on the puncture yet,

but there was apparently

a slight decrease in normal blood content,

how slight?

That's hard to say, maybe six or seven cc's,

why wasn't it reported?

The amount of loss seemed insignificant at the time,

- but not now, - you have a point...

Just a minute, doctor, who is this clown?

I've never seen him before,

- what? - Kolchak, daily chronicle.

- Don't you remember? - Oh, yeah, how could I forget?

All right, Mr. Kolchak, may we continue?

- Certainly, - thank you very much,

go ahead, doctor,

as long as we get all the facts this time,

dissatisfied by what I had heard at the medical examiner's report,

I paid a little visit to the morgue

and found a chatty attendant with a taste for scotch.

What he told me made chopped liver

of the needle puncture and loss of blood,

and explained why they hadn't let me look too closely

at Gail Manning the night before.

Well, uh, no, no,

no, thank you, thank you very much,

you go right on ahead, though,

we can't link these two killings unless we know

whether Ethel Parker has a needle puncture, too,

she has... and that's not all,

you know something the medical examiner doesn't?

- Mm-hmm, - what?

First...

You owe me ten bucks for a bottle of scotch,

- what? _ yup!

Bought for one anecdotal morgue attendant,

okay, keep talkin',

hurry up,

Ethel Parker not only had a needle puncture

in the back of her skull, and loss of blood,

she also had a broken neck,

that's not so unusual in the case of a strangling,

Gail Manning also had a broken neck,

so what?

Maybe I oughta tell you what the morgue attendant told me,

he said that the killer had to be

an incredibly strong man,

not only were the necks broken, they were crushed,

read on, read on,

- wait a minute! - That's what the man said,

on the throats of both victims was a residue of rotted flesh,

as if they had been strangled by a dead man,

Friday, April 7th, 10:21 P.M.

I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes,

but Louise Harper's hips could move as fast as her mouth.

- That's the stuff, baby! - Take it off!

Take it off, baby,

Scherazade, ladies and gentlemen, Princess of the east,

and now, the world-famous charisma beauty,

Knock 'em dead, charisma,

why should I do that?

I like them,

I just can't understand this, whoever wrote this is just dumb,

I'm never gonna graduate if I flunk this course,

- Princess of the east? - No, dimwit of the west,

I just can't talk to you right now,

- I've gotta know algebra, - well, I'm great at figures,

I bet you are, go away,

you know, if I could find a way not to eat,

I sure could save a lot of time,

yeah, well, let's, uh,

let's pick up talking where we left off,

I mean, about the guys... Thank you, Charlie...

About the guys who come to see you dance, the regulars,

do you find any strange ones in there,

any odd ones, any weirdos?

They're all weird, they sit there and stare at you

with these big glassy eyes,

any of 'em could be the strangler for all I know,

what's that?

Oh, that's the underground tour,

- the what? - The underground tour,

it goes down underneath Seattle,

- you're kidding? - Mm-mmm,

yes, there's ruins underneath the streets here,

what they call "old Seattle,".

- Isn't that right, Wilma? - Oh, I don't know, here,

oh, thank you, I just love these sandwiches,

I was talking about the underground, wasn't I?

Yeah, you were, honey,

there was this big fire back in 18-something-or-other,

and for some reason I don't know about,

they built it all back up, twice as big as it was before,

- isn't that right, Wilma? - Come on, Gladys,

it's almost showtime,

although research was never one of my favorite pastimes,

I called on the services of one Titus Berry,

guardian of the secrets of Seattle

buried in the morgue of the daily chronicle,

here we go,

- thanks, - most welcome,

I envy you,

you do?

Research, that's where the joy lies,

- joy? - And the fascination,

let the others scurry about,

gathering their contemporary bits of gossip,

this is where the meat is found,

- meat? - Yes,

for instance, no one has yet mentioned

the distinct resemblance

between this current series of strangulations

and another series

in the year 1951,

or was it '52?

- Yeah, how similar? - Oh, extremely similar,

really?

He wasn't exaggerating.

On march 27th, 1952,

one Myra Johns was discovered strangled in an alley

in the pioneer square area.

On march 30th, a second strangulation took place

in the same area.

On April 2nd, a third, April 5th, a fourth.

By April 14th, six women had been strangled,

all of them in that area.

The stories intimated that certain "bizarre details"

had been repressed by police officials.

I wondered what they were.

I hardly think we can say we have the same killer now as in 1952,

read on,

- again? - Again,

"incredibly strong and had the rotted features of a corpse"?!

Those are exact quotes from a man who saw him

- in action in 1952, - I can't print this,

- why not? - If you don't know

the answer to that, kolchak, I don't know,

I came to Seattle for some peace and quiet, what do I get?

- You again and another crazy story, - we'll soon see if it's crazy or not,

"how?" asked the red-eyed editor,

because if it is the same killer, he hasn't stopped killing,

Sunday, April 9th, 1:42 am.

Joyce Gabriel, on her way home from a late date,

didn't' know it was a bad idea to be in the pioneer square area

late at night.

- Let me get a shot of her, - move out of the way,

Another one,

Just settle down, miss Gabriel,

I never saw anything like that in my life,

I don't know why he didn't chase me after he killed her,

I just, you know, I ran as fast as I could until I saw you,

- miss Gabriel... - I'm telling you for the last time,

I'm sick and tired of you butting into my business,

will you please let me ask the questions, Mr. Kolchak?

- Certainly, - all right,

- what did he look like? - Are you deaf?

Get rid of that tape recorder, too,

now, what did he look like?

Oh, god, I hope I never see a face like that again,

he looked like a dead man,

- like a what? - Like a dead man,

I don't wanna hear it,

what about the broken necks and rotted flesh on the victims' throats?

I told ya I didn't wanna hear it! Besides, it's not official,

who cares whether it's official or not?!

You know it, and I know it,

I'll buy the possibility that it's the killer that strangled

the six women in 1952,

but a man, not some kind of super dead man!

That's how he has been described more than once!

I don't care if he's been described that way more than twice!

Let me finish my lunch!

Where you goin'?

There!

An open invitation to the killer,

listen to this,

"I intend to walk the streets of the pioneer square area

every night from now on,".

Just let him try to kill me, if he dares,

he may be sick, but he's not crazy,

I'm giving you this, Mr. Kolchak,

because you had the thoughtfulness

to put my name in your story on the 1952 strangulations,

what, uh, what is it?

A burning curiosity impelled me to look further back into our files

to see if there had been any other strangulations of that nature,

1931? You gotta be kidding,

here it was again... March 29th through April 16th.

Six strangulations,

certain bizarre information repressed by the authorities.

Although a reporter named Jimmy stacks, god bless him,

nosed around until he uncovered the unofficial information

that some of the victims were missing some blood,

and that the killer was supposed to be some kind of Superman.

Women, you notice that? Always women,

- fascinating, - yeah, that's the word, Mr. B,

let's see, 1973 to 1952, that's 21 years,

1952 to 1931...

That's 21 yea rs,

that's right, I hadn't noticed that,

that's very observant of you, Mr. Kolchak,

can you be thinking what I'm thinking?

Let's have a look,

- Mr. Berry, - Mr. Kolchak,

shall we try for 1889?

I refuse to read it,

wait, wait, wait,

just read the first line,

go on, go on,

just the first line, give yourself a treat,

come on, come on,

"five identical sets of murders every 21 years since 1889"?

- Identical? - Identical!

- Oh, come on, kolchak, - almost identical,

there may be more than five,

the records stop in 1887 when the chronicle was founded,

I'm going to Olympia tomorrow and check out...

- Oh, don't rush into that, - wait, wait, read the...

Read the 1910 eyewitness description,

I'll read it to you, here, oh, it's great,

"the maniac had the strength of ten men

"and the face of a corpse, cheekbones protruding

through the flesh,"

- isn't that great? - Hold it, it, just hold it,

you really expect me to print that story,

with a corpse that's been running around

strangling people and crushing their necks

for the past 84 years?

Because the police refused to release the sketch

their own artist had made,

I talked Vincenzo into hiring an artist of our own.

His jaw was heavier, I think,

that's closer, but more bone was showing through,

yes,

is that what he looked like?

That's what I saw,

Monday, April 10th, 2:07 P.M.

Fourth of July came to Seattle early that year,

all the fireworks exploding at the police headquarters,

90% of them directed at me and Vincenzo.

You know what I call that?

Irresponsible yellow journalism,

fast buck journalism,

the seamy journalism one might expect to find

in a second-rate Metropolis,

the sordid brand ofjournalism which is based

not on the public weal, but on the private cash register,

psychologists call it déja vu,

the distinct impression of having had the same experience before.

That's what it was, all right, in spades.

Item... we had no right to throw the public into a panic.

Translation... Tourist season was coming up

and Seattle couldn't survive without it.

Item... we had no evidence to support our statement that there

might be a connection between the five sets of murders since 1889.

Translation... we knew more than we were supposed to.

Item... the authorities were going to keep a watchful eye on us,

particularly me, from now on.

Translation... after a brief hiatus,

I had once more taken up permanent residence

inside a pressure cooker.

Permit me to read you a brief memorandum,

quote, "any repetition of this morning's front page assault"

"on the mind and senses

will result in the instant dismissal of all responsible persons,".

Unquote,

- signed... _ "god,".

You're almost right,

how could I let this happen to me again?

How could I do it? I don't understand!

Will you just wait a minute?!

We wasted an awful lot of time

fighting tooth and nail in Las Vegas about the obvious,

"there is no such thing as a vampire."

That's what everyone kept saying, and the women kept dying,

let's not play that stupid game again!

- Besides, it's a great story, - it's a fabricated story,

- full of screwball speculations! - Fabricated speculation?!

- Have you been sitting on your brain? - Give me the facts,

or stay away from me, just the facts!

Step number one

in my fact-finding project took me to the main library,

where I spent the rest of the evening checking

their microfilm collection of Seattle's newspapers.

The murder trail apparently came to an end in 1889,

but I found out something very interesting.

As near as I could make it out, every set of murders

had taken place over a period of 18 days,

which meant that our killer, whoever or whatever he was,

only had a week and a day to find his last three victims.

That night, about 11:45,

he reduced the number to two.

Hold it, mister,

identification, please,

yeah, identification, sure, right here,

Hey, you, hold it!

- Where'd he go? - We didn't see anyone,

better get the ambulance for those other guys,

- I'll take the camera, - hey, give me my camera!

Well, that's...

People, I want this area thoroughly searched,

do a knock on it,

- give me my camera! - I want you out of this area,

- that's private property! - Beat it!

- I'll lock you up for loitering, - you can't take that!

Give me that... Come on, give me that!

Shoot!

Just Molly and me.

And baby makes three.

We're happy in my.

Blue heaven.

Mr. Joe Roberts, ladies and gentlemen,

how about a big hand for him, huh?

All right!

All right,

the man responsible for the underground tour

of Seattle's forgotten city beneath the modern streets

of Seattle,

that mall pole was devised

by the man I'm about to introduce,

author, journalist, Mr. Bill speidel,

thank you, young man,

welcome to Seattle's underground tours, folks,

before I go on, I wanna tell you about mother damnable...

After completely striking out in my efforts to get shubert

to return my film of last night's wipeout of the Seattle police,

I decided to try another angle.

To make room for the underground...,

I called my belly-dancing, undergraduate friend and asked her

to attend an afternoon tour of the underground with me.

Confession of a newsman, chapter one,

her being with me had nothing to do with the story.

Those kids from Seattle high school spent

five successive Saturdays back in the spring of 1965,

cleaning up no less than ten tons of debris down here

so that people like you wouldn't break your necks walking around,

watch your step through here,

you gentlemen can help the ladies, huh?

Twice a day when the tides came in,

the sewer system backed up and came right in with it,

flooding every water closet, turning it into a fountain,

kids in those days weren't raised on dr, Spock,

they were raised on the tide table,

watch your step, let's go this way,

it was like another world down there,

a world of yesterday... Sidewalks and storefronts

just as they'd been left after the fire in 1889.

Windows built to admit the light admitting only darkness now.

Ground floors of office buildings

now the unused cellars of those buildings.

The tomb of old Seattle just beneath the living streets

of what Seattle is today.

Vintage year,

I'm too old for this shit,

you want...?

Gotta see a doctor,

arthritis,

bad stomach,

why'd you have to come to this place?

Back,

never woulda had to put my shoes on

if I hadn't heard you comin',

my corns are killing me,

got a Charley horse,

varicose veins,

I'm gettin' a migraine,

- are you all right? - Yeah,

of course I'm all right,

listen...

Have you seen anybody else around here

- who wasn't with the tours? - Yeah,

- yeah, who? - You two,

oh, funny,

very funny,

well, if you do see someone, or, uh...

Something around here,

you get in touch with me at this number

and I'll give you 20 bucks,

here's a down payment,

I could live three months on that, five bucks,

Uh, no, thank you,

on me,

Sure was a lovely afternoon,

I still don't think it's a good idea for you to be working nights,

- I've seen this nut in action, - oh, terrific,

you gonna pick up my tuition?

That's very funny, very funny,

I just don't get it,

where does he go between killings?

We didn't find anything in the underground,

- no, - I don't understand it,

how can he run like a track star, have superhuman strength,

and look like a stiff?

And what does he do with all that blood?

It's like some kind of recurring nightmare,

- it's all happened to me before, - what are you talking about?

Last year in Las Vegas when I was working for Tony Vincenzo,

I uncovered a series of murders

that turned out to have been committed by a vampire,

a real vampire,

a real, out of the coffin at night, go for the jugular vampire,

you don't believe me,

neither did the cops up there, neither did the FBI,

neither did Tony Vincenzo, until finally, they had to,

as it turned out, however, they put a cap on my story,

prevented me from writing about what I had seen

with my own eyes

by hanging a murder rap over my head,

- murder? - Yeah,

yeah, I finally drove a wooden stake into the vampire's heart,

- What do you think? - What do I think?

I think those people will remember this elevator ride

for the rest of their lives,

two, let's go,

I'm beginning to wonder whether maybe it isn't them,

maybe it's me,

listen, I think I know somebody you should see,

there's this lady who's a teacher at the university,

- she teaches anthropology, - yes?

She's a buff on every crazy subject there is,

- yeah? - Ghosts, demons, vampires,

and ghouls, you know, just name it,

you probably won't be too crazy about her,

but she's gotta be the one you talk to,

yeah? What's her name?

- Professor crabwell, - what?!

How can a man over a hundred years old

retain his vitality?

Is it possible?

If it were possible,

I'd be sitting here an 80-year-old sexpot,

however, staying young was not their purpose,

alchemy was conceived as an exalted notion...

Man at one with the universe,

and will you please sit down?

Yes, yes, of course,

these men led spartan lives,

living in the most humble of quarters,

eating the most humble of foods,

the count Saint-germain, for instance,

existed on a diet which consisted solely of oatmeal,

groats, white meat of chicken,

and a little wine,

seems to me that a diet like that would make a man old before his time,

on the contrary,

he remained young for a number of years,

in addition to which he was said to have possessed

almost superhuman strength,

tell me, what other, uh...

What other ingredients are in this elixir of life?

Milk or meat,

celandine or honey,

red wine vinegar,

hair, sweat, blood,

what kind of blood?

What do you mean, what kind of blood?

Human blood, of course,

what are you smiling at?

Hi, there,

- got a moment? - What are you doing here?

- Just wanted to talk a minute, - what about?

The elixir of life,

"go to journalism school," my father said,

"it's a good, sound, down-to-earth profession."

Don't you wanna hear this?

I'd like to raise tulips for a living, but there's not too much of a demand,

suppose an elixir of life could actually be produced,

how do you think it'd work?

Do you think that one treatment of it

would cause everlasting youth?

Or do you think that periodic treatments

- might be required, say... - Wait a minute, don't tell me,

let me guess, every 21 years?

Good guess,

suppose at the end of this 21-year period,

the man who took the magic elixir

began looking a little...

Moldy, you know, kinda like what he really did look like...

A 100-year-old man,

suppose he had to make a new batch of the elixir

and had to make it within a period of 18 days,

suppose that the one ingredient he didn't have was...

- Blood, - very good,

suppose he had to go out late every night to get that blood,

suppose he got it from the bases of his victims' skulls

with a hypodermic needle,

suppose he was so strong that when

he strangled his victims, he crushed their necks,

suppose his fingertips were starting to decompose

and he left fragments of them on the women's throats,

suppose you flap your arms and fly right out that door,

suppose you check the dictionary and discover what "fact" means,

facts!

As I rode home that night, I wondered where the killer was

and if my theory about him was true,

partly true, or, as Vincenzo would have it,

factless, hopeless, and useless.

I wondered when and how he'd get his fifth victim,

since the entire area was being guarded so closely now.

I didn't have to wonder long.

Thursday, April 13th, 1:25 am.

The dressing room in Omar's tent.

Charisma beauty was plain old Gladys wheems again,

dead, strangled with a broken neck,

blood syringed from the base of her skull.

Wilma krankheimer was still in shock.

So was Louise Harper.

She has found the body after her performance.

I've got a couple of questions for you,

and I wasn't doing so well myself.

I've gotta talk to you about something,

wait a minute, come on! This is very important!

Captain shubert is very busy,

- you can't go in there, - I gotta see him,

- you cannot go in there! - I'm goin' in there!

- What's going on here? - I told him you were busy,

I've been tryin' to see you since 1:30 this morning,

- I'm not leaving until I do, - it's all right,

- I'm sorry, sir, - it's all right,

you gotta put policewomen on the waterfront streets at night,

- do I? - Yeah, you do,

you got five days to catch the killer, otherwise, he's gonna disappear,

- is he, Mr. Kolchak? - Yeah, he is, he is!

Every 21 years since 1889, he has killed six women

in 18 days precisely,

- precisely? - Precisely,

no doubt we lack your eagle-eyed perception,

but we fail to see the exact, precise pattern

you keep babbling about,

now, in 1889, there was no evidence

that the murders were committed

over an 18-day period, or that they were even related,

- you checked? - Yes, we do a little research, too,

to continue... in 1910, there was blood loss reported

- in only three of the victims, - what about...?

The description of the murderer was made by a mental defective

- in his cups and... - What about the 1952 descriptions?

Were those made by a mental defective in his cups?

- He was a bank president! - In 1952, there were eight murders

committed during an 18-day period, what does that do to your theory?

Two of them by stabbing, which invalidates...

And after the sixth strangulation,

an eyewitness described the murderer as being, quote,

"rather handsome," unquote,

oh, you mean you missed that?

Well, I... the witness obviously made a mistake, he had to,

did he, huh? Tell me, if it's the same killer,

why no signs of rotted flesh on the throat of last night's victim?

And one last question,

why am I wasting my time on you?

- Facts mean nothing to you at all, - there is one last fact, captain,

by next Tuesday, that killer's gonna disappear for 21 years,

and the way your police have pioneer square

bottled up, he isn't even gonna show his face,

which face is that, huh?

The rotted one of your so-called super killer

your newspaper saw fit to print?

So-called?!

I saw that so-called super killer wipe up the streets

with your so-called police force!

I had pictures to prove it that you wouldn't let me print!

Tell me, how long have you been in Seattle?

- What does that mean? - How long have you been

- with the chronicle? - A little less than two weeks,

- a little less than two weeks, - about that,

in that time, you have ascertained how we should conduct this case?

- I've been a reporter for 22 years! - I've been a police officer for 30!

Then why don't you retire?

Listen, I don't like you, Mr. Kolchak,

you might say I dislike you monumentally,

you have barged around this building as though it were your own private club,

you've interfered with police officers trying to perform their duty,

you've strewn the streets of Seattle with journalistic garbage,

you've stepped on toes, muscled in, pushed,

usurped, and generally conducted yourself

with all the aplomb of a one-man gestapo,

- gestapo? - Yes, gestapo!

If I see or hear from you again, for quite some time,

I promise you, I'll personally have you thrown in jail,

and get your arm off my clock!

You've only got five days left,

and I'm telling you to get out! And stay out!

Cease, mister, cease, desist and vanish, or else,

at least search the underground, the killer is down there,

- that's where he isn't! - That...

The underground was searched, nothing at all was found,

yes, we did that without consulting you,

I hope that's all right,

Sheila, show Mr. Kolchak the door,

good day, sir,

- Kolchak! - I'll get him yet,

coming, mother,

I warned you about bugging the police department,

- yeah, so what?! - Didn't I?!

So, shubert's office just called crossbinder,

crossbinder called me, and once again, thanks to you,

I'm frying on the griddle,

- why? - Why?!

Are you for real?! You barge into shubert's office, tell him

how to run his case, tell him he's suppressing news,

- and you ask why?! - He is suppressing news,

he doesn't know how to run the case,

the killer is down there, Tony, he is down in the underground,

why don't they get him out of there?!

He is hidden away some place nobody knows,

how the heck can they get at him, then?!

By breaking open the walls, I don't know,

crossbinder's got some influence in town, hasn't he?

- What about it? - You have got to talk him into

pressuring the police, forcing them to do

what I want them to do!

You know what you just said?

Of course, I just said it, didn't I?

No, you don't know, it's finally happened, kolchak,

you've gone schizoid,

you'll be wearing robes and a crown next,

I'll tell you what's finally happened,

you have lost your guts, you have sold out,

- sold out? - Sold out!

Why, you miserable, egocentric...

- You are off the story, - I am what?!

You heard me, you are off the story,

you know something, Tony?

You're getting old, you're getting very old,

- out, out! - "Out! Get out!"

Just one small item, Mr. Kolchak,

Mark twain,

- fifth paragraph down, - fifth paragraph down...

Two, three, oh, yeah,

"Mr. Twain noted with typical dryness of tone

"that he had a most intriguing conversation with...

"With a local physician

who claimed that physical immortality..."

Oh, this is very good, Mr. Berry, very good,

"that physical immortality was not only possible,

"but probable, indeed, practical,

"Mr. Twain remarked that...

That the physician's name was dr, Richard Malcolm,".

You wouldn't have anything on this Richard Malcolm,

- would you? - Just one small item,

Dr, Richard Malcolm was a member

of the original staff of the westside mercy hospital

when it opened in 1882,

there's the original story and photograph,

the civil war?

He was a surgeon in the union army,

is this hospital still standing?

Oh, I don't believe so, Mr. Kolchak,

I think there's a clinic there now,

I took a fast trip to the clinic, hoping they might have

the record files from westside mercy hospital

stashed away in their cellar.

I asked Mr. Berry to keep checking his own records

and find out what else he could about Dr. Richard Malcolm.

I never had to search the cellar for those records.

I found my answer just inside the lobby door.

Sir... if you don't get down from there this instant,

- I'll call the police, - mm-hmm,

- did you hear me, sir? - Uh-huh,

all right, then,

all right, then! Call the police, tell them we have a vandal here,

tell them to get here right away, get down from there this instant!

Malcolm Richards, md, the doctor-Saint of the waterfront,

founder of the Richards free clinic,

also known as Richard Malcolm, m.D.,

late of the union army, our killer from the time.

This is dreadful, Mr. Kolchak!

On the contrary, Mr. Berry,

there he is, officer,

Tony?

It is to be regretted, Mr. Kolchak,

that leg irons and mouth blocks

were outlawed some years back,

will you wait a minute, will you take these things off?

I warned you, kolchak,

congratulations, kolchak,

you have plumbed a new depth...

The desecration of a Saint,

for heaven's sake, I did not invent the resemblance between.

Dr, Malcolm Richards and dr, Richard Malcolm,

I did not invent the fact that westside mercy hospital,

of which dr, Richard Malcolm was a staff member,

is on the same spot as the Malcolm Richards clinic,

why not an exposé on dr, schweitzer, Mr. Kolchak?

Or the lowdown on Mahatma Gandhi?

As for this eternal youth garbage, I hate it,

well, I can see why,

- what did you say? - Hold on,

we're not here for any personal vituperation,

- you know that word? - What?

Vi-tu-per-ation,

that's what I said, I pronounced it right,

listen, you've been arrested,

you're 1/100th of an inch of being thrown in jail, and...

- There he is! - Now, who's this?

Mr. Berry, come in, come in! I've been waiting for you, come on!

Yes, yes, do you, uh...?

Did you get it?

- Yes, I thought perhaps... - You thought right, Mr. Berry,

who is this man?

Don't you know him? He works for you,

down in research, sir,

- for 35 years, - good god,

and research, of course, being the meat of it,

yes, here we are,

"Mr. Richard Malcolm lived in New York City

until 1868, when he moved to Seattle,".

Very good, Mr. Berry, very good,

"several months before he left..." New York City, that is...

"Six women were strangled over a period of 18 days precisely,

"their iarynxes were crushed and their necks were broken,

two had small wounds on the base of their skull,"

1868, I might add, is exactly 21 years

before the first group of Seattle killings, Mr. Vincenzo,

item, "following the fire of 1889, in which the wife",

"stepson and daughter died of smoke inhalation,

dr, Richard Malcolm disappeared,"

1889, as we know, just happens to be

the year in which the first group

of six killings occurred, Mr. Vincenzo,

yes, "in 1910, dr, Malcolm Richards appeared"

in the by now defunct westside mercy hospital,"

of which, as noted, dr, Richard Malcolm was formerly a member of the staff...

"And built his clinic over the original site,"

1910, by coincidence, just happens to be

the year in which the second group of six killings occurred,

- kolchak? - Again, more broken necks

- and more missing blood, - now, listen, kolchak...

Wait a minute... wait a minute!

"In 1931, following reports that he had developed some kind of

strange, degenerative skin disease, '

dr, Malcolm Richards disappeared...

Oh, 1931 just by coincidence happens to be the year in which

the third group of similar killings occurred,

Mr. Vincenzo,

photos, do you have any photographs?

- Ah, yeah, - did you get some?

Oh, marvelous, marvelous, let's see...

You'll, excuse the, uh... Clumsiness of the hands,

but my wrists are slightly encumbered

by your... bracelets,

now, this photograph of dr, Richard Malcolm

and the slightly doctored photograph

of dr, Malcolm Richards are identical, down to the white scar

above the right eyebrow,

now, this photograph was taken during the civil war

when dr, Richard Malcolm was a surgeon

with the union army,

the photograph of dr, Malcolm Richards

was taken in 1926,

it showed a man in his 40s,

now, how can a man almost 90

look like a man in his 40s?

Facts, gentlemen, facts,

well?!

Yes, well?

- You shut up! - I mean, uh, well...

What are we supposed to do now, congratulate you?

Find him, mister!

Go down underground and search for him,

you haven't searched enough,

put some policewomen in the area, lure him out of his lair,

and, Mr. Publisher,

you might consider printing the stories,

they are news, sir, not hearsay,

they are news!

That will be enough, Mr. Kolchak,

Perhaps, Mr. Kolchak, it would be a good idea

if you stepped outside for a moment,

delighted, sir, delighted,

if I could get my jewelry removed,

all right, judd?

Get him outta here, take the handcuffs off him,

thank you,

I just await your decision, gentlemen,

Yes, sir, llewellyn... I mean, Mr. Crossbinder,

it'll be done, you can depend on it,

come on, judd,

Oh, boy,

okay, Carl,

I don't know how I did it, but I got you off the hook,

- you did? - Yeah,

you're a genius, Tony!

You're a genius!

- What about the story? - There is no story,

- what? - That's it, there is no story,

they're gonna handle it their own way,

they're gonna... huh?

- I'll kill 'em! - Kolchak!

Didn't they hear what I said?!

Don't they know what's gonna happen?!

If they don't get Malcolm out of there,

he's going to get his sixth kill somewhere else,

and he's gonna disappear for 21 years!

Don't they know what's gonna happen?!

They do not intend to panic an entire city

just for your sake, kolchak, period!

- Your next assignment... - You haven't changed,

you're the same as you were in Las Vegas,

- your next assignment... - You're on their side,

you're covering the daffodil festival in puyallup,

and you're lucky to get that,

puyahup?

It was with deep regret that I chose to forego the joys

of daffodils in puyallup, but I had other plans.

Saturday, April 15th, 2 am.

We started out...

One belly-dancing undergraduate, and one reporter who,

despite his air of spit-in-their-eye confidence,

hoped to heavens he wasn't hastening said undergraduate to her doom.

It didn't help my conscience that Louise Harper

had agreed immediately to help me,

angered as she was by the death of both her co-performers.

Please stop looking around like you're suspicious of something!

- Walk natural, - I'm scared!

- I'm right behind you, - that's easy for you to say,

just act casual,

The first three nights passed without incident.

Most of the time was spent trying to duck the police.

On the fourth night, things began to happen.

Denver-14, Denver-14, family disturbance.

278 new northridge.

I'll not look back,

Car 19, car 19, 211 in progress,

813 kelso street, handle code 3.

All right,

Car number eight, undetermined disturbance,

8390 Olympus walk. See the man.

- Duncan car one, 0-1... - Get her in the car, fast,

170.

Okay, the party's over, get in the car,

- what are you doing down here? - You're under arrest,

- get in the car, - get your hands off me,

- don't push! - Shut up!

All units in the vicinity of main branch,

be on the lookout for a '36 shearing coupe,

blue, blue hood.

We're closed,

please go away, we're closed for the evening,

April 19th, 3 A.M.

The police station was a circus of activity,

a three-ring madhouse of reaction to the sixth kill.

Even captain shubert seemed to know they'd had it now,

that, saving a miracle, their prey had gone to earth again

and wasn't going to show his corpse-like face

for another 21 years.

A certain reporter being bailed out knew, too...

Knew it, and was fit to be tied by it.

Hey, shubert, okay?

- Kolchak, - okay, shubert?

- I told him, the idiot! - Kolchak!

I told him, but would he listen? No, he didn't listen,

"I've been a policeman for 37 years."

And an idiot for twice that long!

You were supposed to be in puyallup with the daffodils!

- Where? - I'd like to leave you here forever,

I'd like to see them lock you up in a jail cell for a million years!

- If you don't shut your mouth... - What's the matter with you?

You oughta see a doctor, I'm serious,

you sound terrible, it's awful,

what have you done to that poor man?

I have never seen anyone so close to total insanity before,

he just disappears, we cornered him in the alleys

behind the Richards clinic, and he disappears, just like that,

Vincenzo was so upset, it took me an hour

to get rid of him, and then only because I promised

to go straight home to bed.

Maybe no one else knew what was going on,

but I was sure that I did.

Our man had to have a way in and out

of some secret part of the underground,

and the basement of his old clinic had to be it.

Right here, get in the shadows,

- You're not going down there? - You stay here,

What is it?

Looks like a big air shaft down here,

where does it go?

All over, I'm gonna check it out,

- Carl! Are you all right? - Yeah, sure, of course,

you, uh... you stay here, I'll be right back,

Just when I thought I'd struck out, I found it.

It's in there, give me 30 minutes, then call the police

- and tell 'em where I am, - what are you gonna do?

Get my exclusive, what do you think?

I think you're crazy, that's what I think,

just do what I tell ya, I gotta get going,

Here it was... the hidden city beneath Seattle's underground.

I was descending to the world of yesterday,

the world of the 19th century,

of bustle pads and high-crown hats

and queen Victoria.

The private world of Dr. Richard Malcolm.

Who are you?

- Are you...? - Who are you?

Carl kolchak, daily chronicle.

How did you get here?

Through the, uh...

The cellar of your clinic,

clinic? I have no clinic, why do you say that?

But you are...

You are dr, Richard Malcolm,

I've seen you somewhere before,

nah,

oh, well, you almost killed me the other day

- in the alley, - what are you doing here?

What am I doing here?

I thought I'd drop in and find out about you

so I could tell my readers,

your what?

My readers,

his readers, did you hear that?

Nobody is ever going to hear from you again,

- I think I'll go now, - you've profaned my world, sir,

I will not permit you to live here, to stay here...

To exist here,

I'm just a dumb reporter doing his job,

You grovel nicely, mister, uh...

Kolchak, sir,

daily chronicle, sir,

so, you want a story, he wants a story, darling,

what do you think? We'll see if there's time,

yes, we have time,

why not, why not?

It seems only fitting that one other person in the world

ought to know the facts...

Before he dies,

yes, Mr. Kolchak, okay, come on,

I'll not bore you with the details of how I evolved my formula,

suffice it to say that the additive

which ultimately made it work for me

was the blood of women, removed from their brains

in the seven seconds following their death,

I found that six were required to supply the quantity of blood

that was needed for the 18-day period

in which the elixir was prepared and consumed,

in 1868, I first took the elixir,

then, believing that my immortality was assured,

I decided to perfect and refine the formula...

In the hopes of bestowing its benefits on mankind,

no longer circumscribed by time and death,

what wonders on this earth could men not then achieve?

And then...

In 1889...

My world collapsed,

yes, 1889,

your family died, and you began to age,

are you going to listen?

- Or are you going to interrupt? - No, no!

Listen, listen,

I discovered that the effects of the elixir

were not permanent,

I began to age,

I had to kill again,

restore myself,

that's why you look the way you do now, isn't it?

Yes,

stage by stage...

In 18 days,

that's the way the elixir works,

yes, and then I shall have 21 more years

to make its effects permanent,

twenty-one more years?

That's all you're ever going to have, isn't it?

That's not true, I'll find the answer eventually,

eventually?

How many more women are going to have to die?

What's a few lives compared to immortality, Mr. Kolchak?

This is the sixth and final dosage,

I shall take it shortly,

and the revitalization shall be complete,

if I don't take this final dosage now,

the process will reverse itself,

but I will take it,

Why?

Hey, buddy boy,

yeah!

Vincenzo! What kind of dirty, rotten deal is this?!

- Hold it, Carl, hold it, - don't "Carl" me!

I've heard of yellow-iivered sellouts before,

- but this I don't believe! - Wait a minute...

What is this "identity unknown" garbage?

Where is my story?

- You want your story? - Yeah,

all right, I'll give you your story,

all 20 copies,

- twenty copies?! - That's all we got printed

before crossbinder stopped 'em,

what are you so surprised about? I'm the dummy!

I thought they'd print all that!

Why didn't you print it? You're the managing editor!

What's wrong with you?

You think there's any difference between this town and Vegas?

But they saw it, Tony! They all saw it!

Even shubert saw it!

No one in Seattle is going to admit that a dead man's

roaming around their city killing people since 1889,

but I was stupid enough to think that they would!

So, this is it, huh?

And I'm out of a job, that right, Vincenzo?

That I feel bad about, Carl,

why should you feel bad, Tony?

- You're still working, - I don't deserve that, Carl,

if you had any guts left, any at all,

- you'd go upstairs and... - All right! I've had enough!

So have I! Don't ever do me any more favors!

Do you any favors?

- You miserable, ungrateful... - Ungrateful?!

What do you want me to do, thank you?!

No! Just get outta here, get out!

And next time, you do me a favor, hear?

You see me again, just keep walkin'!

With pleasure! And thanks, Vincenzo,

thanks for nothin'!

Hello?

Oh, yes, sir, yes, Mr. Crossbinder,

right, I'll be right up,

There it is, another tale of defeat snatched from the jaws of triumph,

another case of virtue unrewarded, of dishonesty being the best policy,

- injustice rampant... - Will you shut up

and put that recorder away and let me get some sleep?

You're never gonna get that story published,

don't tell me what I'm gonna get published,

- nobody's gonna kill this story, - it's already been killed,

- Bury it, - not this one, no, sir,

I'd like to see somebody shut me up on this one,

- can anybody shut you up? - You are a passenger in this car,

this is my automobile, you remember what you said?

"I never wanna see you again, I never wanna talk to you again,"

- remember? - Yeah, I remember,

- that was before I was fired, - yeah, that's right,

don't worry about it, you're gonna love it in New York,

- New York?! - New York,

yup, that's where we're going,

and you're lucky to be going with me,

I suppose I should consider myself lucky, too,

- that's right, - oh, kolchak,

do you know that I have heard

just about all I wanna take from you

or even hear ever again?

You think you've got problems?

There I was, one semester shy of getting my degree

in psychology, and what happens?

You show up outside my houseboat one day,

mouth, all mouth, kolchak!

Compared to you, I am tongue-tied,

and before I know what's going on,

there I am being yelled at by that...

That captain of police,

yada, yada, yada,

peace! Can I have some peace?

Please, some peace!