All language subtitles for Dragnet S03E27 Intelligence (DR-34).DVDRip.NonHI.cc.en

This is the city.

Los Angeles, California.

I work here.

I carry a badge.

The story you are
about to see is true.

The names have been
changed to protect the innocent.

It was Tuesday, February 4th.

It was cool in Los Angeles.

We were working the day
watch out of Intelligence Division.

The boss is Captain Brooks.

My partner is Bill Gannon.

My name is Friday.

The invitation came every year
at this time to attend the same

get together at the same
place with the same people.

I'd never gone.

This time, however,
I had no choice.

It's from my uncle, the
one up in San Francisco.

Yeah.

- Aren't you going to open yours?
- No. I know what it says.

- You do, huh?
- Yeah.

I wish I hadn't opened this one.
Old Uncle Fred wants another five.

Five dollars?

Well yes, Joe. What
did you think 500?

I just sent him $5.

- When?
- Six months ago for his
birthday.

I can't understand that.

Now what do you suppose a man
wants with another five this soon?

- Why don't you open yours?
- No. It's an invitation to a
party.

- What kind of party?
- Alumni association.

- High school?
- No. That night school I used to
go to.

I didn't know night schools
had alumni associations.

Yeah, well this one does.

Want me to open it for you?

It doesn't make any
difference. I know what it says.

Well, you never can tell
about these things Joe.

It might be a refund
on your tuition.

- After 10 years?
- No. No refund.

"Dear selected
member, you are cordially

invited to an informal
gathering of men only.

Thursday evening, February 6th at 8
o'clock at my home, 4458 Edgewood Avenue.

Signed, Paul Reed, Alumni
Association President."

Well you've got to
go Joe, you're invited.

Worse than that, I got trapped.

The guy that signed
that letter Paul Reed?

- He called me at home last
night.
- They must want you awful bad.

No, they don't want me awful bad. They just
want to have a good turnout that's all.

There won't be
anybody there I know.

You've always been a bearer for
higher education, haven't you Joe?

I try.

Well, you've got time for
all that. You're a single man.

You went to regular college
too didn't you in the daytime?

Yeah. But that
was a long time ago.

- How long did you go?
- Not so you'd notice it. About
eight months.

How long did you go
to this night school?

Three and a half years.

- Well, you finally convinced me.
- Of what?

You'll do anything to keep
from getting married won't you?

Thursday, February 6th.

Paul Reed was a real estate
broker with political ambitions.

Since leaving night school,

we'd met socially one or two
times and then purely by accident.

This calls for a celebration.
Joe Friday at an alumni meeting.

Might as well be the campfire
girls. I don't know a soul.

- We'll fix that Joe.
- You will, huh?

Tell me something.

You ever hear of
the Fielder Militia?

Yeah, Paul, I've heard them.

Well, I'm thinking about
joining up next meeting.

Got the word a few days ago from
Frank Baker. I'll introduce you to him.

We could use you, Joe.

- That the reason for this
special invitation?
- Right.

What do you think of the
outfit? Politically, I mean?

Everybody's well intention,
there's a gun in the rib.

Fielder Militia? You must be
thinking of some other group.

I've read their charter.
Reminds me of one that

was written in a jail
cell about 45 years ago.

- What?
- Yeah. Place called Landsburg.

The guy that wrote it
used to hang wallpaper.

Oh, come on now
Joe. I'm serious.

Well the police department hasn't got
better friends anywhere than the Fielders.

That's the sole reason for their
existence, to support law and order.

I'm familiar with the claim.

Well, you ought to be grateful man, you
and every underpaid cop in the country.

Support. Isn't that
what it's all about?

We have support
Paul but not all kinds.

Now let me get this straight.

You're the guy who has to go
out on the streets and do the job.

And you're telling me the department
doesn't welcome all the help it can get?

Paul, I can't speak for the
department, but I'll say this.

We want help, we welcome
help, we're getting help

from legitimate groups
and responsible citizens.

Now that doesn't include people
who yell, "Spy" every time they

hear an accent or who look under
the bed at night for a seditionist.

It doesn't include
racist, white or black.

And it lets out people
who think lawful protest is

unconstitutional or
the change is treason.

It excludes nuts on
either fringe, Paul.

The guy who sees an anarchist
in every kid with long hair.

It excludes the Fielder Militia.

Patriotism?

Why that Militia of yours has
got a corner on the market.

Civil rights? They got them all.

Protesters? Shoot them all down.

Now that maybe your
philosophy Paul. But it's not mine.

Now, I don't think it's
the department's either.

We work it a little
different in this country.

What do you mean?

I wear a badge
Paul, not a swastika.

- Hey what's going on here?
- I'm not sure, Frank.

- Joe Friday, right?
- That's right.

- Frank Baker.
- How are you?

I overheard your little speech.
What do you think Paul? Lost cause?

- Afraid so.
- Oh, maybe not. I didn't catch
his breath.

Frank Baker like most members
of the militant Fielder Militia

was an outspoken
proponent of law and order.

He was also a gun fancier.

By 11 p.m., the conversation had
gotten around to his favorite subject.

Tell me Joe, what kind
of handgun do you like?

And don't tell me it's that
blunderbuss you hang on your belt.

I manage to qualify with it.

I'm talking about a fine weapon.
Something you'd be proud to own.

- How about a new putter?
- Oh, come on, Joe, play the
game.

All right. The 9-mm Browning.
How's that strike you?

Best handgun ever made. Glad
we found something to agree on.

Uh-hum.

Let me ask you a
question Joe, off the record.

Be sure you want to, Frank.

I know. You're a
policeman. I respect it.

But how would you like
to own a Parabellum sub?

- You're talking about a
submachine gun?
- That's right.

- I bet you never heard of it.
- No. But you'll tell me.

Brand-new weapons, dependable
rapid rate of fire, minimum rise.

Feds missed 500 of them
when they knocked over Mandino.

- Well who's Mandino?
- Big runner back in Kansas.

- You like to own one of those
guns?
- Now, what would I do with it?

- Right price, Joe.
- Why me, Baker?

You could peddle all 500 of those
guns overseas in the next 24 hours.

That's right... If I
had the license.

- The Federal Firearms License.
- Starting to see through, huh?

- Well, it takes time.
- That's what I haven't got Joe,
time.

I need that license
and I need it quick.

There's a lot of dough
at stake believe me.

- Is that so?
- Enough for a lot of underpaid
people.

- What have you got in mind?
- You've been on the job a long
time, Joe.

- You've rubbed elbows with the
guys in the Treasury Department.
- Go on.

That's where the licenses come
from, Joe, and I need one, bad.

You want me to walk that
license through is that it?

A word or two in the right place for
a citizen who supports law and order.

- That's all I'm asking.
- You don't hear very well do
you, Frank?

Perfectly. Awhile ago, I heard
an overworked underpaid cop

trying to sell himself
a bill of goods.

You're sure of that are you?

I don't hear you
reading me my rights.

Friday 8:30 a.m.

I pulled the intelligence
package on Frank Baker.

Skipper set up a meeting with the
Treasury Department in 10 minutes.

Right.

- That's interesting, isn't it?
- Yeah.

Baker did big time for 80W. He's a
felon. That's why he's pushing me.

- He'll never get that license.
- But he thinks you can swing it
for him.

Yeah and I got to
keep him thinking that.

Intelligence memo from
the Treasury Department.

A year ago, Baker tried to make
a connection with a tool company

to fabricate trigger
housings for machine guns.

- Never quits trying, does he?
- No.

He really wants that Federal
Firearms License, doesn't he?

So bad he can taste it. There's
only one thing that bothers me.

Yeah, where's he
got the gun stashed.

8:40 a.m.

Bill and I met with Captain Pierce
Brooks and Area Supervisor Jack Courtney

from the Alcohol, Tobacco
and Firearms Division

of the United States
Treasury Department.

We had worked
with Courtney before.

All right. So Baker wants
the Federal Firearms

License so he can
peddle automatic weapons.

We know about his
record, but I'm just

curious, Jack, has he
applied for the license?

Yes and his application uses
the address of the Fielder Militia.

Now that, and the fact
that he's been convicted

of a felony would be
grounds to deny the license.

How's that Jack?

Under the old law, you could
have a license at your home

and operate from your
broom closet, but not anymore.

The new Gun Act stipulates that
you must have a bona fide place

of business and be
open to the public.

Wouldn't the home office of the Fielder
Militia qualify as a place of business?

You know better than that Joe.

Fielder Militia isn't open
to the general public

and its headquarters
are in Fielder's home.

Has Fielder himself ever applied
for a Federal Firearms License?

No, he hasn't. And it looks like
this time, he's holding Baker's coat.

Now, we know Fielder is
supplying machine guns,

grenades, bombs, you name it, to
paramilitary groups all over the country.

What we don't know is
where he's warehousing them.

We suspect at some place your
California desert, but it's a big desert.

What about that 9mm
Parabellum Baker offered me?

He'll withdraw the offer. We put
Mandino out of business 18 days ago.

We seized 500 9mm
Parabellum submachine guns.

- What about the other 500?
- What other 500?

Those were it, the
whole enchilada.

But don't let it worry
you Joe. Fielder will

serve us and he'll
have a substitute item.

- Where does Fielder get them?
- Steals them.

- From who?
- Biggest user we've got, the
Armed Forces.

- Those big desert maneuvers
awhile back.
- You got it.

We worked part of that case.

Bunch of guys decided Uncle Sam
had more ordinance than he needed.

They got away with
weapons, ammunition,

any kind of equipment
they could lay their hands on.

The military nailed the thieves.
We tagged some local buyers.

- You took over from there.
- Right.

Some of that stuff
we still haven't turned.

We think it may be hidden in
that piece of desert I mentioned.

Okay, Joe, you know what
to do. And play this one cool.

Do that.

If my guess is any good, he'll hand
you a piece of that military ordinates.

Yes, sir?

Gift wrapped.

5 p.m.

I called Frank Baker at
his home in Sherman Oaks.

He invited me over for a drink.

Here you go, Joe.

If that's not heavy
enough, you holler.

- Plenty thanks.
- Ever seen anything like it?

- Yeah, once.
- Oh, where?

England. The
Imperial War Museum.

That must be quite a
place, I've never seen it.

You know they say you can tell a lot about
a man by looking at the place he lives in.

- You believe that?
- Sometimes.

Only one other thing I
want to hang on these walls.

- A Federal Firearms License.
- That's right. You're going to
help me?

You're about as tactful
as some of your hardware.

Time Joe. I don't have time.

You're pressing Frank and that's
a sign of ego. I'm not sure I like it.

- I sized you up in five minutes
as a bright cop.
- Real flattering.

You call it ego I call it ability.
The ability to make a decision.

- About the license?
- I made a phone call today.

- Good for you.
- The investigation on you has
just started.

- It could take a long time.
- There's that word again.

The agent in charge
is a friend of mine.

- Glad to hear it.
- Where do you plan to store the
hardware?

What hardware?

The guns you plan to buy and sell or
is the license just to hang on your wall?

- Oh, here maybe.
- Out on the desert. Why?

- Your application doesn't say
here. I read it.
- I figured you would.

- I also read your LAPD package.
- I also figured you would.

All right. Why didn't you figure to
tell me that you did time for 80W.

Now you know the Treasury
Department won't issue

a gun license of any
kind to an ex-con.

That's going to make it pretty
rough to push the license through.

- Yeah. But you know something
Joe?
- What's that?

You're just the
man that can do it.

Saturday, February 8th.

I met with Treasury
Agent Jack Courtney.

If this thing goes down right, Joe,
that guy Baker can lead us to Fielder.

And Fielder's one guy
we'd like to clamp a lid on.

He's always where the
action is here and abroad.

He operates like an
underground river.

We keep sinking wells
and we can't hit water.

We still don't have
one piece of concrete

evidence that ties him
to those illegal weapons.

Did Baker drop anything about
the location of that warehouse?

No, Sir. When I asked
him where he stored the

hardware, he said,
"Here or out in the desert."

Pinpoint it Joe
as fast as you can.

Monday, February 10th, 4:15 p.m.

You're a bright boy, Joe, but you took
a little too long to make up your mind.

- Parabellums are off the market.
- We're sold out.

But I'll fix you up with something
that will make just as tall.

- What have you got in mind?
- Old military classic, the
Thompson.

It's a lot of firepower.

The way things are on the street today and
your job it's a working man's best friend.

- You're going to deliver on this
one?
- Seventy bucks to you.

- You got anymore at that price?
- This is for your personal use
Joe.

If things work out, we'll
take care of your friends later.

All right. Tomorrow's
my day off.

How about you and me
taking a run out in the desert?

- Not unless you want to shoot
jackrabbits.
- Huh?

You pick it up right here.

Monday, February 10th, 5:30 p.m.

Baker told you to pick up that
submachine gun in 48 hours is that it?

Yes, Sir, that's it.

We got the Baker house and the
Fielder Militia headquarters staked out.

But I doubt if it'll do
any good. He's too

smart to send a runner
in with that weapon.

And you're still no closer to
the stash than you were before?

No, Sir. That's right.

Well what worries me is he'll
deliver that Thompson to you all right.

But if he still hasn't
told you where that

military hardware is
stored one thing is sure.

We've reached another dead end.

Let's talk about the buy.
Where do you live Joe?

I've got an apartment in the Silver
Lake District. It's no Taj Mahal.

- How many rooms?
- Living room, bedroom.

Sounds fine. Think you can get
Baker to turn the gun over to you there?

- Well, that's a tall order.
- Yes, I know.

But we want to be
there to corroborate. And

I'd like to see this one
prosecuted Federal.

Any ideas on how you're going
to get Baker up to your apartment?

- Just one.
- What's that?

Ask him.

Tuesday, February
11th, 9:30 a.m.

I put in a call to Frank Baker and told
him it was important that I talk to him.

I suggested we
meet at my apartment.

At the outset, he was
reluctant but he finally agreed.

We set the time
for 8:30 that night.

Tuesday, February 11th 8:30 p.m.

Frank Baker was prompt.

You live in a nice neighborhood.

Yeah. It's out of
the high rent district.

This all your stuff or it
came with the lease?

No you're not a furniture
lover Frank. You're

looking for company
and I haven't got any.

Oh, it's not that I don't trust you,
Joe. It's just that I'm a business man.

I play it up close.

Joe what's on your
mind? It's your party.

You're talking about the collector's
item? You're 20 hours early.

I didn't figure you'd
have it in your pocket,

Frank. But that's what
I want to talk about.

Talk.

Two things about our arrangement,
both of them bad for you and for me.

Number one, I don't
think it's a good idea for

me to be waltzing in
and out of your place.

I'm known in this town. You
never know who might spot me.

Number two, maybe
it's just my imagination

but my boss has been
talking sideways to me.

- Your boss?
- The Captain.

- Well like how?
- Like nothing definite.

It's just the assignment's
he's been putting me on.

- Looks like he's been keeping me
away from the big stuff.
- What do you mean?

Well he slid me on
to the back shelf as far

as important investigations
are concerned.

Now I've seen this
happen before to guys who

tried to go on to
business for themselves.

The first thing that happens
when the department gets hanky

about an officer is they
keep him off key assignments.

Then they let him run until he braids a
long enough rope then they hang 'em.

Now you slice it down
any way you like Frank,

but when you tow it up it comes
out the best way for you and me both.

- What best way?
- That we do business here
instead of your place.

- You got anything to drink?
- Some scotch.

That'll do. But don't spoil it.

- You know something Joe?
- What's that?

- I get a funny feeling about
you.
- Is that right?

I hope I'm right.

Thanks.

- You lived here long?
- Six, seven years.

Nice place. Do your
own housekeeping?

No. I've got a woman
who comes in once a week.

All nice and tidy. True blue civil
service. Joe, I think I got you pegged.

- You have?
- Maybe just a little.

But it's starting to show around the edges
you're beginning to believe. Am I right?

- Maybe.
- Maybe's good enough.

- Joe, you know how many members
we got in the Fielder Militia?
- Four or five hundred.

Closer to 1500 in this State
alone and I'm talking about

dues paying members
Joe, not sympathizers.

And every one of those
1500 started out with maybe.

You're in the
right track friend.

Let me build that
up a little for you.

No. No thanks. I fly better on
one wing. I'll tell you what Joe.

I believe everything you said.

I don't think it's too good an
idea for you to be seen at my

place and I'm just as concerned
about your Captain as you are.

Don't let it worry you. I
still got it under control.

Oh, I know you have
or I wouldn't be here.

And I'll tell you
something else,

the day is going to come when I deliver a
Sherman tank to you at Hollywood and Vine.

That would never fit in
the front seat of my car.

By then, you'll have friends.

Thanks for the drink.

And we do business here?

- No, not a chance.
- I see.

You live in a nice neighborhood, Joe, but
you're a long way from Hollywood and Vine.

Wednesday, February
12th, 8:35 a.m.

I filled in the Captain and
Treasury Agent Jack Courtney

on my meeting with Frank
Baker the previous night.

It was agreed that I should
follow through and try to make

the buy of the Thompson
submachine gun on Baker's terms.

There was still an
outside chance that he

might reveal the location of
the hidden military equipment.

Bill and I left the PAB and drove
across town to Frank Baker's residence.

I dropped Bill off
two blocks away

to connect up with the Treasury
Department's stakeout teams.

It was 4:30 p.m.

If Baker intended to
make good on the sale

of the Thompson
submachine gun it was time.

The 48 hours were up.

You're as prompt as I am, Joe.
How'd you know I had the merchandise?

- You said 48 hours.
- Like a drink?

- No thanks.
- Like to see what you're buying?

- That's why I'm here.
- This is a personal selection
Joe.

Detailed strip, cleaned,
oiled, test fired 100 rounds.

It's a number one, I
know I did it myself.

- Where'd you do all this?
- The warehouse.

Live a little Joe.

The Thompson submachine
gun, caliber .45 M1A1.

An air-cooled, straight blow
back action magazine-fed weapon.

Weight 10 pounds 13 ounces.

Number of grooves six, sides,
front, fixed blade, rear fixed aperture.

Muzzle velocity 920 feet/second.

Effective range 200 yards,
maximum range 1600 yards.

Feed system 20 and 30 shots staggered
column, detachable box magazine.

You want me to wrap it
up? Or will you eat it here?

- How many magazines?
- Two 20s.

You won't have any use for a
50, unless you plan to start a war.

- What about a sling?
- I'll get you one if you think
you need it.

- Tell me the truth, you ever see
a prettier piece of machinery?
- It's a fine one.

I'll bet you never figured your 70
bucks will buy you that much fun did you?

- I brought the cash.
- Oh, take it easy. There's no
rush.

- How about that drink?
- You got something to celebrate
now haven't you?

I guess I have.

Oh, Joe. This is no
schlock operation.

When I tell you we got the goods
we got them and all first class.

I'm convinced.

- Let's see, you need a couple of
boxes of ammo?
- I could use them.

No sweat.

Well Joe, here's to your
new playmate of the month.

In other words you're telling
me that all your hardware is in

mint condition like
that piece I'm buying?

Oh, I didn't say that Joe.

But most of it is so good
you've got to see it to believe it.

- I'd like to.
- I got a call in right now.

Everything works out, you and I are going
to take a little Sunday afternoon run.

Oh, where to?

A nice dry place where the
climate is good for powder and steel.

You mean the
place on the desert?

Excuse me a minute.

Baker here.

Yes, sir.

Yes, sir.

No, sir, not yet.

I understand sir. Welcome.

You know, it'll be easier if I
break that down to travel with it.

This piece isn't going
anywhere. The deal is off.

- What do you mean?
- Just what I said, no deal.

You know your way out.

Wednesday, February
12th, 6:20 p.m.

I picked Bill up from
his stakeout position

and since my apartment
was on the way back

to the office, we stopped off to
telephone the Captain and fill him in.

He said he'd notify
the Treasury agents.

- Well it's too bad.
- No, it's worse than that.

If that lousy phone
call hadn't come when

it did, we'd had the
whole piece on a plate.

- Who do you figure was on the
other end of that call?
- It's hard to tell.

Obviously somebody
pretty high up in the Militia.

Could have even been
Fielder himself, who knows?

If the Treasury people
move in on Baker now at least

there's one machine
gun out of circulation.

Yeah. And how many more they
got stacked up in that warehouse?

Yeah.

- Well, I'll run the unit on in,
check us out.
- Right. Thanks.

- See you tomorrow.
- Yeah.

If I don't reach
for the cyanide.

- Hello Frank.
- Joe.

I'm sure you may live in a nice
place, but these holes are a little drafty.

Aren't you going to ask me in?

Well sure. It's just
that I didn't expect you.

You've got company? I
thought I heard voices.

No. Just had the radio on.
There's no one here. Come on in.

Bet you never expected
to see me, huh?

I just said that Frank.

So you did, Joe, but I'm
here and you're seeing me.

Got a little something
to drink Joe?

Whatever is left of
that bottle of scotch.

Keep it neat. Pour it tall.

You know you don't
live far from me.

It's funny I never thought
about it before, but you don't.

You got any vacancies
here? I just might move in.

You just sip along with me and
listen. I got something to tell you.

Go ahead, Frank, I'm listening.

Well what do you think happened to
me today? The worse thing in my life.

They threatened to kick me
out of the Militia, clean out.

- Is that right?
- No. It's not right, but they
did it anyway.

Who did it?

Top dog, Commander
Kenneth J. Fielder himself.

That's who's on the phone
when you were at my place.

- Why?
- Why what?

Why did they threaten
to kick you out, Frank?

Well, they might as well have
kicked out. They demoted me.

I never told you this Joe, but I
was the adjutant commander,

four stars down from
the commander himself.

Adjutant commander, Joe,
of the three western states.

California, Nevada, and Utah.

Sorry to hear that,
Frank. Why'd they do it?

You can call me Staff
Sergeant Baker from now

on. You know what's
that like in the Militia?

I'm a company clerk that's all I am.
And just because you and me are friends.

You're helping with that
Treasury gun license and me

trying to return the favor
by selling you the Thompson.

But Commander Field,
he just can't see it that way.

- And you know something Joe?
- What's that?

I just missed getting a summary
courts martial by that much.

You got a little more
there for a friend?

Why are you telling
me all this Frank?

Well after you left
today, I got to thinking.

Maybe I'll do just like you're doing,
maybe I just go into business for myself.

Oh, I'll keep up my duties in
the Militia but you and me we

were building something
toward the future weren't we?

Maybe. But so far, it's been a
little one-sided hasn't it Frank?

I give you a shove down
the road with the feds,

but I haven't collected
on my side of the favor yet.

Oh, yes you have.

Caliber 45, M1A1.

Same one you saw at
my place this afternoon.

All right.

Go easy on yourself, half
now and half on payday.

No I can handle
it. I got it all.

We're still in
business aren't we?

All right, Frank, we are, but
what about the competition?

What competition?

Well you and I can split
a Thompson between us.

They've got a warehouse
full haven't they?

Yeah, they do and
I got a backyard full.

Three feet down, wall-to-wall,
grenades, detonators,

underwater demolition
devices, the works.

My backyard is a
king-sized sample case.

A little bit of everything they
got buried over in Arizona.

- Arizona?
- Yeah, they got a lot of desert
down there, Joe.

California doesn't
have a corner of it.

You ought to see that place.
Cement black wall, three feet thick.

I helped set it
myself, 40 feet down.

Now you remember
when I first met you, you

mentioned something about
the Imperial War Museum?

Well Joe, you ought to see
this place. You name it, we got it.

Mortars, 70mm recoilers,
rifles, bazookas, anti-tank guns.

We even got 10 500-pound
bombs in that place.

That's a warehouse
and a half I have Joe.

- Whereabouts in Arizona?
- Take highway 12. You go 19
miles to Carstead,

turn left for eight miles of raw
sand and there are three red

granite bluffs a
quarter of a mile away.

Side in on is dead center.

You come to an old adobe
ranch house or what's left of it.

East wall, you step off
exactly 40 paces east,

dig down four feet
there's a metal trap door.

- That where this came from?
- No. That's part of my backyard
inventory.

- That's it, huh?
- That's the whole ball of wax.

Frank, you're under arrest.

- Who are they?
- Agent Courtney, United States
Treasury and my partner Gannon.

Uh-huh.

You'd never make it stick
Joe. Militia's got good lawyers.

Oh, it'll stick Frank.

Look at it this way.

We're not the only group who
believes in a strong America,

there are plenty of others all over the
country and they get bigger every day.

I really don't understand you
people, Treasury agents, local police.

You ought to understand
what we're trying to do!

We do. That's why
we're closing you down.

The suspect was found guilty
on both federal and local charges

relating to illegal sale
and storage of explosives,

illegal possession and
sale of automatic weapons,

and possession of stolen
government property.

The suspect was found guilty
on federal charges relating to

illegal sale and
storage of explosives,

illegal possession and
sale of automatic weapons,

and possession of stolen
government property.