All language subtitles for S04E04 The Economist

(theme music playing)

WALTER WINCHELL:
In the summer of 1932,

there were
12 million unemployed

in the United States.

Things were so bad, even
the bootleggers went hungry.

That is, hungry for profits.

In Chicago,
the whiskey syndicate met

to consider ways and means
of stimulating sales.

The meeting took place
at the home of their chairman,

Vincent Tunis,
known as The Moor.

I don't know, Vince.
What do you think?

You think
we should cut prices again?

No, no, no.
I say, no, Vince.

I think maybe we better hit
a few more operators again.

MAN 2:
Hit the operators, okay.

But I'm against letting
Charlie Grac work

on any more speakeasies.

Excuse me, Mr. Barnett, but I...

But you what,
you muscle head?

You go to troubleshoot a saloon,
you pulverize it.

Vince, it's cheaper
to find new operators

than to stake them
the new fixtures.

Mr. Barnett,
I only did what I was told.

All right, Charlie.

Everybody knows you only do
what you're told.

So now I'm telling you,
shut up.

(exhales)

So, your idea is to hit
the speak operators hard, huh?

And we'll get more business
out of them, is that it?

Sure, that's it.

Of course, exactly wrong.

Charlie, would you be willing to
help me show then they're wrong?

Okay, Mr. Tunis.

Now, you said okay.

Yeah.

Give me a toothpick, Charlie.

I want Charlie
to give me a toothpick.

I guess I ain't got one.

(grunting)

Hold-hold him.

Give me a toothpick, Charlie.

Let me go out,
and I'll get you one.

-I want one right now.
-How can I?

Give me a toothpick, Charlie.

ANNOUNCER:

"The Economist."

Starring Robert Stack
as Eliot Ness,

co-starring George Mathews,

Joseph Sirola,

Ellen Madison,

and narrated
by Walter Winchell.

Charlie, give me a toothpick.

What do you want?

What do you want from me?

I can't give you
what I haven't got.

Neither can
the speakeasy operators.

Now, do I make my point?

The saloon keepers
are getting 15 cents a shot.

That's three dollars a bottle.

$36 a case,

and we want $75 a case.

How can they reorder?

Knocking them off
is not gonna help.

It's a matter of economics.

Oh, Charlie,

Charlie, excuse me, Charlie.

But remember, I did ask you
and you said okay.

(chuckles)

That's right, Mr. Tunis.

You asked me,

and I said okay.

(laughter)

So, uh, what's on your mind,
Vince?

If it's economics,
how do we fight it?

We fight economics
with economics.

We do what the United States
government is doing.

What's the matter;
don't you guys read the papers?

"The federal farm bought today
reached the $500 million mark

"in its program
of supporting farm prices

by storing surplus wheat
and cotton.”

What have I got in mind?

We support our prices
by storing surplus whiskey.

We pool our stock.

We collect from all
the different warehouses

and set up a reserve
in one place.

We keep it off the market.

The whole city of Chicago
will be dry

for a while.

Then what happens?

The law of supply and demand
goes to work for us.

The price of a drink goes up,
20 cents, 30 cents,

50 cents where it belongs.

Then we turn loose our stock,

and everybody makes a profit.

How much would you want
to stall?

We can each put up
a half a million dollar share.

Two million dollars’ worth?

You don't manipulate prices
with an eyedropper.

This has got to be big.

Yeah, but if it's grabbed,
then we all get crippled big.

Yeah, Vince, you got to think,

what happens if somebody like
Eliot Ness locates the stuff?

Where we're gonna put it,
nobody's gonna locate it.

Not even Eliot Ness.

Where?

In a navy ammo vault.

In a what?

In an underground
ammunition vault.

During the war, the navy built
this one near Calumet

by the harbor on city land.

Now, the navy's been out of
there for 12 years, and the city

doesn't know
what to do with the land.

It's not even good
for a garbage dump.

So, for a lousy
thousand dollars a year,

I rented it.

(sighs)
I got to admit,

nobody would think of looking
for booze in the vault.

Huh?

Yeah, sounds like a good place
to lock it up.

All right, Vince.

You put it over.

Charlie, come here.

Charlie, now this
is your department.

I want you to get a half dozen
good-sized trucks,

and a dozen men.

And make sure you pick good men.

Eliot Ness better not find out
this stock even exists.

Suppose he does?

Is Mr. Barnett going to excuse
me on the grounds

that I was only doing
what I was told?

I mean, so long as it's
my neck that's out,

I should be able to handle
a job my own way.

Would you agree to that,
Mr. Tunis?

Okay, Charlie.

I agree.

I appreciate it.

Don't worry,
I'll do it all right.

WINCHELL: The wheels were set
in motion at once.

Chicago didn't know it,

but the city was
about to dry up.

Charlie Grac
himself supervised

the entire operation.

As a result, no public
attention was paid

to sudden activity
in the area of the ammo vault.

Arrivals and departures
were carefully scheduled.

The traffic was organized
to give the impression

of normal industrial activity.

To assemble a hoard
of surplus booze,

Grac used
syndicate trucks and men

as Tunis had told him to do.

These men collected the whiskey

from various points all over
the city and brought it

to the one-time navy
underground ammunition vault.

But as fast
as the syndicate men

carried the whiskey
in through one door,

two of Grac's specialists
carried it out another.

The special thing
about these men

was they were honest.

They had no
gangland connection.

They were unemployed
truck drivers.

Charlie Grac found them
in a union hall

at the end
of a hopeless hiring line.

George Dahlstrom,
originally of Milwaukee.

His brother-in-law,
Miles Henning,

a native of Chicago.

From their first day
on the job,

they knew they were hauling
illegal whiskey.

But in 1932, a week's pay

carried more weight
with the unemployed

than a lifetime of ethics.

Especially with Henning.

He had a wife and baby
to support.

From the former
navy ammunition vault,

Dahlstrom and Henning moved
the mountain of whiskey

four city blocks,
to another white elephant,

a construction project
abandoned for lack of money.

The owners had been glad
to sell Charlie Grac

an option
with no questions asked.

Charlie Grac, who knew
something about cranes,

had familiarized himself
with this one.

He had shown Henning
and Dahlstrom

how to operate it.

(engine revving)

25,000 cases went
into the basement

of the unfinished building.

The value, two million dollars.

In a little over a week,
the job was finished.

Well, so that's it.

Yeah.

You're all right,
you and your buddy.

Good workers.

Come on, I'll pay you off.

I'm very sorry for you,
my friend,

but I can't take no chances.

(gunshot)

(gunshot)

(gunshots)

♪♪

WINCHELL:
July 4, 1932.

War veteran Miles Henning
celebrated Independence Day

by staying out of sight.

When night came, he left
Chicago with his wife and baby,

following an instinct
that told him

that this was
his only chance to stay alive.

Eliot Ness and the Untouchables
also left town

to follow up a tip
from a Canadian source.

Competitors of the syndicate

were said
to be hauling in whiskey

in a convoy of trucks
coming down from the border.

(fire crackling)

Seems kind of wasteful to me.

They go through all the trouble
of hijacking a shipment

and just touch a match to it.

Twice in one week.

It's like Tunis is trying to do
our job for us.

Yeah, we ought to thank him,

if we could figure out why.

WINCHELL:
Two days later,

at a pastry shop
in West Chicago,

Eliot Ness picked up a clue
to the riddle.

A man named Sarro, a wholesale
supplier of yeast and sugar,

had had his hand caught
in a kneading machine.

So mangled that the rescue
squad took an hour to free him.

The police told Mr. Untouchable

that Sarro also supplied
yeast and sugar

to many of the families
in the tenement district.

These families, he was told,
made moonshine

in the privacy
of their kitchens.

I gave him a shot of morphine.

If you want to question him,
you better do it now.

Okay.

(Sarro moaning)

(hissing with pain)

Sal, who did this to you?

(Italian accent):
Accidente.

Some accident.

They took your hand, jammed it
in between the blades

and turned the power on.

Ah, mama mia!

Sure it hurts.

Why don't you tell me
who did this to you.

(panting):
Non capisco.

At least tell me why.

Non capisco.

Suddenly, he doesn't understand
English anymore.

Ask him in Italian.

Chi ha fatto questo?

-Non lo so.
-He doesn't know.

You know, Sarro.

Maybe you bought your sugar
and yeast from the wrong outfit.

Maybe you didn't
deliver it fast enough

so the moonshiners couldn't cook
the alcohol fast enough

to suit the syndicate,
so they crippled you.

Sarro, pay them back.

(hissing):
Silenzio!

He follows a law of silence.

Silence.

Ascoltami.

(whispering)

Com'e va piace, stupido!

Eliot, let's get out of here.

We're wasting our time
with this guy.

Come on.
Let's clear the doorway.

Clear the door.
Come on, come on.

It's all over. Come on. Come on.

(crowd clamoring)

What'd he say?

He said if you're smart, you'll
raid his daughter's house.

She runs a still in her kitchen?

According to Papa.

(sighing)

We raid ten
of those little moonshiners

and never make a dent,

and we run them out of booze,
the other 990 are turning out.

Why'd it be so smart
to raid Sarro's daughter?

For cover.

The best way to talk to her

without making
anybody suspicious.

Sarro follows
the law of silence.

His daughter doesn't.

WINCHELL:
At high noon the following day,

the Untouchables raided
six tenement moonshiners,

including Sarro's daughter.

Smash it!

Why don't you smash us, too?

Smash everything!

My husband's outta work
a whole year now.

Is there any other way
we can live?

You.

You jump on us like criminals.

Wish I knew what else
to do about you.

Are we so bad in your eyes?

If you break the law.

(metal clattering)

Sure, you get very little
out of it for yourselves,

but every drop of moonshine
you furnish to Tunis' outfit

makes him that much richer

and rougher.

Tunis sent his two bodyguards

to follow my father
into the pastry shop.

Why, because your father
wasn't supplying

sugar and yeast
to the moonshiners?

No, because he was.

Because he was?

The organization sent out orders
not to cook any more alcohol.

She's apparently right, Eliot.

Out of the six stills we hit,
not one of them was working.

Some of the people wanted
to cook a little

just to make a few dollars
to sell by themselves.

They begged my father
for the sugar and the yeast.

He gave it to them.

That's all I can tell you.

I'm sorry we had to raid you.

The organization will pay
my fine.

How does that figure?

As scarce as whiskey's getting
to be in Chicago,

why doesn't Tunis want to get
his hands on more?

Maybe because
he already has enough.

WINCHELL:
The strategy

of Vincent "The Moor" Tunis
was based on the fact

that Tunis,
like the rest of us,

was a terrific critic
of government policies.

All right, now wait a minute.

Now, don't you guys read
the newspapers?

Did anyone notice
the price of cotton today?

Four and seven-eighths,
not even five cents a pound.

All right,
quote me the price of wheat.

Down again, ain't it?

Fifty cents a bushel.

A half billion dollars of
surplus commodities in storage

and prices are still falling.

Now, why is that?

Because the Federal Farm Board

has no power
to control production.

That means that
the stupid farmers

are still turning out stuff, and
the supply is getting bigger,

so the price gets smaller.

Now, we're not gonna make
that mistake.

We're gonna control
the whiskey supply around here

to the last drop.

If we have to burn
every rumrunner

and mangle every moonshiner.

And I don't want anybody
complaining to me

that we got too rough
with his wife's second cousin.

(thumping crate)

Bring me Charlie Grac!

(door slamming)

You shouldn't be mad at me,

because remember, I asked you
if I could do this my own way,

and you said, "Okay."

So what was your way, Charlie?

I figured a dozen men collecting
the stuff and bringing it here,

that's 12 men that know
about this place,

and each of them
has got a tongue.

I couldn't trust 12 men
to shut up.

It was my neck, right?

Still is.

So I had the stuff moved
out of here

to another very good place,
believe me.

For that job,
it took only two men.

Two men is easier to control
than 12.

And you think you can trust
those two men

to keep their mouths shut?

Yeah, I think so.

They're dead.

Both dead?

Both dead.

(laughing)

Charlie, Charlie!

I give you credit.
You're all right!

So that makes me
the only man alive

who knows where
the stuff is now.

Yeah, so where is it?

You want to know that,
it's gonna cost you $20 a case.

Say that again.

Twenty times 25,000 cases
is half a million dollars.

Unless, of course, you want me

to peddle the booze
to somebody else.

So that's what you call
doing it yourself, huh?

Oh, Mr. Tunis.
Excuse me, Mr. Tunis,

but remember when I asked you,
you said, "Okay."

(grunting)

-Vince, no! No!
-(men yelling)

Calm down, Vince!

You gotta keep calm.

You're right.

Please, please,

you kill him, we never find out
where the stuff is.

You're right!

I didn't hurt him, did I?

-You all right, Charlie?
-Sure, he's all right.

-Hey, Charlie.
-Come on, Charlie.

Come on get up, Charlie.
You can do it.

Like a drink, Charlie?

What?

Come on. It'll do you good.

Come on. Take a drink!

Never mind. I don't need it.

Well, Charlie, what's the use
in arguing? You got us.

How do you want to get paid?

At the airport,
tomorrow afternoon at 4:00.

When I put one foot
on a New York plane,

you hand over the money,

and I'll tell you
where the stuff is.

Good-bye.

I give you credit, Charlie.

Just give me cash.

(tires screeching)

-(tires screeching)
- (trolley bell clanging)

(tires screeching)

(trolley bell clanging)

(tires screeching)

(car horn honking)

(tires screeching)

(horn blaring)

WINCHELL: Charlie Grac wasn't
dead... yet.

He was picked up and taken

to the Southwest
Receiving Hospital

where at first, the staff
did not recognize him

for the noteworthy mobster
that he was.

How do you feel?

Is there someone
we should notify?

(hoarsely):
It's that bad, huh?

I must tell you,

you are very seriously injured,
Mr. Grac.

I'm-I'm through, is that it?

Oh, no.

-I'm through.
-No, of course not.

You mean, yes, I'm through.

You're glad, you louse.

Mr. Grac?

You think now you'll get it.

Sooner or later, you'll find it.

And it won't cost you nothing.

No, you louse.

You won't get it.

I'm gonna take your booze
to the grave with me.

What are you saying, Mr. Grac?

The whole $2 million worth.

Is this something
you want me to know?

I-I want the Moor to know

You want us to notify someone
named Moore?

No.

Is there someone you do
want us to notify?

Yeah.

E-Eliot... Ness.

WINCHELL:
Ness was notified that night,

but not before the nurse
had called

a Chicago evening newspaper

which had a standing offer
to some hospital employee:

ten dollars for every item
worth printing.

As a result, when Ness arrived
at the hospital,

the corridor was populated with
reporters and photographers

buzzing over
the fantastic rumor:

that a $2 million hoard of
whiskey existed somewhere,

and that Charlie Grac would
reveal its hideout place

only to Eliot Ness.

Grac... it's Eliot Ness.

How's it going?

You wanted to see me?

Down.

Down.

It's okay, I can hear you.
Go ahead.

Falling down...
Falling down...

London Bridge is falling down,

falling down...

Grac's dead.

What'd he say to you?

-What'd he say, Mr. Ness?
-Nothing.

What do you mean by "nothing"?

He didn't talk.

Mr. Ness, one question, please.

Is there a $2 million stock

of booze hidden
somewhere in Chicago?

There may be.

Did Grac tell you where it is?

Grac told me nothing.

But Grac said
he was gonna tell...

Look, I don't know how I can
make it any clearer.

Grac didn't talk.

(men clamoring)

Let me get some decent shots,
will ya?

-He's dead.
-Yes.

He didn't talk to Eliot Ness?

He did talk to Eliot Ness.

He did? What'd he say?

All I can tell you is
Mr. Ness bent down,

and Mr. Grac whispered something
to him.

I couldn't catch it.

If you want to know what it was,
you'll have to ask Mr. Ness.

"What did Grac whisper to you,
Mr. Ness?

"Is it believable that he would
summon you to his deathbed

"just to say good-bye?

"It is much easier to believe
that Grac paid off a grudge

"against his boss
Vincent Tunis, 'the Moor'

"by tipping you to the location

"of the $2 million liquid
treasure.

Next question, Mr. Ness:
why don't you raid it?"

Obviously because I'm planning
to peddle the stuff myself

and put the $2 million
in my pocket.

They're just getting nasty

for the sake of filling up
space.

Nobody's gonna believe
a word they say.

Eliot, there's a man
that wants to talk to you.

I want to talk to you.

Go ahead.

Just you.

If you don't mind.

I mind, but it's part
of my job.

Hmm.

You know, you just can't go by

what you read in
the papers today.

There isn't any $2 million
liquid treasure.

It's more like a couple
of $100,000.

Believe me, I'm in
a position to know.

Believe me?

I believe you're in
a position to know.

All right, you ready
to do business?

How much you want for it?

What's the matter,

You can't find the words
to express how insulted you are?

Who are you kidding?

If you don't want to do
business,

all you have to do is
throw me out.

Lee.

I didn't throw you far enough,
I'll be glad to try again.

WINCHELL:
In the second week of July,

Eliot Ness was offered deals
for the gold mine of whiskey

by various crooks quick to
believe that The Untouchables

had at last been touched.

It's human nature, Eliot.

A man looks at himself
in the mirror

while he's shaving,

and he asks himself what would
he do if he were faced

with that kind of temptation.

He only wonders whether
he could resist,

the more he decides I couldn't.

They're writing letters
to Washington.

I've received three urgent
memos from the Bureau about you.

What are you gonna tell 'em,
Beecher?

You think I know where
that whiskey is?

Don't be foolish.

You shave, don't you?

I'm just trying to say
I think you better remove me.

You've got some case.

If you don't, they'll say
you're in it with me.

There's enough money involved
to corrupt a dozen men.

How are you gonna convince
the newspapers

you're not taking a cut?

I'm depending on you

to convince them when you raid
that stock of booze.

How can I raid
what I can't find?

The second-largest city
in the United States.

The second-largest collection
of basements, warehouses,

lofts, empty stores.

We don't even know where
to start looking for a lead.

WINCHELL: On the following day,
a lead came looking for Ness.

A body came to the surface
of the Chicago River.

The dead man was identified
through a union card

which remained legible
inside his wallet.

His name, George Dahlstrom.

The Untouchables had found out
that fellow union members

had seen Dahlstrom speaking
with Charlie Grac.

I figure Grac was a Tunis man,

and I don't need trouble
with the whole syndicate.

So long as some of the boys
have talked to you,

that out to be enough.

So, the captain this morning,

you saw Grac walk
into your hall?

I told him. That doesn't mean
I've got to tell you.

I'm sorry, Mr. Ness,
but with you in on this,

it's gonna be a big deal;
all over the newspapers.

Just tell me one thing.

In your union, you call your
fellow member "brother"?

Yes.

Your brother was murdered.

You're not gonna do
anything about it?

What do you want to know?

What Grac talked
to Dahlstrom about.

He hired George for some
kind of trucking job.

He hired Henning, too.

He hired who?

Miles Henning. George
Dahlstrom's brother-in-law.

I suppose that means
he murdered Henning, too?

No, I don't think so.

I tried to get in touch
with Henning,

ask how the job was going.

Found out he came home
around ten days ago.

Took his wife and baby

and carried whatever
they could carry.

Nobody's laid eyes on him since.

Okay, you can forget
about your name in the paper.

There won't be a word of this
in print.

Thanks.

What you just told me,
that's a dead end.

I don't want you to repeat

a word of this to anyone,
you understand? Anyone.

Sure, whatever you say.

If Henning is still alive,

it's only because the syndicate
doesn't know he exists.

Once they get to him,

he'll last about as long
as a candle in the wind.

WINCHELL:
To prevent the candle

from being
violently snuffed out,

Ness took
every possible precaution

to conceal his interest
in Henning.

He stayed behind the scenes

while his Untouchables
began the job

of tracing the only man

who could help him
clear his name.

From the union files,

they learned that Henning
was a war veteran.

At the headquarters of the
Chicago Veterans Organization,

they learned that Henning
had joined

the Bonus Expeditionary Force,

which was then camped
on a vacant lot

in the shadow
of the Washington Monument.

He went to the veterans
for help in leaving town.

He had no money,
and they said, if he'd join up,

they'd transport him
as far as Washington

and feed his family as long as
he stayed with the Bonus Army.

Okay, Lee, get us
a couple of plane tickets.

It's risky for you
to leave town, Eliot.

If Tunis finds out,
he'll put a tail on us.

No, he won't.

We have the perfect excuse
to go to Washington.

Beecher can link a story
to the effect

that I was called down
to answer charges.

We don't find Henning,
it may turn out to be the truth.

WINCHELL: On July 21,
the Chicago afternoon papers

carried the planted story.

And, that night, Ness and Rossi
flew to Washington.

The Bonus Army had shrunk

from its original
20,000 marchers

to 10,000.

Enough, however,
to present the Untouchables

with an almost insoluble
problem.

It was complicated
by the mood of the times.

These ex-doughboys
had been promised a bonus

based on a dollar and a quarter

for every day of their
military service overseas.

But they couldn't collect it.

They were hungry,
hopeless and hostile

to anyone
who represented authority.

It was as though
they could sense

that, in exactly one week,

their tar-paper shacks
would be burned to the ground

and the Bonus Army scattered
by federal troops.

Ever see this man?

You ever seen this man before?

Thank you.

Excuse me, ladies.

I'm a federal agent.

Have you ever seen this man
before?

He has a wife and baby
about six months old.

No. Thank you very much.

Ever see this man?

WINCHELL: The search for Henning
was a slow and labored process.

The grapevine worked
much faster.

"On charges that he was told
the location

"of the multimillion-dollar
store of bootleg liquor,

"a secret not even known
to Vincent Tunis himself,

"Mr. Ness, who was the chief
agent in the Chicago area,

would not comment.”

- Joan...
-Hmm?

Joanie...

I'm sorry, honey, we gotta move.

Now, Ness is in trouble himself.

And if he lays his hands on me,
he'll blame me for everything.

Honey, we gotta run.

Again?

Aren't you getting tired
of it, Miles?

Honey, I'm sorry!

Aren't you getting tired
of bread lines

and... and begging

and telling me,
"Honey, I'm sorry"?

What can I do?

Well, we could run.

We could run in style.

At least you could do that much.

We... we could run!

Pullman.

This man, Vincent Tunis,

he'd pay you a lot of money
to know what you know.

You could make a deal with him,
Miles.

You could call him collect.

(phone ringing)

Yeah?

Who?

Well, what's the name?

He said he used to work
with who?

Uh, yeah, all right.

I'll accept the call.

WINCHELL: The price of that
three-minute phone call

was a good investment
for Tunis.

Henning took the protective
cloak of secrecy,

which Eliot Ness had
wrapped around him

and threw it away.

Oh, and Mr. Henning,

I apologize because
I didn't know about you before.

Now you beware we said
tomorrow morning,

and we got a deal.

Good-bye, Mr. Henning.

Miles, did you ask him
for the 2,000?

Nope.

Miles, why not?

'Cause I asked him for 5,000.

Five!

Honey, he said we got a deal.

Oh... oh!

(Miles laughing)

-Tomorrow morning,
-Yeah.

Saint Brendan's Church
in Roseland.

Tunis's gonna pay us off
in cash.

-Oh...
-And then, honey,

they're gonna see us for dust.

(Joan laughing)

WINCHELL: 5:00 a.m.
the following morning,

Joan Henning sent her husband
off to meet Tunis.

The running seemed over
at last.

Mrs. Henning.

I'm Eliot Ness.

I know who you are.

I know what you want.

But my husband isn't here.

He went away and he's, uh...
he's not coming back.

Is that right?

He just got tired of everything.

It gets hard, you know.

He went away and took a job
for a couple of days.

That doesn't make
him a criminal.

Nobody says he's a criminal,
Mrs. Henning.

There are no charges
against him.

Even if there were,
we couldn't make them stick;

there were no witnesses.

All I want is a...

certain piece of information.

I see.

And you won't get it...

because you're too late.

You... forget about it
and just leave us alone.

Why am I too late?

I told you, Miles went away.

Mrs. Henning, do you know
who Vincent Tunis is?

What if I do?

You should understand
why it's so important

for your husband to tell me
where that whiskey is.

If he does, I'll destroy it,
and that'll be the end of Tunis.

If he doesn't, Tunis is bound
to catch up with him, and...

it'll be the end
of your husband.

You would say that naturally.

Why?

You-you don't want my husband
to make a deal for himself.

You want him to help you.

He made a deal with Tunis?

What if he did?

Business of a couple
of decent kids

to make a deal with a cutthroat
like Tunis,

thieves can't do
without getting burned,

what chance have you?

(baby crying)

Please go away.

My baby's crying.

Do you care about your husband?

Do you care about him at all?

I love my husband.

If you love him, listen.

I spell it out for you
in one-syllable words.

If I don't get to him
before Tunis,

your husband's a dead man.

Don't you understand?

Tunis will murder your husband.

Saint... Brendan's Church...

in Roseland.

♪♪

WINCHELL:
The meet had been arranged

for 6:00 a.m.
the following morning.

Henning was early.

Tunis was right on time.

Mr. Henning?

Yeah.

$5,000.

What's the matter?

I was just thinking.

What?

What's gonna happen when
I tell you where the stuff is?

You ain't gonna do
the same thing to me

you did to George Dahlstrom.

Oh, that I did, huh?

You're making a mistake,
Mr. Henning.

I didn't do a thing
to George Dahlstrom.

Grac did.

Oh, wait a minute, Mister,
now, wait a minute.

Now, does that make you
feel better?

Yeah.

The stuff is in a basement
of a half-constructed building

near the ammo vault.

Just four blocks west;
you can't miss it.

There's a big crane
out in front.

Oh, excuse me.

(grunts)

(tires screeching)

(gunfire)

(car horn blaring)

(horn continues blaring)

(horn stops)

You okay?

Yeah, thanks.

Get home, thank your wife.

Now do you want to do business

with the United States
Government,

or you still want
to do business with him?

Move out.

Open that back door.

Now get in.

WINCHELL:
Two days later,

Vincent "The Moor" Tunis
and the entire

Chicago whiskey syndicate
were put out of business

by a devastating
economic crash.