Original subtitles

In my building, there are no incompetents.

Quincy, we can't find the body.

Tell you, this is important.

What's the difference whether they misplace or they...

What do you mean, you can't find the body?

According to the log book, no body was taken in.

It's not there, in black and white.

But I kissed him goodbye at the door this morning.

But he died in my arms last night.

The Carl Hopwood case, if it ever existed, is closed.

A good friend of mine was murdered. His body was stolen.

I would like that to come out in the open.

Now who's putting the pressure on you, the government?

Ah, no! No more champagne.

When are we going to eat?

Oh, you don't want to rush dinner.

At 3:00 in the morning?

Hmm?

I've had four glasses of champagne.

I'm going to fall asleep.

No, you're not going to fall asleep.

Besides, the caterers said I need another eight minutes for the goulash.

Why didn't you have me cook? You know what a great cook I am.

Yeah, but I wanted to surprise you.

Surprise me faster, huh?

I've flown from Athens to LA. I mean, I've lost a day somewhere.

I'm so hungry.

Okay, I'll get you the shrimp.

Al right.

1 go for Snow White, I end up with Sleepy.

Cheers.

Carl.

Oh, my.

I'm going to get you some blood.

Hey, Doc, you're bringing in your own material?

I want to post him right away.

Log him in and give me a hand will you?

Yeah. John Doe?

No, his name is Carl Philip Hopwood.

Carl with a C?

Carl with a C.

You clean, Tom Tom?

I ain't touched the stuff in six months, Doc.

You telling me you kicked it?

Well, I ain't exactly saying I kicked it.

What they pay me around here, I can't hardly afford it.

Got no wallet, no ID.

I mean, this guy ain't even got no M&M'S in his pocket.

Careful how you handle that stuff, will you, Tom Tom?

The police will want the physical evidence.

He got no shoes, no socks, no underwear.

Homicide.

I know they kill you for a pair of shoes.

I didn't think they'd do it for a pair of undershorts.

How old is the guy?

Carl was 46... Yeah, 46.

Went to his 40th birthday. I also went to his wedding.

This guy's a friend of yours?

Yeah.

I'm sorry.

I've got to... I've got to get back to the desk.

Okay.

- Carl Philip Hopwood. - Age 46 years and 5 months.

White male. Well-developed, well-nourished.

The body shows severe bruises of the abdomen.

Examination of the extremities

shows a superficial laceration of the right wrist

with a small avulsion of skin and fat

measuring approximately 0.5 centimeters.

Fresh laceration?

Must have got that at the boat.

There are multiple recent bruises...

and opening the rib cage...

both arms with areas of hemorrhage beneath the pleura.

The abdominal cavity contains approximately 1200 CCs of liquid and clotted blood.

The organs occupy the normal relationships to one another.

The heart is of normal weight, size and configuration.

The valves and coronary arteries are unremarkable. There is no fibrosis noted.

There are a few sub-epicardial hemorrhages.

The kidneys, ureters, bladder are unremarkable.

The small intestine show numerous hemorrhages within the wall

and the appearance of contusions with intramural hematomas.

You all done, Doc?

Yeah.

Tom Tom, make sure these tissue and blood and fluid samples

go down to the lab before you knock off.

Al right.

What's the cause of death, Doc?

The disease of the 20th century, human cruelty.

Stomped?

Almost as bad. The beating caused internal hemorrhaging.

He drowned in his own blood.

Lieutenant Monahan, please.

Oh, well, this is Dr. Quincy from the Coroner's Office.

Would you leave word that I have a possible homicide here?

The victim's name is Carl Philip Hopwood.

Have the Lieutenant call me when he comes in.

The results of the test should be in by then. Thank you.

You going back to the boat now, Doc?

No.

Carl was a musician, you know.

No kidding. Yeah.

Oh, he was an amateur.

He played viola in a string quartet.

He was a scientist. He was a fine scientist.

Hey, Doc, you know something?

You're the only guy who bothers to cover up the bodies after you're through.

Well, you've got to preserve a little dignity.

Good morning.

What happened with that gorgeous stewardess of yours last night?

Oh, you're not going to believe this, Sam.

Cost me $65 for a catered dinner.

That's without the imported champagne. I wanted to keep her away from the food.

I mean, she can make poison out of fresh vegetables.

I was in charge of the food.

She fell asleep before the shrimp cocktail.

Did you sleep here all night?

Holy mackerel.

Oh, I forgot.

What time is it?

Oh, it's 7:35.

Did the Hopwood results come in from Toxicology?

Hopwood? Yeah.

Carl Hopwood, a friend of mine.

I think he was beaten up. Brought his body in this morning.

It's not here.

Are you sure you sent them up to Toxicology?

Of course I'm sure I sent them up.

I'll double check with them.

Well, they got to be there.

Doctor, we don't have them.

What do you mean you don't have them?

The blood samples? No.

The tissue samples? No.

The man's spleen? No.

Not even one lousy slide? No.

Maybe the results were misfiled.

How did you spell that name again?

Hopwood! How many ways are there to spell it? H-0-I-wood! Hopwood!

Hopwood.

Yeah.

They weren't brought down.

What do you mean, "They weren't brought down"?

Listen, isn't it possible you made a mistake?

Dr. Quincy, I am a scientist.

I am a scientist, too. I make a thousand mistakes a day.

I can believe that.

Oh, why don't you just admit it? You plain lost it.

I resent that. You resent?

You want to know what I feel? Excuse me.

Okay, Sam, we better bring the body back up, make up some more samples.

Right.

I'm being ridiculous?

I'm being ridiculous? Some incompetent

downstairs loses tubes, slides, tissue samples.

Not to mention a human spleen and I'm being ridiculous!

Just watch your language.

In my building, we are all professionals.

Quincy... Sam, will you please cut it out?

Just let's have a little respect for the staff.

Sam, excuse us, please.

Now, Dr. Quincy, how dare you assume

that in this department such materials could be lost?

You know as well as I do, they have been misnumbered, misfiled.

In my building, there are no incompetents.

Quincy, we can't find the body.

Tell you, this is important.

What's the difference whether they misplace or they...

What do you mean, you can't find the body?

We've looked all through the building. We can't find the body.

Now, wait... Now wait a minute.

Now, Sam, where on earth did we put it?

It has to be misnumbered or misfiled.

I don't think so.

I've had everyone looking for it.

We've gone through the whole inventory.

Sam, you don't mean you lost a body.

You mean, you can't find it, right?

What's more, we can't find his clothes or the property bag he should have had.

Well, I don't believe this morning. What time is it?

No, no, this can't be happening.

I'm going out of my mind, that's all. I'm just going crazy.

Brought a body in here this morning.

I performed an autopsy myself and

suddenly the organs were gone and his blood samples were gone.

Now you tell me you've lost his clothes, then you tell me you've lost every...

Oh, Quincy. Oh.

Another sharpshooter I've got to listen to.

Listen, I got your message about the death

of Carl Philip Hopwood or Hopewood?

Hopwood. Do you have the record?

Yeah, yeah.

Yeah. The dispatcher took the message at 4:00 this morning.

Said you had a felony murder victim.

Where is he?

What's going on here?

Carl Philip Hopwood. That's his name, isn't it?

Let me see that.

At least I'm not crazy. It's misspelled, but there it is, Carl Philip Hopwood.

What's going on here?

Well, let me tell you...

Now, let's keep this in the family.

Well, make me a Dutch uncle.

Okay, uncle.

It seems we're short a body.

Oh, good grief.

Nothing, Lieutenant. No signs of a struggle, no signs of discarded clothing.

All the cars in the parking lot have been identified

and most of the owners located. No stray cars anywhere.

No witnesses who can recall hearing anything

that might have been an altercation.

All right, Brill. Look, send all the uniformed men back.

And maybe you better check some of the neighbors

further on down the line.

Yes, sir.

I don't care what he says.

There was a car, the front door was open and the lights were on.

The car the victim came in?

I guess so. What do you mean, you guess so?

Well, maybe he came with them and then he busted loose from them.

Yeah, but you said you looked in the car and nobody else was in there.

I took a quick look. You took a quick look?

But if he was beaten so bad up there, how did he get down here?

I don't know.

You don't know. You don't know how the car got there,

you don't know this, you don't know that.

We've combed the entire area, nothing.

I'm telling you there was a car, his car, their car.

Wait a minute. Who is they?

They're the guys who beat him to death.

You mean he died here?

How many times do I have to tell you?

I put him in the wagon and I drove him to the Marina Mercy Hospital.

Okay, then someone must have reported it there.

Maybe one of the attendants.

There was no attendant?

He died in the car. So I pulled out and drove to the morgue.

Wait a minute. You mean to tell me nobody saw him?

Hey, wait a minute, Lieutenant.

Somebody did see him. Tom Tom.

Tom Tom logged him in.

Tom Tom? Thomas Thomason.

He's the night man at the morgue.

He's a little flakey kid, but he's reliable.

Tom Tom logged him in!

Good morning, everyone!

Wasn't it a lousy night? I had such dreams.

So did he. Nightmares.

I'll meet you down at the morgue, okay?

Hi, honey. Listen, I got to meet the Lieutenant down at the morgue.

Could you have breakfast alone, then I'll come back for lunch?

Darling, I'm going to be having lunch at 38,000 feet somewhere over the Pacific.

That's right, I forgot all about...

Then why did you put on your bathing suit?

To get a little sun.

Oh, I can't. Listen.

It was a nice night, last night, wasn't it?

Oh, it was terrific.

Did I have a good time?

Are you kidding? All that laughing and...

Oh, yeah? Yeah.

Then we got to do it again, right?

Okay. Have a nice trip, okay?

Okay.

Quince.

I'm going to bring you back a recipe for a terrific Japanese specialty.

In the same bikini.

Nothing. I don't believe it!

You know, that's all you do. That's all you do,

you say "I don't believe it. I don't believe it!"

That's not very helpful.

Frankly, I find it difficult to believe it.

According to the log book, no body was taken in.

It's not there, in black and white.

And we have no tape regarding a post on Carl Hopwood.

Maybe I was talking into an empty tape deck.

I checked. There was a full, fresh tape in the deck.

Oh, there's a full deck all right

and I know who's not playing with it.

No, no, that's not very helpful either.

Well, I guess the next step is up to me.

The next logical thing to do is to ask Tom Tom.

We've been trying to reach him, he's got two days off.

He doesn't have a phone. I mean, not a phone in his name.

It's one of those phones where you call and leave a message.

Answering service?

No, a friend with a phone.

I don't think Thomason has a phone or an address. Does he have an apartment?

Well, he sort of lives around.

Oh, one of those?

We'll ask him when he comes back.

No, we're going to talk to him now.

We have an address, we're going to check it out.

We haven't got time...

The man has been murdered. Doesn't that pique your curiosity?

Listen, there's lots of murders that pique my curiosity.

Like bodies, suspects and all kinds of goodies like that.

- Monahan. - What?

Sam.

I'm not going crazy.

Or am I?

I wonder who their decorator is?

The same guy who did your headquarters.

Excuse me, would you know where I could find Tom Tom?

Never tried that.

Communication problem.

Fuzz.

Your disguise doesn't seem to be working.

Hi.

Well, we got to start somewhere.

You kids know a fellow named Tom Tom?

I don't know anybody by that name.

Used to know a kid named Bongo. That was at Berkeley.

Look, I'm not a cop and this is not a beef.

Yeah, well, I have to level with you, he is a cop. But honest, there is no beef.

I'm a doctor and Tom Tom works for me.

See, I need to get in touch with him.

Well, why don't you write a note and put it up on our wall?

Oh, boy.

He'll find it.

Do you have any idea where he might be?

I don't even know who he might be.

Or what he might be.

Kids, this is very important.

Look, if Tom Tom shows up, tell him I was here, will you?

I'll leave him my card right here in the cereal box. Okay?

Thank you, kids.

Hope they don't eat it.

What now?

We're going to visit Mrs. Hopwood.

So, I guess you saw Carl and he told you?

Told me what?

You didn't know?

Carl and I are separated.

No, I didn't know. When did this happen?

18 months ago.

I know you thought we were the ideal couple.

I still do.

That's what I once thought.

And believed.

What happened?

Oh, now, let's see. Which answer do you want?

The one I gave the shrink,

the one I gave the marriage counselor,

or the one I gave all my friends?

Okay, the truth.

Truth is I don't know.

Something happened to Carl.

He left the university to do some research work,

work that he was very excited about, at first.

And then as he got more and more involved in it, he...

He became morose, he started to complain all the time.

About the amount or the kind? The kind.

What was it?

He said he couldn't tell me about it.

Did it have anything to do with the Army?

Oh, no.

No. Carl wanted nothing more to do with the military.

As a matter of fact, he even resigned his reserve commission.

You're kidding.

See, I don't understand it myself.

And then he

started to hate everything my life stood for.

Well, you know, I'm an Army brat.

And obviously it led to fights.

Then what?

And then...

Then it finally got so bad that he moved out.

I'm sorry.

Quince, you can't imagine the parade of ladies.

Oh, I happened to see one of them.

One of those intellectual liberal types, you know.

No bra and a lot of unsupported opinions to match.

Oh, poor Chris.

You've been hit with everything but the kitchen sink

since I last saw you.

I don't know, sometimes...

Sometimes I think, maybe it was my fault.

I do miss him.

Would you tell him that for me when you see him?

You will be seeing him?

What? Carl.

You will be seeing him.

Oh, sure, sure. I'm going to see him and I'm going to tell him, too.

I'm going to see you a lot more often, too, okay?

Sure.

See the tiny crystals? Mmm-hmm.

Okay, now you see...

They're so specific, you don't even have to do a chemical analysis.

The body forms them around every single particle of asbestos.

Take another look. Okay.

Like pearls in oysters?

Yeah, if you want to get unscientific, why not?

Quince.

Excuse me. Look at the other slide. Okay.

Yeah.

Oh, Quince. Monahan.

I'm over at Tom Tom's. He finally showed up.

He did! That's terrific!

You won't think so.

Looks like he OD'd on some drug.

He's dead.

He died of what appears to be cardiac arrhythmia.

He was snorting coke.

Cocaine can cause a heart attack.

He had no evidence of a heart problem.

His arteries were clear, the valve was normal.

There was no scar tissue.

A perfectly healthy, normal heart for any 26-year-old male.

You know cocaine can cause a heart attack.

Yes, it can. Especially if it's been salted with a pinch of potassium cyanide.

Wait a minute, are you saying the cocaine was contaminated?

He was poisoned. He was murdered, Lieutenant.

All right, so he was poisoned.

So someone gave him a hot shot of coke.

Now I got a body, now I got a murder. Now I can go to work.

What about Hopwood?

Quincy, he has a body. Therefore he has a murder.

He can go to work. With Carl Hopwood, we have nothing.

So I don't ever want to hear his name mentioned around here again, right?

Right.

Well, I can't promise you guys that.

Now, Quincy, listen... I'm telling you that I can't.

Quincy.

You worry me.

You're becoming a bit paranoid. Now...

You're working hard.

You've had a disappointment with a stewardess.

Listen, life can be fun.

But I suggest that you may consider some therapy one day, soon.

So...

Yes?

I'm Dr. Quincy. A friend of Carl Hopwood.

Oh, well, come in, come in. I was just fixing a cake.

Come in, please. I have to get this in the oven.

Can I get you a cup of coffee? No, no, thank you.

Miss...

Ross. Stella.

Did Carl ever mention me?

No, I don't think so. Quincy, right?

Yeah.

No, I'm sure he didn't.

Well, it's been quite a while.

What kind of a doctor are you?

I'm with the Coroner's Office.

This isn't a social visit, is it?

I'm afraid not.

Is it Carl? What's happened?

He's dead.

Carl. Oh, no.

I'm sorry.

It can't be.

I warned him.

You warned him?

This morning. Yes.

It was in his horoscope. He said I was silly.

This morning?

Yes, I begged him. It said danger.

I told him to stay home today.

You're talking about yesterday morning?

I mean this morning. Why would I mean yesterday?

Because he died in my arms last night.

But I kissed him goodbye at the door this morning.

Then we can't be talking about the same person.

Carl, Carl Hopwood.

I gave him breakfast this morning. Right here at this table.

Bacon, coffee, eggs, the same as always.

This Carl Hopwood?

My Carl.

What are you trying to pull?

You're part of this crazy conspiracy, aren't you?

What am I trying to pull?

You come into my house and tell me Carl is dead.

I'm going to find out what's going on.

Get out.

Oh, you bet I'll go.

I'm going to go where he works. This Carl Hopwood.

Get out! Before I call the police.

You have a Carl Hopwood working here?

Yeah.

He didn't come to work this morning, did he?

Oh, sure.

He did?

Yeah, in fact he forgot his keys this morning.

I had to open his locker for him.

I'm Dr. Quincy. I'm with the Coroner's Office.

Can I see him, please?

Hey, Mr. Hopwood.

There's a Dr. Quincy here to see you.

Right.

Coroner's Office?

It's like getting a telegram. Bad news.

Yes, Fred.

There's a Dr. Quincy here to see you.

What can I do for you?

Do I know you?

No, and I don't know you. What's your name?

Carl Hopwood.

Well, I'd like it to be Cary Grant, but it's not. It's Carl Hopwood.

Come on, mister.

Look, here's my driver's license.

This is my plant ID, you see that?

Oh, you phony. What are you trying to pull here?

Get your hands off me.

We don't want any trouble around here.

You haven't heard the end of this. I'll be back.

We'll be waiting for you. With a net!

You keep harassing this woman. I hope you're not taking me on a wild goose chase.

You said you wanted poof of a conspiracy, didn't you?

That's what I'm going to give you. Tangible proof.

Yes?

You said you wanted the police. Lieutenant Monahan.

You don't mind if we come in for a moment?

Do I have a choice?

What made you think you were going to get away with it?

Get away with what?

Passing off that phony as the guy we were talking about.

How do you let this man walk the streets without a keeper?

Oh, we throw him a piece of raw meat every once in a while to make him happy.

Well, it must be way past his feeding time.

Oh, you're both very cute.

Evidently, you don't realize the trouble you're in.

You're an accomplice to a cover-up of a murder.

Will you tell me who's been murdered?

Stop being cute.

Gentlemen, meet your corpse.

You again.

Darling, this is Lieutenant Monahan.

Lieutenant Monahan, meet Carl Hopwood.

How do you do?

Lieutenant, there's a picture on the shelf.

Will you show that fraud the real Carl Hopwood?

Why do you need this information?

I can't tell you right now, but it could be a terrific story for you.

I don't like to tap my sources when I'm blind.

Trust me, will you, Max? You're a newspaper man. You can get into places I can't.

Hey, you owe me.

I owe you?

You don't?

All right, give me the details.

He was a friend of mine. Carl Philip Hopwood.

How do you spell that?

I don't believe this.

How many ways are there to spell Hopwood?

H-0-I-wood, Hopwood.

Hopwood.

He's a chemist. Lot of years in the Army.

He was doing some secret research for Forsythe Laboratories.

About what?

That's what I'd like you to find out.

Suppose it's classified information?

If it's classified information, you'll tell me it's classified information.

I'll call the New York Times and they'll tell me.

Very funny. I'll call you if I find anything.

Thank you, Max.

You really lose a body?

You wanted to see me, sir?

There have been complaints that you're trying to get

classified information to which you're not entitled.

Oh, I asked a friend for a small favor.

A small favor? About Carl Hopwood?

Is that so terrible?

Well, there are those that think it is.

Who?

Doesn't matter who.

Well, if it doesn't matter, why don't you tell me?

To tell you the truth, I'm tired of going around in circles, fighting ghosts.

Well, there are certain matters that must not be divulged.

What are you talking about?

A good friend of mine was murdered. His body was stolen.

I would like that to come out in the open.

Now who's putting the pressure on you, the government?

No, it's not the government.

Then who?

A lobbyist.

A lobbyist?

With important connections.

Why did he call you?

Somebody called him.

Who?

He didn't tell me. Did you ask?

I don't stick my nose in where it doesn't belong.

Oh, your nose is in a lot deeper than you think it is.

They know about Carl Hopwood. They're trying to keep some secret from us.

There is no secret.

As far as I'm concerned,

Carl Hopwood is a figment of your imagination.

I'm sick and tired of being treated like an idiot, like I don't have any rights.

I'm sick and tired of all this secrecy.

Now, the phone call you received proves that Carl Hopwood is not a product

of my imagination.

I'm causing some kind of uproar here that means something to somebody.

What matters here, right here in my small world,

is that not another penny of this department's budget will be spent.

Not on a phone call, not on a paperclip,

not on another ten minutes of your valuable time.

The Carl Hopwood case, if it ever existed, is closed.

Now, if that doesn't satisfy you, though you're one of my top pathologists,

we can close your file as well.

This is my world. Don't touch it.

Thought you were going home.

Right now, that's where I'm heading.

What are you going to do?

I'm going to do an autopsy on Hopwood.

But you don't have a body.

Anybody can do it with a body. Good night, Sam.

Hopwood.

Age 46, severe bruises on the abdomen.

Heart, normal weight, no fibrosis.

Liver, spleen, kidney.

Examination of the extremities

shows a superficial laceration of the right wrist

with a small avulsion of skin and fat.

This is a piece of the man they said didn't exist.

Just a fragment of skin, but if I'm right...

If I find what I think I'm going to find.

What are you looking for, Quince?

You said he was beaten to death.

I said I made a thousand mistakes a day, didn't I?

Recognize the profile?

A compound of the fossil fuel field.

A very heavy concentration of it.

A hydrocarbon cluster absorbed into the molecules of his fat.

I mean, a lethal concentration of it.

He wasn't beaten to death, Sam.

He died of a hydrocarbon poisoning

with bone marrow depression and hemorrhages on his body,

which made it look like a beating.

Why, Quince, and where?

That's the question, Sam.

That's the question. I want you to put this in a very safe place.

This, too, okay?

Right, Quince.

Sam.

Yeah, Quince?

I think I better take these.

Don't you trust me?

Of course I trust you.

Sam, it's just I don't want to involve you in this

any more than I already have.

The best advice I could give you is,

just forget you've ever seen these.

Hello, Doctor.

Well, you guys are here because I found Carl Philip Hopwood.

Wait a minute.

Max, is this off the record?

I hope it isn't.

You realize the consequences after what we discussed last night?

Yes, I do.

I always said it. You would've made a great investigative reporter.

I not only found him, I found out what killed him.

What?

Hydrocarbon toxicity.

Great! What is it?

It's a hydrocarbon fuel, not the kind you burn in a car,

and if ingested, which is most unlikely, it is fatal.

Where's the body?

Again, I don't have a body. I have a skin and fat sample.

It's small, but it's all I need.

It's small all right.

You have no body and you got a piece of fat skin.

That's all I need. It tells the whole story.

How do you know it belongs to Hopwood?

Because I found it on the deck of my boat where he pounded with his hands

and he tore his wrist.

Well?

It's hydrocarbon toxicity.

Of course it is.

That's what caused the death of Carl Philip Hopwood.

Hydrocarbon toxicity.

You want to know something? I know who did it.

You do, Lieutenant?

I thought everybody knew.

There are Martians with death ray guns who did it.

Yeah, one of them surrendered to the Hollenbeck Division.

They got him wrapped up in aluminum foil down there to keep him fresh. Oh, yeah.

The scientific whizkid.

Hydrocarbon toxicity!

Why don't you take a look at the sample?

Look at what?

You could have a piece of pastrami in there,

I wouldn't know the difference.

Where is the body? The corpus delicti.

Max, you're going to print this story?

What story do you want me to print?

The Lieutenant's story about Martians?

Dr. Astin's story that you should drop this matter?

Or your story about a body that nobody's ever seen?

Dr. Astin?

Well, as far as I'm concerned, this very well could be a Martian.

This chart does not prove the existence of Carl Philip Hopwood.

Okay.

You guys do what you have to do, I'll do what I have to do.

I'm going to finish up my work here for the rest of the day.

Then I'm going to go home. I'm going to get a good night's sleep

and tomorrow morning, I'm going back on the Carl Hopwood case.

Good evening, Dr. Quincy.

Oh, you're here.

I had a feeling somebody was following me.

Oh, really?

Doctor.

Somebody was following me.

I'm glad you were.

I was beginning to feel paranoid.

Who are you guys? What do you want?

My name is Hughes. I'm Head of Security for Forsythe Laboratories.

And this is Mr. Goodman.

Doctor, if you'd please go below, we'd appreciate it.

Please come down, Dr. Quincy.

Take good care of that, will you? It's the rest of my dinner.

Please, sit down.

Thank you.

I'm sorry we haven't really met before.

I get the feeling I'm going to be sorry we ever met.

I'm Arthur Forsythe.

President and Chairman of the board of Forsythe Laboratories,

where Carl Hopwood worked.

Which Carl Hopwood are we talking about, sir?

There was only one. We both know that.

I want you to believe that I knew nothing about all this

until a few hours ago.

Whatever Hughes and his team did to you, it was without my knowledge.

How many times have I heard that before.

You're absolutely right. They were working for me.

Whatever they did is my responsibility.

Whatever? What do you mean "whatever!"

They didn't do "whatever!"

They stole Carl Hopwood's body out of the morgue.

They set up some phony mistress to get me off the trail.

They killed a nice boy, Tom...

Maybe, Doctor... Doctor, you're wrong.

We didn't murder anybody. Thomason was paid to alter that log.

That's all we did, sir.

He flashed his money around so one of his friends gave him a fix

of loaded cocaine so he could steal the boy's money.

That's how he OD'd.

What about Carl Hopwood? He was also killed.

A hydrocarbon poisoning. Oh, yeah.

I know how, what I don't know is why.

Of course you don't have to tell me

if I'm going to be the next body you're disposing of.

Take my word for it. You'd be much better off not knowing.

You take my word for it. I've never found that to be the case.

Sit down.

Forsythe Laboratories is working on the development

of a synthetic fuel

based on a new hydrocarbon molecular pattern.

It could go a long way toward eliminating this country's growing dependence

on the rest of the world for our oil, for our fossil fuels.

Will you take me back to Carl Hopwood, please?

He was part of the team, a very important part.

Until he got it into his head that this new fuel would pollute the atmosphere.

He tried to sabotage the entire project,

something we'd worked months, years on.

He was poisoned in the accident he caused.

Fortunately, no one else was.

We were making arrangements to get him to a hospital

without breaching security when he panicked and ran.

Right to you, Doctor.

I would have done anything to have saved him.

But once he was dead, it was my responsibility to do everything I could

to keep our research secret.

Now, what do you think would happen if word got out that Carl Hopwood was killed

by a very sophisticated hydrocarbon cluster?

A dozen companies and countries

would be alerted to what we're working on

before we've had a chance to perfect it.

There's no lack of research facilities out there.

All we've got is lead time and precious little of that.

Give it away and who benefits? They do!

Tell me, Mr. Forsythe, who are they?

I really want to know.

We're always told to watch out for them. We're being protected from them.

Maybe, if we were told the facts, we could decide what is safe and what isn't.

We, the people?

Yes! We, the people.

Protecting the secret of Carl Hopwood's death is protecting the future,

protecting our chances for survival.

Now, you think about that, Doctor.

You have all the facts surrounding your friend's death

and the experiments he was working on.

You may be right. Maybe the people should know.

But you tell them.

There are no clear scientific truths here.

I wish there were.

I make decisions every day that keep me awake every night.

Welcome to the club, Doctor.

The ball's in your court now.

Carl Hopwood's body will be made available to his widow immediately.

So you and his wife buried Hopwood's body?

Chris took it very hard.

This is quite a story. And you name names.

You going to print it, Max?

Hold on, Tom Paine.

Give me a minute to digest this.

I can't.

Hey, come on. Loosen up.

I have to have your answer right away,

before your advertisers threaten to pull out,

before your legal department talks to you about libel

and a few offended readers.

Now, could be you're selling them short.

They may be as interested in hearing the truth as you are in telling it.

Oh, I certainly hope so.

Hey, this wasn't an easy decision for me. It's been a sleepless week.

You see, I'm out of my league.

I'm a scientist and as Forsythe said, "There are no scientific truths here."

All right. I'll read it again and get back to you later.

No, Max. Not later. Now.

There's only one answer.

There can be no justification for what Forsythe did,

or allowed to be done.

We have just gone through a crisis in this country

and we've come out stronger than ever,

because we have proven that nobody,

I mean nobody, is above the law.

All right. Go on back to your boat and wait for tomorrow morning's edition.

You won't be disappointed.

I don't know about the Pulitzer Prize,

but I guarantee the Quincy Prize.

What's the Quincy Prize?

Lunch.

On you?

No, on Harry's Hotdogs, down at the pier.

Very funny.