The Wild Wild West (1965–1969): Season 2, Episode 26 - The Night of the Cadre - full transcript

We are all serving
time, Mr. West.

Look at me:

A prisoner without
the possibility of parole

from this twisted and
warped frame of mine.

Even this feathered morsel
must remain imprisoned

to keep her safe
from prowling cats.

And Ralph Kleed?

Ah, his moment
of freedom is near.

In a little less than an hour,

Ralph Kleed will expiate
his offenses against society

by dying on the
gallows in that courtyard.



Unfortunately, you
can't guarantee that, sir.

Only a fool guarantees anything.

Except that eventually,
like everyone,

he must die.

We'll all feel safer then.

Aside from the
murders he's committed,

his threats against
the president

make him a very dangerous man.

You don't seriously believe
that somehow Ralph Kleed will,

like a bird, soar
out over the wall

into the blue and escape?

In view of the recent
prison breaks, warden...

Yes, yes. I know all about them,

but prisoners do not
break out of my penitentiary.



Furthermore...

Ralph Kleed in the
security passage, sir.

Pass him through.

Yes, sir.

You know there's a
well-organized conspiracy

to free killers like Kleed.

That's why I'm here, warden.

There's no chance of
that happening here.

Besides, it is my policy
to give a condemned man

an opportunity to
make a final statement

before he faces his punishment.

Come in.

The reason that
you're here, Kleed...

Well,

if it ain't the great
James West,

the secretest secret
agent of them all.

Kleed, listen to me.

Very shortly you will be
going to meet your maker.

So you say.

I say you're about
to apologize sweetly,

then set me free.

Too much time
in solitary, Kleed.

It softened your brain.

You think so, eh?

But you don't think
so, huh, Mr. West?

No, I don't think so.

Kleed, what makes you think

the warden's going
to, um, set you free?

If I told you that,

you'd know as much
as me, wouldn't you?

Kleed!

You must put an
end to this murdering!

There's gonna be an
end very soon, warden.

Ferner, Coles, come in.

Release him.

Now escort him to the
front gate and set him free.

Sir, surely you don't...

You heard the order!

Yes, sir.

Of course I realize you
don't intend to set him free,

but what is this all about?

Sit down, Mr. West, and relax.

Warden, I...

Ralph Kleed?

Gone, sir.

There were some men
waiting for him with a horse.

Find out anything at the
police investigation, Artie?

Certainly did.

One whistle, formerly the
property of Ralph Kleed,

tested at the lab,
where it turns out

to have a pitch with
very special properties.

I know. I saw the effect
it had on the warden:

a new personality, a
strength, a kind of violence.

You couldn't begin
to understand, Artie.

But how?

I'll show you how. Come here.

Crystal.

Franconium pyrite.

Jim, the autopsy
on Warden Primwick

turned up a very
interesting detail.

Sometime recently,
in the past month,

he'd had a very
delicate brain operation.

What's the crystal
got to do with it?

An identical crystal was found

carefully implanted
in his brain.

You checked with his physician?

Of course. He
doesn't know anything

about any operation at all.

Here's where it
gets interesting.

Keep your eye on
the Franconium pyrite.

Beautiful.

The crystal and the whistle
are in tune with each other.

So when Kleed
blew the whistle...

The warden heard it,

and in some weird way obliged
him by ordering him released.

Artie, I saw the warden's
widow today and she told me

that he had been complaining
about persistent headaches.

How long?

Three weeks ago,
right after he returned

from a conference with
the territorial governor.

Artie.

Heh?

Now, supposing somewhere

between here and here,

a master surgeon performed
an operation on him.

If we could find him...

Jim, there's a small matter
of 100 square miles of nothing

between here and
the territorial capital.

Forget it.

We can't forget it,

not with the president
due here in a few days

and Kleed and killers
like him still on the loose.

Well, that's like
looking for a needle

in a 100-mile haystack.

Yeah, you're right.
It's pretty tough.

Tough if you were
trying to find something,

but Artie,

what if you were
trying to be found?

I pass on that one.

Look, we were sent here

because killers like
Kleed were liberated.

They had one thing in common.

I know, they all were
obsessed with the idea

of assassinating the president.

And what's the name
of the last member

of the "Let's kill Grant"
club still behind bars?

Carl Storch, now in the
Indian Springs Penitentiary.

Supposing that Mr. Storch
was being transported from here

to the territorial capital,

and supposing that
information were to leak out.

Oh.

Where are we roughly?

I'd say about 20 miles
into the middle of nowhere,

and just about five minutes away

from dying of thirst
or alkali poisoning.

Here.

Now I know why you
refused an armed escort

from Eagle Heights.

Why kill off a whole unit

when just the two of us will do?

The idea is to persuade them

to removing Storch

as inconspicuously as possible.

Yeah, them. Them. Who's this
"them" you keep talking about?

Right now, I'd
say there they are.

Whoa.

Great jumping balls
of St. Elmo's fire.

You didn't tell me this was
going to be a costume ball.

You got some
merchandise in there for me.

Open up.

What are you
talking about, major?

What merchandise?

Carl Storch. Let him out.

Oh, boy, major,

have you got the wrong pew.

Nothing back there
but a mangy horse thief

I gotta bring to fort with...

You want me to get
rough with you, is that it?

All right, you.

Come on out of there.

Yeah, you.

So you're Carl Storch, huh?

You hardly look
worthwhile saving.

Who asked you to save
me, you musclehead?

You're gonna learn to
be more respectful of me,

because one more note,

you're gonna be a pincushion.

Would you like me to blow
this whistle, Mr. Storch?

Now go ahead.

Hey, wait a minute.

If you're gonna shoot him...

Do you have any objections?

Let me have the pleasure.

No, no. Please.

Here we go.

Oh, your eyes are green.

Thought for sure they were blue.

Well, I asked the general,
but all he would say is,

"How should I know?"

So I decided to
sit here and wait,

and I was beginning to think

you were never going to
get around to opening them.

It could've worked out that way.

I'm sorry about the eyes,

but if I ever get another
opportunity to choose, I'd be...

What's the matter?
Doesn't it fit?

Oh, yeah, fits fine.

I just don't know who to thank.

Looks like an interesting game.

The only game worth a candle.

Object is?

To survive.

Looks like our friend out
there just might make it.

No, he won't. All he has is fear

and the fleetness of
foot that fear brings.

That's not enough.

Aagh! Agh!

Taps for Mr. Ralph Kleed,

a gentlemen you will never
have the pleasure of meeting.

It's a great pity.

Exercise concluded, sir.

Satisfactory, sergeant.

So

You are Carl Storch, hm?

I am General Titus Trask.

Hi.

When called on
by your superiors,

you will answer, "sir."

Yes, sir.

As you were, Stryker.

He will learn without that.

Did I do something wrong?

Leave us.

I think you will do nicely.

You are properly obedient.

You handle yourself well.

And you obviously like
to take the big gamble.

Thank you. Sir!

Sir.

You, um, seem quite
young to have accumulated

such an impressive total.

Total? Of what, sir?

What else have you accumulated?

Murders.

Oh, that.

Well, I stopped
counting them long ago.

Do you know who I am?

There was a...

A Sergeant Trask that I remem...

The same.

I've since promoted
myself to general.

As I recall, this sergeant
was booted out of the army

by General Grant himself.

Yes, uh, heh-heh,

an honor I have never
ceased to remember.

Perhaps you recall why.

It had something to do with,
uh, soldiers under his command

dying in desert maneuvers.

They were plowboys,

not soldiers!

They didn't deserve to survive.

I can't understand
why they didn't.

I understand you took
them out on a forced march,

filling their canteens
with salt water.

This is, uh, my
secretary, Josephine.

Ah, we've met.

Oh, yes.

There was that great curiosity
about the color of your eyes.

What do you want now?

I'm looking for my lemon drops.

Josephine finds herself
irresistibly attracted

to handsome young
men like yourself, Storch.

Isn't that so, my dear?

I don't know what
you're talking about.

You're the latest arrival.

You will find she will think up

the most preposterous
reasons to be near you,

which could not only
prove bothersome,

but equally dangerous as well!

Mm, there you go,
raising your voice again.

Stop!

Josephine. Josephine!

I think you'll do better when
it comes your turn, Storch.

Am I gonna have a turn, sir?

Just to Battle Alley.

A training ground
like that is valuable

in weeding out the fit from
the unfit, don't you agree?

Fit for what, sir?

My cadre.

What do you think of the cadre?

Well, they're
amazing, all right.

Who winds them up every night?

You know, you're not
without your share of brains,

Mr. Storch, along
with your other talents.

Yes, the most outstanding
characteristic of my cadre

is their completely
machine-like, fearless quality.

But let me assure
you, my friend.

They're made of flesh
and blood, like you and I.

Surely there must
be more than that.

There is.

To begin with,

like you and Kleed,

each has a common hatred
against General Grant.

Each is a murderer.

Each has attempted or planned

to assassinate the
man in the White House.

I, too, have a score to
settle with General Grant.

Tomorrow he will
be in the vicinity

and by a strange
coincidence, so will my cadre.

To you this is just a
glittering fragment of crystal.

To me, and to those
who understand it,

it means a sonically-conditioned
reflex response.

In simpler terms, the
professor is talking about

a system of absolute
control over men.

Go on.

The operation, a
most delicate one,

is to surgically implant
one of these crystals

into the posterior lobe
of the subject's brain.

Now,

when a command is
relayed to the subject

through the crystal
by means of...

The commands are
relayed by the whistle?

An improvement over
the shouted command,

wouldn't you say?

That's revolutionary.

You see, with a handful of men,

I have a small army
incapable of being afraid

or of feeling pain.

Any other questions?

Yes.

Does one of those Franconium
crystals have my name on it?

Originally, it did.

You have all the qualifications.

But after looking you over,

I've decided you will make
a good second-in-command.

But, sir, don't you already
have a second-in-command?

Yes, but Stryker is mortal.

He may not always be around.

At any rate, a, uh,
replacement should be available.

Gentlemen.

Now, what's your trouble, Kleed?

That new guy with the general.

Carl Storch? That
ain't Carl Storch.

You're out of your head.

I tell you, I know Carl
Storch, and that ain't him.

That's James West, secret agent.

That's the starting
signal, Storch.

Time to take a walk
through Battle Alley.

You're not armed, of course,
but that's not important.

This is just a training
exercise, that's all.

All right, carry on.

Stryker.

Sir.

I suppose there's no doubt
that he really is James West.

None at all, sir.

You see, Kleed served
with the real Carl Storch.

Ah, it's a pity.

I had great plans for
that young man out there.

Mm. I still have, sir. And
with the general's permission...

No, no, no, no, Stryker.

You don't dispose of the horse

until he's run the race.

Besides, it should
be interesting

to see how long
Mr. West can last

when he comes up
against the cadre.

Yes, sir.

Are there any other orders, sir?

Yes.

The cadre will fight to kill.

My Mr. West.

He's gonna die!

No, sergeant!

A very ingenious way

Mr. West can be put to
work has just occurred to me.

If Mr. West is
still alive, that is.

Hey, you there!

Oh, a very good
day to you, governor.

Could you direct me to the
lady of the house, please?

There's no strangers
allowed on this ranch, mister.

Kelton is the name,
governor, and no stranger at all.

I am giving out free
samples today, sir,

of the revolutionary
new self-inflating balloon,

called the Little Jim.

Now, if you will notice,

I am not utilizing
any kind of...

Hey! Here, hold it!

Don't move.

Who are you?

Madam, you are the one

for whom it was made.

Kelton is the name, madam.

Traveling emporium.

I have here, madam, a
little special something

directly from Spain,
across the Pyrenees.

And let me tell...

Oh, madam.

I thought I'd seen every
aspect of the female form divine.

But may I say, madam,
that you, without a doubt,

as a Spanish señorita,

are the most gorgeous,
ravishing creature

it's ever been my
privilege to see.

I hate it.

You're right. It's
wrong for you.

But... Ss.

Mister, how did you
get in here, anyway?

Why, I've got a notion
to tell the general.

Here. Hold it. Hold it, please.

Nights in Casablanca!

Who?

Of course.

It's perfect.

The perfume that was
made for you, madam.

The perfume that is you,

smuggled out of the Casbah

at great risk to
personal life and limb.

Guaranteed to drive
strong men mad with desire.

Mm, it stinks.

Well, we've had a
hot spell here recently.

And along with that, madam,

a stunning set of
matched Japanese pearls.

Each and every
single one of them

brought up from the
bottom of the ocean

by a stunning set of
matched Japanese maidens.

Pearls give me the hives.

Now, isn't that interesting?
The same with me. Wait.

I got the very thing
for you, madam.

A lifelike portrait

in true color

of one of the most
glorious creatures

in all of nature.

You, madam.

Oh, and that's not all, madam.

Wait a minute.

Where is he? Who?

You recognized his picture.
He's around here somewhere.

So, what's it to you?

He stole some pearls off of me.

I want me money.

What does that
have to do with me?

I'd be most grateful to
whoever could help me

as to finding his whereabouts.

Most grateful.

Hey, look, if the general
knew I was even talking to you,

I'd be in mighty big trouble,

so you better just
get out of here and...

Oh.

Oh.

You don't know how happy I
am to see that you're still alive.

Well, that's unanimous, sir.

It seems that I've lost my shirt

and somehow gotten my
wrists wedged into these straps.

Oh, that's
unfortunate, Mr. Storch.

Or should I say

West?

I see Mr. Kleed survived.

I knew he was a mass
murderer, but I'm disappointed.

I didn't know he
was a blabbermouth.

How come I'm still alive?

Well, just as Sergeant Stryker

was about to administer the
coup de grâce to you yesterday,

I suddenly realized

how much more valuable
you are alive than dead.

Oh, let's start
at the beginning.

If my program were
merely to kill the president,

that task would
not be too difficult.

Ah, I see. You have some
other refinement in mind.

What if...

What if, instead of killing him,

you merely borrowed
him long enough

for a, uh, very delicate
operation. Say...

Ah, I see, to implant
a Franconium crystal.

It's a pleasure to talk to
such a bright young man,

isn't it, professor?

How many men do you know
have ever owned a president,

Mr. West, as I shortly will?

About face!

About face!

Very good. Very good.

All right, send out your men.

A very fine United
States Cavalry sergeant,

wouldn't you say, Mr. West?

Where do I come in?

Oh, yes.

Problem.

How can an enemy force

approach an armed
presidential escort

that is alert to
danger in any form,

borrow the president,

then return him,

and all this, without alarming
the escort in any degree?

Having those wind-up toy
soldiers in those uniforms

won't do it.

Of course not, but
what if they're led

by one of the most trusted
of presidential associates?

Like James West, for instance.

Mm, I see.

The cadre's been made to believe
they must follow James West.

And James West will
be made to understand

that he must beg,
borrow, or steal

the president for me.

One Franconium
pyrite crystal, Mr. West.

All yours.

The operation, you
will be happy to know,

is quite a simple one.

It consists basically of a hole

drilled into your skull.

Oh. For a while, I thought
it might be complicated.

But simple though it is,

a slip of the scalpel

or a sudden
movement on your part,

could result in your death.

And we wouldn't
want that, would we?

No, if... If at all possible,

that should be avoided.

Which is why I'm going to
administer an anesthetic,

Mr. West.

You will love it.

A wonderful feeling
of relaxed well-being.

You will go drifting
off in the clouds

into dreamland,

and when you awake...

Idiot! There is not
enough cotton here.

Get me some
right away. Yes, sir.

As I was saying, when
you awake, when the effects

of the anesthesia
have worn away,

the pyrite crystal will
have been planted.

Don't be impatient,
Mr. West. It will only...

If it's cotton wool
you want, guv,

have some of that.

Jim. Cart.

Very top of the morning
to you, Mr. West.

Artie, the wrong people

have found out about
President Grant's visit.

We don't have much time.

I take it by that you've
got some kind of a plan.

Roughly, yeah.

To begin with,

I've had a very
delicate brain operation.

Oh, that's brilliant.

Now you know
what we're up against

if that little surprise
of yours doesn't work.

Oh, if for any reason you
are not absolutely delighted

with this revolutionary
new process

for removing spots permanently,

you may return the container
to the maker for a full refund.

Don't you know it's
not polite to eavesdrop?

Of course, but how do
you think I find things out?

Shame on you. You
know, one of these days,

somebody's gonna
catch you at it.

Wait a minute.

What sort of things
do you find out?

Well, things like, uh,

where they're waiting
for you right now.

Where?

At the far side of
Indian Butte, of course,

by Tenpin Mountain.

They told you that?

No. They don't tell me anything.

When the door's closed,
I sneak up and listen.

Josephine, I don't approve
of the company you keep,

but thank you.

I'll go along with
my partner on that.

Oh, my face.

It's West, all right, sir.

And about time.

I was beginning to think
Frimm had botched the job.

Dismount!

Look at it, Stryker.

This was once James West,

human being and dedicated agent

to the United States Secret
Service, now in my force.

We can use him, sir.
It won't be any picnic.

The matchless, fearless,
indestructible soldier,

the commander's
dream through the ages.

Incapable of fear.

Impervious to pain,

and dedicated only to the
effective dispensing of death.

Sir, I can see the
presidential party now.

Now, sergeant.

West,

the cadre have absorbed
their instructions.

They are now
waiting to follow you.

Now as to your orders.

You will approach the president.

West.

Wait! I haven't finished yet.

West, dismount. Do you hear?

West!

That way, sergeant.

Hyah.

What did you stop
them for, sergeant?

We were just having some fun.

I've got one more order

that you can take to
your death with you, West.

Seek out and destroy.

Artie!

Well done, Mr. West.

It seems I shall have to
fall back on my master plan

of destroying
Mr. Grant, after all.

After destroying you, of
course, you understand.

I thought that's
what you had in mind.

You cheated me!

You robbed me of the
dream I cherished for years.

It wasn't yours to cherish.

So the dream is gone.

All that remains,

all that I want to do is dip
my hands in your blood!

Come out, Mr. West. It'll
do you no good to hide.

Sergeant Trask! Attention!

Aagh!

You all right?

Yeah. Never better, Artie.

You know, no one will ever know

how close the president
came to disaster.

Yep, they'll never know.

It will all seem so
casual in the newspapers.

"The president paid
an unexpected visit

to the territorial governor."

"A trip that, like
so many others,

was pleasantly rewarding,
but totally uneventful."

Newspaper item.

"Professor Frimm
and Sergeant Stryker

"have been sentenced to
the territorial penitentiary

"for life.

"According to the
sentencing judge,

they should have been..."

Boiled in oil.

Isn't that a little
too severe, Artie?

No. That's the only way I
can generate enough heat

to get the impurities
out of the catalytic agent.

Oh. Well, I don't suppose
it's terribly important,

but I was talking
about the trial

of General Trask's playmates.

What?

Oh, no. I'm talking about
getting the impurities out

of this knockout-gas formula.

Why? If you'll excuse
the expression,

it did a knockout
job on the cadre.

No, it didn't. There
was too much smoke.

I'm trying to get it

so it's completely
odorless and colorless.

What was that?

We're slowing down
to take on water.

Go on with what you were saying.

Well, I'm merely
saying that as good

as that knockout-gas
formula was,

it would be even better if
we could eliminate the...

Eliminate the telltale signs...

The telltees...

Go on.

Artie, will you go on
with what you were s...

Congratulations,
Artie. You've done it.