War of the Worlds (1988–1990): Season 2, Episode 14 - Path of Lies - full transcript

♪♪

There's rioting breaking
out throughout the city.

Fires continue to
burn everywhere.

Troops are shooting people.

My God, I... I don't know why.

There's a woman dying in front
of me, and no one's helping her.

There are conflicting reports
about who or what started the chaos.

Will someone tell
me what's happening?

This is madness.

What is this world coming to?

You know the rules, Doctor



Mr. Samuels,
Dr. Adelson has arrived.

There's been no change.

I told you, it will take time.

You're out of time, Doctor.

I'll do nothing more for you

until I see some progress.

Get him out of here.

You agreed to the arrangements.

The Senate subcommittee

must approve our use of
the communication satellite.

Until your serum performs,

you'll get nothing.

♪♪

Let's go!



- Hey!
- Hey, what are you doing?

Who the hell are you?

Marc Traynor, Midtown Herald.

Police, Kincaid.

- Give me that camera.
- Police.

Look, man, I'm just
trying to do my job.

Maureen.

Maureen, wake up.

Maureen... Maureen, come on.

Wake up. Come on.
You gotta see this.

Come on.

What is it?

- You won't believe it.
- Mmm.

If he does manage to get it
published, it could help us.

How long can we
hold out by ourselves?

It could also get us killed.

We tried contacting
the government.

Every time we've run into a
brick wall. We can't trust them.

Yeah, and everyone else is
either tuned out or doesn't care.

That's gonna change if this
newspaper makes headlines out of this.

Everyone and their brothers
are gonna be out hunting aliens

and killing each other instead.

Well, you can be
certain of one thing.

The aliens will be
hunting all of us.

Better find this guy before
it hits the morning edition.

What are you gonna tell him?

I'm gonna tell him
as little as possible.

Look at this.

You almost got killed for these?

Uh-huh.

What the hell is this?

What the hell is this?

This is only

the greatest story since the
tearing down of the Berlin Wall.

Maureen, these are aliens.

The real thing.

I mean,

forget your tabloid stuff.

Finally,

I get a break.

And who the hell are you?

What is it you expect me to do?

Stop the presses?
What do you think this is?

Look, I saw this thing get shot,

and then it started
spewing this green stuff,

and then it began
to disintegrate.

- Look here.
- Yeah. So what?

Maybe it was just a military robot
or a security cyborg that got loose.

What is this here, Robby?
This is Marc you're talking to.

This is no cyborg.

This was a real
living, breathing thing.

It tried to kill me, for God's sake.
And then these two guys appeared.

- Well, who are they?
- I don't know.

It all came down in a matter of seconds,
and the cops came, and I bailed out.

Listen, buddy boy.

This is a newspaper.
We deal in facts.

Every rag in the country
runs phony stores on aliens.

Nobody cares anymore.

Listen to me, Rob.
This is the real thing.

Yeah.

Well, all I see here is
a bunch of green stuff,

two guys that look like
everyone else in the quadrant,

and a reporter looking to
make a name for himself.

Now, if you came in here
with an alien on your arm,

that'd be a different story.

This is page 1 stuff, damn it.

Look, if you don't want it,
I'll take it to somebody else...

Somebody who knows a
real story when he sees it.

Hey, don't talk to me
about news, buddy boy.

I nearly had my ass shot off
half a dozen times getting news.

You need more than a
handful of pictures as proof.

You got my word, Robby.

That should be proof enough.

I'll think about it.

What interference?

In your words, the
assassination couldn't fail,

and now we have more
photographs, more witnesses.

I don't want to hear
any more excuses.

Just find him and kill him.

Who is he?

A reporter.

He's been observed near
three of our operations.

You didn't tell me.

You were busy.

I instructed Salo
to eliminate him.

What about the serum?

He didn't respond
to the injection.

Mr. Samuels won't
cooperate with us

until there's been a dramatic
change in his condition.

Why? What's wrong?

He's dying of old age.

There's been a rapid
deterioration of his vital organs.

Here.

I took another blood sample.

He must live.

With his wealth and power,

he can protect our identity

and connect us to
their government.

There's been a
slight miscalculation.

It will take time to match the serum
to his blood type and cell structure.

Miscalculation?

I see.

Well, if Salo can take
care of the reporter,

and if we can make Mr. Samuels
sufficiently dependent on us,

perhaps we'll
survive this place.

Take a look at these.

What am I looking at?

One of my reporters
came in with them.

He thinks they're aliens.

What?

Extraterrestrials.

Who is this guy?

Name's Marc Traynor.

What did you tell him?

Well, I told him we'd need a
lot more than a few photographs.

But, uh, look at this.

If it's true, this is the
first real proof we've seen.

You believe he's
on to something?

Could be.

He says he nearly got killed
getting them. And if it's true...

Then we've got an
exclusive, don't we?

Big stuff. How do
you want to proceed?

Well, you're right. We
need more than these.

And, uh, we want to make
sure it's not some scam

to advance his own career.

See what you can come up with.

You bet.

Marc?

Yeah.

Where have you been?

Trying to talk some
sense into Rob Nunn. Ha.

Whatever he does,

these are my insurance.

They're gonna get
us out of this hole.

This whole thing is
starting to scare me.

Until this is cleared up,

we will suspend all
outside operations.

We need this.

Time is running out.

The serum is ready.

Eternal youth.

For that, he will pay any price.

Remember, Mr. Samuels,

it's a treatment, not a cure.

Look! Look!

I'm not telling you anything. I
don't know who the hell you are.

I told you, we're investigators.

Look, we need to find Marc
Traynor quick. It's a personal matter.

You're his boss. Can't you
tell us what he's working on?

Yeah, I can tell you
what he's working on.

I've seen you guys
before in Marc's pictures.

You're the two who
nearly got him killed.

Now that we know who the
players are, what do you really want?

It was the other way around.

We didn't almost get him killed.
Your reporter was the target,

and while we were saving his
ass, he was photographing us.

You still haven't answered
my question. What do you want?

We want the film he shot.
You can't print those pictures.

I can't?

You ever heard of
freedom of information?

Yeah.

But I never let it interfere
with my staying alive.

We print the news here.

Our readers have a right to
know what's going on in this town.

Now get outta here before
I have you thrown out.

Yes, I understand.

Yes, Rob. Come in.

We've got a hot story
here. I can smell it.

Traynor's on to something.

These two guys were
just here asking about him.

They say who they were?

Yeah. John Wolf and
Harry Porter, investigators.

I don't think so.

They were asking questions
about Marc, fishing for information.

Who knows about this?

You, me, Marc, and probably
his girlfriend Maureen.

Look, I think we
should run this story.

No. No. Trust me on
this. Not a word to anyone.

What is it this time,
Bebe, the military?

Don't ask questions.
Just do what I tell you.

All right, Mrs. Gardner.
You're the boss.

Yes, I am.

Leave those there.

You handled it very well.

I'm being treated like
some two-bit go between.

I don't like having words put
in my mouth from Mr. Samuels.

I want to know what's
going on here, Ed.

My father founded this
paper, and I'm still in charge.

Sure you are.

But this newspaper is part of
Samuels Publishing, isn't it?

You're an employee now, Bebe,

and you can be replaced.

Mr. Samuels becomes
displeased with people sometimes.

Why doesn't he do
his own dirty work?

You just do your job and
keep a lid on this thing,

and make sure I get the negatives
and the other prints from this Mr. Traynor.

It's gonna raise some questions,

and I'm sure Mr. Traynor
has a set of his own.

Relax.

It'll all blow over, and you'll
be back in business as usual.

Good night.

Marc.

Marc?

Get in there.

Now, we need some answers.

Rob... Rob, have you seen Marc?

No. No. Now calm
down. What's wrong?

- Somebody tried to kill him.
- What?

They shot at him right
in front of our building.

I saw it. And then they chased
him, but I haven't see him.

- Have you called the police?
- Yes, I've called the police!

They said they'd get somebody
on it, but that could be next week.

Rob, what's going on?

This has got something to
do with that story, doesn't it?

I don't know. I don't know.

Rob, they're trying
to kill Marc over this.

Do you understand?
You have to do something!

What the hell can I do?

I thought you were his friend.

Maureen...

I want some straight answers.

Someone just tried to
make another hit on Traynor.

This time, right in
front of his girlfriend.

Now, who have you
told about this story?

No one. He's, uh... He's gotten
himself into something he shouldn't have.

This guy is a
damn good reporter,

and this was a damn
good newspaper.

Now we're burying stories.
What the hell's happened?

You used to stand for something,
Bebe. Have you forgotten?

I still do, Rob. It's just
that times have changed.

Well, that's not good
enough, Mrs. Gardner.

I'm through. I quit.

Rob, please...

Aw, save it. I've had
enough lies for one day.

- Who the hell are you guys?
- We're with the government.

Yeah? Which one?

Traynor, these guys
are trying to kill you,

and they won't stop until
they get what they want.

Now, what do you
think is going on here?

I don't think, man.

I know.

They're here. Aliens, right?

Do you still have
those photographs?

He's asking you politely.

You know who
they are, don't you?

Look, we've been on this story a
hell of a lot longer than you have.

We can't afford to have our faces
plastered over the daily newspaper.

Hey, man, this isn't a game!

Anyone who finds out about
them usually ends up dead.

Maureen.

- I gotta get to a phone.
- Stay there.

Come on. Aw, hell.

Yeah. Uh, honey,

when you get this message,

get out of the
apartment, all right?

Uh, uh, don't go to the office,

and... and don't talk to anyone.

I'll meet you... Where?

Uh, go to where
we had our first date.

Stay there. I'll come to you.

I love you.

Okay, you want the photos?

You got them. Let's go.

- Sit down, Mr. Malcolm.
- No, thank you.

You're looking very
well, Mr. Samuels.

Well, I have you
to thank for that.

But then, you didn't come
here to flatter me, did you?

That's fine, Jennings.

As you know,

one of our robot experiments...

A rather sophisticated
cyborg unit...

Malfunctioned and was
unfortunately captured on film.

As yet, we haven't found the
reporter who took the pictures,

but I assume you're
helping us with that.

I have kept your experiment
out of my paper, Mr. Malcolm.

No small gesture even for me.

My own people are
wondering what's going on.

And we're living up to our
end of things, aren't we?

Yes, of course you
are, and I'm grateful.

But anymore of this
kind of carelessness,

and I may not be
able to protect you.

Our arrangement is simple.

You use your influence with your
friends in government on our behalf,

and we'll keep you young.

At the slightest hint

of exposure or scandal,

my friends will
become difficult.

I won't be able to...

I'm sure you'll be able to
do all you can to prevent that.

I know how pleased
you are with the serum.

We are partners, Mr. Malcolm,

I do hope for a very long time.

Hmm.

Marc?

You here?

Yeah. Uh, honey,

when you get this message,
get out of the apartment, all right?

Uh, uh, don't go to the office,

and... and don't talk to anyone.

I'll meet you... Where?

Uh, go to where
we had our first date.

Stay there. I'll come to you.

I love you.

Maureen?

I should've listened to her.

We can't stay here.

Hey, they could be back for him.

Okay.

Come on, Marc. We
gotta get out of here.

It doesn't matter.

Marc, where are the negatives?

Who gives a damn
about the negatives?

We do.

Marc, we can stop them,
but we need your help.

Now, don't give up, not
when you're so damn close.

Don't let him win, man.

I don't like this arrangement.

Samuels is no fool.

He's healthy and we still
don't have the negatives.

It's your fault.

Now, we've become
dependent on him.

And he on us.

As long as we
provide what he wants.

It's the human way.

Marc, this is important. Does
anyone else know about those photos?

What?

Rob Nunn... do you trust him?

I don't trust anyone.

What if this Nunn guy
was a clone or an alien?

Who knows how deep it could go?

Or how high.

Maybe it wasn't Nunn
who killed the story.

Maybe it was someone above him.

I could try and find out
the chain of command.

I want to pay a
visit to Nunn again.

Is he capable of murder?

I am.

What is this, Jennings,
some kind of joke?

I, uh, don't understand, sir.

Cyborgs don't
disintegrate like this.

The metal and circuits...

What have you got me into?

I thought Dr. Adelson
and Mr. Malcolm

were from the Defense
Department, just as you did.

You brought them in here.

Look at these.

That's not human.

This reporter was right.

Aliens?

And why have they cured you?

We don't know any such thing.

Who knows what this stuff is

or what it's doing to me?

I want this
arrangement ended now.

But, Mr. Samuels, your own
doctors have assured you

that your body is
returning to perfect health.

- I don't know, Jennings.
- Well, just look at yourself, sir.

You look like a
much younger man.

You must feel it.

Yes. Yes.

But what's their game?

Put these in the safe.

I hate to be without
bargaining tools.

Yes, sir.

Where are you going, Rob?

I quit.

You know about Maureen, Rob?

Hmm?

No.

She's been murdered.

Oh, no.

When I saw her this morning,
she was looking for you.

My God, Marc, I'm sorry.

What do you know about it, huh?

Tell me!

They got my negatives, Robby.

This is about my
story, and you know it.

Now, damn you! Tell me
who's behind the cover-up.

- Answer me!
- Look, I don't know.

I swear. I'd tell you if I did.

They'll look at you, too.

You can't hide from them.

Is that why you quit?

Because they started
playing a little rough?

Hey, I'm not a kid anymore.

This job's all I have. I
don't have anything else.

I just couldn't take the lies,

the lost files, the
excuses anymore.

How'd it start?

Who's behind it?

I... I don't know.

At first, it was just
little things and then...

anything too sensitive
about the government

or private businesses
got squashed.

By whose orders?

What does it matter? It's all
money and conglomerates.

It's not news.

It's Bebe Gardner, isn't it?

- Thanks.
- Let it go, Marc.

I'm telling you like a friend.

I want to find these
bastards, Robby.

And I'm going to print the truth

so the whole world
knows about him.

The Gardner family founded
Midtown Herald in 1940.

What else?

Herald's the last surviving
newspaper in the state,

and I promise you it is not
because of their sports section.

Check the business index for that.
Who's the big money behind them?

Who fronted for
them, etc., etc.?

Must be some
high-placed connection,

somebody who would be able
to buy a congressional committee.

- There can't be too many of those.
- Hold it, here it is.

Gardner Publishing was
purchased by Samuel's Publishing

and W.R. Samuels.

That's it.

- Who are you?
- I work for you, Mrs. Gardner.

My name's Marc Traynor.

The woman I live
with's been murdered.

Someone strangled her to death.

You did that, Mrs.
Gardner! You killed her!

No, no, I had
nothing to do with that.

You're lying. And
you take it easy!

Where did your orders come from?

What I want to know is how
could you collaborate with them?

I wanted to save the newspaper.

And to do that,
you had to sell it?

Oh. So they get
complete editorial control.

But I am not responsible for
what happened to your girlfriend.

Then who is responsible?

- Who's they?
- I can't tell you. They'll kill me.

Yeah, but if you don't tell us,

- I'll kill you...
- Back off!

All right, I'll tell you.

I need to get a file first.

I'll show you who they are.

I need your help.

Come on, man! Snap out of it!

Grab the chair.

Through there on 3.

1, 2... go.

- Where's Marc?
- Down there.

- Did you see anyone?
- No.

- Check the offices.
- Yeah.

They're not going to give up.

Neither are we.

W.R. Samuels... Did you
know he owns this paper?

Samuels?

That's who she was
afraid of, Kincaid.

I bet you that's the file
she was going to get us.

You see, everybody who knew anything
about my photographs is dead, right?

Maureen, Rob, Bebe.

Yeah, but the trouble
is getting to him.

I don't think so. He used to be
pretty big in the society pages.

Samuels... here it is.

- And there's a map of the property.
- Bring it.

Come on. Let's go.

What is this made of?

Are your scientists having
a problem identifying it?

They tell me they're
various masking enzymes

with which they're unfamiliar.

If you knew what it was,

you wouldn't need us.

That's true, Mr. Malcolm.

Give him the photographs.

See, we know what you are...

Not the particulars,
of course, but enough.

I never doubted
you'd discover it.

- The negatives, please.
- Ah.

For those, we
negotiate a new deal.

I get the formula,

you get the
photographer's negatives.

An interesting proposition.

And one I would consider,

except you've
misjudged your position.

- Really?
- I want the negatives.

You can either
give them to me now

and we continue
our relationship,

or I'll withhold the serum

and you'll die.

And the photographs will appear

in every one of my papers.

They're my insurance policy

for your continued deliveries.

As I said,

I misjudged you, Mr. Samuels.

I didn't realize your life
had so little meaning for you.

To relinquish your empire

and allow it to fall
into other hands...

Very well.

It's your choice.

Don't take that.

Jennings, the negatives.

A wise decision.

Hands in the air, please,

and stand up.

Jennings, what the
hell are you doing?

I mean you, sir.

What are you doing, Jennings?

For God's sake!

I've worked for
you for 43 years,

you greedy old bastard.

I realized you
would die one day,

and I'd end up on a
pension or welfare or worse.

We changed that
with this, didn't we?

Yes.

Suddenly, I had an alternative.

But how will you guarantee
that you can deliver it?

He can't.

- You must deal with me.
- You've been a recluse

for the entire seven
years of your illness.

No one has seen you
but your doctors and me.

The physicians are
on huge retainers.

- They won't say anything.
- You conducted all his business.

Yeah. I make the contacts,
I take the meetings,

I negotiate the deals
and sign the checks.

Using his name.

It's very simple, really.

Mr. W.R. Samuels could be dead.

And no one would ever know.

Sir.

The new deal is this.

You make serum for me,

I ensure political
favors for you.

The way I see it, I'm
really doing you a favor.

But unlike my previous employer,

I don't want to live forever...

Just long enough
to enjoy myself.

I think we can come to a
satisfactory arrangement.

Go around back.

So, Mr. Malcolm,

do we have a deal?

Of course.

Your negatives, Mr. Malcolm.

Thank you. It's been a pleasure,

Mr. Jennings.

To a long and
prosperous relationship.

I want to talk to Samuels.

Ah, you're the
reporter, aren't you?

Yes, hello, Officer. This is
Mr. Jennings. We have intruders in this...

- Hey!
- Put the phone down.

You have exactly 55 seconds.

Where is Samuels?

No one sees Mr. Samuels.

- What about the negatives?
- What negatives?

Let's take him with us. I'll
get an answer out of him.

I'm afraid not.

Let's get out of here.

Right now... come on!

You won't get away with
this! I'll find out the truth!

We do what we must, young man.

We do what we must.

I bet we have as many human
enemies now as we do alien.

They're not working
alone anymore.

We walk into one
setup after another.

They're gaining in strength

and we have nowhere to go.

Samuels... a man with his power.

Think of his connections.

He can buy anyone.

Your serum... there's
more than enough

for you and your
friends, Senator.

This man's interference
in our operations

is becoming more frequent...

A pest we can do without.

Hop in the back.