Mirage

Have you heard the strange tales of the Whistler? Whistler. Probably wrong. I'm going to wait a few more days, and when I'm sure, I'm going to take care of you, Joe.

I'm going to scare you. Sunday night, and again, CBS presents the Whistler. And the Whistler. No many things, for I walk by night. I know many strange tales, many secrets hidden in the heart of men and women who have stepped into the shadow.

And so tonight I tell you the bewildering story of... ...Neraj... Fred Adams was an attorney, a promising young attorney. Fred is a specialist, for his practice has been limited to nightclubs and bars. In other words, Fred is what is called a mouthpiece.

He stepped scaly down the street tonight, unaware of the two men leaning against the blacks of the dam, Pocked in the shadows between the lampposts. Hi Fred, what's your hurry? Mm-hmm. Oh, hello Joe. What are you and Mike doing in this end of town?

We're waiting for you, friend. Thought you might like to take a little ride. Ride? Boss wants to have a little talk with you, Fred. Not tonight, I'm busy. Got an appointment. The boss would like to talk with you.

Get in. I tell you I'm busy. I'll drop around tomorrow. What do you say busy about, friend? How would you like a poke in the nose? Get in the car, Fred. Let go of me, you wee- Get in, come on, get in.

What did you two guys do without a gun? Get in. Okay. Fifteen minutes later, Fred makes his way through the crowded tables of the swank-tripling cafe. Prote d'Or marked manager. He hesitates a moment, glances at the two men beside him and knocks.