White Heat

For the next two weeks,
I won't think about anything...

except the eternal struggle
between man and the fish.

I've been promised a vacation.
You remember?

Sorry, Hank, that's out.
Phil, look at me. College degree,
lovable personality...

and I spend most of my time in prison.
An undercover specialist.
Eight sentences in five years.

Dannemora, Sing Sing, Leavenworth...
I joined the department
to put criminals behind bars...

and here I am, stir crazy.
Read this.
Who checks confessions in Springfield?
Every rookie knows Scratch Morton
went underground after that hotel job.

You won't let Jarrett get away
with a two-bit prison stretch?


A hoodlum turns himself in
on a phony rap...

and beats the gas chamber.
I'll bet you he's thumbing his nose
at Uncle Sam now and loving it.

Jarrett outsmarted you.
That's just what we want him to think.
We're working with the Springfield police.

We arranged for the confession to check.
So, what happens?

Jarrett does a stretch in the penitentiary.
In case he's lonely,
wants to talk to someone...

we'll let one of our boys do a stretch
right in the same cell.

Still going fishing, Hank?
Yeah. In what prison?
You'll enjoy the food there.
Wonderful chef.

-Arrested him myself.
-Okay, what's the pitch?

You'll be committed
to the penitentiary in Illinois.

You'll be one of Jarrett's cellmates.
Stick with him until you find out...
where he unloaded $300,000
in federal currency...

without a single bill showing up.
Also, try to learn the identity
of the very special fence...

that engineered this deal.
How does he operate?
Buys stolen money here,
30¢, 40¢ on the dollar.

Peddles it on the European black market
for who knows how much.

No questions asked. Sweet racket.
In step with the times.
That's your assignment.