The Road to Hong Kong

- That's teamwork? - Yours is tax-free!

This is Hong Kong.

A sprawling dragon nestled on the soft underbelly of China.

The flapping sails of its ancient junks...

form a glittering gateway to the Orient.

Yes, Hong Kong.

Where a teeming population crowd its narrow streets...

while its people enjoy the simple pleasures of life.

Smoking.

Eating.

Laughing.

Scratching.

Sports-car racing.

Yet beneath this placid facade, Hong Kong wears another face.

The inscrutable, sinister face of mystery and intrigue.

This typically congested oriental street...

conceals American secret-intelligence headquarters...

where a top security agent was summoned to hear...

some desperate information.

Information which indicated that the destiny of the world...

dangled by the merest thread.

I got over as fast as could.

Okay, let's hear about it.

- You sure you haven't made a mistake? - No, sir.

You're sure the Russians have sent a man around the moon in a spaceship?

Not one man, sir, two.

- Two? - Yes, sir.

And you say they sound like Americans?

Just listen to this.

Harry, is this fantastic?

It's the only way to travel.

What's our speed?

About 23,000 miles an hour, and we're parked.

Now, why would they want their astronauts to sound American?

Russian humor, I suppose.

Just another way of rubbing our noses in it.

Then why haven't they announced it?

It's obvious, they haven't recovered their men yet.

And their path of descent?

Somewhere in the neighborhood of Hong Kong.

Yes?

Yes. Bring her in.

Young lady outside, somewhat hysterical.

Claims to know something about all this.

Take your hands off me.

Look, you've simply got to help me!

Those men you're looking for are in terrible trouble.

If you don't do something about it, they'll be dead within the hour.

The two Russians?

They're not Russians. They're Americans.

- And you know them? - Of course I know them!

- Who are they? - Harry Turner and Chester Babcock.

Turner and Babcock?

Say, don't we know those names?

A couple of ex-vaudevillians, sir.

They're wanted for fraud by practically every country in the Far East.

And you mean to tell me these are the men the Russians have sent round the moon?

They were not sent by the Russians.

- Certainly you're not suggesting... - Nor the Americans.

- Then who sent them? - The Third Echelon.

- The Third what? - A third force.

More desperate, more knowledgeable, and infinitely more dangerous...

then either the Russians or the Americans.

How do you know of this force?

Because until yesterday, I was a part of it.

Look, you expect me to believe...

that these phonies could be made into astronauts...

then sent round the moon by some mysterious force...

more powerful than either us or the Russians?

Sir, I know it's incredible, but you must believe me.

Now, please listen to me.

It all started in Calcutta about 10 days ago.

Turner and Babcock were involved in the latest of their frauds.

As usual it was involved with space.

Hurry.

Buy your tickets on the outside. Get your stock on the inside.

See the thrilling demonstration of the one, the only...

the original, intercontinental, inter spatial, interplanetary...

Fly-It-Yourself kit.

Be the first man on your block into outer space.

Fly to the moon. Stake a claim. Now, hurry.

What is it, boy? Oh, yeah?

Oh, well, get your tickets!

The demonstration starts immediately. Now, hurry!

Hey, this thing's going to work fine.

How about that brave native we hired to fly it?

- We've got a great crowd out there, Chester. - Yeah?

This is the biggest thing we've ever pulled. Let's try on the helmet.

- There we are! - That fits nice, doesn't it?

Look at that. Let's try the jacket. Look at that material!

Give me that good right arm.

Is that native gonna love that? He's gonna...

Here we go, now.

Well, wait. What are you doing?

We're gonna try on the pants.

What about the native?

You don't want to keep 400 paid-up stockholders waiting.

- Waiting for what? - The maiden flight of Fly-It-Yourself.

And who's going to fly the maiden flight?

- You are. - I am?

The brave native flew. You're all we've got left.

I'm all I've got left, and I won't spread it around.

A flash about Fly-It-Yourself.

- What? - Fly it yourself.

Now, Ches boy...

"Ches boy!"All of a sudden, I'm "Ches boy."

Every time you want me to risk my life, I'm "Ches boy."

- Don't blow a gasket. - Let me say one thing.

- You know I hated to ask you. - "Ches boy!"

- I didn't want to ask you. - I can see the tears forming in your wallet.

Only one thing keeps me from going up and flying that thing myself.

- I know. You're chicken. - No, Ches...

Let me say one thing. I'm as chicken as you. Chickener.

Chester, the clothes won't fit me.

Okay, we'll make a few alterations.

What're you doing?

There. We'll have your head reblocked...

pump you up a little bit and you're ready.

And I'll cheer. I'll be on the ground.

You know that I want to go, but I can't.

- Why not? - I've got to be on the ground.

- What for? - For the landing.

For the public relations and the press and magazines.

And the splints and the plasma. No, not me.

Get another pigeon. Not me, boy. No, sir.

All right, if that's the way you feel about it.

That's the way I feel about it.

All those 400 paid-up stockholders, all that loot. Gonna blow it.

Blow it? Why don't we take a powder?

Gaze.

They're here to see the people get their money's worth...

or their money back.

If only I could get my hands on that brave native...

I'd go with him.

Chester, I give you my solemn word. This time it's not dangerous.

Not dangerous? You said that when you shot me out of a cannon.

When you dropped me in a tank with an octopus.

When you had me wrestle a gorilla. "It's not dangerous."

I'm not going. I'm through. I've had it. So forget it, Charlie!

Now what are you worrying about?

I don't like the location of the propeller.

Why not?

I don't like things going on behind my back.

You're going to soar, soar just like a bird.

I hope I drop an egg, on guess who.

Why do I always have to do the dangerous stuff?

Just the nature of our relationship, dear boy.

One of us has the brains, one of us has the brawn.

Just like one's firm...

the other's flab.

You got a program? So far I don't recognize anyone.

Don't get sore at me.

It's a plot point.

Besides, this whole deal's going to be a cinch.

Everything's a cinch, and I wind up on crutches.

Don't I always get you the best medical attention?

Yeah, like that doctor you got me in Bombay last month.

How was I going to know he was an elephant doctor?

You should have known by the size of his thermometer.

Yes, it was a bit large.

When he shook it, I was still on it.

I think he used to be a pole-vaulter.

You don't have to tell me that.

Well, here we go.

Wait. How high am I going to go?

- Only 200 feet. - 200 feet!

Yes, you'll make history like Lindbergh!

Lindbergh had a plane, not a malted-milk machine!

Don't worry, everything will be fine. Let's go, boys!

Here we go. Pull it back.

Hey! Wait a minute. I don't like this.

Get out of there. Contact!

Let's point him.

Is there an insurance machine around here?

Stop worrying. Everything's all right.

Happy landings, Buster.

I don't know what you're so happy about. You're not in my will.

Release the feet, let him go.

Geronimo!

Hello.

What's that?

Chester.

Who are you?

Who am I?

Yes. You seem like...

a nice, pleasant fellow.

Friendly, saggy, and a little overdressed.

Chester, I'm your partner, Harry Turner.

- Harry? - Yeah. Harry Turner. Your pal.

Pal?

Chester, for 20 years, we've been bosom friends.