A couple of atomic scientists go missing in London.
Steve Sekely was one of those directors who never seemed to catch a break, but seemed always to be associated with the cheapest and worst-written movies that might aspire to play as the third title on a triple bill once he got out of his native Hungary. Despite this, he directed about sixty movies -- albeit most of them in his first few years, and in Hungary -- and later, one decent scifi movie, THE DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS.
This one, however, has all the hallmarks of a poverty-stricken and uncaring production company, including vague, nonsensical dialogue, a narrator who talks about the responsibility of scientists who get to choose what projects they work on to bring the production up to an astonishing 50 minutes, idiotic continuity -- one airliner takes off as a jet, and lands as a propeller-driven plane -- and performers whose poor performances make clear why I've never heard of any of them.
Except Irene Pappas. What is she doing here?