EXIT, PURSUED BY A BEAR
A "reading" screenplay by
Peter D. Wilson
Copyright Peter D. Wilson 2011
Peter D. Wilson asserts his right under the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
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Disclaimer
This script is a work of fiction, and any resemblance therein to persons in real life is coincidental.
Cover photograph: Pruhonice Castle, Bohemia. Copyright Peter D. Wilson 2011.
CONTENTS
TONY: A university don; middle-aged, affable, by inclination unworldly but forced by circumstance into intrigue.
PLACEK: The most impressive character in the piece. East European, similar in age to Tony. He speaks in not quite perfect English. Scheming and devious in the course of duty, to which he is devoted, he is nevertheless personally honourable and by no means the traditional "heavy." Although utilised as a cover for other activities, his academic position is perfectly genuine and justly earned. He normally presents a coldly analytical and sardonic shell to the world, but occasionally reveals a strong quasi-paternal affection for Anna.
CLARA: The Vicar's wife; a well-meaning if bossy organiser, of mature years. Her nervousness before introducing Anna is sufficiently out of character to warrant comment.
ANNA: Another East European, with English initially less accomplished than Placek's. Pretty, early twenties; not exactly the ingénue she first appears.
ERIC: Tony's cousin, a senior military type with connections in the security services. Laconic, frank to the point of rudeness.
ELENA: Placek's assistant, mature, with more than a soft spot for him and little sense of subordination.
INTERIOR, DAY. TONY'S SITTING ROOM, CHRISTMAS EVE 1985, AFTERNOON
Tony, casually dressed, enters clumsily with a large box of Christmas decorations. Looking round for somewhere to put it, and finding nowhere more suitable, he dumps it on the floor and starts rummaging through the contents.
Clara, in outdoor clothes, looks in from the hall.
CLARA: Anything I can bring while I'm out?
TONY: Nothing I can think of.
CLARA: Right, I'm off.
TONY: Thanks, Clara. It's extraordinarily good of you ...
CLARA: Not at all. After all, I got you into all this in the first place.
TONY: It was hardly your fault.
CLARA: I did twist your arm pretty hard. I'm glad of a chance to make some amends.
TONY: Even so, just at this time ... You must have plenty more on your plate.
CLARA: Nothing as important as this. But for goodness' sake have the place more or less ship-shape before I get back.
TONY: I'll try. But I don't know how long Eric's business will take.
CLARA: When do you expect him?
TONY: It depends on when he can collect this mysterious visitor he's bringing along.
CLARA: Do your best, anyway. See you soon.
TONY: Right. 'Bye.
Clara withdraws. Tony starts sorting the decorations, then checks his watch and switches on the radio.
ANNOUNCER (voice over): ... in the classic recording by Jacqueline du Pré with the LSO under Barbirolli. And now, in place of the advertised programme, we are broadcasting a recording of last Thursday's concert from Prague, given by the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra under Vaclav Neumann. It is an all-Czech programme, with ...
At the mention of Prague, Tony stiffens and his eyes glaze.
DISSOLVE TO A NONDESCRIPT LOBBY, 1981
A notice board carries a heading "SLAVONIC STUDIES ASSOCIATION: INTERNATIONAL CONFERENCE, PRAGUE 1981". Placek is at the board, affixing a new sheet. Tony enters, worried, carrying a document case. He strides up, nodding in greeting to Placek who bows slightly in return and makes way. Tony checks a timetable, consults his watch, and relaxes slightly to look at other items. After a moment Placek speaks, in grammatically accurate but not always idiomatic English.
PLACEK: Er - excuse me, Professor Anderson ...
TONY: Yes?
PLACEK: I must apologise if I disturb you.
TONY: Not at all ...
PLACEK: Then allow me please to congratulate you on your paper.
TONY: Oh - thank you, Dr. ... ?
PLACEK: Placek, Professor - Alexander Placek. May I present my card?
TONY: Thanks. (Fumbling with his wallet) Er - I'm afraid I seem to be out of them.
PLACEK: No matter. The details are in the office. Yes, your paper - how refreshing it is to hear a respectable piece of work, capably presented. Too many of our purported authors, I fear, have made the least possible effort to get on - what do you say? - the bandwagon.
TONY (somewhat distracted): Yes, I suppose that does happen.
PLACEK: Whatever became, I ask myself, of the first intention to bring together the real experts simply to discuss their latest work?
TONY: Smothered by the political side-issues, I imagine.
PLACEK: It does appear so.
Beat
PLACEK: I gather that you too are not unduly eager to hear Kasparian.
TONY: Well, no - actually I was hoping to make a telephone call.
A clock strikes, with a resonant chime.
PLACEK: "The temple bell stops ringing ..."
TONY (absently): "... but the sound still comes from the flowers."
PLACEK: Ah - near enough.
TONY: Sorry?
PLACEK: The fault is mine, Professor; I was speaking only to myself. But your telephone call - I regret that the system does not work well. You were perhaps planning to meet friends?
TONY: No, I have to phone home.
PLACEK: Indeed? A difficult time, I fear.
TONY: There are reasons.
PLACEK: Of course, I have no doubt of it.
TONY: Actually my wife's had some rather crucial medical tests, and I wondered if she'd got the results yet - they were due today.
PLACEK: I'm sorry if I seemed to pry into private matters. It was not at all my intention.
TONY: Of course not - understood.
PLACEK: But I must not detain you from so important an enquiry. You would do best to ask at the conference office to place your call - if you will please to return my card for a moment - thank you -
He scribbles on the back and returns it.
PLACEK: That should overcome any difficulty with our sometimes rather over-officious staff there.
TONY: Thank you. It's very good of you.
PLACEK: Not at all. We try to accommodate our distinguished guests as well as we can.
TONY: Much appreciated.
PLACEK: And I do hope that all will be well with your wife. Until later, Professor.
Tony departs; Placek gazes after him. Elena enters.
ELENA: Well? Is he?
PLACEK: Ah, Elena. Evidently. He wants to telephone - not the local call we expected, but there's plenty of time yet for that. Now, about the organising committee meeting ...
They depart, in quiet conversation.
FADE OUT
FADE UP. OUTSIDE AN ENGLISH VICARAGE, LATE SUMMER 1983
A car is parked nearby. Clara, middle-aged and businesslike, emerges from the house with Anna, a pretty, timid-mannered girl in her early twenties, dressed simply but neatly.
CLARA: Come along, dear. Let's get it over.
ANNA: Do I look all right?
CLARA: Utterly charming. Now don't worry - whatever happens, he won't eat you.
ANNA: But it is such a thing to ask!
CLARA: Unconventional, yes. But he isn't one to worry about that. So you needn't. Come on, in you get.
They both get into the car and Clara drives off.
CUT TO THE STREET OUTSIDE TONY'S HOUSE, MINUTES LATER
Tony approaches on foot, unlocks the door and is about to enter when Clara drives up, jumps out of the car and bustles up to him. Anna stays in the car.
CLARA: Tony! I didn't realise you were going out. Lucky I caught you.
TONY: Oh, hello, Clara. Yes - but what's all this about?
CLARA: Not out here, if you don't mind ...
CUT TO TONY'S SITTING ROOM, IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING
Tony and Clara enter.
TONY: Now - coffee, tea, something stronger?
CLARA: No, thanks. I don't want to be unsociable, but with this on my mind ...
TONY: Understood. Now, you sounded very mysterious on the phone ...
CLARA: Er - I hardly know where to start. I'm afraid this is a very delicate matter.
TONY: Oh? Have I done something dreadful?
CLARA: No, nothing at all like that. It's really - well - ... I hope it won't seem ... I'm afraid it must be ... Oh dear, I'm sorry to be so awkward about it.
TONY: What on earth is the matter? I've never known you so flustered.
CLARA: I've never had such an errand! But I was looking through the parish records ... I'm dreadfully sorry if this is still painful for you, Tony, but your wife died about a couple of years ago, didn't she?
TONY (mystified): Yes, that's right. But ...
CLARA: Well, are you ... this must seem a dreadful impertinence ... but - er - are you by any chance thinking of marrying again?
TONY: Whatever gave you that idea?
CLARA: Nothing. I mean ...Oh drat it, I knew I'd make a mess of this ...
TONY: Hold on. Sit down and have a sherry, then make a fresh start.
CLARA: I'm so sorry ...
Tony gestures her to silence and pours a large sherry for her, whisky for himself. Clara takes a gulp; Tony a sip, and puts his glass down.
TONY: OK? Now, about re-marriage. No, I'm not. No one could ever take Margaret's place.
CLARA: I see. But have you any objection in principle?
TONY: Why on earth ...?
CLARA: Oh lord, it's no good beating about the bush. It's simply that if you've no intention of re-marrying for your own sake, there's nothing to stop you doing it for someone else's, is there?
TONY: (leaping up) WHAT!!!!!!!!?
CLARA: Please, Tony! Let me explain. You know Mrs. Armitage at the Manor ...
TONY: What's she got to do with it. (Incredulous) You're not suggesting ...
CLARA: Oh, for goodness' sake do sit down again. It's hard enough without your prowling around like a caged tiger.
Tony sits, reluctantly
CLARA: Thanks. Now, where the dickens was I? Oh yes. Mrs. Armitage has a young girl helping in the house. From Eastern Europe. She came over to marry a lad she'd met on a student exchange or something of the sort, and he let her down. Now she's threatened with deportation - and she's dead scared of what'll happen to her if she goes back. Says she'd kill herself first.
TONY (relieved of one dreadful notion): Over-dramatisation, surely.
CLARA: Mrs. Armitage thinks not. Anyway, it seems that the only other thing that could save this girl from being sent back to meet her fate is to find an English husband.
TONY: I see. So you're nominating me as the gallant suitor?
CLARA: If that's how you want to put it. Though the boot's really on the other foot.
TONY: You say a young girl. How young?
CLARA: Early twenties, perhaps.
TONY: So I'm easily a generation older. Surely you could find someone a bit less unsuitable.
CLARA: Not likely to be willing. Actually, Anna has apparently been asking questions about you - it suggests some interest. She's not looking for an Adonis, you know -
TONY: Thank you very much!
CLARA: Just a British husband. For whatever length of time it takes to establish a right of residence - a couple of years, perhaps.
TONY: Clara! From someone supposed to uphold the sanctity of marriage, that is frankly shocking.
CLARA: Well, if you've genuine qualms on that score, there's no need to consummate the marriage. Then it would be just a legal fiction.
TONY: Illegal, more like.
CLARA: Is that really a consideration, with the girl's life at stake? (Changing tone) Look, Tony, this isn't for me. It's for a poor girl who's at her wits' end about God knows what trouble she'll be in if you don't bail her out. She's sensible, clean, attractive, good-natured by all accounts ...
TONY: You sound as though you were trying to find a home for a family pet.
CLARA (forcefully): Then look at it like that if it helps. Won't you at least see her? She's waiting outside in the car.
TONY: Well, of all the ... You're putting me in an impossible position ...
CLARA: I'm sorry, but I have to. It's an emergency.
TONY: I suppose we can't leave her stranded out there ... Mind you, I'm not making any promises.
CLARA: Of course not. Thank you. I'll fetch her in. And Tony ...
TONY: Yes?
CLARA: Be kind to her - please.
She goes out. Tony prowls around the room, pondering. He picks up a framed photograph and stares at it. Clara returns with Anna, whom Tony treats very gently.
CLARA: Professor Anderson, this is Anna.
TONY (replacing the photograph): Hello, Anna.
ANNA: How do you do, Professor? You are very kind to receive me like this.
TONY: I'm sorry you had such a long wait outside. Please sit down. Will you have a sherry?
ANNA: Thank you, I should like that. But please make it small.
TONY: Your English is very good.
ANNA: You are kind. My parents insisted that I should learn it well, and we used to listen often to English radio programmes.
TONY: And how are your parents?
CLARA (warning): Tony ...!
ANNA: It is all right, Mrs. Benson. I must learn to face it. (To Tony) They both disappeared several years ago. I think that they must be dead.
TONY: Oh. I'm sorry. Hmm - how hopelessly inadequate that seems!
ANNA: Perhaps they are better so. They had been distressed for a long time about the state of our country. It is not a happy land.
TONY: So you don't want to go back?
ANNA: That is correct. Anything rather than that.
TONY: Even marriage?
ANNA: I do not mean an insult. But for a girl to have to plead for marriage, it is not a pleasant thing - not a becoming thing, even. Yet that is what I must do.
TONY: And you'd be prepared to settle for a husband old enough to be your father?
ANNA: If he is as kind and gentle as my father - and from what Mrs. Benson has told me, I think that you must be.
TONY: Mrs. Benson hasn't had to live with me. (Sotto voce) Thank goodness!
ANNA: No, but these things can be seen.
TONY: And I'm not the romantic type, you know.
ANNA: I came here at the first to join someone who seemed to be romantic. But romantic types are ... not reliable. And reliability is what I need above all things. Professor Anderson, I do not wish to make a great scene of this - it would be embarrassing for you and demeaning for myself - but if you will take me, I promise to do everything that I can to make you not regret it. I ask only for the formality of marriage, not for all that I might expect if you chose me freely. I can live cheaply; I can make my own clothes; I can cook well - ask Mrs. Armitage; I do not ...
TONY: Stop, stop, stop! You don't need to worry about all that. And as for demeaning, it would demean me to be stingy with a wife.
ANNA: Mrs. Benson has said also that you are generous.
TONY: Mrs. Benson has said a damn sight too much!
CLARA: So Derek often tells me. Do I gather that you ..?
TONY: That I've agreed? No, don't rush me. I need time to think it over.
CLARA: How long? We've only got a week.
TONY: You can hardly expect me to decide on five minutes' acquaintance.
CLARA: Of course not. It's all arranged with Mrs. Armitage. Anna can have whatever time off she needs.
TONY: For what?
CLARA: Take her for a walk. Or a run in the car. Talk about her interests. Really, Tony, if you need the Vicar's wife to tell you how to spend a day with a pretty girl, you're not the man I took you for!
TONY: You're taking a hell of a lot for granted!
CLARA: I have to. This is an emergency.
TONY: So it seems. (To Anna) When shall I call for you?
ANNA: It is you who are doing the favour for me. Please say when it will be convenient to yourself.
TONY: Right. Tomorrow, ten o'clock?
ANNA: Yes, that is good. Thank you.
CLARA: And then you'll make your mind up?
TONY: Clara, you're rushing me again.
CLARA: I've told you, we haven't much time.
TONY: Yes, all right. I'll tell you on Sunday. But don't jump to any conclusions!
FADE OUT
FADE UP TO TONY'S ENTRANCE HALL, WINTER 1983 - 84
The room is almost dark. A flash of lightning is closely followed by a thunder-clap and the sound of heavy rain. After a few moments the front door bursts open, and Tony and Anna tumble in. Tony switches on a light.
TONY: Phew, where did that lot come from? It's lucky we'd only a few yards to dash.
ANNA: But you are out of breath even so. You should take more exercise.
TONY: Now don't you start. I've had quite enough of that from Dr. Ferguson.
ANNA: Well, he is right. You ought to follow his advice.
TONY: Maybe. Are you wet?
ANNA: How could I not be?
TONY: I mean, right through.
ANNA: Just my dress, I think - I shall change it. What about you?
TONY: Nothing to worry about.
ANNA: Your jacket is very damp. Take it off; I shall bring a towel.
CUT TO TONY'S SITTING ROOM, IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING
Tony enters, takes off his jacket and arranges it carefully on a chair, then changes his shoes for slippers. He stirs up the fire and settles in front of it on the hearth rug. Anna enters, in a rather revealing wrap, bringing two mugs of a hot drink on a tray, and a towel with which she dries Tony's head vigorously; she produces a comb and experiments with the parting. The conversation is taken very lightly.
TONY: Hey, easy does it! No need to scalp me.
ANNA: Sorry. I think your hair is better - be still a moment - like that.
TONY: Why change it?
ANNA: To cover the part that is becoming a little thin.
TONY: Is it? I never noticed.
ANNA: You cannot see it. But I do. Still, if you do not like it this way ...
TONY: Oh, I don't mind.
ANNA: Thank you. Tony, your trousers look to be wet.
TONY: They'll dry soon enough. But what a way to end the evening!
ANNA: There is no real harm done. And it was a very pleasant evening.
TONY: You liked Harry and Gina?
ANNA: They seemed very welcoming.
TONY: Is that all you can say?
ANNA: Does it seem - what do you say? - condemning with faint praise?.
TONY: Close. "Damning with faint praise" is the idiom.
ANNA: Thank you. You must always correct me when I get the words wrong.
TONY: Actually, you do very well. Remarkably well, in fact. Anyway, how did you like them?
ANNA: Very much. You have known them long?
TONY: Harry about five years - he was one of my students. Gina I hardly know at all; this was the first I've seen of her since their wedding.
ANNA: What do you think of her?
TONY: Well, she seems rather quiet.
ANNA: I have never before heard a man complain of that in a woman!
TONY: No, I meant subdued - diffident.
ANNA: Probably she was in awe of her husband's professor.
TONY: Perhaps. But I hope she livens up a bit. Otherwise it could be a very dull marriage.
ANNA: You like a woman to have spirit?
TONY: Certainly. Not too much, of course; she shouldn't be overwhelming.
ANNA: I shall remember. But they seem affectionate. (She snuggles up and her wrap slips a little.) Your shirt is wet, too.
TONY: A bit.
ANNA: You should change it.
TONY: I don't feel like moving, for the moment.
ANNA: Yes. It is pleasant, here on the hearth rug.
TONY: Isn't it supposed to be a leopard skin for the best effect?
ANNA: You intend to get a leopard skin?
TONY: I think the leopard might object.
ANNA: In my home, we always wanted a bear skin.
TONY: Oh, indeed? (Mock-reproving) "Bare skin" is what you're showing rather too much, young woman.
ANNA: It offends you to see me like this?
TONY: Not at all. That's the trouble. I'm only human, you know.
ANNA: Well, what is wrong with that? After all, we are man and wife. The minister said so.
TONY: You know perfectly well that that was just a formality.
ANNA: I have known of many people doing very much more with very much less formality.
TONY: I know of people beating up their grandmothers, but I don't have to do the same.
ANNA (in mock astonishment): You still have a grandmother?
TONY: You know what I mean. I have rather old-fashioned ideas about some things, that's all.
ANNA: I do not understand. It seems that you do not like me.
TONY: I don't mean that at all.
ANNA: Then you do like me?
TONY: Yes, Anna, I like you very much. Very much indeed.
ANNA: That is good. But you do not like the way I look?
TONY: It's bad manners to fish for compliments. But don't worry, you look absolutely fine.
ANNA: I have not the shape of Gina, I am afraid.
TONY: There's nothing at all wrong with the shape you've got.
ANNA: Ah, I am glad. Because I like to please you.
TONY: You do. And I like to please you.
ANNA: Thank you. You really ought to change that shirt, you know. I do not want you to catch a cold.
TONY: A few minutes won't do any harm.
ANNA: Well, if you are sure ...
Beat
ANNA: Tony?
TONY: Yes?
ANNA: You remember the marriage service?
TONY: Of course.
ANNA: There was a phrase ... something like "With my body I thee worship."
TONY: Yes. "And with all my worldly goods I thee endow."
ANNA: Yes, you have been most generous. And I am grateful - for everything. But Tony ...
TONY: Yes?
ANNA: I think that I should also like you to worship me a little.
She begins to unfasten Tony's shirt; he no longer resists. The hot drinks are completely forgotten.
FADE OUT
FADE UP TO TONY'S SITTING ROOM, SPRING 1984
Anna is reading. The door bell rings; she rises to answer.
CUT TO EXTERIOR, TONY'S FRONT DOOR: IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING
Placek is standing outside. Anna opens the door.
ANNA: Good evening.
PLACEK: Good evening, Madam. Could you please tell me if I have found the residence of Professor Anderson?
ANNA: Yes, this is it.
PLACEK: May I then speak to the Professor, please?
ANNA: I regret that he is not at home at present. Perhaps I could take a message for him. What is it about which you wish to speak?
PLACEK: It is a little difficult to explain on the doorstep ...
ANNA: I am sorry. Will you come in for a moment?
CUT TO TONY'S SITTING ROOM, IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING.
Anna enters with Placek who makes himself at home, and drops into a more natural style of speaking as if in his own language, as does Anna in response.
PLACEK: Well done; not a flicker of recognition.
ANNA: Thank you, sir. You've brought the next round of instructions?
PLACEK: That's right. But first, I suppose you've got a position as some sort of maid to the Professor?
ANNA: Better than that - I'm his wife!
PLACEK (astonished): What? Was that really necessary?
ANNA: You wanted me to be an intimate member of the household. And this turned out to be the only position actually available.
PLACEK: Fair enough. And it does open up some very interesting possibilities - yes, the more I think of it, the better I like it. Again, well done.
ANNA: Thank you, sir. Now, where do we go from here?
PLACEK: Well, at first I had to keep you in the dark about the nature of your mission. But you must have realised by now that our good Professor is very much involved with dissidents in the Socialist countries.
ANNA: No - it's news to me.
PLACEK: Well, he's been getting forbidden literature published here and smuggled back; placing emigrés in positions of advantage in the West - very much to our disadvantage; supplying funds and materials to dissident groups back home ...
ANNA: Are you sure? I've seen no sign of it. You couldn't be thinking about another Professor Anderson, could you? It's a common enough name.
PLACEK: No chance. On one of his visits, I posed as his contact; the real one was, ah, "indisposed" at the time. When we met, it was he who brought up the question of political action - in veiled terms, of course. He responded correctly to the password. In our later talks, he was ultra-cautious, as if reluctant to trust even those identified as his contacts. It all fitted.
ANNA: Well, if you say so. But I've seen no sign of it.
PLACEK: And you are a capable observer. Then he's even more cunning and dangerous than I'd thought. So now we come to the next phase of the operation.
ANNA (apprehensively): Yes?
PLACEK: These emigrés - and what they say about conditions back home - have become too troublesome to tolerate. We must not only plug the escape holes, but also discredit those that have got through already, and their source of assistance as well. That's where you come in.
ANNA: I don't like the sound of this.
PLACEK: As his maid, I expected you to find damaging evidence. But it seems that I was mistaken. As his wife, however, you can do even better.
ANNA: How?
PLACEK: You will sue for divorce, citing the Professor's string of affairs with women ostensibly brought here on their route to "freedom."
ANNA: But nothing of the sort has ever happened!
PLACEK: How do you know? You certainly wouldn't be the first deceived wife, and I don't suppose the last. In any case, true or not, we can easily manufacture the evidence.
ANNA: I won't do it!
PLACEK (incredulous): Did I hear you correctly?
ANNA: You did.
PLACEK: Lieutenant Jirak!
ANNA (snapping to attention): Sir! (Relaxing) You have the name wrong, sir. It's Anderson now.
PLACEK: Never mind your temporary place in this decadent society. I am talking of your duty to your country's service. You will sue for divorce on the grounds I have stated. The case will be a sensation - we shall make sure of that - and afterwards, no one will take the emigrés seriously, or put any trust in your precious professor. We may even ruin his reputation with the dissident groups themselves - but perhaps that’s too much to hope.
ANNA: I don’t believe it!
PLACEK (misunderstanding): We mustn’t expect more than is realistic, still less bank on it.
ANNA: That isn’t ...
PLACEK: But in any case their opinion will hardly matter once his usefulness to them is destroyed. On reflection, their continued regard for him would do us no harm, and neither will any comfort it gives him. I have no wish to cause needless distress ...
ANNA: What? You ruin everything a man stands for, and you have no wish to cause distress!
PLACEK: When you reach my age, you may realise that in such a position, any crumb of consolation is especially valuable. I hope it will not be from personal experience. But that is by the way. I shall go now to prepare the details of your story so that the necessary corroboration can be arranged.
ANNA: I've already told you I'm not doing it. And I mean it. I'm quitting.
PLACEK (sighing): Must I remind you that you don't desert as easily as you seem to think?
ANNA: I know. All right, I'll do anything you like to undermine the emigrés - anything short of harming Tony.
PLACEK: Fool! Don't you see that that's the whole point of the operation? (More gently) Look, Anna, I don't want to come over like a pantomime villain, but you must see that unless you follow the plan, I shall have to make other arrangements to salvage it, and truly as I regret the consequences for you, they are likely to be very unpleasant.
ANNA: Then I take the consequences. I’m not doing that to my husband.
PLACEK: Don’t tell me you’ve been infected by the romantic notion of marriage put out by the pulp novelists.
ANNA: It isn’t that. It’s the whole atmosphere here.
PLACEK: What do you mean?
ANNA: At home, after my parents vanished, I did everything in fear - with good reason, as you know very well. But since I came here I’ve met nothing but kindness and - yes - respect.
PLACEK: Nothing?
ANNA: Well, perhaps at first, when I was working for Mrs. Armitage up at the big house - she was fairly strict. But always just.
PLACEK: You speak of justice when she and all her kind for generations have owed their positions to extortion and exploitation?
ANNA: Maybe. But the villagers speak well of them.
PLACEK: Ach, they have to.
ANNA: Nonsense! You just don’t understand a society where you don’t need to guard every word, because there’s no one listening behind the door.
PLACEK: If you believe that, you’ll believe anything. And if it were true, you could never achieve justice in so undisciplined a society.
ANNA: Why not?
PLACEK: (kindly, but ignoring the question) Anna, I think I see what has happened to you. You’ve been lucky in finding an area of Western society that happens to be particularly attractive, a community reasonably content with itself, prosperous but not scarred by the means to prosperity, small enough for most people to know each other and perhaps quite genuinely to care for their neighbours. You probably think it’s all more or less like that. But most of the people live in the cities, and life there is completely different - every man for himself, and devil take the hindmost. Pardon the clichés, but in this instance they fit. Oh yes, some of the people make themselves extremely comfortable, thank you very much; but they don’t seem any too happy with it. And have you seen the derelicts sleeping out with no more than a cardboard box to shelter them? No, I thought not. You won’t find them so charmed with the benefits of "freedom." Even in a village like this, if you look beneath the surface, you’ll find some simmering resentments, particularly as the real villagers start to find themselves swamped by incomers who only sleep here and put next to nothing into the community - one of them, I might point out, being your own dear husband. No, there’s nothing to stop the slide into total decadence but a complete restructuring. In fact, restructuring here can come only after the collapse, and meanwhile we must protect our own revolution. Your assignment is a part of that grand strategy.
ANNA: Yes, I know all that. It was all part of the political education.
PLACEK: Then you have no excuse for forgetting it.
ANNA: I haven’t forgotten. But I still won’t do it.
PLACEK: Lieutenant! Remember your duty.
ANNA: I do remember it - the whole filthy, stinking business! I’m getting out.
PLACEK: And that's your final word?
ANNA: It is.
PLACEK: So be it, then. I don't expect you to believe this, but I sincerely hope that you won't suffer too much from what has to be done.
He leaves. Anna stares defiantly after him.
DISSOLVE TO TONY'S SITTING ROOM, FOLLOWING EVENING.
Tony and Anna are playing Scrabble. Anna puts down her last tile in triumph.
ANNA: There! I am out - and on a treble, too.
TONY: Hm. I should have thought of that.
ANNA: You're slipping! What is the score?
TONY: You have - er - a hundred and eighty six. Mine's two hundred and fifty five. You're getting closer.
ANNA: Would you like a coffee?
TONY: Yes, please. I'll pack up the set.
Anna goes to the kitchen. Tony gathers the Scrabble tiles into a bag. The door bell rings.
TONY: I'll see to it.
CUT TO THE STREET OUTSIDE TONY'S HOUSE, IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING.
Tony opens the door.
PLACEK: Good evening, Professor Anderson.
TONY: Good evening ...?
PLACEK: Alexander Placek - you may remember we met at the Prague conference?
TONY: Oh, yes, of course. I'm sorry, I couldn't quite place you for the moment. Do come in. We're just going to have coffee; will you join us?
PLACEK: You are most kind. Thank you, yes.
CUT TO TONY'S SITTING ROOM, IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING.
Placek enters and waits.
TONY (calling from the hall): Make it three coffees, Anna. We've a visitor.
ANNA (out of shot): Right
Tony enters. He offers Placek a seat and sits himself.
PLACEK: I hope that I am not intruding?
TONY: Not at all. We weren't doing anything in particular.
PLACEK: That is good. I had intended to write to you, but the time went by until I had to visit the university here and thought that I might give myself the pleasure of renewing your acquaintance in person.
TONY: I'm delighted you did. Is it just a social call, or have you some other reason?
PLACEK: Ah, you have guessed my guilty secret.
TONY: Is that as bad as it sounds?
PLACEK: I hope not. You will remember that after Prague, the next conference of the series was agreed to be in Kiev during the May of next year?
TONY: Yes, as it happens I got the preliminary announcement and call for papers only last week. And the budget will just about run to my coming.
PLACEK: Ah, that is interesting. You see - but first, I should explain to you that the organising committee has done me the honour of appointing me Conference Secretary.
TONY: Congratulations! Or should it be commiseration?
PLACEK: I am not at all sure myself. Anyway, my reason for approaching you is to ask if you would be willing to act as chairman for one of the sessions.
TONY: Why yes, of course, I'd be delighted - and honoured.
PLACEK: Excellent. I presume that you will be accompanied?
TONY: Er -
PLACEK: But there, I was forgetting - how foolish of me. When we last met you were worrying about your wife's health; is she now well?
TONY: Actually she died quite soon afterwards.
PLACEK: My friend! I am desolate! Please accept my deepest condolences.
TONY: In the event it was a mercy. Margaret was in terrible pain.
PLACEK: I see. It is good that you can take so heavy a blow philosophically. Though there must still be some pain for yourself, I fear.
TONY: An occasional sadness. But there have been consolations.
PLACEK: I am truly glad to hear it.
TONY: But for the conference - take it that I'll be coming alone.
PLACEK: Very well. That is understood.
ANNA (briefly looking in): Milk and sugar? Oh!
PLACEK: Sugar, no milk, thank you. (With a well-faked double take) My God!
TONY: What's the matter?
PLACEK: That girl - your domestic, I suppose?
TONY: No, I should have explained. I married Anna six months ago.
PLACEK (in an urgent whisper): My friend, I must speak to you most urgently, in complete privacy.
TONY: What?
PLACEK: Where can we meet and be sure that no one can overhear us?
TONY: What on earth for?
PLACEK: Never mind for the moment. But I do assure you that it is important.
TONY: Well ... I suppose the University Park would do. There's a duck pond by the south gate, with a swan's nest on one side. I could be there two o'clock tomorrow. But what on earth ...?
PLACEK: Not now.
Anna brings the coffee. Placek resumes his customary suavity.
PLACEK: Ah, the coffee. And may I compliment you on having so charming a hostess to grace your home ...?
DISSOLVE TO THE UNIVERSITY PARK, THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON.
Tony stands watching ducks on a pond, near a swan's nest. The distant sound of a cricket game may be heard. Placek approaches casually, but spotting someone within earshot proceeds cautiously. Puzzled at first, Tony soon catches on.
PLACEK: Ah, Professor Anderson!
TONY: Good afternoon. Now what the devil is ..?
PLACEK (sotto voce): One moment. (At a normal level) What a fine day it has become. Do you enjoy watching the ducks?
TONY: Eh? Oh, yes. Whenever I feel worried or depressed, I come to look at them. They've never yet failed to cheer me up.
PLACEK: That is good. There is something indeed comical about them. But the swan - he does not seem to find them so amusing.
TONY: No, they've got eggs in the nest, so they always drive the ducks away. Though what harm they suppose they might do, goodness only knows.
PLACEK: And look - at the nest, a rat is creeping up, and - yes - it has stolen one of the eggs.
TONY: While the swan carries on regardless chasing the ducks.
PLACEK: Just so. And there, my friend, is a lesson for ourselves. So often we fill our heads with worry about mere irritations, while the real enemy approaches stealthily to destroy us from behind.
TONY: My word, we are getting philosophical, aren't we?
PLACEK: Do not jest, my friend. Who but we will consider such matters? Come, let us walk together.
TONY: You're being very mysterious. What's up?
PLACEK (after checking surroundings): It concerns your work for the eastern dissident organisations.
TONY (flabbergasted): My WHAT?
PLACEK: Shhh! Please, be calm. You need not pretend to know nothing about it.
TONY: But ...
PLACEK: When we met in Prague, everything that you said about politics was circumspect in the extreme, but your meaning was clear to anyone who held the key.
TONY: I never ...
PLACEK: And, of course, you had responded correctly to the password.
TONY: What the devil are you talking about? I can't make head or tail of it. Any more than I could in Prague.
PLACEK: Oh?
TONY: You baffled me completely then, but I thought I was simply too worried about Margaret to follow you properly, and made the best non-committal answers I could. If they fitted in with what you expected of a particular contact, I'm sorry, but that was pure bad luck. Honestly, you've got the wrong man.
PLACEK: Ah, you are quite right to be cautious. After all, you cannot be sure that I am not a spy of my government, sent to penetrate your organisation.
TONY (laughing): Oh, I hardly think so.
PLACEK: It is not a matter for laughter. Such things do happen. And it is of those that I wish to warn you.
TONY: Warn me?
PLACEK: Yes. Your new wife - Anna, I think you called her - what do you know of her past life?
TONY: Why bring her into it?
PLACEK: That is what I wish to explain to you. Please excuse my repeating the question, but I asked what you knew about Anna's past life.
TONY: Well, not a great deal, as it happens. She doesn't like to talk about it. I gather that she dislikes the government of her own country and is afraid to go back.
PLACEK: With good reason, I dare say. But I doubt very much whether it is the government that she fears.
TONY: What?
PLACEK: I have no proof of this, you must understand. Few would have access to the evidence. What I say is only rumour, but in my country it is wise to pay heed to it. That is why "rumour-mongering" is considered so serious an offence.
TONY: Now you're really getting me worried.
PLACEK: So; you are learning. It is well. Now, what has Anna said of her family?
TONY: Only that her parents disappeared a while ago, presumed dead.
PLACEK: That at least is true. She would not tell you, I suppose, that it was after she herself denounced them for dissident activities.
TONY: Good God!
PLACEK: Or that among every circle of friends that she has made since then, anyone showing signs of sympathy with the dissidents, or impatience with government policy, has suffered for it?
TONY: This is terrible!
PLACEK: I fear so. We have made in many ways a terrible world.
TONY: But accepting for the moment that all this has happened, how can I be sure that the girl you're talking about is my Anna? It's easy to make a mistake. And you can't have known her well, otherwise by your own account you'd have been in the soup yourself.
PLACEK (briefly wrong-footed): Hmm. I must remember that phrase, Professor - "in the soup." So much more decorous than the usual vulgarism. Yes, you are right; my acquaintance with her was not close, and such an error is always possible - indeed, greatly to be hoped. So by all means let us try to establish the negative hypothesis; that is the scientific method, is it not? Now, the girl of whom I speak, she herself vanished from her home - it would be about a year and a half ago. If your Anna was here before that, then she is not the same.
TONY: Well, as I told you, we were married six months ago. And she'd spent about nine months working in the village. I think she came over six or seven weeks earlier.
PLACEK: So it fits. I think you had better ask her some very serious questions – (pointedly) and check the answers carefully with those contacts that you do not have in the East. Farewell.
He departs briskly. Tony stands for a moment, deep in thought, then slowly wanders away.
FADE OUT
FADE UP: TONY'S SITTING ROOM, THAT EVENING.
Anna is unsettled but trying to read. Shortly, Tony enters.
ANNA: Hello, have you had a good day?
TONY: Not really.
ANNA: You do look worried.
TONY: I am. Desperately. Anna, we'll have to have a serious talk.
ANNA: Yes? What is it about?
TONY: I've been talking to Dr. Placek. What he told me was horrifying. I haven't been able to think of anything else since.
ANNA: Oh.
TONY: How well do you know him?
ANNA: Well, I have met him two times, when he came yesterday, and before that when he called to see you but you were out.
TONY: Is that all? You didn't meet him before you left home?
ANNA: It may be possible. I do not remember. Why do you ask?
TONY: He seems - or rather, he claims - to know a lot about you.
ANNA: What sort of thing?
TONY: Well - please understand, Anna, this is what he said, not what I want to believe - he said that before you came over here you would inform on anyone with dissident sympathies; and that you'd even shopped your own parents.
ANNA: Shopped? I do not understand ...
TONY: Denounced them to the police.
ANNA: But that is not true!
TONY: No, it's the last thing I'd expect of you.
ANNA: I am very glad that you say so.
TONY: But how can I be sure?
ANNA: How can you be sure of anything? Tony, we have lived together for six months. How well do you know Dr. Placek? Who do you believe?
TONY: God knows I want to believe you. But because I know that, I can't tell if I'm really convinced or simply want to be.
ANNA: Why do you always have to be so damnably philosophical?
TONY: It's the way I'm made. I can't always take things at face value.
ANNA: Except Dr. Placek, it seems.
TONY: Now be fair, Anna -
ANNA (exploding): How can you expect me to be fair over an accusation like that?
TONY: It isn't an accusation.
ANNA: If it is not - and one of the worst you could possibly make - I should like very much to know what is.
TONY: I'm merely telling you what he said. Oh, what's the use? We're just going round in circles.
ANNA: Then can we please drop the subject?
TONY: If only we could! But now it's been raised ... Once the slightest seed of doubt has been sown, it's liable to grow out of all proportion. So I'd like to crush it once and for all right at the start.
ANNA (slightly mollified): I see. But how can you do that?
TONY: That's the trouble. You can't prove a negative. But there's just one chance.
ANNA: What is that?
TONY: Placek wasn't absolutely sure that you were the girl he thought. He said she disappeared from home eighteen months ago. Now we can account for you for most of that time: if you can think of any way to establish that you were in this country - or at least, not in your own - for say three months before then, you'll be in the clear.
ANNA: It will be difficult.
TONY: But can you try?
ANNA: Let me see. I did leave my town two years ago, though I stayed a while in the country. Maybe someone could vouch for me during that time. But why should you believe such a person more than me - or Dr. Placek? Even if you could find one.
TONY: I don't know! Is there perhaps some document that would show where you were - something you couldn't have got afterwards?
ANNA: I will try to think of something. But I cannot think while you are staring at me like that!
TONY: No, that's fair enough. Look, I'm more desperately sorry than I can say that this has come up. But now that it has - and with your background - I'm sure you realise that I can't just let it pass by.
ANNA (dully): I understand.
TONY: Thank you, darling.
Beat
TONY: I think I'd better go for a walk.
ANNA: Very well. But please take care. You know how you notice no danger while you are preoccupied.
TONY: I'll be careful.
ANNA: And Tony -
TONY: Yes?
ANNA: I love you.
He pauses a moment, and goes out. Anna sits for a while, thinking, then comes to some decision, finds paper and pen, and writes, carefully composing and reading aloud as she does so.
ANNA: "My dearest Tony; there is so much that I have to say to you, and it is so difficult to put into words. The first, last and most important thing is that I love you."
CUT TO A NONDESCRIPT STREET, IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING.
Tony is walking despondently.
ANNA (voice over): You have given me during the past six months the greatest happiness that I have ever known, and if it has now turned to the greatest misery, that is my misfortune, not your fault.
I must now be completely honest. There is no possible way to prove that I am not the girl of whom Dr. Placek has spoken, because I am. Even the accusation that I betrayed my own parents - the parents whom I loved so deeply that grief at their loss still haunts me - even that has some foundation. The cruellest lies are the closest to the truth. What really happened was that my boy-friend taunted me with having such conforming parents, and like a fool I let slip something of what I had seen, not realising that he was working for the Secret Police. After that no one decent who knew the story would have anything to do with me, and in time I drifted into the Service almost by accident.
Dr. Placek was my chief, and it was he who sent me here. My task was to find a way into your household - why, I did not know until he came here while you were out yesterday - but it was part of a plan to destroy your reputation and that of the dissident organisations for which he was convinced you were working. When I realised, I refused to do it, and this is his revenge.
CUT TO TONY'S SITTING ROOM, IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING
Anna is finishing her letter.
ANNA: "After this I can never hope to regain your trust, and without it life would be unbearable. Please forgive me for what I must do. That it will hurt you so much causes me even more pain than my own loss. Forgive me, I beg of you again, and remember me as kindly as you can. Your own Anna."
She reads through what she has written.
ANNA: There, it is done.
She lays down the pen and goes out briefly, returning with a half-empty bottle of tablets and a glass of water.
ANNA (reading the label): "It is dangerous to exceed the stated dose." Good.
She swallows half the tablets, washed down with water; considers a moment; then takes the rest to make sure. She weights down her letter with the empty bottle, sits on the settee and waits. After a moment, she gets up and puts on a record of Samuel Barber's violin concerto, selecting the second movement. A little later, she lies back on the settee, eyes closed.
Tony enters wearily. At first he notices nothing, but then spots the empty medicine bottle and glass, and finally Anna supine on the settee. He rushes across to cradle her head on his arm. Her eyes open and she manages a weak smile.
TONY: Anna!
She feebly takes his hand: both freeze.
SLOW FADE OUT.
FADE IN TO TONY'S SITTING ROOM, EVENING, JANUARY 1985.
Eric is seated; Tony pours coffee for both and sits.
ERIC: Damn good dinner, thank you.
TONY: My pleasure. I don't often get the chance to offer you one.
ERIC: Trouble with being away so much. Lose contact with the family. Hilda often complains.
TONY: It's a pity she couldn't come after all. I haven't seen her for ages.
ERIC: Can't be helped. Doesn't often have these turns, but they're nasty while they last. Tell you what - come round to us some time next month.
TONY: Right.
ERIC: Bad business about your wife, by the way; deuced sorry to hear it.
TONY: Thanks. Actually, that's really what I wanted to see you about.
ERIC: I wondered why you were so keen I should come, with or without Hilda. How do I fit in?
TONY: Well, you know about Anna's background, don't you?
ERIC: That she was a waif you befriended only to find she was a foreign agent of some kind? Oh yes.
TONY: But not, perhaps, that it's her controller who's running the Kiev conference. You remember the one in Prague that I went to?
ERIC: In eighty-one? You wanted all the do's and don'ts. I was off to Singapore and couldn't manage it - put you on to Watkins instead.
TONY: That's right. Actually, he wasn't all that much help, but no matter.
ERIC: No, only found out about him later. Just hope he's as useless to his new masters as he was to us. Embarrassing, still.
TONY: It must have been. Anyway, at the conference Dr. Placek introduced himself, and something I said - goodness knows what - evidently convinced him I was there to make contact with a dissident group. I didn't realise, until he came to see me about the Kiev meeting, but by then nothing would shift him. Of course I knew nothing then about his double role.
ERIC: Ah. Worried that it's a trap?
TONY: Not exactly. But I'm not sure how to deal with Placek.
ERIC: As little as possible, I'd say.
TONY: That's not quite what I meant. What's the set-up likely to be?
ERIC: Hm. Intriguing, in both senses.
TONY: What do you mean?
ERIC: Chasing dissidents, he'll be Internal Security. No business with agents abroad - Diplomatic Service's pigeon. Not on speaking terms for the past five years - bosses bitterly jealous rivals, at each other's throats - but with a rigid "no poaching" rule. Orders from higher up, I gather. Seems he was right out on a limb.
TONY: So although their embassy might be keeping tabs on anyone they suspect of meddling in their affairs, Placek wouldn't have access to their reports?
ERIC: Exactly.
TONY: Then how did he get on to me? Or rather, the one he mistook me for.
ERIC: A leak, perhaps. Watkins, getting it wrong as usual?
TONY: That sounds as likely as anything.
ERIC: Why so interested?
TONY: Well, for one thing, if I tipped the wink to their embassy that Placek was stepping out of line, I could really drop him in the mire.
ERIC: Very likely. But don't do it.
TONY: Why ever not? You know what he did to Anna -
ERIC: I don't, actually.
TONY: When she wouldn't follow his plan to disgrace me, he hinted at her part in it as though he were actually in the dissident group that ... Well, you get the idea.
ERIC: So that's it. "Revenge is sweet," they say. Maybe for the Latins. I'd say it's a damned sour satisfaction. That's one thing. For another, it's liable to backfire, especially on an amateur. And most important from my angle, one of their senior men breaking their own rules could be too useful to waste on private vengeance.
TONY: He must be, for you to make a speech like that about it! What do you have in mind?
ERIC: Nothing, yet. Note for future reference. Just now I'm more worried about what's in your mind.
TONY: Again, nothing - yet.
ERIC: Then why bother about embassy reports?
TONY: Well, I can't just let it rest after he made Anna suffer so much. I must do something. But I'll still have to work with him at the next conference.
ERIC: And you don't want him to see that you can be as two-faced as he is.
TONY: That's a bit strong, isn't it?
ERIC: No more than it sounds.
TONY: All right. Granted I want to do the dirty on him, and haven't the guts to do it openly, how do I go about it?
ERIC: You really want my advice?
TONY: Yes.
ERIC: Then forget the whole idea.
TONY: Not blue blinking likely!
ERIC: Even though he'll suspect Anna told you about him, and be on his guard?
TONY: That could have been just another of her lies. At least, that's the line I can take if the question arises.
ERIC: And if it doesn't?
TONY: You're just making difficulties.
ERIC: No, you're making difficulties. I'm just pointing them out.
TONY: If you insist. But I can't simply let him get away with it.
ERIC: Then stick to an indirect approach.
TONY: Why?
ERIC: Put a professional heavyweight in the ring with a man who's never used his fists - blinded by hatred to boot - who would you back?
TONY: I see your point. But what can I do, then?
ERIC: Hm. How about this? Placek already thinks you're in with the dissident support groups. Why not join one?
TONY: Sounds altogether too indirect.
ERIC: You wanted advice ...
TONY: I'm sorry, yes. Go on.
ERIC: Well, then. It'll help his opponents. Do some positive good - more than mere retaliation. Less personal satisfaction, but that's an advantage - you'll keep a cool head. Believe me, you'll need it to deal with this blighter. Doing nothing he doesn't already think he knows, so you can face him with a clear conscience - if that helps.
TONY: It's a point.
ERIC: Now, on your visit, take extra care. No unofficial currency transactions. Nothing to link you with any clandestine group, here or there. No religious literature. No photographic magazines ...
TONY: Oh?
ERIC: Bound to be something they could label "pornographic" if they had a mind to. And never wander off on your own, particularly with a camera - above all if an inviting opportunity suddenly appears unexpectedly. Need hardly warn you against the usual sexual traps.
TONY: Good lord, this is getting serious.
ERIC: Glad you realise it.
TONY: Hm. Placek said something of the sort.
ERIC: Even the Devil can tell the truth when it suits him. Remember, you're a marked man now. Assume you're always under observation, and anything they can nail on you, they will. Whether or not you're actually up to anything.
TONY: Then I may as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb. So where do I find these dissident support organisations?
ERIC: Officially, nothing known. But don't be surprised if something turns up in a week or so.
TONY: Right. Thank you. And after all that, how about a whisky?
ERIC: Don't mind if I do. Thirsty work.
Tony pours two glasses and hands him one. They clink.
ERIC: To crime!
DISSOLVE TO TONY'S ENTRANCE HALL, FEBRUARY 1985.
A telephone on a stand is ringing persistently. Eventually Tony enters from the kitchen to answer it. The voice on the other end is heard suitably distorted.
TONY: Hello?
VOICE: Professor Anderson?
TONY: Yes, speaking.
VOICE: It's about the meeting next week.
TONY: The AGM? Yes, I hadn't forgotten.
VOICE: You know there's a motion of no confidence in the committee? And it's likely to be passed.
TONY: Good lord! No, I hadn't heard that. The whole committee?
VOICE: Yes.
TONY: Well, I suppose it hasn't covered itself with glory. But where do you get another?
VOICE: I wondered if you might consider ...?
TONY: Me? But I've scarcely been in the group five minutes.
VOICE: Long enough to make a good impression. If I proposed you as chairman -
TONY: CHAIRMAN!!! Now that's taking absurdity too far.
VOICE: Not at all. Williams would be very happy to second you, and there'd be plenty of other support.
TONY: Oh, so you've been canvassing this already, have you?
VOICE: Naturally. I don't nominate anyone without being sure he's acceptable.
TONY: Well, I'm very flattered ...
VOICE: Flattered be damned. There's a job to be done - an important job -
TONY: Yes, I know it's important. That's why I'm bothered. We don't want another pig's ear made of it. Why don't you stand?
VOICE: Too busy. But I've accepted nomination as vice.
TONY: Well, that should help. Tell you what, I'll think about it.
VOICE: We've only got a week, you know.
TONY: Don't push me! The last time I got railroaded into something, the result was a disaster.
VOICE: This won't be. You don't really need more than a day, do you?
TONY: All right, I'll sleep on it, and ring you tomorrow. Will that do?
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