Exit, pursued by a bear

by Peter D Wilson

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

  Return to Contents

  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 group
s 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