by Tom Stoppard
BLAIR: Did they know that?
KERNER: No, we are speaking at last summer. June. But last month was the Geneva test and my programme was good. It could not be contained, of course; a good result is the gossip of the scientific world, and it was the end of the dance for me and my Soviet control. They said I had lied, broken the bargain, they said it was an ultimatum now, or they would take my son, and they absolutely would have taken him.
BLAIR: So you gave it to them.
KERNER: Of course.
HAPGOOD: Paul -
BLAIR: I know. Let me.
(To KERNER) But the only meet you've had since your Geneva test was yesterday.
KERNER: I mean yesterday. At the pool.
BLAIR: At the pool? How did you deliver?
KERNER: On disc.
BLAIR: But that was a chickenfeed disc - we cleared the printout.
KERNER: No, it was on the boot-tracks.
BLAIR: Explain that.
KERNER: The normal readout was the chickenfeed. There was a key-code for the hidden files.
(HAPGOOD stands up.)
BLAIR: (To HAPGOOD) Stay calm. (He presses the intercom.) Maggs - come in.
KERNER: What is the matter?
(MAGGS enters from his office.)
BLAIR: (Calmly) Oh, Maggs ... get Mrs Hapgood's son to the phone, would you? - headmaster, matron, anybody, but fast.
(HAPGOOD unfreezes.)
HAPGOOD: I'll call the payphone, his dorm hasn't gone up.
KERNER: It's all right - they don't want him now -
BLAIR: Go, Maggs!
MAGGS: But Joe isn't there, sir... Merryweather came back. Joe wasn't in school - he had permission... well, Mrs Hapgood sent for him to be picked up, the driver had a letter -BLAIR: Merryweather? MAGGS: He came back at about half past three.
(To HAPGOOD) I'm sorry... I didn't know you'd be out - it's in your box-
HAPGOOD: Oh, Christ, Maggs.
BLAIR: (To MAGGS) Go and check.
(MAGGS goes out. HAPGOOD has found Merryweather's message in her in-tray. It is in a sealed envelope which she opens.)
KERNER: But I gave them everything -
BLAIR: I'm afraid not-
KERNER: Yes I did - I delivered -
BLAIR: Stop talking, Joseph - we intercepted your delivery, they never got your disc.
KERNER: You blowed it! You bloody fool!
(RIDLEY seems to be out of it. He approaches the desk and picks up the photoframe and looks at it for a moment.)
RIDLEY: (To himself) God Almighty.
(BLAIR goes to the door and opens it.)
BLAIR: (Shouts) Maggs!
HAPGOOD: (Calmly enough) He isn't there, Paul.
(She has been looking at the contents of Merryweather's message.)
KERNER: (To HAPGOOD) They won't hurt him, they'll want to trade.
BLAIR: I know that but we can't trade.
(To HAPGOOD) He's not harmed, he's in a safe house with babysitters - you know that. They'll find a way to talk to you but it won't even come to that - it's a local initiative and a stupid one, it's going to be stopped from the Moscow end, I promise you, the diplomatic route and no nonsense -
KERNER: (Loud) Don't do that - they can't admit to a thing like this.
BLAIR: You're out of it now -
KERNER: You will put them in a corner -
BLAIR: Then they can crawl out of it-
HAPGOOD: For God's sake shut up!
(It has become a row.)
RIDLEY: Why don't we just give it to them? What does it matter? Wait for the call and make the trade. If it comes tonight make it tonight, a kid like that, he should be in bed anyway, we can all get some sleep.
Look, what are we talking about? Are we talking about a list of agents in place? Are we talking about blowing the work names? The cover jobs in the Moscow Embassy? Any of those and all right, the boy maybe has to take his chances. But what has Kerner got? (Derisively) The solution to the anti-particle trap! Since when was the anti-particle trap a problem?
(For a moment BLAIR wavers. Then -)
BLAIR: Shut up, Ridley.
(To HAPGOOD) I'll take that disc.
RIDLEY: Don't give it to him.
BLAIR: Ridley, you're out of line.
RIDLEY: (Loses his temper) Don't tell me I'm out of line, I know about this and you don't know fuck, all you know is to talk Greek. Kerner is supposed to be the one with the brains and he doesn't have enough to know he's pimping fantasies for people with none. There's nothing on that disc except physics and it will stay physics till little Hapgood is a merchant banker. There is no gadget here. It has no use. It's the instructions for one go on a billion dollar train set, and that's all it is. Strategic Defense, my arse.
(To KERNER) Listen, you tell them the first time I say something which isn't true and I'll stop. Livermore thinks it can make an X-ray laser to knock out a ballistic missile and Kerner's bit of this is a new kind of percussion cap for the bullet: when the bullet is a laser you need a percussion cap like an H-bomb, one bomb per bullet, naturally it destroys the gun as well as the target but what the hell, all right, you trigger the bomb and the X-rays will lase for you, and if you can do it by putting matter together with anti-matter you get a nice clean bang, no fallout, and Kerner gets the Peace Prize. Leave aside that all the particle accelerators on earth produce no more anti-matter in a year than will make a bang like twenty pounds of dynamite. Leave aside that to make the system work up there in the sky you need about fifty million lines of information code and at NASA they can't handle half a million without launch delays and the Russians probably wouldn't wait. Leave everything aside and there's still the problem that Kerner's bullet can't shoot inside the earth's atmosphere. The gun in the sky is no good for anything except ICBMs coming up through the ceiling, and you've got five minutes because after that your target has turned into eighteen warheads hidden in a hundred decoys and a million bits of tinfoil - and that's only until the Russians work out the fast-burn booster which will give you a fighting window of sixty seconds. I mean, this is the military application of Kerner's physics if you're looking ten years ahead, minimum. It's a joke. I'd trade it for my cat if I had a cat.
(To BLAIR) And you'll blanket this operation and play ransom games with the little bugger- for what? Do you think you won't screw it up?
BLAIR: (To HAPGOOD as though it's just the two of them) There isn't a choice. I'm running this and I'm not giving you a choice. You have to trust me.
(Pause. HAPGOOD opens a drawer in her desk, takes out the electronic 'key', opens the safe, removes a disc-box, closes the safe, gives the box to BLAIR.)
(Going, to KERNER) You're with me.
KERNER: Lilya...
HAPGOOD: Do everything Paul says.
(KERNER follows BLAIR out, leaving the door open. HAPGOOD sits quietly, looking at nothing. RIDLEY doesn't quite know what to do with himself.)
RIDLEY: Sorry.
(He gets up and moves towards the door.)
HAPGOOD: Ridley, close the door.
(RIDLEY closes the door.) I gave him the dummy.
RIDLEY: What?
HAPGOOD: I gave him the dummy disc from your briefcase.
RIDLEY: Christ almighty.
HAPGOOD: If you don't like it you'd better say.
RIDLEY: Like it or not we can't do it, we'll never be clear.
HAPGOOD: We're already in front. They made contact- Blair missed it.
RIDLEY: How?
HAPGOOD: (Taking the card from the potted plant) Interflora. 'Mum - I'll phone tomorrow, two o'clock.' I thought - it's not Mother's Day.
RIDLEY: Listen - tell Blair. It's no good without him - he'll have the watchers outside your flat before you get home, you'll be babysat like the Queen of England, nothing will reach you, there'll be a tap on your phone and on every line into this building.
HAPGOOD: Except this one (the red one). It's the one Joe will tell them, he knows the trip-code. I've always broken the rules. RIDLEY: And what then? You won't be
able to go to the bathroom, let alone a meet.
HAPGOOD: I know all of that.
RIDLEY: That's if Blair isn't sitting here when the call comes in, he'll go where you go.
HAPGOOD: I won't be here. You'll be here.
RIDLEY: Jesus, I can't answer it. It has to be you.
HAPGOOD: It will be me.
RIDLEY: You can't be in two places at once.
HAPGOOD: (Suddenly out of patience) I'm not busking, Ridley, I know how to do this, so is it you and me or not?
(Pause. RIDLEY nods.)
I'll need two or three hours. Have you got a radio?
RIDLEY: Not with me.
(HAPGOOD takes her radio out of her bag and gives it to him.)
HAPGOOD: I'll reach you on it: don't try to talk to me on anything else. Don't go home, go to a hotel.
RIDLEY: Mother, I know what to do.
(He goes to leave.) Will you be all right?
HAPGOOD: (Nods) Stay close.
RIDLEY: It's all right, I'm with you.
(But she spoils it for him.)
HAPGOOD: That thing's got a two-mile range, stay close.
(RIDLEY nods and goes, closing the door. HAPGOOD waits. She opens a desk drawer and takes out another radio. She lays the radio on the desk and waits again. The radio must have a blink-light; perhaps we can see it. HAPGOOD picks it up.)
(To radio) Is he clear?
RADIO: Green.
HAPGOOD: (To radio) I'm here to be told.
(She puts the radio back on the desk. She starts dialling on the red telephone. MAGGS enters, wearing a topcoat.)
MAGGS: Good night, Mrs Hapgood.
HAPGOOD: Good night, Maggs. Thank you.
MAGGS: I won't ask.
HAPGOOD: That's right, Maggs. By the way, I won't be in tomorrow.
MAGGS: I'll hold the fort.
(MAGGS leaves closing the door.)
HAPGOOD: (Into phone, brightly') Hello! Who's that? ... Sandilands! Can you tell Hapgood it's his mother? Wait a minute, aren't you the one who sells boots?... no, no, it's all right - perfectly all right, in fact quite reasonable, I thought, you can't get much for a pound nowadays ... Two pounds'?... But surely...? Oh, a pound each - well, fair enough, yes, I can see that... Yes, darling, I'll hold on for him-
(In the middle of all that BLAIR has quietly entered the room and is collecting the contents of his dossier, sorting things out, putting them away.
(Mutters) Merchant banker...?
BLAIR: You know, you're going to get into such trouble one day ... I mean, that's the Downing Street one-to-one red line - what are they supposed to think when they pick it up and it's busy?
HAPGOOD: Oh God, so it is. (Huffily) It's a perfectly natural mistake, Joe uses it far more than they do.
BLAIR: That's my point.
(Grumbling) You use the security link with Ottawa to play chess, you arrive in Vienna after dog-legging through Amsterdam on a false passport and then proceed to send postcards home as if you're on bloody holiday, you use an intelligence officer on government time to dispatch football boots around the country... For someone who's so safe you're incredibly, I don't know, there's a little anarchist inside you, I wish you wouldn't...
HAPGOOD: Don't be cross, I'm tired.
(Into phone) Oh - thank you, Sandilands - I'll hang on, Paul...
BLAIR: Mm?
HAPGOOD: I know this isn't necessary and don't start getting cross again, I -
BLAIR: (Somehow irritated, apparently) It's all right, it's done -
HAPGOOD: You don't know what I -
BLAIR: Yes, yes, watchers at the school till this thing is over, and Cotton has joined the ground-staff, marking out the rugger pitches, do him good, he was looking a bit pasty.
HAPGOOD: I absolutely refuse to live without you, do you understand that?
BLAIR: Of course. You know, it's going to be tricky doing the swap without a boy to swap.
HAPGOOD: Well, we'll just have to do the best we can, won't we?
BLAIR: Of course.
HAPGOOD: (Into phone) Oh, hello, Joe! Are you all right, darling?
(KERNER enters with a bottle of vodka and three cups.)
KERNER: Magnificent.
BLAIR: Thank you.
KERNER: No, me. You were terrible. I never believed a word of it.
HAPGOOD: (Into phone) No, it was just to tell you not to phone tomorrow in case you were going to. I'm away.
BLAIR: (To KERNER) Not even the photographs?
HAPGOOD: (Into phone) Oh, good.
KERNER: The photographs I liked.
BLAIR: Yes?
HAPGOOD: (Into phone) In the hutch? Well, I was nearly right.
(Meanwhile KERNER has poured three tots of vodka into the cups.)
Thank you, Joseph.
(KERNER and BLAIR toast each other and knock back the vodka.)
(Into phone) Well, you're daft - do they fit?...
BLAIR: (To KERNER) Come on, then.
(BLAIR puts his cup down and leaves the room. KERNER closes the door after him and remains in the room.)
HAPGOOD: (Into phone) That's all right... when is Saturday? The day after tomorrow... well, probably, I might. Home or away?
(KERNER gently takes the phone from her and listens to the phone for a few moments and then gives it back to her, and leaves the room.)
(Into phone) Yes, I'm here. Yes, all right. Well, let me know on Saturday morning. Yes, Joe, I'm here to be told.
(She puts the phone down.)
SCENE 2
Now we are in a new place. The first and obvious thing about it is that it is a photographer's studio. The second thing is that it is also where somebody lives; the room is skimpily furnished as a living room. There is a front door and also another closeable door leading to the other rooms in what is evidently the photographer's flat. There is a telephone.
It is mid-morning. The room is empty. The doorbell rings. HAPGOOD comes flying out from the other door. We haven't seen her like this. She is as different from her other self as the flat is different from her office; the office being rather cleaner, tidier and better organized. HAPGOOD opens the front door, and it's RIDLEY. RIDLEY has been shopping: glossy Bond Street carrier bags. He stares at her.
RIDLEY: Mrs Newton?
HAPGOOD: (Casually) Oh, shit.
RIDLEY: I'm Ernest.
HAPGOOD: Well, you're not what I want, so keep your clothes on. Stupid bugger! Not you, darling, come in anyway.
(She is already heading for the telephone.) What did they do? Pick you from the catalogue? I'll try and sort it out - charge them for half a day if it looks like their fault - it won't be the first time -
(Now into the phone) It's Celia, I want Fred. Would you mind not wandering around.
(Her last remark needs explaining. RIDLEY has dropped his parcels and is now, frankly, casing the joint. He is not taking a lot of notice of her. He moves around coolly as if he owns the place, and in due course he leaves the room, disappearing through the 'kitchen door'.)
(Into phone) Hello, darling, you're losing your grip - I said a Roman soldier, not an Italian waiter, and also he looks queer to me... Don't tell me what I mean, you're gay, he's queer, he's got a queer look about him, he won't sell bamboo shoots to a fucking panda, never mind boxer shorts... Well, I'll look at his body and let you know - Fred? - Have you gone? - No, the phone clicked -
(She looks around and finds that the room is empty.) Hey - ? What's his name?
(She calls out) Victor!
(RIDLEY wanders back into the room.)
RIDLEY: (Casual) Hangup.
HAPGOOD: What do you think you're doing?
(Into phone) Is he a regular? Well, I don't fancy him -
(That's as far as the phone call gets because RIDLEY, still maintaining a sort of thoughtful cruise, disconnects the call.) Now listen -
(He looks at her. She goes from fear to relief.) You're Betty's friend. God, I am sorry, darling, I'm Celia, don't be offended, being rude about the mo
dels is the house style, it saves a lot of nonsense about being paid for the reshoot. And anyway you do look like an Italian waiter. What does Betty want? - I don't owe her any favours, she never does me any, I mean there must be lots of photographic work going in the spy racket. She says I won't keep my mouth shut - can you believe it? Can you smell burning? - Oh, sod!
(She leaves the room in a hurry. RIDLEY has been looking at her like somebody looking at a picture in a gallery. He reaches into his jacket and produces his radio.)
RIDLEY: (On radio) Mother.
HAPGOOD: (On radio) Ridley.
RIDLEY: You're out of your fucking mind.
HAPGOOD: (On radio) What's the matter?
RIDLEY: She may be your twin but there the resemblance ends. She's a pot-head, it reeks, she's growing the stuff in the window-box, she won't stop talking, she picks her nose, she looks like shit, I mean it doesn't begin...
HAPGOOD: (On radio) Where is she?
RIDLEY: In the kitchen burning things...
HAPGOOD: (On radio) I'm signing off.
RIDLEY: No, listen -
(But evidently she has cut him off. He puts his radio away and goes to pick up his shopping. He puts it on the sofa, perhaps and anyway, starts unloading the carrier bags. They are full of clothes in tissue paper. There's also a shoe box and other stuff. It all adds up to one outfit, suitable for the office. While he is doing this HAPGOOD bangs her way back into the room [she probably wouldn't have bothered to close the door so a door on a spring might be useful]. She is nibbling the unbumed portion of a croissant, which rapidly gets as far as the wastepaper basket.)
HAPGOOD: And you made me warm my croissant to a frazzle. What have you got there?
RIDLEY: Clothes, shoes, make-up... Is there a bathroom?
HAPGOOD: No, we pee in the sink. Can you try to show a little charm?
RIDLEY: Your sister said do what he tells you.
HAPGOOD: So what?
RIDLEY: Run a bath.
HAPGOOD: Why?
RIDLEY: You look as if you need one.
HAPGOOD: Now just a minute -
RIDLEY: And wash your hair.
HAPGOOD: Just a minute. I'm not going to a party, I've got a busy morning.
RIDLEY: Victor isn't coming. It's ten twenty and we're leaving here at one fifteen, just under three hours. I'll explain as you go.
