Free Collaborators by John Hodge

written here –
    Stalin is distraught. He walks around.
    Takes a confession and reads it.
    Stalin This is absurd. If these confessions were true, it would mean that the entire Revolution was nothing more than a front for a long-term Trotskyite-bourgeois plot.
    Bulgakov You’re right.
    Stalin As far as I’m concerned, those men are innocent. These so called confessions are merely evidence of someone else’s mischief.
    He returns to the desk.
    Hesitates.
    And yet . . .
    Bulgakov What?
    Stalin Nothing.
    Bulgakov You’re worried.
    Stalin No!
    Bulgakov What is it?
    Stalin Well . . . they signed them.
    Bulgakov Yes, but that doesn’t mean –
    Stalin They signed them!
    Bulgakov Joseph – you said yourself – it’s impossible. They cannot be true. There is nothing to worry about.
    Stalin Oh God, I feel sick. The betrayal!
    Bulgakov Calm down. Please. Perhaps it’s all a misunderstanding.
    Stalin Misunderstanding! Confessing to conspiracy to murder me, disband the Party, and install the puppet leader of a combined Anglo-German military dictatorship. What scale of misunderstanding are we talking about here?
    Bulgakov Well – you know – someone said something to someone else who said something else to someone else that got taken out of context and overheard and then someone else said something and . . . you can imagine it all ends up in a mess. And then you get these! Worthless. Nothing.
    Stalin You think so?
    Bulgakov Yes.
    Stalin You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?
    Bulgakov You’ve known these men for years.
    Stalin Yes.
    Bulgakov Three of your very, very best friends.
    Stalin Yes.
    Bulgakov So, if you ask me, they’re obviously innocent. But – for everyone’s peace of mind, not least yours – it’s not going to hurt to make a few, simple enquiries?
    Stalin A few . . . simple enquiries. No, you’re right. That’s not going to hurt, is it?
    Bulgakov No. Not hurt anyone. So let’s stay calm.
    Stalin Yes. Calm.
    A beat.
    They signed them!
    Bulgakov Joseph! . . . Calm.
    Stalin obeys.
    Now watch.
    He takes a pen and scribbles in the margin of one of the confessions.
    â€˜Make further enquiries . . . J.S.’ That’ll sort it all out.
    Stalin Mikhail . . . What can I say?
    Lost for words, he hugs Bulgakov.
    Then he steps back and picks up the latest manuscript from the desk.
    He presses it into his hand.
    Exit Stalin.
    Bulgakov turns and approaches the bed.
    He sees that it is empty.
    He calls offstage.
    Bulgakov Yelena? Yelena! I’m home. Please – come back to bed.
    No reply.
    Enter Vladimir and Stepan.
    Stepan raps on the table as they stride.
    Vladimir is holding a bloodstained handkerchief to his cheek.
    Vladimir Bulgakov!
    Bulgakov Vladimir – what the hell do you want?
    Vladimir We need your car!
    Bulgakov What?
    Vladimir Your car. Now.
    Bulgakov Are you all right?
    Vladimir What? This – shaving, that’s all. Listen, your driver will accept orders only from you, so please – we need you to come with us.
    Bulgakov So where are we going?
    Vladimir To make an arrest.
    Bulgakov An arrest! Who?
    Vladimir consults a list.
    Vladimir I don’t know. Some loser. We’ve been up all night. About one in the morning. The phone rings. It’s my boss, screaming at me. ‘Someone’s been plotting against Stalin. Get out there. Make further enquiries.’ So we’ve been all over town, begging rides from one place to another. How do they expect us to arrest people – without a car? What way is that to run an organ of state security?
    Bulgakov You’re right. It’s ridiculous.
    A beat.
    Vladimir You got the scene?
    Bulgakov Yes. Of course.
    He delves into his coat.
    Vladimir Gimme.
    Bulgakov hands over the latest instalment.
    He watches Vladimir skim through it. Still dabbing at the cut.
    Bulgakov You weren’t shaving.
    Vladimir Some women get upset when they think