“Sit down, Hollis.”
Hollis sat in a wooden chair facing the desk, and the door closed behind him.
Burov held up Hollis’ written confession. “Fascinating. I’m quite impressed with your ability to avoid capture. As you know, we discovered your car at Gagarin station. What you don’t know is that we found out about Yablonya as well. I’m glad to see you were truthful about that.”
Hollis rubbed the stubble on his chin and suppressed a cough.
“Your girlfriend, however, was not. In fact, her confession has fewer interesting details than yours does.”
“She doesn’t know much.”
“No? She knew about Yablonya and didn’t put that in her confession. She, too, has been condemned to death by the tribunal. Unless her confession is satisfactory, she will not have an opportunity to make an appeal for her life.”
Hollis said nothing.
“And she will be shot.” Burov studied Hollis a moment, then picked up a single sheet of paper and glanced at it. “Your appeal for clemency is interesting. You say you are willing to work here if you are not shot.”
“Yes.”
“What do you think we do here?”
“Train KGB agents to pass as Americans.”
Burov studied Hollis a moment, then inquired, “How do you know that?”
“We guessed.”
“You and Alevy?”
“Yes.”
“I see. And have you caught any of our graduates from this place?”
“Yes. The Kellums.”
Burov leaned across his desk. “When did you discover them?”
“Only… I guess it was last Thursday or Friday. What day is this?”
Burov didn’t answer, but asked, “And Dodson? Where is Dodson?”
“I don’t know.”
Burov stood and went to the window. He stared out at the dark pine forest, then asked, “If you people know about this place, why aren’t you doing anything about it?”
“My government is pursuing a policy of peace at the moment.”
“So they want to keep it quiet.”
“That’s my understanding.”
“But if Dodson somehow got in touch with your embassy…?”
“They’ll shut him up.”
Burov smiled. “Will they?”
“I believe so. I don’t know everything that goes on there.”
“No. I’d rather have Alevy here. But you’ll do for now.”
Hollis rubbed his eyes. He knew that what he said was being recorded, and perhaps it was being fed into a voice-stress analyzer. Later, he’d be asked the same questions when he was attached to a polygraph and perhaps again under drugs. Any inconsistencies discovered then would be resolved with electric shock interrogation.
Burov continued what was called in the trade the “soft” interrogation, and Hollis answered the questions, tonelessly and with an economy of words. Burov was good, but he was not a professional KGB interrogator of Special Service II. Hollis thought the bogus SS II interrogators at Lubyanka West in Washington were somewhat better. On the other hand, Hollis, as an air attaché with diplomatic immunity, was not supposed to have ever gotten into such a situation, and his training was somewhat limited.
Hollis suspected, however, that Burov was enough of an egoist to think he could handle the situation himself, and that was why Burov, the camp commandant, had gone to Mozhaisk and Lefortovo restaurant on his own counterintelligence missions. Also, Hollis reminded himself, Burov and his whole Little America operation were probably in trouble with the politicians if not the Lubyanka. It was Hollis’ job to assure Burov that everything was all right. He did not want this place to disappear. Yet.
Burov said, “I can’t imagine that your government would let our operation continue. Even in the interests of peace. There are thousands of our agents in America already, and we’re graduating over two hundred a year. What does Washington intend to do about that situation?”
And that, Hollis thought, was the crux of the matter. He replied, “It is my understanding that the State Department is looking for a negotiated settlement.”
“Are they? The diplomats are such women. What does the CIA want to do?”
“Blow the whistle. Leak it to the world press.”
“Ah, yes. And the White House?”
“They’re sort of in between.”
“And your people? The Defense Intelligence Agency?”
“They have a moral interest in the fate of the captured fliers.”
“And you? You, Colonel Sam Hollis?”
Hollis allowed himself a small smile. “I just want to kill you.”
Burov smiled in return. “Yes? I thought you wanted to work for me.”
“That depends.”
Burov nodded to himself, then said, “And has anyone proposed direct action against this school?”
“What do you mean?”
“Something like rescuing one or two of these men and presenting them to the world as evidence.”
“Not that I know of. From what I see here, that’s not possible.”
“No, it’s not. And Dodson’s escape was wholly an internal conspiracy here. No outside help. Correct?”
“We had no part in that.”
“And Fisher’s meeting with Dodson was totally chance?”
“Of course. You heard Fisher on the taped phone conversation. He’s not ours.”
“And your snooping around here — that was not an attempt to rescue a prisoner?”
“No. There was only Lisa Rhodes and I. We did that on our own.”
“You have no contact with any prisoners inside the camp?”
“No.”
“With any staff?”
“No.”
“Do you have Soviet citizens on the outside who are your agents?”
“None that have any connection with this camp.”
“But you do employ Soviet citizens as American agents.”
Hollis thought it was time to get one point on the board. “Not employ. They don’t take a kopek. They do it because they hate the Communist Party and the KGB.”
Burov said nothing for a while, then asked, “You’ll give me their names.”
“I don’t have any actual names. Just code names.”
“We’ll see.”
“Why should I tell you anything if I’m going to be shot?”
“Because being shot is not as bad as what I can do to you.”
“And I could kill myself before you do anything to me.”
“I don’t think you have any lethal means at your disposal.”
“I could have pushed that ballpoint pen through my jugular vein. You’re not supposed to give trained intelligence officers things like that.”
“Ah, yes. The pen. So, you think that as an intelligence officer your brains are too valuable to be blown out?”
“Perhaps.”
“Well, then let me ask you something. What do you propose? Intelligence officer to intelligence officer.”
“My appeal makes that clear. I realize I’m officially dead. I’d rather work here, among my peers, than go to Siberia or be shot. I want Lisa Rhodes with me.”
“Yes, you are officially dead. I’ll show you the American newspaper accounts. The Center wants you actually dead after your debriefing. But perhaps I can convince them that you and your girlfriend will be an asset here. Perhaps a life sentence here, helping us destroy America, will be worse than death. I’d enjoy that, Hollis.”
“I know you would.”
Burov smiled, then said, “I don’t think you defense attachés are as tough as your CIA people. However, if I begin to think that your capitulation is a ruse of some sort, I’ll torture your girlfriend to death. Right in front of you.”