They ate slowly, but they both got stomach cramps just the same. The guard led them out of the room and into what looked like a locker room, probably, Hollis thought, used by the night guard. There were wall lockers, a sink, a toilet, and in the corner an open shower. The guard motioned toward the shower. “Go ahead. Use it.”
They both undressed and showered with hot water and soap. A matron brought in towels, a shaving kit, underwear, and clean warm-up suits. Hollis dried himself, shaved, then dressed, noticing that the clothes had Jockey labels. Lisa dressed quickly, avoiding the guard’s eyes. The matron pointed to a box full of Adidas running shoes, and they each found a pair that fit.
The guard said, “Come with me.” He led them to the east wing of the building and through a door marked Klinika. They were met by a female nurse, who took them into separate examining rooms. The guard stayed with Hollis. Presently, a plump middle-aged woman entered the room and introduced herself as the camp doctor.
She gave Hollis a perfunctory examination, being interested mostly in his heart, Hollis thought, recalling the Russian obsession with heart disease. He said curtly in Russian, “I am malnourished and have been sitting in a cold cell for about two weeks. I’ve been punched in the jaw, kicked in the testicles and the solar plexus. Also, I hear fluid in my lungs.”
She moved the stethoscope back to his lungs, told him to breathe deeply, listened, and tapped his chest. “Yes. A little congestion. You’ll be all right.”
“All right for two more weeks of starvation?”
The guard said, “No talking.”
Hollis looked at the man. “I’ll talk to the doctor. Why don’t you shut up?”
The guard snapped back, “Only medical talk!”
The doctor gave Hollis a pill and a glass tumbler that looked as if it could use a washing.
Hollis asked, “What is this?”
“Just a vitamin.”
“Then you take it.” He handed it back to her.
She looked at him a moment, then put the pill in her mouth and washed it down with the water. She said in a low voice, “I too am a prisoner here. A political prisoner.”
“I see. I apologize for my rudeness.”
She gave him another vitamin, and he took it. She said, “You’ll be fine. Your heart is good.”
Hollis got down from the examining table and dressed. He asked, “What dies first here, the heart or the soul?”
“The soul dies. The heart breaks.”
Hollis looked closely at the woman. He should have seen immediately that she was not free, but in Russia it was sometimes hard to tell and very relative. Hollis said to her, “Thank you.”
The guard took Hollis to the waiting room, and within five minutes, Lisa joined him. The guard said, “Follow me.” He led them upstairs to Burov’s office. As they entered, Burov said, “Sit down.” They sat in chairs facing Burov.
Burov said, “Now you are Americans again. Right, Hollis?”
“Yes.”
“Do you feel well?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You’ll feel much better when I tell you that both your death sentences have been conditionally commuted to life in prison.”
“What,” Hollis asked, “is the condition?”
“Two conditions. One is that you pass a polygraph test. The other is that you agree to work for us here.”
Neither Hollis nor Lisa replied.
Burov added, “If you say no, you’ll be executed for murder.”
Lisa said, “What you’re asking is that we become traitors. The answer is no.”
Burov didn’t respond to that, but said, “You should know, Ms. Rhodes, that your friend has already indicated he would work for us here in exchange for his life.”
She looked at Hollis.
Hollis said to Burov, “I didn’t say I would subject myself to a polygraph interrogation.”
“No,” Burov replied, “but you will be thoroughly debriefed nonetheless. There are several methods of interrogation. I prefer polygraph and sodium pentothal over electroshock and a truncheon, especially as the results of the former are more reliable than the latter. I’m sure you and Ms. Rhodes would prefer that too.”
Hollis said, “Working here for you is one thing. But I cannot give you intelligence secrets that would compromise or endanger the lives of other agents.”
Burov tapped his fingers on his desk and looked from one to the other. “You’re not in a position to make deals. You’re already dead, and no one knows you are here. And the reason you are here is that you know entirely too much about this place, and we want to know what you know.”
“We’re here for killing two Border Guards,” Hollis reminded him. “That’s what we are under a death sentence for.”
“Well, that too, of course.” Burov regarded Hollis a moment. “You know, as soon as the blood sugar goes up, people revert to their former selves. In your case, Hollis, I don’t like your former self. Please try to control your sarcasm.”
“Yes, sir.”
Burov turned to Lisa. “In your case, a debriefing would most probably yield very little and would in no way endanger anyone. Correct?”
Lisa nodded hesitantly.
“So the question for you is this? Do you want to live and work here, or do you want to be shot? Answer.”
“I… I want to be with Colonel Hollis.”
Burov grinned. “Here? Or in heaven?”
“Anywhere.”
Burov looked at Hollis. “Such loyalty. So what is your decision?”
Hollis thought a moment, then replied, “I would like for both of us to be let out of the cells, to live here awhile before we decide if we want to become willing instructors in this place.”
Burov nodded. “All right. I think when you see how comfortable you can be here, you’ll decide you don’t want to die in front of a firing squad. But we haven’t resolved the question of your interrogation.”
Hollis replied, “Let’s resolve that after Ms. Rhodes and I resolve the question of working here or not. We’ll need ten days.”
Burov smiled. “You’re stalling.”
“For what? I’m dead. We are both dead.”
Burov stood and went to the window. He stared out into the trees for a while, then nodded. “One week.” He turned to Hollis and stared at him. “The very first moment I think you are up to something or lying to me”—Burov pointed to Lisa—“she dies. And as I told you, not by firing squad.”
Neither Hollis nor Lisa spoke.
Burov walked toward them. He looked at Hollis. “You are intelligent enough to know that I let you bargain with me because I’d rather have you alive. I want you alive so I can question you, not only now, but anytime something comes up in American intelligence matters that you can enlighten us on. I also want you alive because we went through a great deal of trouble making you dead. You are both valuable commodities here, potential assets for this school. And lastly, but not least, I want you both under my thumb. Forever. You amuse me.”
“But you’re not smiling,” Hollis pointed out.
Burov stared at Hollis for a long time, his face impassive, then he turned and went to his desk. Burov took a heavy revolver from the top drawer and emptied five of the six chambers. He walked over to Hollis and Lisa. “No, not what you call Russian roulette. Stand up.” He handed the revolver to Hollis. “See that the loaded chamber will fire if you pull the trigger.”
Hollis checked the cylinder.
Burov stepped back a pace. “Go ahead.”
Hollis stood with the revolver in his hand.