Burov made a few more notations, then handed back the passports but kept the travel passes. Burov handed Hollis a sheet of paper and said, “Firstly, the dead man’s automobile has been impounded, and it will be easier if you sign that document waiving any claim on it.”
Hollis replied, “I want to see the car.”
“Why?”
“To see if it has any salvage value.”
“I assure you it doesn’t. In any case, the car has been shipped to Moscow. I will have your embassy informed of the location, if you wish. Will you sign that?”
Hollis glanced at the waiver, written in Russian and English. There were a lot of numbers showing that the car would cost more to ship out of the Soviet Union than it was presently worth. The real bottom line was that there was no way the Trans Am was getting back to the States to be examined by the FBI forensic unit. Hollis handed back the waiver, unsigned. “After I inspect the car I’ll decide what disposition should be made.”
Burov pushed it back to Hollis again. “Then please note that on the waiver so we can proceed.”
Hollis felt that it could be a long night. The Russians were, if nothing else, patient and plodding. Hollis made a notation on the waiver but instead of giving it back said, “I must have a copy of this.”
“Of course.” Burov gave him a faint carbon copy of the same document, simultaneously taking the original from Hollis.
Lisa had the impression that Hollis and Burov had both been through this before in one form or another. The protocols of diplomacy, the give and take, the one-upmanship, the bluffing and posturing. It didn’t matter whether the issue was the disposition of mortal remains or nuclear disarmament. Men, she had observed, loved to talk deals.
“Item two,” Burov said, “an inventory of the personal items on the body and in the automobile. The items are in an air container and can be shipped to the deceased’s home address at your embassy’s expense, if you authorize that.” He handed Hollis the inventory.
Hollis leaned toward Lisa, and they both read the list, written in Russian. The list seemed very complete and included in addition to clothes and luggage, two watches, a school ring, camera, and even items that were meant to be small gifts, such as pens, razors, and postcards. It didn’t appear to Hollis as if anyone had helped himself to anything. This either meant that the peasants, local militia, and morgue employees had all the Western consumer goods they needed, or more likely that this had been a KGB operation from start to finish.
Burov said, “The lubricants and other things that were in the trunk are not in the air container because they are inflammable. You will see that there were fruits and vegetables in the car that cannot be shipped because of American customs regulations. We will be happy to send the lubricants and produce to the American embassy. In fact, you can take them back yourself. The pears looked quite good.”
“You can take the pears, Colonel, put a light coat of the lubricant on them, and shove them.”
“Shove them? Where?”
Hollis had the distinct impression that Burov knew the idiom well enough to know exactly where.
Burov shrugged and continued, “All Intourist vouchers will be redeemed and a Western bank draft sent to the embassy for forwarding to Mr. Fisher’s next of kin. I have six hundred and eighty dollars in American Express traveler’s checks, seventy-two dollars in American currency, and small assorted sums of European currency, which I will give you now. There were also thirty-two rubles and seventy-eight kopeks, which I can also give you.”
Hollis thought of Fisher’s words on the tape. I gave him maps and money. And the French woman’s statement that Fisher had borrowed two kopeks from her. Hollis concluded that Burov had thrown the Russian money in the kitty so as not to raise any questions. Hollis said, “I don’t see any maps listed on this inventory.”
Burov did not reply.
“Fisher surely had maps.” Hollis studied Burov’s face. “Perhaps someone took them.”
Burov waved his hand. “They would be of small monetary value.”
“Nevertheless, I’ll bet you’d like to know where those maps are now, Colonel Burov.”
Burov stared at Hollis.
Hollis was fairly convinced now that Dodson was not in KGB hands, dead or alive. Hollis pressed on. “If the maps should somehow turn up at the American embassy, I’ll let you know so you don’t worry yourself about them.”
Burov pursed his lips thoughtfully as if he was considering that possibility and finding it somewhat distressing. He said, “I’ll bet you we find those maps before you do.”
“I’ll take that bet. What are the stakes?”
“Very high, Colonel Hollis.”
Hollis nodded. If Dodson made it to the embassy or to a Western reporter in Moscow, his story would effectively end Soviet-American relations for about a decade.
Burov seemed to understand what Hollis was thinking and said bluntly and not too cryptically, “The stakes are peace.”
“Indeed they are.”
Burov went back to the business at hand. “We are holding the exposed film we found. We will have the film developed and will send the prints to your embassy. You understand that the KGB could not possibly let exposed film pass through its hands without a peek.”
Hollis looked up and saw that Burov was grinning at his own bad joke. Hollis replied, “I don’t see anything amusing about this. A young man is dead.”
Burov continued to grin, and Hollis had the impulse to smash his fist into those ripe cherry lips. Lisa began to say something, but Hollis laid a hand on her arm and said to Burov, “And of course you returned the key or propusk to the Rossiya.”
“There was no key or propusk, Colonel Hollis. Gregory Fisher never got to Moscow.”
“You know he did. We know he did.”
The paperwork and unpleasantness continued for another half hour. Finally Burov leaned back and abruptly observed, “You have been walking in the woods.”
Hollis looked up from a document and replied, “Picking mushrooms.”
“Really? You are real Russians now. Can you tell which are the poisonous gribi?”
“I guess so. I’m still alive.”
Burov laughed with real mirth, then leaned forward across the desk and still smiling asked, “May I see the mushrooms? I’m a fancier of them myself.”
“I’m afraid we weren’t very lucky.”
“I should think not in a pine forest.”
Hollis assumed that Burov had noticed a few pine needles or smelled the scent that clung to them, or perhaps he had more solid information. It was difficult, Hollis had learned, to know what these people knew for sure and what they were guessing at. They knew too much about each person in the embassy right down to the staffers in the USIS such as Lisa. On the other hand, Hollis knew very little about the Soviets with whom he came into contact, and he knew nothing about Colonel Burov, which was a distinct disadvantage. Hollis stood. “Will you find us a truck and driver now? We’d like to set out for the airport.”
Burov remained seated. “That’s not possible at this hour. You’ll have to spend the night.”
“Do you mean to tell me,” Hollis asked with a touch of sarcasm, “that a colonel of the KGB can’t round up a truck and driver because it’s after six o’clock?”