“I think your timing was a bit slow,” Hollis replied. “I expected you sooner.”
Lisa said, “This was all planned?”
No one answered.
“You two are crazy. Now I really feel used. I’m not bait.”
Again no one responded.
Lisa sat back and drew on her cigarette. She said, “Look, I’ll help. But in the future I want to be kept informed or it’s no deal. Agreed?”
Alevy and Hollis both agreed. Hollis said, “I’m convinced now that Burov is a main player.”
Alevy nodded. “I didn’t recognize him, but I’ll go through our mug shots. Did you learn anything else?”
“I learned that when you say Mrs. Ivanova’s Charm School, you go to jail.”
“Interesting.”
“These are desperate men, Seth. I’ve never seen them get so agitated and take so many risks, like trying to kidnap Americans with diplomatic immunity, not to mention murder.”
Alevy nodded again. “Very desperate men.” He added, “They’re breaking the rules, so we can do the same. Things are going to get hot in old Moscow. Unfortunately we can’t match their resources. We have to resolve this soon, before we wind up expelled or dead.”
Hollis replied, “If we go public, that will buy us a little protection.”
“Yes, but the word from Washington is for the diplomats to work it out quietly.”
“Work what out?” Lisa asked.
Alevy answered, “The repatriation of Major Jack Dodson.”
“What if he doesn’t want to be repatriated? Burov said he was a defector.”
Hollis replied, “We’ll want to speak to him about that.”
The car approached the embassy gates, and Hollis saw there were three Fords parked on the street near the Chaikas. He said, “We’re on full alert.”
“Oh, yes,” Alevy answered.
Lisa said, “There’s more to this, isn’t there? It’s not just Dodson. What is the Charm School? A place where they brainwash people? Does Burov really have Dodson, or is Dodson on the run? Is anyone going to answer me?”
No one was.
Lisa announced, “I have ways of making men talk.”
18
Hollis, Alevy, and Lisa stood in the lobby of the chancery.
“Come in for a drink,” Lisa offered. “I need one.”
Alevy replied, “I have to do some night sending before five, D.C. time. See you tomorrow.” He turned and headed for the elevator.
Lisa said to Hollis, “How about you? Night sending?”
“No. I’ll have a quick one.”
“Quick drink?” She smiled.
“Whatever.”
They walked out onto the rear terrace, then along the path to the housing units. She opened her door and put their coats in the hall closet, then showed him upstairs to the living room. “What can I get you?”
“Scotch, neat.”
Lisa made the drinks.
Hollis looked around. The apartment was modern, a living room-dining room combination, and a galley kitchen. Upstairs would be the bedroom. The furniture, like most of the odds and ends, was from Finland, the closest and easiest Western country from which to import quality consumer goods. It was the apartment of a mid-level American government employee, but it would be the envy of any senior Soviet bureaucrat.
Lisa gave him his drink, and she toasted, “Another good date.”
She put Rachmaninoff on the tape deck and they talked. Hollis examined an icon on the wall. “Is that real?”
“Yes. My grandmother’s. I’m going to have a tough time trying to get it back out of the country.”
“I’ll put it in the diplomatic bag.”
“Would you? Thanks, Sam.”
“You planning on leaving?” he asked.
“No… but somehow I have the feeling my days here are near an end.”
Hollis nodded.
Lisa sat on the couch, and Hollis sat at the far end. She said, “It’s not just Dodson. There are hundreds of them, aren’t there? That’s what you were saying… when we… in Pavel’s bedroom.”
Hollis glanced at her. He finally replied, “I might have said too much.”
“I don’t repeat what you tell me.” She asked, “Don’t you and Seth compare notes?”
“We trade notes. You don’t get nothin’ for nothin’ in this business. My outfit, Defense Intelligence, is sort of junior to the CIA. So I have to protect my turf. All very petty. But competition is very American.”
“But you do get along. Personally.”
“Yes. He’s my friend too.”
She nodded.
“Can we change the subject?”
She stood and went to the window that looked north over the brick wall. A huge banner had just been strung between two buildings across the street in anticipation of the celebration of the Great October Revolution, whose anniversary was actually November 7 by the Gregorian calendar. She said, “Look at that. ‘Peace-loving Soviet peoples demand an end to American aggression.’ Do I have to look at that?”
“Call the zoning commission.”
She grumbled, “They’re getting all worked up for their big day — those bloody red banners all over the damned place, exhorting, cajoling, boasting — like state-subsidized graffiti, for God’s sake. And you know, Sam, when I first got here, the hammers and sickles all over the place were jarring, almost scary, because we’re so conditioned, like with swastikas, to react to certain symbols. A Party official once told me that the crosses on the Kremlin give him the creeps, and the Great Seal on our embassy wall makes him see red.” She laughed without humor and added, “I wish we could stop pumping adrenaline when we see red stars or Stars of David or whatever. But we’re like Comrade Pavlov’s mutts, Sam. They’ve got us drooling.”
“Who are they?”
“They are what we will be twenty years from now. We are in training to be them.”
“You may have something there.”
“Another?”
“Sure. Less glass this time.”
She poured him a triple scotch, then sat close to him. “Can I tell you something? I was damned frightened at Lefortovo. That’s twice you’ve done that to me.”
“Tomorrow night we’ll see the movie. They’re showing Rambo — Part Eight.”
She laughed. “Hey, remember when that Russian kid scaled the wall, got into the theater, and watched a whole feature before anyone knew he was there?”
“I remember. The ambassador chopped some heads at Security.”
“The kid wanted to see that movie. What was it?”
“Rocky Nine.”
“When are these people going to break loose, Sam? I mean, they need two hundred million of those kids. When’s that going to happen?”
“Probably never, Lisa.”
“Don’t say that. The human spirit—”
“Lighter topic, please. Did you enjoy dinner?”
“We never got dinner.” She jumped up. “I’m starved. I made rasolnik the other night. I have some left.”
“What’s that?”
“Pickled vegetable soup.”
“I’ll stick with the scotch.”
“I’m trying to learn traditional Russian cooking.”
“Let me know how you make out.”
She went to the refrigerator and took out a section of cold kolbassa and began eating it. “Do you like garlic? This is loaded with it.”
Hollis stood. “You sleep with your clothes on, and you eat garlic before bed. I think I’ll go home now.”
“No. Stay. Talk to me. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“You’re perfectly safe in the compound.”
“I know that.” She chewed thoughtfully on the sausage, then added, “I’ve smiled at you a dozen times in the damned lobby, in the elevators—”