Hollis moved back to the bell tower and put his back to the wall. He drew his pistol and kept it at his side. He saw Alevy disappear onto a tree-covered path.
Hollis watched the square, watched the cold falling rain, and watched his breath mist. The minutes passed. For all he knew, they had Surikov, Lisa, and Alevy and were just letting him stand alone in the rain. “You worry more about them when you don’t see them.” But if he saw them, he’d take a few with him. “No more diplomatic immunity, no more nice guy.”
He glanced at his watch. It had been fifty minutes since he’d left her. He thought about Alevy’s coming out to cover them, then about Alevy’s agreeing to leave. Professionally that was right. What was wrong, he realized, was the profession.
He heard footsteps on the wet square and looked out.
She came hurrying across the square, splashing through the puddles, and threw her arms around him. “I lost track of the time. Forgive me.”
“No problem.”
“That coat is soaked.”
Hollis took her arm, and they walked toward the main gate.
“You found your friend at Gogol’s grave?”
“Yes.”
“How was your meeting?”
“Fine.” That question, Hollis thought, conjured up pleasant images of conference tables and hot coffee, not heartpounding encounters in the cold rain. He said, “Nice cemetery.”
“It is. Did you see any famous graves?”
“A few.”
“Were you waiting here long?”
“Not too long.” He said lightly, “I thought you’d gotten picked up.”
“I never get in trouble on holy ground. Well, once at a church dance….” She laughed. “Did anything interesting happen to you?”
“No, not really.”
They approached the gate church.
She said, “I smell fish.”
“Oh, I bought some carp from an old man.” He patted his pocket.
“You poach it in sour cream.”
“I know.”
“I missed you. I was worried about you.”
“Thanks.”
“Will we have any problem getting back into the embassy?”
“I’m going to find a phone and call security. Location Foxtrot is close. That’s the Lenin statue on the north side of the stadium. Remember that, if we get separated.”
“How will we get separated?”
“Just in case.”
They walked into the arched passage where about a dozen people stood sheltering from the rain. Hollis stopped and let his eyes adjust to the dim light. Lisa took off his rain-soaked hat and wiped his face with her handkerchief.
Seth Alevy stepped out of the darkness. He didn’t say much, just, “Follow me,” but Hollis thought it was enough under the circumstances.
28
Sam Hollis and Lisa Rhodes stood beneath the portico of the chancery building and said their final farewells to the people who had come out to see them off. Lisa kissed her coworkers, while Hollis shook hands with his former staff and exchanged salutes.
The ambassador had sent his car, a stretch Lincoln with the Great Seal on the sides, and the driver opened the rear door.
Kay Hoffman gave Hollis a big kiss and said, “I want an invite to the wedding.”
Hollis didn’t know about the wedding but answered, “Okay.”
Charles Banks said to Lisa, “I once told you that your picture-taking would get you booted.”
She smiled. “I’m glad it wasn’t that, Charlie. I’m glad it was for something important.”
“Send me a copy of your book.”
“I will.”
Hollis and Lisa got into the Lincoln. The driver, Fred Santos, closed the door and got behind the wheel.
Everyone waved as the Lincoln pulled away. At the Marine guard booth, ten Marines had assembled with rifles and presented arms. Hollis returned the salutes. The two Soviet militiamen stared at the Lincoln and its occupants as the car pulled into the street. The embassy watchers peered from the windows of the surrounding buildings and from their black Chaikas. A man who Hollis recognized as Boris stood beside his Chaika and waved. Hollis waved back. “Da svedahyna.” He added, “You son of a bitch.”
Fred Santos laughed.
Lisa turned and looked back through the rear window at the chancery building and the walls of the American embassy as the iron gates with the eagles closed shut.
Hollis opened a two-day-old New York Times and read. “‘Clear and sunny today’—that was Saturday—‘seventy degrees.’ Nice. Mets took the second game of the Series.”
Lisa faced the front. “I’m going to cry.”
“Are you a Detroit fan?”
The Lincoln wound through the narrow streets of Krasnopresnya. Hollis put down the paper and glanced back through the rear window. Following closely was a Ford with Seth Alevy in the front seat, accompanied by three security men. Behind the Ford was the embassy van, loaded with their luggage and personal items. To their front was another Ford with three more security men and Bert Mills, a CIA officer and Alevy’s deputy station chief. Hollis observed, “No air cover, no tanks.”
Lisa said, “This is a little silly.”
“Seth is very protective of you.”
She retreated into a moody silence.
Fred Santos said, “Well, this has got to be a relief. Right?”
“Right,” Hollis answered.
“Funny thing though, everybody I drive to the airport looks sad. People say things like, ‘I wish I could have done more here.’ Or they think about embassy friends they left here. Some people feel sorry for Russian friends who they’ll never see again. I guess you get used to a place. This is one tough assignment. But maybe it’s the one place where you feel needed and appreciated. You know?”
“I know,” Hollis replied. “How long do you have to go?”
“A year and two weeks. Then it’s back to D.C. A year and two weeks. Not too long.”
“Goes fast,” Hollis said.
“Maybe.”
Hollis had come to Moscow at the time the State Department decided that perhaps the Foreign Nationals had to be replaced with American service personnel. The ambassador’s former chauffeur, Vasily, a nice old gentleman who everyone knew was a KGB colonel, was getting about two hundred dollars a month, and State thought it was a good deal. Alevy had pointed out the inherent security risk in having a KGB colonel as one’s chauffeur, and also that if money were the issue, Vasily would pay the Americans twice that to keep his job. The State Department, after having Soviet citizens snooping around the embassy for over fifty years, began to see the point. It was no wonder, Hollis thought, that the intelligence people thought the diplomats were bozos.
The American service personnel, like Santos, cost about three thousand a month with benefits, and they needed places to live. But Hollis thought it was worth it as long as they weren’t graduates of the Charm School, such as the Kellums. Hollis said, “Hey, Fred, who played centerfield for the ’81 Mets?”
“I don’t follow baseball, Colonel. You wanna talk NFL, I’ll talk your ear off.”
“Maybe later.”
The Lincoln swung into Leningrad Prospect, a broad, six-lane road with a treed center divide. They headed north, out of Moscow. Hollis regarded the massive grey apartment blocks, the bare trees, and the dark sky. He suspected that this was how he would remember Moscow.
Leningrad Prospect became Leningrad Highway, and the four-vehicle convoy picked up speed.
Lisa said, “I’m feeling better. This is for the best. It’s good for us.” She reached forward and slid the glass partition closed. “You know, Sam, we fell in love here, under stressful circumstances, which can cause emotions that are ambiguous and unreliable.”