“Yeah.” Salerno took a pack of Marlboros from his pocket and lit one. “Come on, guys. Give me a break on this one. You holding someone in the embassy? I know you got underground cells there. Someone, one of the service people, tipped me.” He drew on his cigarette. “Says there’s at least one American in an isolation cell. Maybe two.”
Hollis studied Salerno a moment. He wondered if Salerno was fishing for the Kellums or for Dodson. He wondered, too, where this man got his information. Salerno didn’t know it yet, but Frankfurt was as far as he was going for a while.
Lisa said to Salerno, “That’s absurd.”
Salerno replied, “No, it’s not. And I heard too that this guy in the isolation cell is also wanted by the KGB. He’s either one of theirs or a defector or something like that. But they want him.”
Hollis noticed that the fingers in which Salerno was holding his cigarette kept moving in a habitual way to straighten the cigarette to keep it from sagging. But since it was an American cigarette, it did not sag, giving Hollis the impression that Mike Salerno sometimes smoked cigarettes that did sag. Hollis said, “You two enjoy your nicotine, don’t you?” He asked Salerno, “You smoke the local brands?”
“Hell, no.”
“Did you ever?”
Salerno glanced at him quickly. “No, why?”
“Just wondered.”
Salerno stubbed out his cigarette and picked up his paperback.
The flight attendant, Jo, came over to them, carrying a brown parcel. “Ms. Rhodes?”
“Yes?”
“I was asked to give you this after we got airborne.” She handed the package to Lisa.
Lisa asked, “Who gave it to you to give to me?”
“A Russian guy. An airport official.” She added, “It’s usually against regulations to take anything aboard like that, but it was from an airport official, and he said it was x-rayed and all. So it’s okay.” She glanced at Hollis, then said to Lisa, “The Russian said it was a farewell gift.” She smiled and moved away.
Lisa sat looking at the package on the seat tray. She said to Hollis, “This is the icon, Sam, addressed to USIS in D.C.” She stared at it awhile, then looked at Hollis. “You said it was cleared for the diplomatic pouch.”
“It was,” Hollis replied. “I told them in the mailroom. What did they say when you brought it there?”
“I… didn’t. Mrs. Kellum saw it and said she was going to the mailroom, so she took it. I told her it was cleared for the pouch.” She looked at Hollis. “It’s been opened. The tape is broken.” She touched the brown paper. “The foam rubber I used is missing.”
Hollis didn’t say anything.
“I’m going to open it.”
“Don’t.”
She ripped at the paper, and Hollis held her wrist. She pulled her hand away and tore the paper off, then let out a stifled sob. “Oh… oh, my God… Sam…”
Hollis looked at the icon lying on the table. Deeply gouged into the painted wood, obscuring the face of the archangel, was a hammer and sickle.
Lisa looked at him and tried to say something, but no words came out. Tears formed in her eyes.
Hollis threw a piece of paper over the icon and took her hand.
Salerno looked up from his book and said, “What’s that? What’s the matter?”
The PA system crackled, and a voice came over the loudspeakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Johnson speaking. We’re experiencing a minor electrical problem, and we’ve been instructed to land in Minsk. Nothing to be concerned about. We’ll be on the ground in fifteen minutes, and hopefully airborne again shortly. Please fasten your seat belts for an approach to Minsk. Thank you.”
The seat-belt lights and no-smoking lights blinked on.
Salerno said, “It looks like our farewell to Russia was premature.” He looked at Hollis and smiled.
30
The Pan Am 747 touched down at Minsk Airport, its rollout bringing it near the end of the short runway. The sky was still overcast, but Hollis noticed it hadn’t snowed here. Lisa had slid the paper off the icon and was staring at it. Hollis asked, “How are you?”
She didn’t reply.
The aircraft taxied toward the small modern terminal building, and Hollis saw four mobile stairways coming out to meet them, which was not normal for a routine deplaning. Behind the stairways were four buses. Hollis also noted that the 747 was some distance from the terminal.
Hollis looked back at Lisa. “It can be restored. A museum restorer can do it. You’d never know.”
She looked at him blankly.
Salerno turned the icon toward him. “Goddamned shame. Who would do something like that?”
Hollis replied, “I can think of one outfit right away.”
“You mean the KGB?” Salerno plucked at his lip. “You mean they got the embassy penetrated? Hey, remember the ambassador’s Steinway? What a bunch of shits. But I thought you were all secure there now. Maybe it was that gardener you guys got. Vanya?”
Lisa took Hollis’ hand. “I feel so… violated.” She looked at him. “Why? Why, Sam?”
“You know.”
“Yes… but it’s so senseless. So petty and vengeful.”
“That’s them.”
“Those bastards… bastards!”
The four Germans looked over at them.
Salerno said, “It probably can be fixed up. A little wood filler, paint brush, good as new. Could have been worse.”
Lisa looked at the icon. The hammer and sickle had been gouged into the wood with a rough tool, the sickle’s curved blade running around three edges of the painting. The hammer’s handle slashed diagonally across the body, and the hammerhead was a rectangle of raw splintered wood where the angel’s face had been. Lisa took a deep breath. “I’m going to keep it just as it is.”
Hollis squeezed her hand. “Good.”
“Just the way they gave it to me.”
Salerno shrugged and glanced out the window. “Never been to Minsk.” He looked at Hollis. “You?”
“No.”
Salerno’s lips formed a thin smile. “Hey, guys, is your diplomatic immunity good here?”
Lisa looked up from the icon. “You know that it’s good all over the Soviet Union. But why would we need diplomatic immunity?”
“You never know.”
Before the 747 came to a halt, Jo stood near the forward galley door. She announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, the electrical repair might take a while, so what we’re going to do is deplane. Please take all your personal things. Okay?” She opened the closet and handed out coats and bags. The aircraft came to a halt.
The pilot, Ed Johnson, appeared at the door between the galley and cockpit and motioned to Hollis. Hollis said to Lisa and Salerno, “Go ahead.” He went over to Johnson, and they stood in the small galley. Johnson said, “It’s not an electrical problem. We got a radio message directly from Sheremetyevo tower saying they got a bomb threat.”
Hollis nodded.
“The Soviet civil aviation authorities instructed me to set it down in Minsk, which was the closest airport that could handle this craft.”
“So why aren’t we sliding down the emergency chutes?”
“Well, that’s the thing. As we’re making our final approach, Sheremetyevo calls again and says they have information the bomb is an altitude device, so we’re safe. That’s pretty screwy. I mean, do they actually have the guy who made the threat? Are they believing him about what kind of bomb it is? They wouldn’t answer any questions, they just said to land at Minsk and no emergency evacuation. They said they didn’t want to upset the passengers or have any injuries on the chutes. I demanded four stairways and got them.” Johnson looked Hollis in the eye. “I think it’s a hoax. Somebody wants this plane down in Minsk.”