The Charm School (35 page)
“No.”
“My place in ten minutes. Do you know where I live?”
“I’ll bet I could find it.” Hollis hung up and called Lisa’s apartment, but there was no answer. He buzzed his aide, Captain O’Shea. “Ed, are you working tonight?”
“Yes, sir, until about eight.”
“Okay, if Ms. Rhodes . . . do you know her?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If she calls or stops by—she’s shopping in the city—tell her I’ll be . . . in my apartment, about seven-thirty.”
“Yes, sir. Can you be reached between now and then?”
“Perhaps.”
“Will you be in the city?”
“No, Captain, I’ll be here in the fort. Why?”
“Just looking out for your ass, Colonel.”
“At whose suggestion?”
O’Shea let a few seconds pass before replying, “No one’s. I’m your aide.”
Hollis hung up, and a few moments later O’Shea walked in with his slate board and wrote in chalk:
Gen. Brewer from D.C. has asked me to report on your activities.
Gen. Brewer from D.C. has asked me to report on your activities.
Hollis wrote on his own slate:
KMP
. Keep me posted.
KMP
. Keep me posted.
O’Shea nodded and said as though just walking in, “Excuse me, Colonel, I thought you’d want to know I’ve gotten calls from just about everyone in the resident press corps here, including the Brits, Aussies, Canadians, and some West Europeans too. They would like to know why you have been declared persona non grata. I referred them all to the press office, of course. But they all want to speak to you off the record.”
“Did any of them mention Fisher?”
“Yes, sir. They’re trying to find a connection between Fisher’s death, your trip to Mozhaisk, and you getting booted.”
“Very suspicious people.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hollis put on his overcoat. “If a Colonel Burov calls for me, transfer the call to me in Mr. Alevy’s apartment.”
“Yes, sir.” O’Shea erased both slates.
“Hold down the fort, Ed.” Hollis left and took the elevator down to the lobby, walked outside to the rear terrace, and cut across the quad, avoiding the paths. It was cold, and a light snow was falling from a luminous sky. Some of the housing units surrounding the quad were lit, and he could see families in their living rooms, the blue glow of televisions that were hooked to VCRs, people in their third-floor bedrooms looking out at the first snow. Lisa’s unit was dark.
It was all so red-brick American, he thought, like suburban town-house condos, or family housing at an airbase or college. Peacefully boring and ordinary. Thinking back on his marriage and his life, he realized he had taken extraordinary personal risks, more than any normal man would have taken. Katherine must have drawn some valid conclusions from that.
He came to Alevy’s door and rang the bell.
Alevy showed him in, and Hollis hung his topcoat on a coat tree in the foyer, then followed Alevy up the stairs. “Snowing,” Alevy observed.
They came up into the living room. Hollis had never been in Alevy’s place, and he was surprised at its size, not to mention its appointments. The apartment was done in the most opulent Russian antiques he’d ever seen outside of a museum. In addition to the furnishings, there were oil paintings on the walls, two Samarkand rugs on the floor, porcelain and lacquer pieces on every polished wood surface. A huge silver samovar sat gleaming in front of the window. Hollis commented, “Not bad for a mid-level political affairs officer.”
Alevy hit a wall switch and background music filled the room, providing sound cover. The music was an orchestra of massed balalaikas playing folk tunes. Alevy responded, “My company pays for this. Nothing comes out of the diplomatic budget here.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want to think the rest of us are counting paper clips so you can go into competition with the Winter Palace.”
“Have a seat.” Alevy went to a carved mahogany sideboard. “Scotch, right?”
“Right.” Hollis sat in a plush, green velvet armchair. “The Pentagon doesn’t understand civilian perquisites like your company does.”
Alevy handed him a drink. “So join my company. We’d be happy to have you.”
“No, thanks. I want to get back to flying. That’s what I want out of this mess.”
“Well,” Alevy said, “my company has jet aircraft too. But I think that would be a waste of your real talent.”
“What is my real talent?”
“Espionage,” Alevy answered. “You’re better at it than you probably think.” He raised his glass. “To your safe return home.” They drank.
Hollis set his glass down atop a silver coaster on the end table. He said, “I think flying is my area of expertise.”
Alevy settled into a facing chair of black lacquer. “Flying may be your
love
, but the shrapnel in your ass makes me question your expertise.”
love
, but the shrapnel in your ass makes me question your expertise.”
Hollis smiled. “I dodged sixteen missiles, but all anyone remembers is the seventeenth.”
“Life’s a bitch, Sam. Look, I didn’t call you here to recruit you. But it’s an offer. Consider it.”
“Sure.”
Alevy said, “I don’t invite many people here.”
Hollis looked over the room. Lisa, of course, had been one of those who were invited. He could appreciate how a Russophile could be seduced in such a settling.
Alevy said, “I can explain this stuff to you because you’re in the business.”
“Interior decorating?”
“No, intelligence. This stuff is worth about a million. There’s even a Fabergé egg and czarist dinnerware and so forth. Anyway, this junk is tied into how we pay our Soviet assets. You’ve heard of the commission shops where Soviet citizens can bring family heirlooms and other items of unspecified origins.”
“I’ve recently heard about that.”
“Well, I can’t go into details, but this quirk in the Soviet system gives us an opportunity to channel money here and there. Okay?”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“Nevertheless, you got one. But that’s got a top secret classification.”
Hollis considered a moment, then said, “Lisa has a low security clearance.”
“I never told her what I just told you. I told her this stuff was from our pre-Revolution embassy.” He looked at Hollis. “One of my people happened to see you coming out of the antique shop on Arbat. So I thought something she said might have piqued your curiosity.” Alevy stood and made himself another drink. With his back to Hollis he said, “This is what you call awkward. Right? I mean, the same woman and all. You’re sitting here thinking that Lisa and I probably did it on that ten-foot couch, and you’re probably right.”
Hollis didn’t respond.
Alevy continued, “And you’ve discovered that you like her, so you’ve decided you don’t like me.”
“We’ve always gotten along.”
“Right. I could decide I don’t like
you
. Because I still care for her, and I’d like to have her back.”
you
. Because I still care for her, and I’d like to have her back.”
“She’s leaving,” Hollis said.
“True. Anyway, I wanted to clear the air about that.”
“Then stop blowing smoke.”
“Right. The air is not clear. But we have to accomplish a few things, you and I, before you leave. So let’s get professional.”
“Accomplish what?”
“Well, a report on Borodino. Now that we’re alone we can drop the posturing we do in front of Banks and Lisa.”
“Speak for yourself, Seth.”
“Another drink?”
“No.”
“Follow me.” Alevy opened a narrow door in the hallway, and Hollis expected to see a closet but instead found himself shown into a dark windowless room, about twelve feet square, with padded walls. The room was lit by the glow of a five-foot video screen. “This is my little safe room. A few electronic gadgets. Just enough to do homework. Have a seat.” He motioned toward a chair. Hollis sat.
Alevy took a seat beside him and swiveled his chair toward the video screen. He picked up a remote control device from the table and pressed a button. The screen flashed to a photo of a man in his thirties wearing the uniform of an Air Force officer. Alevy said, “Major Jack Dodson. Missing in action since November eleventh, 1970. Last seen by his wingman, ejecting from a damaged Phantom over the Red River Valley between Hanoi and Haiphong. This witness said he appeared unhurt. However, Dodson never showed up on Hanoi’s lists of POWs. Now we think we know where he disappeared to.”
“My copilot, Ernie Simms, similarly disappeared.”
“Yes, I know that.”
The picture of Dodson disappeared, replaced by another man. It took Hollis a few seconds to recognize Ernie Simms.
Neither man spoke for a while, then Alevy said, “I don’t know if he’s here in Russia, Sam.”
Hollis did not respond.
Alevy added, “We can’t refight the war, but sometimes we get a chance to make a little change in the present to make the past better.”
Hollis looked at Alevy in the blue light but said nothing.
Alevy shut off the video screen, and they sat in the dark room in silence. Alevy said, “There’s more to this slide show. But now it’s your turn to do show-and-tell. Borodino. You’re on, Sam.”
“Lisa and I will be assigned together if that’s what we decide we want. That’s the quid pro quo.”
Alevy kicked off his shoes and propped his feet on an electronic console. He unwrapped a stick of gum and popped it in his mouth. “Well . . . I suppose that’s easier to do than convincing her that justice will be done.”
Hollis stared into the darkness of the room, then began, “We went north of Borodino Field. There’s a ridge line covered with pine trees there.” Hollis related the story of their excursion, telling Alevy what he saw and what he deduced about the place.
Alevy listened intently, then asked. “More like a prison than a restricted area?”
“Definitely. A local Gulag.”
“KGB Border Guards?”
“Yes.”
“Wearing the standard winter uniform? Olive drab, red piping?”
“Yes.”
“Soft caps or helmets?”
“Soft caps. Why?”
“AK-47’s?”
“Yes. I also saw a guy in the half-track with a long rifle and scope. It could have been one of those SVD sniper rifles. The Dragunov. You know it?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you want to know all that? As if I didn’t know.”
Alevy said nothing.
Hollis remarked, “You’re crazy.”
“Oh, I know that.” Alevy continued his questioning. “You saw no Red Air Force people, signs, or markings?”
“None.”
“Okay, so when you got back to your office you started digging in your files, correct? What did you learn?”
Hollis tapped his fingers on the armrest. Sharing military secrets, saying them aloud, did not come easy to him, but he thought the time had come. “I discovered that this area is off limits to civilian aircraft overflights.”
“So’s ninety percent of this country.”
“Right. I also found an old survey of Red Air Force bases that my office did about fifteen years ago. The file was labeled Borodino North for want of a Russian name. Lacking an airfield, the survey termed it a ground school, perhaps a survival course, though the area is largely benign farmland. Even the forest is a piece of cake. But that’s all the report said.”
Alevy nodded. “We had no interest in the area until recently. But when I got interested, I had some people poke around there. It
had
been a Red Air Force installation about fifteen years ago according to local memory. That jibes with your old survey. But then the uniforms started to change to KGB and to civilian attire. The personnel inside the installation have virtually no contact with Borodino village, Mozhaisk, or the surrounding countryside, according to the locals. They helicopter back and forth, presumably to Moscow. Conclusion: Top secret stuff. Personnel have Moscow privileges and so forth.” Alevy looked at Hollis. “Okay, your turn.”
had
been a Red Air Force installation about fifteen years ago according to local memory. That jibes with your old survey. But then the uniforms started to change to KGB and to civilian attire. The personnel inside the installation have virtually no contact with Borodino village, Mozhaisk, or the surrounding countryside, according to the locals. They helicopter back and forth, presumably to Moscow. Conclusion: Top secret stuff. Personnel have Moscow privileges and so forth.” Alevy looked at Hollis. “Okay, your turn.”
Hollis replied, “I found some old SR-71 photos. But these were taken in 1974 or ’75 at eighty thousand feet with cameras that don’t have the resolution that your recon satellites do now.”
“What did the photo analysts say about those shots?” Alevy asked.
“Well, Air Force Intelligence was only looking for things that interested
them
. They concluded that the installation, which seems to cover about three hundred hectares, a little more than a square mile, had no military significance in a tactical or strategic sense. That’s where my file ends on Borodino North. Case closed.”
them
. They concluded that the installation, which seems to cover about three hundred hectares, a little more than a square mile, had no military significance in a tactical or strategic sense. That’s where my file ends on Borodino North. Case closed.”
Alevy asked, “What do
you
think the place is?”
you
think the place is?”
“Mrs. Ivanova’s Charm School,” Hollis replied.
“And what,” Alevy asked, “is Mrs. Ivanova’s Charm School?”
“You tell me. And if you have pictures, and I guess you do, let’s see them.”
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