The Charm School (51 page)

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Authors: NELSON DEMILLE

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BOOK: The Charm School
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“Yes.”
“Could you put it in the form of a short memo?”
“Stop being an idiot.”
“Do you want a chocolate or not?”
“No!” She slammed the refrigerator door shut. “Let me ask you something. Did Katherine leave
you,
or did she leave Moscow?”
Hollis worked on the champagne cork.
“Answer me.”
“She left Colonel Hollis, spy, in Moscow.” The cork popped, hit the ceiling, and Fred Santos rose off his seat. Hollis called through the glass partition, “Sorry, Fred!”
“Jesus, Colonel . . .” Santos put his hand over his heart in a theatrical gesture.
Hollis observed to Lisa, “This country makes people jumpy. Have you noticed that?” He poured the champagne into two fluted glasses and handed one to her. He said, “Not the end, but the beginning.”
“Oh . . . oh, I love you!” She embraced him, spilling champagne on his trench coat. Hollis kissed her. The security driver behind them beeped his horn playfully. Hollis glanced over Lisa’s shoulder and saw Alevy staring at them from the front seat of the car.
* * *
They entered the main terminal area of Sheremetyevo Airport on their way to the diplomatic wing. Alevy’s deputy, Bert Mills, said, “Please wait here a minute.”
Hollis and Lisa stood in the concourse of the large new terminal. Hollis thought that the architect’s previous experience must have been designing tractor sheds. The low ceilings were a copper-toned metal, making the whole place dark and grim, harsh, and unwelcoming.
As in all Soviet transportation terminals, there was a profound lack of services or amenities. Hollis spotted a single food kiosk under attack by at least a hundred people.
Soviet citizens coming from or heading to domestic flights pushed large crates around the grey slate floor. Hollis never understood where they stowed all that stuff. He said to Lisa, “Pan Am measures my flight bag to the last centimeter. On Aeroflot, people bring livestock. Like on that train we took. Remember?”
“I’m not likely to forget.”
“Right.” Hollis went to a currency window and dumped his rubles on the counter but held on to some loose kopeks. “American dollars, please.”
The cashier, using an abacus, converted the amount, then gave Hollis some forms to sign. He signed, and she pushed some dollars toward him, saying, “No coins.”
“Chocolate?”
“Shokolad?”
“Forget it.
Da svedahnya,
sweetheart.” He joined Lisa and said, “That was the last Russian I’m ever using.”
From where they stood in the concourse, Hollis could see the international arrivals area where there were crowds at passport control and larger crowds at customs. Most of the arriving people looked to be from the Third World, and there were a good number of youth groups; pilgrims on Soviet-sponsored tours, coming to Moscow to talk peace, progress, disarmament, and equality. It never ceased to amaze him how a discredited philosophy and a repressive nation still attracted idealists.
Hollis scanned the rest of the terminal. Grey-clad militia men were all over the place, and Hollis spotted a few KGB Border Guards in their green uniforms. He picked out his embassy security people strategically placed around him and Lisa. He saw one man in a brown leather car coat and tie who might have been KGB, but he couldn’t spot any others. Hollis normally wouldn’t expect any trouble in a crowded public place, but to the KGB, the entire country was their private hunting preserve. He realized that Alevy had disappeared, then he noticed that Lisa was looking a bit tense. He said to her, “Did you ever fly Aeroplop?”
She laughed. “Aero
plop?
Yes, once to Leningrad on business.”
“I used to take it once a month to Leningrad. The pilots are all military. There’s not much difference between civil and military aviation in this country. Did you notice how they circled the airport at high altitudes, then dove in?”
“Yes. Scared me.”
“Me too. And I used to fly fighter-bombers. In the States, the drinking rule for pilots is twenty-four hours between bottle and throttle. Here, Aeroplop pilots aren’t allowed to drink within twenty-four feet of the aircraft.”
She laughed again. “You’re terrible. What are you going to complain about in the States?”
“The quality of winter strawberries.” Hollis glanced at his watch.
Lisa noticed and asked, “Do you think there’s something wrong?”
“No. I think we’re getting jumpy. Oh, I was going to tell you about my last Aeroplop flight. It was a Yakovlev 42, a tri-jet with huge wheels so it can land on grass and dirt. It’s actually a military transport, but when they get old, they slap an Aeroflot logo on them and put in seats. The cabin had been painted by brush, and you could see the brush marks. Anyway, the stewardesses were Miss Piggy look-alikes, and the lav had backed up—”
“That was
my
flight. And the cabin smelled of sewage. And my barf bag had been previously used. I’m not kidding. I collect barf bags from different airlines, and I took this one out of the seat pocket, and—”
“You collect
barf
bags? Disgusting.”
They were both laughing now. She said, “Only
unused
ones. So, anyway, I—”
Alevy came up behind them. “Okay. Everything’s set. Let’s go.”
Hollis and Lisa picked up their flight bags and followed Alevy, accompanied by the six security men. They entered a long, narrow corridor off the concourse that took them to the diplomatic wing, where Alevy’s man, Bert Mills, was waiting.
The DPL wing consisted of a front desk and a comfortable modern lounge with small conference rooms to the sides. It was not much different from a private airline club or any VIP lounge in any airport except for the presence of a smartly uniformed KGB Border Guard near the front desk and another Border Guard with a submachine gun at the rear exit door that led to the tarmac.
Their luggage, which had diplomatic seals, had already been passed through X-ray and was now piled in a coatroom near the front desk. A passport control officer arrived and stamped their passports with exit visas, then left.
Hollis, Lisa, and Alevy sat in the small lounge. An embassy security man stood near the front desk, a few feet from the KGB Border Guard. Two more security men stood near the rear entrance, keeping the Border Guard there company. Bert Mills sat on the other side of the lounge. Hollis remarked to Alevy, “Why all the firepower? One or two would have done.”
“Show of force.”
It occurred to Hollis, not for the first time, that Seth Alevy relished the fact that his lifelong game against Moscow was being played
in
Moscow. Hollis wondered what would become of Seth Alevy when he had to leave here.
Three Hispanic-looking men walked into the lounge, wearing red Lenin pins on the lapels of their suit jackets. They gave Hollis, Lisa, and Alevy an unfriendly look, and one of them said something in Spanish that made the other two laugh. They sat down in the adjoining club chairs.
Alevy commented, “There’s a direct Aeroflot to Havana in half an hour.”
Lisa said, “I think they said something insulting. I heard the word
gringo.
”
“Let it pass,” Alevy advised.
There were drink lists printed in several languages on the coffee table, and Alevy said, “They sometimes have orange juice here. How about a little vodka with it?”
“Fine.”
He looked around for the waitress he’d seen before, then stood and went to the woman at the front desk. After a minute he came back and said, “No orange juice. So I got Bloody Marys. Okay?”
“Fine.”
A waitress came with four glasses of green fluid. Alevy said in English, “Everything in this fucking country is red, but the tomato juice is green. Would you call this a Bloody Grasshopper?”
The waitress set the four glasses down, then placed a plate of salmon and black bread on the table. “For hungry. Good-bye. Good trip.”
“Thank you.” Alevy remarked to Hollis and Lisa, “Every once in a while, somebody here is nice to you, and it makes you think.” Alevy raised his glass. “Safe trip.” He finished the entire drink and sighed. “Vodka. The one thing they do right, by God.”
Lisa said to Alevy, “You’re in a good mood today. Glad to see us go?”
“No, no. Just happy for you. Both of you.”
There were a few seconds of awkward silence, then Lisa said to Alevy, “Is that extra drink for you?”
“Oh, I forgot. It’s for Bert Mills.” Alevy picked up the drink and stood, seemed to lose his balance, and spilled the green tomato juice on the head of one of the Cubans. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Mucho fucking clumsy—”
The three Cubans sprang to their feet.
Hollis stood, and Bert Mills was suddenly there too. The Cubans sized up the situation quickly. They gathered their attaché cases amid a flourish of handkerchiefs and retreated to one of the side rooms. Alevy said, “I feel just awful.”
Mills laughed and walked back to his chair. Hollis noticed the two KGB Border Guards grinning.
Hollis always marveled at Alevy’s little army of well-mannered thugs. In addition to the twenty or so CIA intelligence officers, there were about a dozen embassy security men whom Alevy had use of. Alevy had once told Hollis that if he could get the thirty-man Marine contingent under his control, he could take the Kremlin.
Alevy wiped his hand with a cocktail napkin. “I always meet interesting people in the diplomatic lounge.”
Lisa smiled at Alevy but said nothing.
Hollis realized that Alevy was showing off one last time for Lisa. Hollis excused himself and left the lounge.
Alevy and Lisa remained standing. Alevy said, “I’m not happy to see you go. I’m sad to see you go.”
Lisa didn’t respond.
Alevy added, “I thought we could give it another try.”
“I thought about it too. But other things have happened.”
“I know.” Alevy picked up her glass and drank from it. “Well . . . maybe our paths will cross again, in some other godforsaken place. This is a strange life we’ve chosen.”
“The Russians say, ‘To live a life is not as easy as crossing a field.’”
“The Russians say a lot of things that don’t make any sense. Tartar haiku. You like the place. I don’t.”
“But you like being the premier spy in the capital of the evil empire.”
“Oh, yes.”
“That’s what bothers me. Try to see the evil side of what
you
do.”
“I don’t have time for moral abstractions. My job is to try to fuck the Soviets, and they respect me for it.”
“All right, we’ve been through this. I just ask you to try to understand these people. As people. It will help you professionally as well as personally if you understand them.”
“I try. We all try.”
“Do we?” She glanced at the door, but there was no sign of Hollis. She put her hand on Alevy’s arm. “Be careful, Seth. I worry about you.”
“Do you? You be careful yourself. You’re not home yet.” He finished her drink. “Piece of advice, Lady Lisa. His age is not that important. Neither is his present marital status. But if he enters that macho world of jet jockeys again, you’ve got a problem.”
“I’m not considering marriage. What, by the way, were you two talking about until six
A
.
M
.? You both look like hell.”
“I just needed some Red Air Force stats, and I needed Hollis’ name on the report as a cosigner. They respect him in Langley. Sorry if I intruded on your plans. Won’t happen again.” Alevy glanced at his watch. “I’m going to find Sam and say good-bye. You’ll be all right here.” He looked at her. “Well . . . there’s more I’d like to say, but they know too much about my personal life already.” He jerked his thumb up at the ceiling. “The evil ones. They get lots of tidbits from this room.”
She shook her head. “I still never think about that.”
“You don’t have to anymore. Just watch what you say when Sam returns. When you board the Pan Am 747, you can say whatever you like all the way to Frankfurt and beyond. The free world. I like that old Cold War phrase. The free world.”
They both stood awkwardly for a moment, then Lisa said, “Write to me.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll let you know where I wind up.” She suddenly laughed. “How stupid of me. You’ll probably know before I do. I guess that was part of our problem. A woman likes to have a little privacy and a little mystery about herself. But you knew everything about everyone inside the walls of our castle. You were our Merlin.”
“I never thought of it quite that way. Maybe that’s why no one asks me to bowl.” He smiled.
She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Good-bye, Seth. Thank you for everything—” She wiped her eyes. “We’ll meet again.”
“I know we will.”
Alevy suddenly pulled her close to him, put his mouth to her ear, and whispered, “Listen to me. You don’t have to leave on this flight . . . you have until midnight to leave Russia. There are two more flights to Frankfurt today. Tell Sam you’re not feeling well, and—”

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