The Charm School

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.”
    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.”
    “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