The Charm School

evidence. They’ll transfer the operation someplace, and they’ll offer to take an American delegation through the suspected site. By the time we get there, it’ll be a rest home for Moscow pensioners or something. So, as you said, we have to act quickly.”
    “Why don’t we start by arresting the Kellums and making them talk?”
    “I’d like to, but we haven’t absolutely proven they’re Russian agents yet, and we don’t want to tip off the KGB any more than they’re already tipped. So we’ll be careful with the Kellums. Also, they may be real Americans, complete with civil rights.”
    “Are you asking me to help you or not?”
    “You can help by not becoming part of the problem.”
    “I never
was
part of the problem. I want those fliers out of prison, and I’ll work with you to do that, or I’ll pursue my own course of action.”
    Alevy nodded. “Yes, of course you would. I guess if you or any military man was jeopardizing the lives of three hundred CIA agents, I’d do the same. Loyalty is okay.”
    “I don’t need you to tell me that.”
    Alevy replied, “Listen, Sam, I told you everything—State secrets and diplomatic policy and an issue so hot it could blow Soviet-American relations to hell for years to come. I did that to convince you we’re not sleeping on this. We’re working on getting those pilots home. I’m taking it on pure faith that you will be reasonable. Don’t get your people in the Pentagon all worked up. Okay?”
    “Okay.” Hollis did not think for one second that Seth Alevy took anything on faith. He also didn’t think that Alevy intended to follow the government’s line of pursuing détente. Alevy would like nothing better than for him to get the Pentagon all worked up. And neither did Hollis think that Alevy spent an hour briefing him just to tell him to keep his mouth shut. With a few days left in the country and officially relieved of his duties, Hollis knew he hadn’t heard the last of the Charm School or of Seth Alevy.
    “Don’t tell Lisa any of this. It’s your job to neutralize her. Okay?”
    “Okay.”
    “And remember that your persona non grata status raises some questions about your diplomatic immunity. Tell Lisa that. Be very cautious if you decide to go outside the gate.”
    “Right.”
    “Oh, one last thing. I want you to do me a favor.”
    “What?”
    “Come up on the roof with me.”
    “What for?”
    “Once a month or so I go on the roof and vilify the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. I get up there and yell, ‘Hello, KGB shits!’ Then I go into my analysis of why Soviet society sucks.”
    “Christ, no wonder they beat the shit out of you.”
    “Fuck them. I’m in the mood tonight. Come up with me.”
    Hollis glanced at his watch. “Well, I—” He wondered if Lisa had stayed at his place or gone home.
    “Come on. Don’t be so stuffy. You’ll feel good.”
    “I guess the fresh air will do me good.”
    “That’s the spirit. What are they going to do to you? Kick you out? Kill you?”
    “They can’t do both,” Hollis observed.
    Hollis took the brandy bottle from the sideboard, and Alevy led him up to the third-floor hallway, climbed a ladder, and opened the roof hatch.
    Alevy and Hollis came up onto the flat roof above Alevy’s apartment. They stood in the gently falling snow and looked out over the city as the bells of the Ivan Tower chimed two. Alevy said, “Early snow.” The stars on the Kremlin’s domes and towers were luminous red, but the crosses, which for some inexplicable reason had never all been taken down, were dark and invisible. “There is probably not one thing open in Moscow at this hour,” Alevy said, “except the militia and KGB offices. Even the metros are closed. In Stalin’s day Lubyanka would start disgorging its predators at this hour.” He took the brandy bottle from Hollis and took a long pull, then shouted, “Do you hear me out there? Wake up, K-goons! This is Seth Alevy, superspook, super-Jew!” He turned to Hollis and continued in a slurred voice, “The goons would prowl the city with lists, and all Moscow would hold its breath until morning. And each dawn would break over a city of frightened human beings, hurrying to offices and factories, pretending not to notice if someone did not show up at work. And they say you could really hear the sounds of screams and gunshots coming out of Lubyanka. What a barbaric place this was! I look out there, Sam, and I see an alien cityscape.