The Charm School

records, and so forth. A complete personnel file. You will not find their new American names or addresses, and I cannot even tell you how many of them actually made it to America. Only the KGB has that information. So your people over there—the FBI—will have to do a great deal of work. That’s all I can give you.”
    Hollis nodded. It was a start. “How many?”
    “A little over three thousand.”
    “Three thousand…? All on microfilm?”
    “Yes. These men, incidentally, are all officially dead. Killed in training accidents. The Red Air Force gave them military funerals. Closed coffins. We buried a lot of sand. We also paid out a lot of death benefits. The KGB finds it convenient to use our logistics, our money, our pilot candidates, and the cover of military deaths for so large an operation.”
    Hollis nodded to himself. Three thousand military training deaths in the States would cause something of a national scandal. Here, not even one such death ever made the newspapers. The three thousand families of the supposed deceaseds only knew of their own loss. Amazing, Hollis thought. Only a totalitarian society could mount an operation such as that. The world’s largest Trojan horse, the biggest fifth column in history, or whatever Washington would call it. Hollis asked, “Where is the microfilm?”
    “I’ll tell you where you can find it when I get to London. That was the deal. Half now, half in London.”
    “I told you, I already have the first half. You’ll give me the microfilm now.”
    “Why now?”
    “Because you may be arrested anytime between now and the time we try to get you out of here. Because I want it now. That’s why.”
    Surikov stared off into space, and Hollis could see he was angry, but that didn’t matter.
    Surikov nodded. “All right. My life and my granddaughter’s life are in your hands. I’ll bring the microfilm to my next meeting, or I’ll leave it in one of our dead drops, whatever you prefer.”
    Hollis considered a moment. A dead drop was preferred, but his instincts told him that this was a case for hand-to-hand transfer. “Tomorrow at nine A . M . you will go to the antique store in the Arbat. A man will ask you where he can find czarist coins. He speaks fluent Russian. Have the microfilm with you.”
    Surikov lit another cigarette. “And that’s the last I’ll hear from the Americans.”
    “If you believe that, then you don’t want to live in the West, General. You might as well stay here.”
    “Well, we will see if my cynicism is well-founded. And this man will tell me how I’m going West?”
    “Yes.”
    “I have a better idea. You tell me now. I want to know. Before I bring the microfilm.”
    Hollis thought General Surikov needed a victory, but he remembered Alevy’s words of caution.
Then maybe what he wants is to find out how we get people out of here.
But there was no time for caution. Hollis said, “All right. I’ll tell you our secret. Can you get to Leningrad on a weekend?”
    “Yes.”
    “You’ll go to Leningrad this Saturday. The man in the Arbat antique store will tell you how to meet someone there who will give you more details. But it’s basically simple. You go to one of the Kirov Island recreational parks carrying fishing equipment. You and Natasha rent a boat and take it to the mouth of the Neva, but not so far as to attract the attention of patrol boats. You will fish in the marked channel. Whenever you see a freighter flying the flag of a NATO country coming in or going out, you will give a signal that you will be advised of by the man in Leningrad. One of these freighters will take you and Natasha aboard, and someone on board will take charge of you. When the authorities find your boat capsized, it will appear you’ve both drowned. If the rendezvous fails on Saturday, you’ll do the same thing Sunday.”
    “And if it fails Sunday?”
    “Then the next weekend.”
    “There’s not much boating weather left up that way, Colonel.”
    “General, if you are being honest with us, you will not be abandoned. There are other ways. But with luck… and God’s help… by this time next week, you will be in a Western port city.”
    “This thing will need all of God’s help. Natasha thinks she is blessed by God. We’ll see.”
    “I’ll see you in London.”
    “And you will buy me a drink.”
    “I’ll buy you the whole fucking bar, General.”
    Surikov tried to smile. “Just a drink will do.” He handed Hollis the carp. “You