The Charm School

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