The Charm School

car pulled alongside, and the three men got out but stayed near their car.
    Marchenko looked at his watch, then leaned forward to peer through the windshield at the sky. “Ah, there it is. You will make your Lufthansa flight,” Marchenko said, not bothering to put any sincerity in his voice any longer.
    Lisa put her mouth to Hollis’ ear. “Tell me not to be frightened. Tell me everything’s all right.”
    “I think a little apprehension might be appropriate. Let’s see what they’re up to. They might just want to chat.”
    Marchenko said, “I don’t like helicopters myself. In fact, there was a crash not far from here just today. The pilot and copilot and two passengers, a man and a woman, were killed. All burned beyond recognition. Cremated, really. How are the families to know if they have the correct remains?”
    Hollis understood now how it was being done. He could hear the sound of helicopter blades beating the dank, heavy air. A black shape appeared over the bare tree line, silhouetted against the grey sky. The helicopter hung for a second, then began its sloping descent toward them. Hollis recognized the shape as that of the Mi-28, a six-seat passenger craft with a jet turboshaft, somewhat like the Bell Jet Ranger. Aeroflot, in fact, did use these for VIP service between Moscow’s airports and the city heliports. However, as the Mi-28 dropped in closer, Hollis saw it had the markings of the Red Air Force. He said, “Mr. Marchenko, this is very special treatment indeed.”
    “Oh, yes,” Marchenko replied. “You are very important people. In fact, I have been instructed to escort you. Please step out of the car.”
    Hollis and Lisa got out of the Volga. The driver retrieved their bags and Lisa’s icon from the trunk and set everything on the concrete near their feet. One of the men from the other Volga stood behind Hollis. Marchenko moved to Hollis’ side and shouted over the noise of the approaching helicopter, “The gentleman behind you is called Vadim. He will accompany us.”
    Hollis thought he might have had a chance to try his hand at flying an Mi-28, but apparently Marchenko thought he’d remove the temptation.
    The Mi-28 set down on the yellow X, and Marchenko shouted, “Go, go!”
    Hollis and Lisa moved toward the helicopter with Marchenko and Vadim behind them. A crewman slid open a small door in the side of the fuselage, and Hollis got in first, then helped Lisa up. The crewman motioned them to the two rear seats. They stowed their bags beneath the seats and sat. Vadim climbed in and sat in front of Lisa. Marchenko struggled to climb aboard, but the crewman didn’t seem inclined to help, so Vadim reached over and pulled Marchenko into the cabin. The crewman slid the door shut and settled into the copilot’s seat. The helicopter rose.
    Marchenko fell heavily into the last empty seat in front of Hollis and tried to catch his breath. “Ah…” He turned to Hollis behind him. “I’m getting old.”
    Hollis replied in Russian, “And fat.”
    Vadim turned his head and gave Hollis a nasty look, confirming Hollis’s suspicion that Marchenko was Vadim’s boss and that neither Marchenko nor Vadim were Intourist guides.
    The helicopter spun around and headed east, back in the direction of Moscow. Hollis noted that the pilot and the copilot were both Red Air Force officers. Hollis then looked at the profile of Vadim. He was a man of about thirty and looked muscular beneath his leather trench coat. He had one of the thickest necks Hollis had ever seen outside a zoo. Hollis doubted if he could get his hands around that neck, though perhaps he could garrote him with his tie and go for the man’s pistol. But he knew not to underestimate fat Marchenko or indeed the two Red Air Force officers. He thought about how it could be done.
    Marchenko, as though guessing at his thoughts, turned in his seat and said, “Relax and enjoy the flight. We’ll be at Sheremetyevo within three hours. You’ll catch the Lufthansa flight in good time.”
    Lisa replied, “You’re full of baloney, Marchenko.”
    “Baloney?”
    Hollis noticed that the helicopter was at about two thousand feet, traveling on a due east heading, the pilot land-navigating by the Minsk–Moscow highway. Snow began to appear on the ground, and a stiffening north wind caused the pilot to tack to port to compensate for the drift. The Mi-28 was capable of close to three hundred knots, and Hollis thought they’d get where they were