The Charm School

there are many other women here who have been provided for the American instructors. Russian women. It would be unrealistic to expect these men to function well for all these years without women. Dodson, however, was one of those who did not seem to avail himself of female companionship. Some say he was completely celibate, and I heard he was being faithful to a wife. Can you believe that?”
    Burov sipped his brandy. “Well, in the beginning most of these men were very promiscuous. But now most of them have settled down into monogamous relationships. The women are all from the Gulag, mostly politicals, but a few criminal types as well. Economic crimes mostly. Thus, the women are mainly of the educated classes, so the Americans form rather good bonds with them. And most of the women are anti-Soviet, which is how they got into the Gulag in the first place. Many of them had life sentences, and those that didn’t, do now.”
    Lisa inquired, “Are these couples married in a legal way?”
    “No, not under Soviet law. I know that some quasi-religious marriages have been formed. Also, as I said, we still have the wild ones, the ones who go to the spa on Friday. Everything is coed on that night. Life here is what you make it. Like in the West.” Burov added, “I think in an ironic way you will be less homesick here than you were in the embassy.”
    Hollis found that the brandy had gone to his head and found too he was sick to death of Burov. He said to Burov, “We’d like to be alone.”
    Burov stood. “Of course. You’ve both had a trying few weeks.” He went to the door. “Speak to the quartermaster at headquarters if you need anything. There’s a shopping plaza at the east end of the main road. Everyone here draws a salary. I’ll get you your pay for the week in advance. You’ll find your overnight bags in the bedroom through that door. Unfortunately, your luggage has been sent to your next of kin.”
    Hollis asked, “Ms. Rhodes’ icon?”
    “Oh, I’ll have that sent over if you wish. Who cut that hammer and sickle into it?”
    Hollis replied, “The Kellums, I presume.”
    “Really? I remember them from when they were here—ten years ago it was. We don’t often send them over as a couple like that, but they had the idea of hiring themselves out as domestic servants to a powerful political family. Servants, I understand, are hard to come by in America and easy to place. Once they are in the house, they have unlimited access to things.” Burov added, “We teach individual initiative here too, which is unfortunately not a Russian character trait. But in the spy business it is half the game. Don’t you agree, Colonel?”
    “If desecrating a holy art object is an example of the initiative you teach, you’re getting it wrong.”
    “That
was
rather cruel of them. But I’ll send that over to you if you wish. Anything else? No? Well, I’ve had a pleasant morning. I hope you did too.” Burov left.
    Hollis surveyed the room, then looked into the bedroom. “Not really my taste.”
    Lisa put her arms around him. “I want you to know and to never forget that I love you.”
    “I hope so. It looks like we may be here for the rest of our lives. And you thought the embassy was claustrophobic.”
    “We will
not
be here for the rest of our lives. No! We are going to go home, or we’re going to die trying.”
    “Don’t be a fool.” Hollis rubbed his fingertips together.
    She nodded.
    “We’ll take a walk later.”
    “Yes. I’m exhausted. I don’t feel well. My God, that was awful, Sam… that cell… I hate that man.”
    “Lie here on the couch.” He moved her to the couch and covered her with a parka, then sat in an armchair.
    Lisa said, “Was I brave?”
    “Very.”
    “I don’t want to hate so much.”
    “Go to sleep. We’ll talk later.”
    “Yes.”
    Hollis stared at the fire awhile.
    He reflected on Burov’s schizoid personality: vicious and sadistic, then nearly amiable. He suspected that neither facet of that man was an act. Burov had an honest and profound hate for Hollis and the entire Western world. Yet, given a little encouragement and self-interest, he could be polite if not friendly.
    Hollis tried to come to grips with his death—his staged death and his impending death. He thought of the three American officers he’d met on the path. They looked forlorn, like unhappy ghosts, lost souls, adrift in a void between the living and the dead. He tried to imagine nearly two decades