The Charm School

She said, “What are you working on?”
    “Oh, that rock group, Van Halen, who played at the Kolonnyi Zal.”
    “How were they?”
    “I got a headache from them. But you’d have thought by the crowd that John Lennon had returned from the dead with free Levis for everyone.”
    “Write something nice.”
    “I’m trying.” Lisa went back to her work.
    “What happened with that political affairs officer? Seth Alevy.”
    “I’d rather not talk about it.”
    “All right.” Kay looked at her watch. “I can make the last half hour. Then I’ll be downstairs in the bowling alley bar. Unless I get lucky.”
    Lisa smiled. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”
    “You need a man, sweetie.” Kay Hoffman left.
    A few minutes later, the phone rang, and Lisa saw the red light flashing, indicating that the Marine post was calling her. She picked up the receiver. “Rhodes here.”
    “This is Corporal Hines, ma’am. I have a call from a man who says he is a U.S. national. Says he wants to speak to a defense attaché.”
    Her eyebrows rose. “A
defense attaché.
Why?”
    “Won’t say. Sounds like a young guy. Won’t say where he’s calling from either.”
    “Put him through.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    The phone clicked, and she heard Corporal Hines say, “Go ahead, sir.”
    A male voice said, “Hello…?”
    “This is Ms. Rhodes speaking. Can I help you?”
    There was no response for several seconds, then the voice said, “I have to speak to a defense attaché. Air Force, if possible.”
    “For what reason, sir?”
    “It’s important. National security.”
    She checked the recording device to make sure it was activated. “Then perhaps it’s not a good idea to speak on the phone.”
    “I know that. But I don’t have any choice. I have to tell you now—before they come for me.”
    “Who is going to come for you?”
    “You know who.”
    “All right… .” She thought a moment. There was a possibility this was a setup or a prank, but her instincts said it was neither. “What is your name, sir?”
    “Why can’t I speak to a defense attaché?”
    “Do you know what a defense attaché is?”
    “No… but I was told to speak to one.”
    “Who told you that?”
    “Is your phone tapped?”
    “You must assume it is.”
    “Oh, Christ. Can you send someone to get me? I need help.”
    “Where are you?”
    “Maybe I can get there. Can I get through the gate?”
    Lisa Rhodes thought he was sounding more distraught and perhaps a bit drunk. “Listen to me,” she said with a tone of authority. “Talk to me, and if I think it advisable, I will locate a defense attaché. All right?”
    “Yes… yes, okay.”
    She found the duty officer’s procedure manual in a drawer and flipped through it as she spoke. “Are you an American citizen?”
    “Yes, I—”
    “What is your name?”
    There was a pause, then the voice answered, “Fisher. Gregory Fisher.”
    “Where are you now?”
    “The Rossiya Hotel.”
    “Are you checked in there?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did they take your passport when you checked in?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, you can’t get past the mili-men—the Soviet militia outside the embassy—without it.”
    “Oh.”
    “Room number?”
    “Seven forty-five. But I’m not in my room.”
    “Where are you?”
    “In a phone booth in the lobby.”
    “What is your business in the S.U.?”
    “S.U… .?”
    “Soviet Union.”
    “Oh… no business—”
    “Tourist?”
    “Yes.”
    “When did you arrive in country, Mr. Fisher?”
    “Last week.”
    “What tour group are you with?”
    “Group? No group. I drove—”
    “You
drove
to Moscow?”
    “Yes, my own car. That was part of the damned problem.”
    “What was?”
    “The car. A Trans Am sticks out—”
    “Yes. All right, tell me briefly why you need help and why you would like to speak to a defense attaché.”
    She heard what sounded like a sigh, then he said softly, “In case you can’t get here in time… I’m going to tell you all I can… before they get me.”
    Lisa Rhodes thought that Gregory Fisher had a good grasp of the situation. She said, “Then you’d better speak quickly.”
    “Okay. I was in Borodino, about five P . M . tonight—visiting the battlefield. I got lost in the woods—”
    “Were you stopped by the police?”
    “No. Yes, but in Moscow.”
    “Why?”
    “For driving in the country at night.”
    She thought that this wasn’t computing. A travel itinerary violation was one thing. Asking to speak to a