The Charm School

defense attaché—a person who was more or less an intelligence officer, a spy—was quite another. “Go on, Mr. Fisher.”
    “On the road, north of Borodino, I think, I met a man, an American—”
    “An American?”
    “Yes. He said he was an American Air Force pilot—”
    “And he was on the road, north of Borodino, at night? Alone? In a car?”
    “Alone. On foot. He was hurt. Listen, I don’t know how much time I have—”
    “Go on.”
    “His name was Major Jack Dodson.”
    “Dodson.” Lisa had thought that it might have been a defense attaché at the embassy, but the name was unfamiliar.
    “Dodson said he was an MIA—a POW—shot down in Vietnam—”
    “What?” She sat up in her chair. “He told you that?”
    “Yes. And he said he had been a prisoner here in Russia for almost twenty years. A place he called Mrs. Ivanova’s Charm School. Near Borodino. He escaped. I gave him maps and money. He didn’t want us to travel together in my car. He’s heading cross-country to Moscow. To the embassy. There are other Americans held prisoner who—”
    “Stop. Hold the line.” She hit the hold button. In the duty book she quickly found the apartment number of the air attaché, Colonel Sam Hollis, whom she knew casually. She rang him, but there was no answer. “Damn it, and Seth is at his damned Sukkot party… .” She considered putting out an all-points page for Hollis but instead tried Hollis’ office two floors above. The phone was picked up on the first ring, and a voice answered, “Hollis.”
    She said in a controlled voice, “Colonel Hollis, this is Lisa Rhodes on the duty desk.”
    “Yes?”
    “I have a U.S. national on the line, calling from the Rossiya. He sounds very distraught. He also says he wants to speak to a defense attaché, preferably an Air Force attaché.”
    “Why?”
    “I’ll play the tape for you.”
    “Go ahead.”
    Lisa Rhodes transferred the playback to Hollis’ line. When it was finished, Hollis said, “Put him through.”
    She put the phone on conference call and released the hold button. “Mr. Fisher? Are you there?”
    There was no answer.
    “Mr. Fisher?”
    “Yes… . There’s someone standing—”
    “Here is the gentleman with whom you asked to speak.”
    Hollis’ voice came on the line. “Mr. Fisher, you say you are calling from the lobby of the Rossiya?”
    “Yes. I’m—”
    “Is the lobby crowded?”
    “No. Why?”
    “Who is standing by the phone booth?”
    “A man. Listen, should I try to get to the embassy—”
    “No, sir. You stay there. Do not leave that hotel. Do not go back to your room. There is a restaurant on the top floor. Go to the lounge there and introduce yourself to some Westerners—English-speaking, if possible—and stay with them until I arrive. Is that clear?”
    “Yes… yes.”
    “What are you wearing?”
    “Blue jeans… black windbreaker—”
    “Okay, son. Get to the lounge quickly. If anyone tries to stop you, kick, scream, yell, and fight. Understand?”
    “Yes… yes, I…” Fisher’s voice sounded strained. “Oh… God… hurry.”
    Hollis’ tone was soothing. “Ten minutes, Greg. Get to the lounge.”
    Lisa heard the phone click as Fisher hung up. Hollis’ voice came on. “Ms. Rhodes, I need a car—”
    “I’ve already called for one, Colonel. With driver.”
    “I’ll be bringing Mr. Fisher here. Have a visitor’s room ready in the residency and alert the appropriate security people.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Stay in the duty office.”
    “Of course.”
    There was a silence, then Hollis said, “Nicely handled, Ms. Rhodes.”
    She heard him hang up before she could respond. Lisa Rhodes put the phone back in the cradle. “You, too, Colonel Hollis.”

 
5
    Colonel Sam Hollis, American air attaché to the Soviet Union, left his office and took the elevator to the ground floor of the chancery building. He went directly to the duty office adjacent the empty lobby and opened the door.
    Lisa Rhodes turned toward him. “Yes?”
    “Hollis.”
    “Oh… .” She stood. “I didn’t recognize you in civvies.”
    “Have we met?”
    “A few times.” She regarded him a moment. He was wearing a leather bomber jacket, jeans, and leather boots. He was in his late forties, tall, and lanky. She thought he was rather good-looking in a tough sort of way. She remembered his pale blue eyes and unmilitary-length sandy hair. She also remembered that he and Seth had business dealings.
    Hollis said,