The Charm School

Hollis added, “Commander, is it too early for you to have a drink?”
    “Normally, yes. But I’ll make an exception this morning.”
    “Good day.”
    Poole walked off as if in a trance.

 
36
    Sam Hollis and Lisa Rhodes sat in Colonel Burov’s office. Also in the office were two KGB Border Guards standing at parade rest directly behind them.
    Burov said, “What have you decided?”
    Lisa replied, “We’ve decided to work here.”
    Burov nodded and looked at Hollis. “I want to hear it from
you,
Colonel.”
    Hollis said, “I will work here.”
    “Good. And you will both submit to interrogations with truth drugs and polygraph machines. Correct?”
    “Yes.”
    “And you understand that you will not attempt to dissemble and confuse the machines. You will tell the truth the first time you are asked a question. If you lie even once, you go to the electroshock table. If you lie twice, you may go to the firing squad. Understand?”
    “Yes.”
    “Now let me ask you some questions, without drugs or polygraph. And your answers had better prove true when you get on the machine. First question—Does American intelligence know of the general nature of this facility? Colonel?”
    Hollis replied, “Yes.”
    Burov stared at him a moment, then asked, “They know there are American fliers held here?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do they know how many?”
    “No.”
    “What do they plan to do about the Americans held here?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “You don’t? That answer had better not send the needle off the polygraph paper, or you’ll find out how painful an electric shock to the genitals can be.” Burov looked from Hollis to Lisa, then asked Hollis, “Is your presence here a result of my cleverness or Seth Alevy’s cleverness?”
    “I’m not following you.”
    “But you are. Did you and Alevy know you might be kidnapped?”
    “No.”
    Burov’s eyes fixed on Hollis, and he stayed silent for a long time, then asked, “Is there an American intelligence operation of any sort planned against this facility?”
    “I don’t know of any.”
    Burov said, “You know, Hollis, if I see that you’ve lied to me twice so far, you go right to the wall, sparing yourself the electric shock. But perhaps I didn’t impress that upon you. So I’m going to ask you the same questions again.” Burov proceeded to ask the questions in the same words and got the same responses from Hollis. He rephrased the final question, “Has Seth Alevy even hinted to you of an armed or clandestine American mission directed toward this camp?”
    “No, he has not.”
    Burov smiled thinly. “I hope for both our sakes that you are telling the truth.” He looked at Lisa. “And you. Are you in any way involved in intelligence work?”
    “No.”
    “No? You are simply involved with intelligence men?”
    Lisa nodded. “Yes.”
    “How unfortunate for you. If there were a next time for you, I would advise you to sleep with less dangerous men.”
    Lisa started to reply but then simply nodded.
    Burov went on, “Your two spy friends have gotten you into this. I can’t get you out of it now. But I can see to it that you live comfortably if you do what I say.”
    Again she nodded.
    Burov said, “You heard Colonel Hollis’ response to my questions. Were his responses true, to the best of your knowledge?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you know what an electroshock table is?”
    “I think so.”
    “Good. Next question, Ms. Rhodes. Did you and Colonel Hollis speak with General Austin at his cottage two nights ago?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did you speak to Commander Poole at that time, and also again near the recreation building earlier this morning?”
    “Yes.”
    “Was an escape plan or a rescue mission discussed on either of those occasions?”
    “No.”
    “No? Well, we’ll see how many strikes you have when we attach you to the polygraph.”
    Burov looked at Hollis. “In baseball you get three strikes. Yes? Here we play softball. The game is easier, but you only get two strikes in softball, and you’re out.” Burov smiled.
    Hollis said to Burov, “That’s a bad analogy.”
    “Metaphor,” Lisa corrected.
    “I can’t keep them straight,” Hollis admitted.
    Burov’s eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. “I love your language. I really do. The spoken language. But the English-speaking peoples think that anyone who doesn’t speak their language is a moron. That’s a source of great amusement for you. But do you know something? When a person is