The Charm School

bad for made in the USSR.”
    “They make some nice weapons,” Mills remarked.
    Brennan shut off the scope and laid the rifle at his feet.
    Alevy said to Brennan, “There are two aerial survey maps in the bag.”
    Brennan found the maps and handed them forward. Alevy gave one to O’Shea, who laid it out on his lap. Alevy handed him a red penlight, and O’Shea studied the map.
    Brennan was still rummaging through the bag. “Phosphorus grenades, extra ammunition, a little of this, and a little of that. Inventory complete.” He said to Alevy, “It’s none of my business, but where did you get these uniforms and hardware? And how did you keep the room maid from seeing everything?”
    Alevy replied, “That little antique store in the Arbat has a costume shop in the basement. The hardware came in the diplomatic pouch. As for the nosy maids, I had that bag and the suitcase delivered to the lobby from the outside just before we boarded the bus.”
    Brennan said, “I want you to know something, Mr. Alevy. I have a lot of confidence in you, and I don’t think for a minute this is a suicide mission. Also, I like Colonel Hollis. He’s a straight shooter. And I liked his lady. That’s why I’m here and not in London.”
    No one added anything to that for a few minutes. Then O’Shea said, “I don’t want anyone to get anxious about the flying. Think about what you have to do. I’ll take care of the flying.” He added, “The principles of flight remain the same even here and even if the rotors do go the wrong way.” He tried a laugh, but it came out wrong.
    Bert Mills said, “This damned uniform is pinching my crotch.”
    Brennan remarked, “That’s because KGB tailors don’t have to allow room for balls.”
    Alevy said to Brennan, “Bill, there’s a blue Beriozka bag I left back there. I got Bazooka bubble gum and some other things. Pass it around.”
    “Bazooka? Hey, thanks.” Brennan found the gum and passed the bag to Mills, who took a candy bar. He passed it up to O’Shea, who declined. Alevy sucked on a hard candy. Brennan blew a big bubble, and it popped. Brennan said, “Hey, it’s Halloween. Happy Halloween.”
    No one answered.
    Brennan added, “I’ve seen some scary costumes for Halloween, but these outfits are the scariest fucking things I’ve ever seen.”
    Mills forced a laugh. “Where we’re going you’ll see about five hundred more of those scary outfits.”
    “Thanks,” Brennan said.
    The minutes passed in silence except for the ticking of the cooling engine and the sound of popping bubble gum. Alevy said to everyone, “Relax.”

 
38
    The VFW hall held close to a thousand people, but it was the quietest thousand people Hollis had ever been among.
    The building was surrounded by armed KGB Border Guards, and no one was permitted to leave until midnight. The main recreation room was darkened, lit only by black candles and the grinning faces of jack-o’-lanterns. In the barroom and all the side rooms, men and women congregated, speaking in hushed, angry tones. Occasionally someone would weep. For the amount of food and liquor available, Hollis noticed that no one was drunk, and the food remained untouched, even by the students, who Hollis thought seemed very uncomfortable. The masks, Hollis reflected, were off, literally and figuratively; no one was wearing the party masks, and no one was acting his part.
    In the center of the recreation room sat a black-draped coffin on a bier, a party decoration that had taken on another significance. No one stood around the coffin.
    Burov had not put in an appearance, and Hollis pictured him in his dacha, sitting with his wife near the porcelain stove, reading Pushkin or perhaps watching an American movie on videotape.
    Hollis, who knew he would not be among the ten randomly picked for execution, felt somewhat guilty at being one of only two Americans in the hall who wasn’t contemplating his imminent death. Lisa, he knew, felt the same.
    When he had told Lewis Poole of Burov’s plans to execute Dodson and ten others, they had discussed the possibility of not putting out the news. But Poole, Lisa, and he had concluded that everyone had a right to know.
    There had been some incidents during the so-called party: Jane Landis had spit in the face of a student, and the stereo that had been playing funereal music to set the mood of the theme party had been kicked to pieces by one of the kidnapped American women, Samantha Wells. Two American