The Charm School

himself looking at Hollis.
    Hollis pointed his TD automatic, knowing the distance was too long to ensure a hit, and the 6.35mm round too small to ensure a kill. Hollis said in Russian, “Drop your gun.”
    The man suddenly spun around and ran for the corridor. Hollis fired his silenced automatic twice, both rounds hitting the concrete wall above the man’s head before he disappeared into the corridor.
    Hollis followed at a run into the corridor. The man was a good thirty feet ahead of him, heading toward the cells, then suddenly drew up short, skidded over the painted concrete floor, and turned his body toward the intersecting corridor as his legs pumped. Hollis fired twice, and the man fired back once before he disappeared into the next corridor.
    Hollis took off at full speed, came to the intersecting corridor and without slowing, cut like a broken-field runner into the narrower corridor, his running shoes holding to the floor. He saw the man duck into the guard room and heard him shout, “Sergeant! Sergeant!”
    Hollis hit the half-open door with his shoulder and rolled into a prone firing position as the man spun around and fired at the swinging door.
    Hollis emptied his last three rounds into the man’s chest and watched him backpedal as though he’d been pushed. The man pointed his pistol at Hollis’ face, then suddenly seemed to lose his balance and toppled backward.
    Hollis sprung up and rushed at the man, then stopped short as he saw what he had tripped over; lying on the floor was the naked body of another man, blood pooled around his head.
    Hollis bent down and pulled the pistol out of the hand of the man he’d shot, then looked around the dimly lit guard room. He saw clothes strewn about the floor, a KGB uniform and women’s clothing. He noticed the bottom bunk of one of the beds soaked with blood and knew that Alevy and Mills had already been there.
    The man he’d shot moaned, and Hollis knelt beside him. The man wore a topcoat that was still cold to the touch, so he had just come from outside, which meant he had to come through the back door where Alevy and Mills were supposed to be getting a vehicle. Hollis stood with the man’s pistol in his hand.
    The man looked up at him and tears formed in his eyes. Hollis recognized the man as one of his guards during his time in the cells; the man who had told him he wouldn’t feel much like fucking. The man said in Russian. “I am sorry… . I am sorry… .”
    “That makes two of us.” Hollis unloaded the magazine from the man’s pistol and transferred it into his own silenced automatic. He pointed the pistol at the man’s head, hesitated, then turned and moved quickly into the corridor.
    * * *
    Filenko knelt and rolled the naked woman on her back. “This is the sergeant’s woman. Why did you shoot her? You!” He shouted at Alevy, “Answer me!”
    Alevy answered, “Filenko, I’ll have you shot—”
    “Shut up! You are not a Russian. Who are you?”
    “Estonian.”
    “Then speak Estonian. I know a few words.”
    “All right.” Still looking at Filenko, Alevy said in English, “Bert, count of three… One, two—”
    The door opened again, but Filenko kept his eyes on Alevy and Mills as he called out, “Ivan, did you—?”
    Suddenly Filenko’s body lurched twice, then he dropped his rifle and sank to the ground, his hands clamped to his side.
    Hollis ran down the ramp as Alevy and Mills stood. Mills grabbed Filenko’s rifle, and Alevy said to Hollis, “One of them went inside—”
    “He’s out.”
    “Good. Let’s get these two inside.”
    Hollis saw that Filenko was still alive, lying on his back now, his eyes following the three of them as they spoke. Hollis went to the semiconscious woman who was moaning on the cold pavement and knelt beside her. “Jane Landis…”
    Alevy asked, “You know her?”
    “Yes. This is the wife of the man you met—Tim Landis. Did you shoot her?” He stared at Alevy.
    Alevy said, “She was in the sack with the sergeant of the guard.”
    “No…”
    “Yes.”
    “She was very anti-Soviet.”
    “Not when I saw her.”
    “She may have been spying on them.”
    “Or
for
them,” Alevy observed.
    “Maybe she was doing it to help her husband… I don’t know.”
    “Neither do I, Sam.”
    Hollis looked at Jane Landis, who stared back at him. She moved her mouth to speak. “Sam… help me.”
    Mills cleared his throat and said, “My God, I’m sorry.”
    Alevy said, “It doesn’t