The Charm School

his teeth into the maxillary nerves of Hollis’ cheek and drew blood before Hollis could pull his face away. Hollis stuck his thumbnail into the fleshy part of Burov’s wrist, digging at the veins until he opened one of them and felt the blood spurting. Neither man uttered a word or a sound of pain.
    Hollis realized that Burov had not been lying about his physical condition, but Hollis’ condition was not as good as it had been some weeks before, and he was tiring, unable to roll Burov over on his back again. Hollis found himself under Burov’s heavy weight and felt Burov’s gun hand working free. Both men looked at each other in the dim light, and Hollis saw that Burov was bleeding from the nose and the right eye. Burov said softly, “I’m going to shoot you in the balls.”
    Hollis suddenly released his grip on Burov’s wrist and with his freed hand delivered a karate chop to the back of Burov’s neck, then reached around Burov’s head and grasped his chin in his hand and pulled, turning the man’s head and neck until he could hear the cartilage cracking. Burov reached for Hollis’ hand to break the grip before his neck broke.
    Hollis kept up the pressure, and he could see Burov’s tongue protruding from his mouth and his left eye beginning to bulge. Burov’s free hand was pulling at Hollis’ arm. Hollis brought his knee up into Burov’s groin twice, realizing the man’s defenses were failing. He tried to pull the pistol from Burov’s hand, but Burov held tight.
    Then, to keep his neck from breaking, Burov suddenly released his grip on his pistol and let his body roll over on his back, rolling out of Hollis’ twisting jaw hold. Burov got to his feet.
    Hollis stood also, and the two men faced each other, hunched over and panting. Hollis let Burov’s pistol fall to the floor. “Come on.”
    But Burov didn’t move, and Hollis could see he was finished. Both eyes were filled with blood, and his breathing came in short raspy gasps. Blood poured from Burov’s nose and spurted from his wrist. Hollis moved closer to him, caught his breath, and said, “For Dodson, Fisher, the airmen, their women, and the children.” Hollis drove his fist into Burov’s face and heard the cracking of teeth.
    Burov toppled backward and lay still on the floor. Hollis sank to his knees and turned Burov over on his face so he wouldn’t drown in his own blood. He ripped off the collar of Burov’s pajamas and tied it around the open vein of Burov’s wrist.
    Hollis sank to the floor, trying to clear his head and catch his breath. His hand went to his right cheek where Burov’s teeth had ripped into the flesh and nerves, and he felt a searing pain flash through his brain.
    A figure appeared in the doorway, and Hollis could make out a pair of jackboots coming toward him. He looked up into the face of Seth Alevy. Behind Alevy was Lisa. Hollis tried to stand, but Alevy’s hand pressed down on his shoulder. “Sit awhile.” Alevy took the revolver from the floor and went over to Burov.
    Lisa hurried to Hollis’ side. “Sam, are you all right?”
    He nodded, then turned toward Alevy. “Radio.” He pointed.
    Alevy moved from Burov to the radio and ripped the handset out of its cord, then smashed the plastic handset against the steel radio casing. “Was he able to get a call through?”
    “I don’t think so.” Hollis pulled on his sweat pants, and Lisa helped him on with his shirt and parka. He got on his running shoes but found he couldn’t tie the laces, and Lisa did it for him. Hollis stood unsteadily, stuffing the loose papers from the cigar tubes into his pocket. Lisa handed him his star.
    Alevy turned Burov over and looked at his face, then looked at Hollis and said, “You guys don’t like each other.”
    Hollis didn’t reply.
    A voice said in Russian, “Why did you hurt my father?”
    They all turned toward the door. A frightened-looking girl of about ten stood in her nightgown at the open door. Behind her was a rather plain, middle-aged woman in a heavy quilt robe, and barely visible behind her was the old woman whom Burov had introduced as his mother.
    The middle-aged woman looked at Hollis, then at Lisa, then at Alevy in the KGB uniform. “Is my husband dead?”
    Alevy replied in Russian, “No, madam, he is only unconscious.”
    She sobbed. “But I don’t understand what is happening.”
    Alevy and Hollis glanced at each other. Lisa said to them in English, “You will not kill them.”
    The girl,