The Charm School

no prostitutes, no street people, no nightlife. No all-night markets, no midnight movies, no midnight mass, no midnight anything. Most of the city was quiet by ten P . M ., shut down by eleven, and the last taxis disappeared by twelve. All public transportation ceased at one A . M ., and after that you were on your own, which was to say you were stranded.
    There was one class of citizen, however, who stayed out until the last possible moment; and one of them, a young man of about eighteen, now approached Hollis. He carried a nylon Adidas bag and wore a cheap synthetic leather coat of three-quarter length. He had on American jeans, but his shoes were definitely Soviet. He spoke in good English with exceeding politeness. “Excuse me, sir, do you have a cigarette?”
    “No, do you?”
    “Yes.” The young man gave Hollis a Marlboro, lit it for him, and lit one for himself. The boy looked up and down the bridge. Hollis noticed a few other black marketeers observing the action. The youth said, “My name is Misha. I am pleased to meet you.” They smoked awhile. Hollis threw his unfinished cigarette off the bridge. Misha’s eyes followed it, then he turned to Hollis. “Do you see this end of the square?” Misha’s gesture took in the south end of Red Square, bordered by the Kremlin Wall, the back of St. Basil’s, the Rossiya, and the Moskva River. “That is where the German, Matthias Rust, landed his aircraft. I was here that day. What a sight it was.”
    Hollis nodded. Rust’s landing spot had become part of the unofficial tour of Red Square. The average Muscovite, usually cynical by nature, had been captivated by the young man’s flight. The Soviet court gave him four years. Hollis, as an air attaché, had been inconvenienced by the fallout from that flight when some of his better contacts in the Red Air Force and Air Defense Ministry had been sacked. Nevertheless, as a pilot, Hollis could appreciate the young flier’s daring. Hollis thought that he would like to try something insane like that one day.
    Misha said, “He flew for peace.”
    “So did Rudolph Hess.”
    Misha shrugged. “No politics. Economics. Do you have anything to trade?”
    “Perhaps. What do you have, Misha?”
    “I have unpressed black caviar. Three hundred grams. Very excellent. It is sixty dollars in the Beriozka. But I would trade it for a carton of American cigarettes.”
    “I have no cigarettes on me.”
    Misha looked around again, then said, “Well, forty dollars then.”
    “It is against the law for us to deal in currency.”
    Misha backed away. “Excuse me.”
    Hollis grabbed his arm. “Have you been on the bridge all night?”
    “A few hours… .”
    “Did you see an American car on the embankment road about two hours ago?”
    Misha drew on his cigarette. “Perhaps. Why?”
    “It’s none of your business why.” Hollis pressed Misha against the bridge rail. “Do you want to make forty dollars, or do you want to swim in the river?”
    Misha said, “I didn’t see the car myself. A friend told me he saw it. On the embankment road about two hours ago.”
    “What sort of car?”
    “He thought it was a Pontiac Trans Am. It had a rear spoiler. Dark color.”
    “How did your friend know it was a Trans Am?”
    “Magazines. You know. I give three dollars American or fifteen rubles for
Car and Driver.
Same for
Track and
—”
    “Did your friend see where the car went?”
    “The Rossiya.” Misha added, “Then a strange thing happened. They hurried over to the Rossiya to see the car and to talk to the driver who they saw in the car—a young man—maybe American. But as they got to the Intourist wing, they saw the car going up Razin Street, away from the Rossiya, with two older men.”
    “Two Russians?”
    “Two Russians.” Misha hesitated, then said, “The type with closed faces. You know what I mean?”
    “Yes. Did you or your friends notice anything else unusual tonight?”
    “Yes. About an hour ago. I myself and everyone here saw a blue Ford Fairlane going very fast over the bridge. A cop was chasing it, but the bastard never had a chance. Those Fords can move on the straightaway. The American embassy uses them. Are you from the embassy? Was that your car?”
    Hollis turned and walked back toward the underpass. Misha followed. They went down the steps, and Hollis handed Misha two twenty-dollar bills. Hollis said, “I’ll take the caviar.”
    Misha reluctantly took the tin of caviar from his gym bag and