The Charm School

scarecrow out there as soon as we get the stuff together. Someone in the consular section has located pumpkins in the free market on Mira Prospect. Well, sort of pumpkins. Can you carve a jack-o’-lantern with that knife of yours?”
    Hollis replied, “That’s why I carry it.”
    “In case you see a pumpkin in the market? I doubt it.”
    They kept walking. Lisa said, “I’m not sure I like living and working in the same place—in a compound. It’s like a fort… or a jail.”
    “It’s better for everyone.”
    “Is it? The old place at least had charm, and it was right on Tchaikovsky Street, not far from the American Express office.” She smiled. “And we all lived in that delightfully grim apartment house off Gorky Street. My bathroom—they were prefab, remember?—was pulling away from the rest of the building. There was a six-inch gap and I could actually see into the bathroom below.”
    “Was that you?”
    She laughed. They walked on in silence awhile, then Lisa said, “But I suppose this is better. We have the quadrangle. I guess you’re used to this institutional living. I mean, you lived on Air Force bases.”
    “Sometimes. Depended on the assignment.”
    Lisa stopped. “This is my cell. Actually, they’re quite nice. Just a bit sterile.”
    “Eight million Muscovites would trade places with you.”
    “Oh, I know. I’m just getting cabin fever.”
    “Take a leave.”
    “In January. There’s a place called Jumby Bay, a small island off the coast of Antigua. Very private and very lovely. I may defect there.”
    They stood in the cold mist, and he noticed in the dim lamplight that her face and hair were wet. He noticed, too, she was about twenty years younger than he was.
    Lisa said, “I’ve never seen you at the Friday night follies.”
    “I usually wind up at some embassy reception on Fridays.”
    “Right. The follies are for the rank and file. But I get to go to a lot of cultural events. Do you like the ballet?”
    “Only at the end when the fat lady sings.”
    “That’s opera.”
    “Right. I get them mixed up.” He took his hands out of his jacket pockets. “Well, I suppose we’d better get out of the rain.” He held out his hand.
    She seemed not to notice and said, “Seth is very intense.”
    “Is he?”
    “Yes. Some people would mistake it for abrasiveness.”
    “Would they?”
    “Do you know him well?”
    “Well enough.”
    “You both seemed short with each other. Are you enemies or just rivals?”
    “Neither. We enjoy each other. It’s just our way of speaking.”
    “Like when you suggested he shove the caviar up his ass?”
    “Yes, like that.”
    She considered a moment. “He never mentioned that he knew you.”
    “Why should he?”
    “I suppose there were a lot of things he didn’t discuss with me.” She added, “He is very professional. There was no loose pillow talk.”
    “But you know he’s not a political affairs officer.”
    “Yes, I know that. And I know that most defense attachés are military intelligence.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “One knows these things. Didn’t you know I was seeing Seth Alevy?”
    “He never mentioned it.”
    “I thought it was hot gossip in the lunchroom. Oh, well, as a French philosopher once said, ‘People who worry about what others think of them would be surprised at how little they did.’”
    “Precisely.”
    She asked, “Do you have antiseptic for those cuts? You have to be careful in foreign countries.”
    “I had three glasses of Russian antiseptic.”
    “Be serious. I have some witch hazel… .”
    “I’m going to the infirmary to see Brennan. I’ll get something there.”
    “Good. Be sure you do.”
    “I will. Good night.”
    “I have tomorrow off. I usually sleep late after night duty.”
    “Good idea.”
    “I wanted to go to the Marx and Engels museum tomorrow. I haven’t seen it yet. Have you?”
    “It’s not on my list.”
    “Anyway, I’m a little… concerned now. About going out alone, I mean. I guess they know who I am now. From the tape. Right?”
    “Yes. But I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
    She reached out and picked a wet twig from his fleece collar and handed it to him.
    He examined the twig thoughtfully, then spoke in a soft voice. “You see, Ms. Rhodes, you can’t let them dictate how you are going to live. They are not omnipotent, nor omnipresent. They want you to think that. It makes their job easier.”
    “Yes, I know that,