The Charm School

house in Sea Cliff. My father is a banker; my mother, a teacher. They can see the harbor from their porch, and in the summer they sit out there and watch the boats. It’s very lovely, and they’re very happy together. Maybe someday you can stop by.”
    Hollis didn’t know what to say to that, so he asked, “Brothers or sisters?”
    “An older sister, divorced and living back home. I have a niece and nephew. My parents seem happy for the company. They want me to marry and move close by. They’re proud of my career in the diplomatic corps but aren’t too keen on my present assignment. Especially my mother. She has a phobia about Russia.”
    “You look like you can take care of yourself. You know, my father was stationed on Long Island in the mid-fifties. Mitchel Air Force Base. I vaguely remember it.”
    “Yes. It’s closed now.”
    “I know,” Hollis replied. “What’s become of the place?”
    “It’s been parceled out to Hofstra University and a community college. Part of the land was used to build the coliseum where the Islanders play. Do you follow hockey?”
    “No. Like my parents, I’m not much of an American. It’s ironic, considering I’ve devoted my life to the service of my country. I’m a patriot, but I’m not plugged into the pop culture. For years I thought Yogi Bear and Yogi Berra were the same person.”
    Lisa smiled. “So you wouldn’t pass the friend-or-foe test if someone asked you who plays center field for the Mets? You couldn’t pass for the American that you are.”
    “No, I’m afraid I’d be shot on the spot.”
    Lisa poured the last of the wine into their glasses. She looked at Hollis. “Well, now we know something about each other.”
    “Yes. I’m glad we had a chance to talk.”
    The food arrived, and Hollis inquired, “What the hell is this?”
    “That’s
dovta,
a soup made of sour milk and rice. This cuisine is similar to Turkish. It’s somewhat complex, with more depth than Slavic cuisine. And the shit on the chipped blue plate is called
gulubtsy.
” She laughed.
    Hollis smiled and helped himself. They ate in silence. More plates of spiced food arrived. They washed the meal down with weak Moscow beer. Hollis glanced at his watch.
    She noticed and asked, “Do you have time to see the Train of Mourning?”
    “The what?”
    “The actual engine and coach that brought Lenin’s body back to Moscow. It’s on display at Paveletsky Station.”
    “Oh,
that
train. I’ll pass.”
    “Just kidding anyway. I don’t really go to places like the Marx-Engels museum either,” Lisa said. “I think it’s a joke how they try to create a secular religion in place of the one they destroyed. But if you
are
free this afternoon, perhaps we can do something.”
    “Sure. How would you like to take a ride in the country?”
    “Don’t joke.”
    “No joke,” Hollis replied.
    “Where? How?”
    “I have to go to Mozhaisk on official business. I have a pass with your name on it.”
    “Do you? I’d love to go. What sort of business?”
    “Bad business, Lisa. Gregory Fisher is in the Mozhaisk morgue.”
    Lisa stopped eating and stared down at the table for some time. She cleared her throat and said, “Oh, God, Sam. That poor boy… .”
    “Do you still want to go?”
    She nodded.
    The proprietress brought strong Turkish coffee and honey balls. Hollis had the coffee. Lisa sat silently. She lit a cigarette and said to Hollis, “Was he… trying to escape or what…?”
    “No. They say he was heading
toward
Moscow. They say he had a car accident before the Borodino turnoff. They say he never got to the Rossiya.”
    “They’re lying.”
    “Be that as it may, it’s their country. I’ll brief you in the car. But I want you to understand now that if you come with me, I can’t guarantee your safety.”
    “Safety?”
    “I
think
the KGB is satisfied that they’ve contained the problem. They probably don’t think they have to engineer another accident. On the other hand, they’re not logical in the way we understand logic, therefore they’re not predictable.”
    She nodded.
    Hollis added, “They know you took Fisher’s call, and they know your name is on the pass. That shouldn’t make you a target, but you never know what they’ve talked themselves into. Still want to go?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why?”
    “Why are
you
going, Sam? Anybody from the consular section could go.”
    “I’m going to snoop around. You know that.”
    “And that’s why I’m wearing