The Charm School

report, though his discovery was already common knowledge to the housewives of Moscow.
    Lisa glanced at Hollis from time to time. She would have liked to draw him out on what he’d said on the knoll, but she knew better. A man such as Hollis, she understood, was capable of occasional bursts of speech from the heart but did not want it to become dialogue. Instead she rolled down the window. “Smell that.”
    “What?”
    “The earth. You don’t smell that in Moscow.”
    “No,” he replied, “you don’t.”
    She looked out the window at the Russian countryside, listened to the stillness of the late autumn, smelled the dank, rich earth. “This is it, Sam. Russia. Not Moscow or Leningrad.
Russia.
Look at those white birches there. See the small leaves, all red, yellow, and gold. Watch what happens when a breeze comes along. See that? What could be more Russian than that—tiny colored birch leaves blowing across a grey sky, across a lonely landscape? It’s so desolate, it’s beautiful, Sam. The Kremlin can’t change this. It’s immutable, timeless. My God, this
is
it. This is
Russia
!”
    Hollis glanced at her as she turned to him, and their eyes met. He looked back out the windshield and for the first time
felt
the presence of the land.
    She said with growing excitement, “Look at the smoke curling out the chimneys in that village. The clouds are gathering in the late afternoon. The fires are lit against the dampness. Tea is brewing, potatoes and cabbage are boiling. Father is mending a fence or a plow in the drizzle. The black mud clings to his felt boots. He wants his tea and the warmth of his cabin. I can see horsemen, I can hear balalaikas, I see lonely birch log churches against the purple horizon… . I can hear their clear bells pealing over the quiet plains… .” She turned to him. “Sam, can’t we stop in a village?”
    He replied softly, “I think you might be disappointed.”
    “Please. We won’t have this opportunity again.”
    “Maybe later… if there’s time. I promise.”
    She smiled at him. “We’ll find time.”
    They continued on in companionable silence, two people in a car, traveling west into the setting sun, cut off from the embassy, the city, the world, alone.
    Hollis glanced at her from time to time, and they exchanged smiles. He decided he liked her because she knew what she liked. At length he said, “I give that kid credit. I hope he had the thrill of a lifetime.”
    “What do you know about him? His family, home, how he died.”
    Hollis told her what little he knew.
    She said simply, “They murdered him.”
    They drove past small villages, collective farms, and state farms. About halfway to Mozhaisk she asked, “Is this going to be dangerous?”
    “Very.”
    “Why me?”
    “I had the impression you think this stinks. I thought you might want to follow through on your convictions.”
    “I’m… not trained.”
    “But you’re a spy groupie.” He smiled. “You thought East Berlin was exciting. This is a chance to mix it up a bit.”
    “You’re baiting me, Colonel.” She poked him in the side good-naturedly. “You didn’t even know I was a spy groupie before you decided to ask me.”
    “Good point. You see, you’re thinking like an intelligence officer already.” Hollis checked his watch, the odometer, and his rearview mirror.
    She asked, “Hollis, are you one of those men who bait liberated women? I’m not one of those women who think that women can do everything a man can do.”
    “This is neither a sociological experiment nor a personal matter, Ms. Rhodes. I think you can be helpful and you are good cover.”
    “Okay.”
    Hollis added, “And good company.”
    “Thank you.”
    The small Zhiguli was one of the few private cars on the highway, but Hollis knew it would attract far less attention than an American Ford with diplomatic plates. He knew too that he and Lisa could pass for Ivan and Irina out for a weekend drive. The embassy watchers, Boris, Igor, and company, sitting in their cars outside the embassy gates, had by now realized that Hollis had given them the slip again. They were probably very upset with him, and their bosses were very upset with them. Everyone was upset. Except Fisher. Fisher was dead.
    She said, “I guess you can tell I’m not as sprightly and scintillating as I was at lunch.”
    “Well, hearing of a death, even of someone you didn’t know, is upsetting.”
    “Yes, that, and—”
    “You’re a bit