The Charm School

bedroom window in the ambassador’s place, Hollis had listened to the happy noises of men and women and splashing hot tubs coming from the Finnish dacha in the woods until dawn. Katherine, who had been with him then, had commented, “Why are they allowed to have so much fun and we have to drink sherry with stuffed shirts?” Within the month she had departed on her shopping trip. Hollis asked Lisa, “Go there much?”
    She glanced at him. “No… it was sort of like the office Christmas party and on Monday morning everyone avoided everyone else. You know?”
    “I think so.” Hollis saw the gravel parking field ahead with the museum to the right. He said, “I was here once. A reception of military attachés last October on the anniversary of the German-Russian battle here in 1941. Interesting place.”
    “It looks it.” They kept silent as the car continued through the lot onto a narrow lane. The sun was gone, and the night had become very still. She noticed bright twinkling stars between scattered clouds. The deep, dark quiet of the countryside at night surprised her. “Spooky.”
    “Romantic.”
    She smiled despite herself. The moon broke through the clouds and revealed a dozen polished obelisks standing like shimmering sentries over the dead.
    “Borodino,” Hollis said softly. “Fisher would have come this way, past the museum. The trick is to retrace how he got lost. Reach back in my briefcase and find the aerial survey map.”
    She did as Hollis said. “This it?”
    “Yes. Unfold it and put it on your lap. If we’re stopped, hit it with your cigarette lighter. It’s flash paper and will go up in a second without too much heat, smoke, or ash.”
    “Okay.”
    “Under your seat should be a red-filtered flashlight.”
    She reached beneath her seat and brought out the light.
    Hollis said, “We know he drove through the battlefield, then he said he found himself on a road in the woods north of Borodino Field, about this time at night. Further north is the Moskva River and the power station and reservoir. So he must have been between here and the river. The only woods on that aerial map is the
bor
—the pine forest. See it?”
    “Yes.” She looked up from the map. “I see pine trees there in the hills. See?”
    “Yes. Those are the hills just south of the Moskva. Now I’m coming to a fork in the road.”
    She shone the red light on the map. “Yes. I see it here. If you take the left fork it will loop back and begin to climb that hill.”
    Hollis nodded. The left fork appeared to head back toward the museum but did not. This was where Fisher must have made his fatal error. Hollis took the left fork.
    With the headlights off they drove on, and the land began to rise. A few pines stood on the grassy fields, then the road entered the thick tree line, and it became very dark. Lisa cleared her throat. “Can you see?”
    “Just shine the red light out the window once in a while.”
    She rolled down the window, letting in a cold blast of air. The red light picked out the narrow road, and Hollis followed the beam. He said, “How you doing?”
    “Okay. How’re
you
doing?”
    “Fine,” Hollis replied. “Nice woods. I like that word—
bor.
Very evocative, very Russian. I think of a deep, dark pine forest of old Muscovy, woodcarvers and woodcutters, log cabins, pine pitch boiling over fires of crackling logs. Sort of fairytalish.
Bor.
”
    She looked at him but said nothing.
    They continued up the ridge line, the Zhiguli moving very slowly, its high rpm engine whining in first gear. Lisa said, “Can I smoke?”
    “No.”
    “I’m getting shaky.”
    “Want to go back?”
    She hesitated before replying, “Later.”
    Ten minutes later they approached a sign, and Hollis stopped the car. Lisa shone the light on the sign, and they both read the words: STOP ! YOU ARE ENTERING A RESTRICTED AREA . TURN BACK !
    “This,” Hollis said, “must be the place. I was getting worried that we might have taken the wrong road.”
    “We did take the wrong road.”
    Hollis got out and looked around, discovering the small turnaround off the right side of the road. He opened the trunk and ripped out the wires for the back-up lights and the brake lights, then got in the car. He drove into the turnaround, but instead of backing out, continued between the pine trees until the Zhiguli was some twenty yards into the forest. He turned the car so it pointed back toward the road, then killed the engine.
    Lisa said