The Charm School

have been one of the many legacies left by the German army. His age was right for that. In fact, Hollis thought, if Mosfilm were looking for a typical Nazi heavy for one of their innumerable war movies, Burov would do nicely.
    “Colonel Hollis—what caused your delay?”
    Hollis replied, “Your Foreign Ministry held up the passes.” Hollis leaned toward Burov and added sharply, “Why does everything in this country take twice as long as it does in the civilized world?”
    Burov’s face reddened. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
    “Your English is excellent. It means what you know it means.”
    Lisa was somewhat surprised at Hollis’ strong language, but she suspected that Hollis was putting Burov on the defensive regarding the question of their lateness.
    Burov sat back in his chair and lit an oval-shaped Troika cigarette. The heat from the first two puffs caused the flimsy paper and loose tobacco to sag. Burov automatically straightened the cigarette with his fingers. He said in a calmer tone, “That was not very diplomatic of you, Colonel. I thought diplomats would sooner bite their tongues off than say anything so offensive against their host country.”
    Hollis glanced at his watch in a gesture of impatience, then replied, “Diplomat-to-diplomat, that may be true. But you know who I am, and I know who you are. And if you ever cock your finger under my nose again, you’d better be prepared to lose it. Now, do you have something for us to sign?”
    “I’m sure.”
    Burov opened a green file folder on the desk and withdrew a stack of papers.
    Lisa said to Burov, “I think the body could have been treated with more care.”
    Burov looked at her with the expression of a man who is not used to dealing with women on a professional basis. “Is that so? Why do
veruyushchii
”—he used the Russian word for believers in God—“care about mortal remains? The soul is in paradise now. Correct?”
    “Why do you assume I’m a believer?”
    “You might well ask why I assumed you knew Russian, Ms. Rhodes. Should I assume you’re here to write a very nice press release on the joys of motor travel in the Soviet Union? Or will it be about the speed and efficiency of having one’s body shipped back to the States in the event of a mishap?” Burov smiled for the first time, and Lisa actually felt a chill run through her.
    Lisa drew a deep but discreet breath and said forcefully, “I must request that the body be more carefully cleaned and that it be properly shrouded.”
    “Did the young man’s naked body offend you?”
    “The way he was
thrown
into the freezer like a carcass offended me, Colonel.”
    “Really? Well, the state of Mr. Fisher’s remains is no concern of mine. Take that up with the mortician.” Burov shuffled through some papers with a look of disdain, as if to show that this aspect of their business was beneath him.
    Lisa seemed not to heed Burov’s advice and asked, “How do you propose we transport the body to the airport?”
    Burov replied curtly, “The mortician will provide an aluminum air coffin with dry ice. As in any
civilized
country. You must sign a charge for that. As you would in America.” He added, “I see you are driving a Zhiguli. How do you intend to fit a coffin in that?”
    Lisa answered, “We have no intention of transporting the coffin ourselves. You will provide us with an appropriate vehicle and driver. As any other country would.”
    Burov smiled again as if to suggest he found Lisa amusing. He eyed Lisa’s
vatnik,
then commented, “You both seemed to have dressed as though you intended to be gravediggers as well as pallbearers. Well, we’ll work something out. May I examine your travel passes and credentials?”
    Hollis and Lisa handed him their passes and diplomatic passports. Burov seemed interested in Hollis’ visa stamps and made no secret of writing down the entry and departure dates to the dozen or so countries represented on the visa pages.
    Hollis considered Colonel Burov. The man spoke unusually good English and was quick-witted in it as well as insulting and sarcastic. Russians dealing with foreigners, especially Westerners, were usually polite, though if they weren’t, they were simply abrasive and blunt—not so sharp as Burov was. Hollis guessed that Burov had a lot of dealings with English-speaking people and perhaps he was a graduate of the Institute of Canadian and American Studies in Moscow, a place that turned out as many KGB men