The Charm School

don’t see any maps listed on this inventory.”
    Burov did not reply.
    “Fisher surely had maps.” Hollis studied Burov’s face. “Perhaps someone took them.”
    Burov waved his hand. “They would be of small monetary value.”
    “Nevertheless, I’ll bet you’d like to know where those maps are now, Colonel Burov.”
    Burov stared at Hollis.
    Hollis was fairly convinced now that Dodson was not in KGB hands, dead or alive. Hollis pressed on. “If the maps should somehow turn up at the American embassy, I’ll let you know so you don’t worry yourself about them.”
    Burov pursed his lips thoughtfully as if he was considering that possibility and finding it somewhat distressing. He said, “I’ll bet you we find those maps before you do.”
    “I’ll take that bet. What are the stakes?”
    “Very high, Colonel Hollis.”
    Hollis nodded. If Dodson made it to the embassy or to a Western reporter in Moscow, his story would effectively end Soviet-American relations for about a decade.
    Burov seemed to understand what Hollis was thinking and said bluntly and not too cryptically, “The stakes are peace.”
    “Indeed they are.”
    Burov went back to the business at hand. “We are holding the exposed film we found. We will have the film developed and will send the prints to your embassy. You understand that the KGB could not possibly let exposed film pass through its hands without a peek.”
    Hollis looked up and saw that Burov was grinning at his own bad joke. Hollis replied, “I don’t see anything amusing about this. A young man is dead.”
    Burov continued to grin, and Hollis had the impulse to smash his fist into those ripe cherry lips. Lisa began to say something, but Hollis laid a hand on her arm and said to Burov, “And of course you returned the key or
propusk
to the Rossiya.”
    “There was no key or
propusk,
Colonel Hollis. Gregory Fisher never got to Moscow.”
    “You know he did. We know he did.”
    The paperwork and unpleasantness continued for another half hour. Finally Burov leaned back and abruptly observed, “You have been walking in the woods.”
    Hollis looked up from a document and replied, “Picking mushrooms.”
    “Really? You are real Russians now. Can you tell which are the poisonous
gribi
?”
    “I guess so. I’m still alive.”
    Burov laughed with real mirth, then leaned forward across the desk and still smiling asked, “May I see the mushrooms? I’m a fancier of them myself.”
    “I’m afraid we weren’t very lucky.”
    “I should think not in a pine forest.”
    Hollis assumed that Burov had noticed a few pine needles or smelled the scent that clung to them, or perhaps he had more solid information. It was difficult, Hollis had learned, to know what these people knew for sure and what they were guessing at. They knew too much about each person in the embassy right down to the staffers in the USIS such as Lisa. On the other hand, Hollis knew very little about the Soviets with whom he came into contact, and he knew nothing about Colonel Burov, which was a distinct disadvantage. Hollis stood. “Will you find us a truck and driver now? We’d like to set out for the airport.”
    Burov remained seated. “That’s not possible at this hour. You’ll have to spend the night.”
    “Do you mean to tell me,” Hollis asked with a touch of sarcasm, “that a colonel of the KGB can’t round up a truck and driver because it’s after six o’clock?”
    “I mean to tell you, Colonel Hollis, that unescorted night driving in the countryside is not permitted for foreigners. Diplomats included.”
    “Then get us an escort.”
    “Secondly,” Burov continued, “when your car arrived, I noticed that neither your taillights nor your brake lights were working. You must see to that in the morning. Unfortunately there is no service station in Mozhaisk, nor a hotel. However, there is a
sovkhoz
—a state farm—two kilometers from here. They will find you rooms in the commune building. There is also a mechanic there. I will write you a note, and they will be pleased to give you accommodations.”
    Hollis glanced at Lisa, then said to Burov, “I don’t see that we have any choice. But I require a truck and driver here at eight in the morning.”
    Burov laughed. “This is not America, and I am not an American boss, only a colonel in State Security. Expect the driver between nine and ten.” He gathered the paperwork into his attaché case, then made a notation on their travel