The Charm School

him?”
    Hollis looked over the menu. “Unlike the restaurants in central Moscow, if it’s on the menu, they’ve got it.”
    The waitress returned with the wine, and they ordered dinner. Lisa said, “That one bastard is still staring at me.”
    Hollis poured two glasses of red wine. “I’ll ask him to step outside.”
    “No.” Lisa smiled. “We’re even on restaurants.” She stuck her tongue out at the man who was staring at her. Several diners laughed. The man rose from his table, and Hollis wondered if his crew cut was going to brush the ceiling.
    A few of the other men hooted and howled. One yelled out, “Viktor! Don’t be an uncultural lout. Buy the Americans a drink.”
    Someone else shouted, “No, show them how much of a lout you are and throw them out.”
    Lisa looked around but saw no restaurant employees. She said to Hollis, “Do you want to leave?”
    “No.”
    Viktor and Hollis sized each other up.
    The dining room became quiet as a tall, thin man in civilian clothes rose from a dark corner table and walked across the room. He snapped to Viktor, “Out!” Viktor hurried for the door.
    Colonel Burov motioned toward the table. “Please. Sit. May I?” He sat in a chair at their table, still motioning Hollis into his seat. Burov snapped his fingers, and a waitress suddenly appeared. “More wine.” He looked at Hollis and Lisa. “I must apologize on behalf of my compatriot.”
    Hollis replied, “Why? Hasn’t he learned human speech?”
    Burov seemed puzzled, then got it and laughed. He turned and translated Hollis’ words for the others. Everyone laughed.
    Hollis said to Burov, “Come here often?”
    “Yes. This is a favorite of my organization. Did you know that before you came?”
    Hollis ignored the question and asked, “Can I assume this isn’t a chance meeting?”
    “It’s a fateful meeting perhaps.”
    “What’s on your mind, Colonel Burov?”
    “Many things, Colonel Hollis. Since our last unpleasant business at Mozhaisk, I’ve been thinking about you two.”
    “And we about you.”
    “I’m flattered. By the way, they tell me you never arrived at the state farm.”
    “So what?”
    Burov continued, “We found your rented car where you left it at Gagarin station, and I had it examined by the Criminal Investigation Division of the Moscow police. Tire marks, mud, pine twigs, and so on. I conclude that you entered a restricted area. Specifically an area two kilometers north of Borodino Field.”
    Hollis said, “Will you pass that butter, Colonel?”
    Burov slid a butter dish across the table. “So?”
    Hollis leaned toward Burov. “I suggest that if you want to speak to us, you go through your foreign ministry and arrange it with my embassy. Good evening.”
    Burov drummed a spoon on the table. “The hell with those people. This is intelligence business. I know who you are. I know you have scars on your neck and back from wounds received when you were shot down over Haiphong. I know your sister’s name is Mary and your mother drank too much. Let’s get down to business and forget the protocols of diplomacy.”
    Hollis took the spoon from Burov’s hand and said, “All right, no more diplomacy. You murdered an American citizen. You beat my driver, and perhaps you would have murdered me and Miss Rhodes. Yet you sit here and talk to us as though you are a civilized human being. You are not.”
    Burov seemed not to take offense. He rubbed his finger over his lips thoughtfully, then nodded. “All right. There’s no use denying some of the details that you possess in this matter. But what you conclude from those details is probably erroneous. This matter is quite beyond your understanding, Colonel Hollis, and certainly yours, Miss Rhodes. It is, I admit, somewhat beyond my understanding as well. It is a matter that concerns the higher-ups.”
    Lisa replied, “Then why kill the little people, Colonel?”
    Burov ignored this and continued, “Yes, I’ll satisfy your curiosity. It’s like this: the Major Jack Dodson, who the late Mr. Fisher referred to in his phone call to you, was a turncoat. While a prisoner of war in the People’s Republic of Vietnam, Major Dodson sent a message to the Soviet embassy in Hanoi requesting an interview. It was granted, and during the discussion with a Soviet military attaché, Major Dodson said he would welcome the opportunity to come to the Soviet Union and exchange his military knowledge for his release from the prison camp. He