The Charm School

felt bitter and betrayed by his country. He stated that America was not waging the war properly, that the limited air war had endangered his life, wasted his talent, and caused the deaths of his friends. Perhaps you yourself felt that way, Colonel. So, anyway, Dodson asked if we would get him out of the Vietnamese POW camp. We did.”
    Neither Hollis nor Lisa spoke. Finally Hollis said, “And why didn’t the Soviet Union announce his defection for propaganda purposes?”
    “Dodson didn’t want that. That was part of the deal we struck with him.”
    Lisa asked, “And he let his family think he was dead?”
    Burov shrugged. “Major Dodson spoke of his wife’s past infidelities. He was childless, I believe.”
    Hollis said, “Sounds like bullshit to me.” Hollis added, “What was Dodson doing in the pine forest at night when Gregory Fisher came upon him? Picking mushrooms?”
    “And,” Lisa added, “why did Gregory Fisher leave the Rossiya, after Colonel Hollis told him to stay there, and go back to Borodino, where he got himself killed in an auto accident? Come now, Colonel Burov.”
    Burov helped himself to some wine. He said, “Mr. Fisher’s accident is not relevant to the subject of Major Dodson. However, as I did have the opportunity to listen to the tape of Mr. Fisher’s conversation with you and Miss Rhodes, I think we can all agree that he sounded agitated. The militia report says that he was also drunk. My theory is he panicked and got back in his car with the idea of… well, who knows what a drunk man thinks? As for Major Dodson, he was hiking, as was his custom. He met Mr. Fisher, quite by chance, and out of nostalgia perhaps, told him something about himself. But he did
not
tell Mr. Fisher he was a prisoner, because he is not.”
    Burov took a sheet of folded paper from his pocket and handed it to Hollis. “This is a letter in Major Dodson’s hand, dated January of 1973, requesting asylum in the Soviet Union. Your government has now been made aware of this, and what both governments are trying to do is to avoid any embarrassment that Major Dodson’s defection would cause. It was a silent defection, and that is the way we all want it to remain.”
    Hollis pushed the letter back without looking at it. Hollis said, “I want to speak to Major Dodson and hear all this from him.”
    Burov nodded. “Yes, all right. If he’s agreeable.”
    “I don’t care if he’s agreeable or not. You will make him speak to me. Tomorrow. Here in Moscow. I suggest the International Trade Center hotel as a somewhat neutral site.”
    Burov lit a cigarette and exhaled. “Well, I’ll take it up with the proper authorities.”
    “Lacking a prompt decision, which is not unusual here, I want to see a photo of Major Dodson holding tomorrow’s
Pravda
.”
    “That’s very clever.”
    Hollis leaned toward Burov. “If you can’t produce the man or a picture of him, I’ll conclude that you’ve killed him or that he is not under your control. In fact, I believe he is on the run from you and may surface soon in his own way.”
    Burov looked at Lisa, then at Hollis. “Westerners who come to the Soviet Union are often paranoid, filled with the drivel they read about us. They observe things through yellow eyes and misinterpret what they see. However, I expected more sophisticated judgment from people such as yourselves.”
    “You’re blowing smoke,” Hollis said. “Call me at my office tomorrow regarding Major Dodson.”
    “I’ll try. But tomorrow I’ve got other things on my agenda, as you Americans say. Specifically, I’m involved with the investigation of a murder of two guards in that restricted area I told you about. Two young men, shot in the chest, left to die in agony. Who would do such a thing?” He stared at Hollis, then Lisa.
    Hollis poked Burov in the chest and said through clenched teeth, “Two young men”—he poked Burov again—“left to die in agony? You bastard. You and your thugs have murdered a million young men, women, children—”
    Lisa held his arm. “Sam. It’s all right. Easy.”
    Every head in the restaurant was turned toward them, and Burov’s face seemed frozen. No one spoke or moved for a full minute, then Burov said softly, “What a fool you are. To come here like this… accuse me of murder—”
    Hollis interrupted, “By the way, who was the man who answered the door of Mr. Fisher’s room at the Rossiya?”
    “How do I know?”
    “That man,” Hollis said,