The Charm School by Nelson DeMille Page B

be good for me to get up close and personal with the Komitet. ”
    Alevy replied dryly, “You have diplomatic immunity.”
    “Yeah, Seth, but the KGB has a different take on diplomatic immunity.”
    “Well, you’re here, and a little peroxide will clean up those cuts nicely. I’ll even pay for your dry cleaning.”
    Hollis began to say something, but Lisa interjected, “Colonel, what do you think happened to Gregory Fisher?”
    “We should assume he is right now in a room with KGB interrogators.”
    No one spoke for a while, then Alevy said, “By the way, Sam, no one is faulting you for anything. You acted as quickly as possible.” He added, “It’s their town.”
    Hollis didn’t respond.
    Alevy changed the subject. “I’m interested in the man in room seven forty-five.”
    “So am I,” Hollis replied.
    Alevy asked, “Was he definitely an American?”
    Hollis considered a moment before answering, “Yes. Right down to the Mennen after-shave lotion.”
    “But,” Alevy speculated, “he could have been an American in the employ of the KGB.”
    “Could have been. But maybe Fisher just got his room number wrong.”
    Alevy stood and hit a button on the electronic console in the corner. Gregory Fisher’s voice filled the room, and they listened again to the entire conversation.
    Lisa remarked, “I think he knew his room number.”
    Seth Alevy lit a cigarette and paced around the room in thought. He said finally, “Well, I’ll handle it from here.” He turned to Lisa. “Of course you’ll discuss this with no one.” He said to Hollis, “I’ll take a report from you and forward it to Langley. You’ll want a copy sent to your section in the Pentagon.”
    Hollis stood. “That’s right.”
    Alevy added, “We’ll have to tell the ambassador something since we’ve got a car wrecked and a man in the infirmary. I’ll handle that of course.” Alevy turned to Hollis. “I don’t see any military intelligence angle here, Sam.”
    “No.”
    Alevy regarded Hollis keenly and said, “You might think this Major Dodson thing concerns you because Major Dodson, if he exists, was or is a POW and so on. But I’ll let you know if I need you.”
    Hollis walked to the door. “Thank you, Mr. Alevy.”
    Lisa said, “What I want to know is, what is Mrs. Ivanova’s Charm School? And where is Major Dodson? Is he still out there somewhere? Can we help him? Can we help Greg Fisher?”
    Alevy looked at his watch. “It’s very late, and I have some sending to do. So good night and thank you, Sam. Lisa, will you stay a moment?”
    Hollis opened the door.
    Alevy called after him, “Do you want your caviar?”
    “Put it some place warm, Seth, where the sun doesn’t shine.” Hollis left.
    As Hollis stood waiting for the elevator, Lisa joined him. The elevator came, and they both rode down to the ground level in silence. They walked out the rear of the chancery into the cold October night. Sam Hollis and Lisa Rhodes stood a moment on the covered stone terrace. Lisa said, “My unit is to the left.”
    “Mine’s to the right.”
    “Will you walk me?”
    They took the path to the left, which was bordered by newly planted trees, Russian birches, all bare now. To the right was the quadrangle formed on three sides by the row house residences and the Marine barracks, and on the fourth side by the chancery building. The grass of the quadrangle held the faint outlines of impromptu softball games and fainter evidence of a short touch-football season. The embassy’s few children sometimes played in the quadrangle, and in fact, Hollis saw a few toys lying on the wet grass. The first snow would bring snowmen and snowball fights, and the spring would bring kite-flying, followed by sunbathing. This little patch of ground—about three acres—was the village commons, a little piece of the America they all missed and had learned at last to love.
    Lisa followed his gaze. She said, “We’re building a scarecrow out there as soon as