The Charm School (86 page)

Mills looked over Hollis’ shoulder and whispered, “That’s our diplomatic code.”

Hollis nodded and gave it back to Hughes. “Captain, will you be good enough to have your radio man encrypt a message from this pad as follows: ‘Attention Banks. Landed this location. Situation report to follow.’ Leave it unsigned. Send it out on that frequency.”

Hughes nodded. He said, “Your two friends in the infirmary are resting comfortably. The medic would like to be briefed on their history.”

Mills replied, “They’ve both suffered obvious physical trauma. Both have had sodium pentothal recently. The one in the sweat suit is the friend. The one in pajamas is not. He must be restrained for the duration of this voyage.”

Hughes walked to the door. “I’ll have a steward bring you some breakfast. I’ll arrange for sleeping quarters. In the meantime, feel free to use this room as long as you wish.”

“Thank you.”

Hughes left the chart room.

Hollis went back to the porthole but saw nothing out there except the thickening fog. He said, “We’ve all done a good job. I don’t like what we did, but we did it well.”

Mills poured himself more brandy. “Yes, and for whatever it’s worth to you all, I wanted to see those men come home . . . with their new families.” He added, “I’m not a religious man, but perhaps they’re better off where they are now. I don’t think even they really wanted to go home anymore.”

No one responded.

Hollis’ mind returned to the Landis house, and he thought of Landis’ little boy, Timmy, and of Landis’ saying about him, “My poor little guy.” Maybe, Hollis thought, just maybe they were all at peace now.

Hollis sat at the chart table and found a pencil and paper. He said to Mills, “I’ll write Charlie a note.”

Mills smiled. “Be nice. He probably sat up all night worrying about us.”

Hollis drew the paper toward him and began writing in standard, nonradio Russian:

Dear Charles,

This is Sam Hollis sending you this message, not from the grave, but from the
Lucinda.
With me are Lisa Rhodes, Bill Brennan, Bert Mills, and Captain O’Shea. Also with us are Major Jack Dodson, USAF, and Colonel Petr Burov, KGB, our prisoner. Seth Alevy is dead. Before he died, he told me about your arrangement with CIA, White House, Defense Intelligence, et al. Charm School is permanently closed, as per this arrangement. I must tell you, Charles, I think you and your crowd are far more treacherous and cold-blooded than me or Alevy, or any combat general or spy I’ve ever met. I would like someday to take you out with me on a field operation to expand your horizons a bit. But lacking that opportunity, I demand you meet us personally in London four days from today. The people with me are surviving witnesses to the murder of nearly three hundred Americans by their own government. We must discuss that to reconcile it with our personal sense of morality and the legitimate needs of national security. Come prepared for a long session.

(Signed)
Hollis.

Hollis handed it to Mills, who read it, nodded, and passed it on to the others.

Hollis said to O’Shea, “Captain, go to the radio room and encrypt this. Stay with the operator as he sends, then wait for a reply.”

“Yes, sir.”

O’Shea took the message and left the chart room.

Lisa put her arm around Hollis. “Can British sea captains marry people?”

Hollis smiled for the first time. “Yes, but the marriage is only good for the length of the voyage.”

“Good enough.”

Mills sat in a chair, yawned, and said as if to himself, “In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve been in a Moscow taxi, an Aeroflot bus, an Aeroflot helicopter, a Zil-6, a Pontiac Trans Am, and now, thank God, a British merchant ship.”

Brennan took a pack of bubble gum from his pocket, started to unwrap a piece, then looked at it. He said, “Seth Alevy bought this for me in the Trade Center. He was a funny sort of guy. You always thought he was kind of cool and someplace else. But if you ran into him in the embassy, he’d call you by name and remember something about you to say. I always noticed that the senior people never said much to him, but the security men, Marine guards, secretaries, and all thought a lot of him.” Brennan rewrapped the gum and put it in his pocket.

No one spoke for a while, and some minutes later O’Shea came back into the chart room and handed Hollis a piece of paper.

Hollis looked at it and read it aloud: “From Charles Banks. ‘Delighted to hear from you. Congratulations on a fine job. Very sorry to hear about Seth. We’ll miss him. You’ll be met in Liverpool. Very much looking forward to seeing you all in London. Drinks are on me. Special regards to Lisa.’ Signed, ‘Charles.’”

Hollis looked at O’Shea, Mills, Brennan, and Lisa. The radio reply was so typically Charles Banks that everyone seemed on the verge of laughter.

Mills finally said, “What a lovable son of a bitch. I’d like to beat the hell out of him, but I can’t bring myself to do it. So we’ll have a drink with him instead.”

Lisa added, “I always liked him. I still like him. But I don’t trust him anymore.”

Hollis reflected that he had never trusted Banks. He wouldn’t trust him in London either.

An elderly steward entered with a galley pitcher of orange juice and a tray of hot biscuits. He set them down on the chart table and said in an accent that reminded Hollis of a Horatio Hornblower movie, “Compliments of Captain Hughes.” He added, “The first officer extends to the lady the use of his quarters. For you gentlemen, bunks have been set up in the officers’ wardroom. The captain wishes you to know that there are no radar sightings of any note. If there’s anything further you’ll be needing, send a message to the bridge, and someone will see to it.”

Mills thanked the steward, who left. Mills said, “Sometimes when we’re in Russia, we lose sight of what and who we’re fighting for. Then you come West on leave or business, and you run into a London cabbie or someone like that steward, and you remember the word ‘civility,’ and you realize you never once experienced it in the workers’ paradise.”

They all sat at the chart table, and O’Shea observed, “Real orange juice.”

They ate in silence awhile, then Brennan said, apropos of nothing, “I like London. I like the way the women talk.”

O’Shea smiled and said, “I didn’t think helicopters could be so much fun to fly. I might try rotary-wing school one of these days.”

Hollis observed, “School would be a good idea.”

Mills chewed thoughtfully on a buttered biscuit, then said, “I’m anxious to debrief Burov and Dodson. That will be one hell of an interesting assignment. I wonder how they’ll relate to one another in a different environment.”

Lisa looked around the table. “Don’t anyone laugh, but I’m going back to Russia someday. I swear I will.”

No one laughed. Hollis said, “Me too.”

O’Shea stood and looked at Mills and Brennan. “Why don’t we go find that wardroom and catch some sleep?”

Mills and Brennan stood. Mills said to Hollis, “I’ll look in on the infirmary, and I’ll keep in contact with the bridge regarding radio messages or unfriendly radar sightings. But somehow, I think we’ve made it. We beat them.”

Hollis replied, “We were due.”

Mills took his ski mask and moved to the door. He said to Hollis, “When you were passed out in the helicopter, I noticed that you snored. So why don’t you find other sleeping accommodations?” He left the chart room.

Lisa and Hollis looked at each other across the table. Lisa said finally, “You look sad.”

Hollis didn’t reply.

Lisa said, “We’re all sad, Sam. We’re happy that we’ve saved our own necks, but sad about the others.”

Hollis nodded. “This was the ultimate betrayal. The government betrayed those men once and now again. We’ve swept the last wreckage of that war under the rug for all time.”

“Will you try to put it behind you now?”

“I’ll try. Once you’ve come full circle, any further movement along that route is just going around in circles. I’ll try to move on now.”

Lisa removed a satin box from her pocket and laid it on the chart table and opened it. She stared at its contents awhile, then lifted out a string of amber beads and held them draped over her fingers. “Seth gave me these while we were waiting for you outside Burov’s house. May I keep these?”

“Of course.” He added, “Just don’t wear them.”

She looked at him and couldn’t tell if he was serious. She dropped the beads back in the box and closed it.

Hollis took some crumpled sheets of paper from his pocket and spread them on the chart table, holding them down with lead map weights. “These are the names of the men, living and dead . . . all dead now, who were in the Charm School from the beginning.”

“That was what Lew Poole gave you?”

“Yes.” He stared at the curled papers. “Simms . . . here’s Simms. . . .” He looked off into the distance and spoke. “On the Vietnam memorial, they have crosses beside the names of the missing.”

“Yes, I’ve seen that.”

“And if a missing man is confirmed dead, they carve a circle around the cross.” He looked at Lisa. “I want these men to be officially recognized as dead and their families notified. I want this list put to some good use.”

She nodded, then asked, “Is that list . . . dangerous to have . . . I mean, the Charm School never existed.”

Hollis replied, “I think it would be dangerous for us
not
to have it. This is the only real evidence that you and I have that the Charm School did exist. It is our insurance policy.”

She nodded in understanding.

Hollis said, “I’ll send this along with a letter to my father in Japan. I’ll have a seaman post it in Liverpool before we get off the ship. Then when we get to London, we’ll talk about things with our friend, Mr. Banks.” He looked at her. “So what do
you
want from all this?”

She smiled. “I’ve got it.
You.
”

He smiled in return.

She added, “And we have Gregory Fisher’s murderer, don’t we? I mean, I know that Burov is not the sole murderer. The system is a killer. But a little justice was done.”

Hollis sipped on his coffee. Lisa yawned. Through occasional breaks in the clouds, shafts of sunlight came in through the portholes and lay on the table for a time. A seaman appeared at the door and said, “Captain Hughes wishes you to know that we’ve passed Kronshtadt. We are in undisputed international waters.”

“Thank you.”

Lisa looked at Hollis. “Another step home.”

“We’ll get there.” Hollis stood and went to the starboard porthole. He stared out to sea awhile, then turned and found Lisa standing in front of him. They looked at each other, then spontaneously she threw her arms around him.

The steward opened the door of the chart room, mumbled something, and backed out.

She buried her face in his chest. “My God, Sam, I’m so tired. . . . Can we make love this morning . . . ? My parents buried their daughter. . . . They’ll be delirious to see me. . . . Come home with me. . . . I want to meet your odd family. . . . Sam, can I cry for Seth? Is that all right?”

“Of course. You’re shaking. Let me take you to your room.”

“No, hold me.” She said softly, “Can we pretend that after our lunch in the Arbat we flew to New York and nothing happened in between?”

“No, we can’t do that. But we can try to make some sense of it. Try to understand this whole mess between us and them. Maybe I’ll teach you about Soviet air power, and you explain Gogol to me. We’ll both learn something that no one else cares about.”

She laughed. “I’d like that.” She hugged him tighter. “Later I’ll tell you a Russian bedtime story.”

They stood silently for a long time, listening to the sounds of the ship and the sea, feeling the roll and forward momentum of the freighter as it moved westward, away from Russia.   a cognizant original v5 release november 24 2010