Hollis looked at Alevy in the dim light. Alevy was far more understanding of the Russians than Hollis had been led to believe. A lot of CIA types liked to dwell on all the signs and portents of a Soviet society that was falling apart. They made reports on this to succeeding administrations, who enjoyed the good news. But this was a society that had been falling apart for as long as anyone could remember, and it was still around, and in the end the Russians always stood and fought to protect their identity, their culture, their language, and their motherland.
Hollis poured himself a scotch and fished a half-melted ice cube out of a sterling silver bucket. “Where’s the weakness in their operation, Seth?”
“I’m not sure. I have some thoughts. But I know what our problem is. We have two major ones. The first is to identify and roll up this network that isn’t a network but is more like toxic organisms in American society. Then we have to stop this school from pumping out more disease. I didn’t make up that analogy. That’s from headquarters. They like analogies.”
“You forgot the third thing, Seth. Getting the fliers out of there.”
Alevy glanced at Hollis. “Yes. But that’s part of closing up the school. The tough nut to crack is the two thousand agents already entrenched in America. I hate to say it, or even think it, but we may have to live with that for another forty or fifty years.”
“If America is around that long,” Hollis said.
Alevy didn’t reply to that but said, “So that’s the story you’ve helped uncover, Sam.”
“What am I supposed to do with this information?”
“Well, Colonel, we had several options a few days ago. But now, with you getting booted, with Dodson on the loose and Fisher dead and then with you snooping around out there, and your goading Burov, now they know that we know, and our options are shutting down fast. They’re going to shut that place up and remove every scrap of evidence. They’ll transfer the operation someplace, and they’ll offer to take an American delegation through the suspected site. By the time we get there, it’ll be a rest home for Moscow pensioners or something. So, as you said, we have to act quickly.”
“Why don’t we start by arresting the Kellums and making them talk?”
“I’d like to, but we haven’t absolutely proven they’re Russian agents yet, and we don’t want to tip off the KGB any more than they’re already tipped. So we’ll be careful with the Kellums. Also, they may be real Americans, complete with civil rights.”
“Are you asking me to help you or not?”
“You can help by not becoming part of the problem.”
“I never was part of the problem. I want those fliers out of prison, and I’ll work with you to do that, or I’ll pursue my own course of action.”
Alevy nodded. “Yes, of course you would. I guess if you or any military man was jeopardizing the lives of three hundred CIA agents, I’d do the same. Loyalty is okay.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that.”
Alevy replied, “Listen, Sam, I told you everything — State secrets and diplomatic policy and an issue so hot it could blow Soviet-American relations to hell for years to come. I did that to convince you we’re not sleeping on this. We’re working on getting those pilots home. I’m taking it on pure faith that you will be reasonable. Don’t get your people in the Pentagon all worked up. Okay?”
“Okay.” Hollis did not think for one second that Seth Alevy took anything on faith. He also didn’t think that Alevy intended to follow the government’s line of pursuing détente. Alevy would like nothing better than for him to get the Pentagon all worked up. And neither did Hollis think that Alevy spent an hour briefing him just to tell him to keep his mouth shut. With a few days left in the country and officially relieved of his duties, Hollis knew he hadn’t heard the last of the Charm School or of Seth Alevy.
“Don’t tell Lisa any of this. It’s your job to neutralize her. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“And remember that your persona non grata status raises some questions about your diplomatic immunity. Tell Lisa that. Be very cautious if you decide to go outside the gate.”
“Right.”
“Oh, one last thing. I want you to do me a favor.”
“What?”
“Come up on the roof with me.”
“What for?”
“Once a month or so I go on the roof and vilify the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. I get up there and yell, ‘Hello, KGB shits!’ Then I go into my analysis of why Soviet society sucks.”
“Christ, no wonder they beat the shit out of you.”
“Fuck them. I’m in the mood tonight. Come up with me.”
Hollis glanced at his watch. “Well, I—” He wondered if Lisa had stayed at his place or gone home.
“Come on. Don’t be so stuffy. You’ll feel good.”
“I guess the fresh air will do me good.”
“That’s the spirit. What are they going to do to you? Kick you out? Kill you?”
“They can’t do both,” Hollis observed.
Hollis took the brandy bottle from the sideboard, and Alevy led him up to the third-floor hallway, climbed a ladder, and opened the roof hatch.
Alevy and Hollis came up onto the flat roof above Alevy’s apartment. They stood in the gently falling snow and looked out over the city as the bells of the Ivan Tower chimed two. Alevy said, “Early snow.” The stars on the Kremlin’s domes and towers were luminous red, but the crosses, which for some inexplicable reason had never all been taken down, were dark and invisible. “There is probably not one thing open in Moscow at this hour,” Alevy said, “except the militia and KGB offices. Even the metros are closed. In Stalin’s day Lubyanka would start disgorging its predators at this hour.” He took the brandy bottle from Hollis and took a long pull, then shouted, “Do you hear me out there? Wake up, K-goons! This is Seth Alevy, superspook, super-Jew!” He turned to Hollis and continued in a slurred voice, “The goons would prowl the city with lists, and all Moscow would hold its breath until morning. And each dawn would break over a city of frightened human beings, hurrying to offices and factories, pretending not to notice if someone did not show up at work. And they say you could really hear the sounds of screams and gunshots coming out of Lubyanka. What a barbaric place this was! I look out there, Sam, and I see an alien cityscape. Strange lettering on signs, fantastic-shaped buildings, and the sky above the city always tinged with that eerie red glow, and I think I’m on Mars sometimes.”
Hollis looked at Alevy a moment. “Why don’t you take the next spaceship back?”
Alevy smiled self-consciously. “Oh, I will. Another year or so.”
Hollis wanted to tell Alevy that if he kept baiting them he wouldn’t last another year. But he didn’t want to say that with them listening. And Alevy knew that anyway.
Alevy shouted. “Yeb vas!” Fuck you.
A window on the top floor of the apartment house across the street opened, and a man called down in English, “Fuck you, Jew.”
Alevy laughed and shouted back, “Sosi khui, chitai Pravdu budesh komissarom,” which Hollis translated as something like “Suck cocks and read Pravda, and you’ll become a commissar.” Hollis said, “Let’s go, Seth.” He took Alevy’s arm.
Alevy pulled away. “No.” He took another swallow from the bottle and handed it to Hollis. “Here. Get drunk and think of a good one. You know the one about… how does it go…? KGB men never go out with girls, they just live with Mary Palm.” Alevy made a jerking motion with his cupped hand.
“Seth…” Hollis could see that Alevy was quite drunk by now, and there was no talking to him. This was apparently Alevy’s monthly catharsis, and Hollis had learned to respect people’s intermittent periods of insanity here.