Charm School v1_0

by Nelson DeMille

  Mills shut off his headlights.

  Hollis got out of the Zil as Alevy moved to the gate. Hollis grabbed Alevy'sshoulder. “He's mine.”

  Alevy nodded. “Okay. But don't kill him.”

  “I know.”

  Alevy looked at his watch. “We have thirty-four minutes to get to the helipad.”

  Lisa said to Hollis, “Let me go with you. I can help you get past the guard inside.”

  Hollis nodded. He opened the wire gate, then turned to Alevy. “On the left side of the house is Greg Fisher's Trans Am. We'll take that out of here.”

  Alevy seemed not to understand. “Fisher's Trans Am? Here …?”

  “Burov drives it. Keys are most probably in the ignition.”

  Alevy nodded. “Good idea, Sam. They might be on the lookout for a Zil-6 by now. And if the Trans Am is Burov's car, we might not be challenged.”

  Mills added, “And we may need the speed and handling. The Zil's a pig.”

  Hollis replied, “All that may be true. But I want the Trans Am, because… I want the Trans Am.” He took Lisa by the arm and began running up the long blacktop path toward the dacha.

  Two German shepherds suddenly appeared out of the dark, tearing toward them from opposite directions. Hollis dove into a prone firing position, steadied his aim, and fired at the closer dog to his left. The automatic coughed softly, but the dog yelped loudly. Hollis rolled to his right just as the second shepherd reached him and Lisa. Hollis could actually smell the big dog in the split second before he put a bullet into its open mouth.

  Hollis stood and helped Lisa to her feet. “Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  They got to the front door, and Hollis nodded to her. She turned the doorknob and found it open. Lisa put her pistol in her parka and slipped inside.

  The guard was sitting in a chair in the large foyer by the light of a dim lamp, aiming his automatic rifle at her. Lisa partly closed the door behind her and stood motionless. The guard said, “Who are you?”

  She put her finger to her lips and whispered in Russian, “I am Lisa Rhodes, the new American woman. The colonel wishes to see me.”

  The guard said, “He never told me.”

  “He told the men outside.”

  The guard grinned. “And what do you suppose the colonel wants to see you about at this hour?”

  “He wants to have sex with me.”

  The guard smirked and put his rifle on the desk. He said, “I'll have to sneak upstairs and nudge him.” He pulled off his boots. “Get into the living room and get out of your clothes. That's where he has to do it with his old lady upstairs.” The guard stood in his stocking feet.

  Lisa pulled the door open and jumped aside.

  Hollis ran through the door and fired as the man reached for his rifle, then rushed forward and grabbed him before he fell. Hollis sat the man back in his chair and saw the frothy blood forming at his lips and could hear the sucking chest wound as the guard tried to breathe.

  Hollis took Lisa by the arm and propelled her toward the front door. He whispered, “Go. No arguing.”

  “Please… Sam, be careful—”

  Hollis opened the door and pushed her out, then turned back to the guard, who was staring at him. Hollis walked past him, then turned, clamped his hand on the man's shoulder, and fired a bullet into the back of his head, holding him in his seat.

  Hollis left the foyer and went toward the staircase.

  The stairs creaked, but he continued on up. A woman's voice said, “Natalia, is that you, darling?”

  Hollis stopped. He heard footsteps, then the woman's voice called out, “Petr, Natalia is in her room.”

  Burov's voice came back. “It is the guard. Come back to bed.”

  Hollis heard footsteps again and the sound of a door closing. He climbed the remaining steps and came to a large upper hallway. To the left were two half-open doors that would be the bedrooms of Burov's daughter, Natalia, and probably his mother. To the right was the closed door that would be the master bedroom. Hollis went to the closed door, listened, then turned the knob, threw the door open, and shoulder-rolled into the room, coming up into a firing position, his pistol aimed at the bed. “Don't move!” The room was dark except for a small red bulb, and as Hollis' eyes adjusted to the light, he saw it was actually a red star glowing atop a wood model of the Kremlins Spassky Tower. That seemed odd, but odder still was the single empty bed on which lay a rag doll. Hollis understood, but it was too late.

  He heard the revolver's hammer click behind him, and Burov's voice said, “Drop the gun.”

  Hollis dropped the gun.

  Burov said, “Don't stand. Turn around on your knees.”

  Hollis turned his body slowly toward Burov. Burov flipped on an overhead light, and Hollis saw Burov standing in the doorway, barefooted, wearing flannel pajamas and pointing a big revolver at him.

  Burov said, “Some families practice fire drills. We have other sorts of drills here. And you think Russians are stupid.”

  Hollis didn't reply.

  “The stupid one,” Burov said, “is the one who is on his knees looking into the barrel of a gun.” Burov regarded Hollis curiously. “What is your purpose here?”

  “To kill you, you idiot.”

  “No, you would have simply shot bullets into that bed. You said, 'Don't move.' You wanted to capture me. Where did you get that gun?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think not. Did you kill the guards?”

  “Yes.”

  “And my dogs?”

  “Yes.” Burov nodded thoughtfully, then said, “My phone doesn't work, and I think you have people downstairs. So we are both in a bad position.”

  Hollis said nothing.

  “Is this a rebellion? That would be lunacy. There are six hundred armed Border Guards here. Do you want to negotiate for Dodson's life?”

  “I want to give you a lecture about how much power comes from the muzzle of a gun. It depends on other factors. And authority never came from the muzzle of a gun. Are we learning something?”

  Burov snapped, “Get on all fours and crawl out here.”

  Hollis dropped to all fours and moved out into the hallway as Burov stepped back.

  Burov said, “To the right.”

  Hollis crawled down the hallway, and Burov came up beside him close enough to kick Hollis in the head with the heel of his bare foot. “I'll show you who has the power and the authority here.”

  Burov led Hollis into the master bedroom. “On your back.”

  Hollis rolled over on his back, and Burov walked out of his line of vision, then stomped his foot down on Hollis' face.

  “Take off your jacket and sweat shirt, and pull your pants down around your ankles.”

  Hollis sat up slowly, Burov still behind him, and removed his parka and shirt, then slid his pants down.

  Burov snatched the jacket away, then said, “Lie down, hands under your ass.”

  Hollis lay down and put his hands under him.

  Burov went through Hollis' parka. He tossed a spare ammunition clip aside, then said, “What is this?” He threw the silver general's star on Hollis' bare chest.

  Hollis made no reply, and Burov kicked the top of his head. “And what is this in these aluminum cigar tubes, Hollis? Names… ah, a class roster, living and dead. Where are you bringing this?”

  “One copy to Washington, one to Moscow.”

  “Yes? You think so? I don't think so.”

  Hollis thought Burov's voice sounded strained. He heard Burov move to the far side of the room and glanced over at him. In an alcove near a window was a radio transmitter, and as Hollis watched, the radio glowed to life. Burov said, “I'm going to call out the entire Border Guard detachment from their barracks, Hollis.” He picked up the handset.

  “Where is your wife, daughter, and your mother?”

  Burov turned toward him. “Why do yo
u ask?”

  “This place is surrounded, and there will be shooting. I'll guarantee them safe passage out of this house.”

  “You can't guarantee anything, you shit.”

  “They can leave now. Before you call.”

  Burov, still holding the handset, came toward Hollis. “There is no one surrounding this house.” He kicked Hollis in the side of the face.

  “You know there is. The guards are dead, and your phone is cut.”

  “But not my radio.”

  Hollis said in Russian, “Then make the call, you stupid shit, and fuck you, your wife, your daughter, and your ugly old mother.”

  Burov again kicked Hollis in the face. He held the handset to his ear and listened to the intermittent jamming as the radio in the headquarters and the one in the helipad cabin transmitted their open microphones across the band. He swore softly, went back to the radio, and switched to the alternate frequency. He heard snatches of conversation cut off as the jamming swept the frequencies. He glanced at Hollis, then said into the mouthpiece in Russian, “All stations, all stations, this is Colonel Burov. Full alert, full alert. Send a detachment of guards to my quarters at once. Be on the lookout for armed prisoners—”

  “Students!” Hollis called out. “Students!”

  “Shut your fucking mouth!”

  “Why don't you shut yours? No one can hear you anyway. Can't you tell the radio is jammed, you stupid shit?” Hollis added in Russian, “Don't the Russians understand electronics?”

  Burov dropped the handset and took a long running stride toward Hollis, his foot shooting out toward Hollis' head. Hollis sat up quickly, causing Burov to lose his balance as his foot sailed through the air. Hollis lifted himself on his hands and pivoted his legs around, knocking Burov off his feet. Hollis' right hand wrapped around Burov's revolver, and he held the cylinder in place as Burov tried to squeeze off a round. Hollis jabbed the fingers of his left hand in Burov's eyes, then jabbed into his larynx. Burov let out a gasp but did not loosen his grip on the pistol. Burov's left hand chopped down on Hollis' neck twice before Hollis could grab Burov's wrist. Hollis kicked his shoes and pants off and brought his knee up into Burov's testicles.

  The two men rolled and thrashed around on the floor, Hollis holding his grip on Burov's revolver and Burov's wrist, each trying to position their knees for another blow to the groin, and each aware that the other was trained in the same deadly arts.

  Hollis smashed his forehead down on Burov's nose and heard it crack. Burov got his teeth into the maxillary nerves of Hollis' cheek and drew blood before Hollis could pull his face away. Hollis stuck his thumbnail into the fleshy part of Burov's wrist, digging at the veins until he opened one of them and felt the blood spurting. Neither man uttered a word or a sound of pain.

  Hollis realized that Burov had not been lying about his physical condition, but Hollis' condition was not as good as it had been some weeks before, and he was tiring, unable to roll Burov over on his back again. Hollis found himself under Burov's heavy weight and felt Burov's gun hand working free. Both men looked at each other in the dim light, and Hollis saw that Burov was bleeding from the nose and the right eye. Burov said softly, “I'm going to shoot you in the balls.”

  Hollis suddenly released his grip on Burov's wrist and with his freed hand delivered a judo chop to the back of Burov's neck, then reached around Burov's head and grasped his chin in his hand and pulled, turning the man's head and neck until he could hear the cartilage cracking. Burov reached for Hollis' hand to break the grip before his neck broke.

  Hollis kept up the pressure, and he could see Burov's tongue protruding from his mouth and his left eye beginning to bulge. Burov's free hand was pulling at Hollis' arm. Hollis brought his knee up into Burov's groin twice, realizing the man's defenses were failing. He tried to pull the pistol from Burov's hand, but Burov held tight.

  Then, to keep his neck from breaking, Burov suddenly released his grip on his pistol and let his body roll over on his back, rolling out of Hollis' twisting jaw hold. Burov got to his feet.

  Hollis stood also, and the two men faced each other, hunched over and panting. Hollis let Burov's pistol fall to the floor.

  “Come on.”

  But Burov didn't move, and Hollis could see he was finished. Both eyes were filled with blood, and his breathing came in short raspy gasps. Blood poured from Burov's nose and spurted from his wrist. Hollis moved closer to him, caught his breath, and said, “For Dodson, Fisher, the airmen, their women, and the children.” Hollis drove his fist into Burov's face and heard the cracking of teeth.

  Burov toppled backward and lay still on the floor. Hollis sank to his knees and turned Burov over on his face so he wouldn't drown in his own blood. He ripped off the collar of Burov's pajamas and tied it around the open vein of Burov's wrist.

  Hollis sank to the floor, trying to clear his head and catch his breath. His hand went to his right cheek where Burov's teeth had ripped into the flesh and nerves, and he felt a searing pain flash through his brain.

  A figure appeared in the doorway, and Hollis could make out a pair of jackboots coming toward him. He looked up into the face of Seth Alevy. Behind Alevy was Lisa. Hollis tried to stand, but Alevy's hand pressed down on his shoulder. “Sit awhile.” Alevy took the revolver from the floor and went over to Burov.

  Lisa hurried to Hollis' side. “Sam, are you all right?”

  He nodded, then turned toward Alevy. “Radio.” He pointed.

  Alevy moved from Burov to the radio and ripped the handset out of its cord, then smashed the plastic handset against the steel radio casing. “Was he able to get a call through?”

  “I don't think so.” Hollis pulled on his sweat pants, and Lisa helped him on with his shirt and parka. He got on his running shoes but found he couldn't tie the laces, and Lisa did it for him. Hollis stood unsteadily, stuffing the loose papers from the cigar tubes into his pocket. Lisa handed him his star.

  Alevy turned Burov over and looked at his face, then looked at Hollis and said, “You guys don't like each other.” Hollis didn't reply.

  A voice said in Russian, “Why did you hurt my father?” They all turned toward the door. A frightened-looking girl of about ten stood in her nightgown at the open door. Behind her was a rather plain, middle-aged woman in a heavy quilt robe, and barely visible behind her was the old woman whom Burov had introduced as his mother.

  The middle-aged woman looked at Hollis, then at Lisa, then at Alevy in the KGB uniform. “Is my husband dead?”

  Alevy replied in Russian, “No, madam, he is only unconscious.”

  She sobbed. “But I don't understand what is happening.” Alevy and Hollis glanced at each other. Lisa said to them in English, “You will not kill them.”

  The girl, Natalia, said, “Will my father be all right?” Lisa replied in Russian, “Yes.”

  Suddenly the old woman pushed past her daughter-in-law and granddaughter and hurried into the room, kneeling beside her son, tears falling on his face, her fingers caressing him. “Oh, God, my poor boy. Petr, Petr, God love you, my little one.” Hollis recalled those World War II newsclips of the old babushkas keening over the bodies of their sons and husbands. He thought, My God, how many Burovs have been carried in tbe big bellies of these saintly old ladies?

  Alevy said in English, “We can't take them, and we can't leave them…”

  Lisa snapped, “No, Seth!”

  Hollis said to Alevy, “I want Burov to know they're alive. That could be useful to us later.”

  Alevy nodded. “All right.” He said to Burov's wife in Russian, “All of you will remain in the house, or the dogs will get you. Some soldiers will be along in a while.” Alevy knelt to pick up Burov, but Hollis pushed him aside and with some difficulty got Burov in a fireman's carry and took him toward the door, the old woman still caressing him.

  Lisa put her hand on Natalia's head. “We're taking him to the hospital. He will be home soon.”

  Burov's wife and mother tried to fol
low Hollis down the staircase, but Alevy stopped them. “Don't worry. Everything will be all right.”

  Lisa and Alevy made their way down the stairs after Hollis. Lisa said to Alevy, “You were kind to them.”

  Alevy didn't reply.

  The Trans Am was now outside the front door, its hatchback open. Mills got out of the car, and with Hollis, they put Burov in the rear compartment with Dodson. Mills tied Burov's wrists with a piece of steel flex. Hollis looked down at both battered men: Dodson in his torn warm-up suit, Burov in his blood-splattered pajamas, neither face recognizable. The circle was closing on itself, Hollis reflected, the events set in motion by Dodson's catapult over the wire were nearing resolution. Hollis said to Alevy, “I'll drive. Bert, give me your topcoat and hat and get in the back with Lisa.” Hollis put on the KGB topcoat and cap, then slid into the driver's seat and started the car. Mills and Lisa climbed into the rear, and Alevy got in beside Hollis. Hollis threw the Trans Am into gear and accelerated quickly up the path, through the gate, and onto the dark, curving road.

  They passed the shopping plaza., and Alevy said, “We have twenty-two minutes before Sandman. Lots of time.” Lisa said, “Is that it, Seth? We can go now?”

  “Yes. Helicopter's full.”

  “Damned full,” Hollis added. He stepped on the accelerator and brought the speed up to sixty mph.

  As they approached the headquarters building, a piercing siren cut the air. Alevy said, “I assume that has something to do with us.” Ahead they could see the lighted headquarters building with several Zil-6's in front of it and about a dozen KGB Border Guards milling around. One of them stepped to the side of the road and began waving to Hollis to pull into the parking area in front of the headquarters.

  Hollis put the pedal to the floor, and the headquarters shot by in a blur.

  Alevy said, “What do you suppose that fellow wanted?”

  “I don't know.” Hollis saw the speedometer climb to ninety mph. They shot past the dark VFW building, and Hollis said, “Watch for the helipad turnoff.”