Charm School v1_0

by Nelson DeMille

  Hollis nodded. Not everyone thought it would be good at all.

  Poole added, “I got here in June of 1971. I'd been in North Vietnamese prisons for about six months prior to that.” He thought a moment, then said, “As I said, I was flown from Hanoi in a Red Air Force transport on a direct flight to a Soviet air base not far from here. I had no idea where we were going. There were ten of us. We had the idea that the Russians might be acting as brokers between the Americans and the North Vietnamese—that we were going to be exchanged for North Vietnamese POWs or Russian spies or something. Even after we were transported here in sealed trucks, we couldn't comprehend that we were going to train Red Air Force pilots. But as soon as we realized that, we also knew we would never get out of here with that secret.”

  Hollis nodded. The secret was out, but the men remained. He wondered if Poole and the others sensed that.

  They began walking again, shoulder to shoulder on the road, speaking in whispers. Lisa asked, “Is there a church here? Do you have services?”

  No. That's one thing they won't allow, which is very telling. We can hold Bible study groups now, because we demanded that. But the students are not allowed to participate even as a training exercise. In America, they can become capitalists or right wing politicians if they wish, but I've heard that they're not allowed to join a church unless it's necessary for their cover.

  Lisa remarked, “That's not consistent with the idea that you should enjoy American freedoms here.”

  Poole replied, “I don't quite understand that either. They make such a big deal over atheism and bad-mouthing religion, you'd almost think they believed in God.”

  They continued their walk along the main road, then turned left into a narrow log-stepped path that climbed a rise in the heavily treed forest. This section of the camp, Hollis noted, seemed uninhabited.

  At the end of the log path was a rundown izba with a weak light in its single window and smoke coming from its stone chimney. Poole explained, “One of the last of the original structures. General Austin prefers it to the so-called American houses, though Colonel Burov would prefer it if the general would sell out like the rest of us.”

  They approached the door of the log cabin, and Poole continued, “The general has not taken a Russian wife, as he says he is still married to Mrs. Austin. I believe he has remained faithful.” He added, “He has more willpower than I do. Also, you should know that the general refuses to teach classes.”

  Hollis asked, “Why hasn't the KGB gotten rid of him?”

  “We made it clear that we would strike or rebel if they did. We have value as a commodity here, like any slaves when the slave trade is cut off. Also, I suspect they don't mind giving us a small victory to let us think we're still men.” Poole knocked on the door.

  The door opened, revealing a man close to seventy, very fit looking with a grey crew cut and steel-grey eyes. His skin was too pale, but it seemed more a result of too little sun than any unhealthiness. Hollis thought he looked like a man who had borne too much, too long, and had borne it alone.

  General Austin regarded them a moment, then showed them in without speaking. He went to a stereo system strewn out on a wobbly bench and placed a record on the turntable. The strings and woodwinds of Vivaldi's “The Four Seasons” came through the speakers and filled the small room. Austin indicated two facing wooden chairs near the crumbling stone fireplace. Hollis and Lisa sat.

  Poole took a similar pine chair facing the fire. Austin lowered himself into a birch rocker.

  Hollis looked around the log-walled room. It was about as large as Pavel and Ida's kitchen, but if anything, more sparse. Aside from the rocker and stereo, there was not a bit of comfort, no easy chair, no rag rug on the floor, and no kitchen facilities. There were, however, shaded reading lamps around the room, their cords all snaking toward a single electrical outlet. A half wall of rough planking separated the sleeping area, where an electric heater glowed on the floor beside an army cot. Beside the cot were stacks of books, magazines, and newspapers.

  General Austin spoke in a very soft voice, barely audible above Vivaldi. “It was good of you to come, Colonel.” He looked at Lisa, “And you, Ms. Rhodes.”

  She asked, “Would you have preferred that I wasn't here?”

  “If I did, I would have said so.”

  She found herself replying, “Yes, sir.”

  Commander Poole said to Austin, “Colonel Hollis wishes you to know that he is here voluntarily.”

  Austin nodded but made no comment. He addressed both Hollis and Lisa. “You have knowledge of the Major Dodson business?”

  Hollis nodded.

  “And do you have any news of Major Dodson?”

  Hollis replied, “No, General,” preferring to use that form of address rather than “sir.”

  Austin asked, “What do you think our government is prepared to do if Major Dodson makes contact with the embassy or a Western reporter?”

  “General, I can't engage in any discussion of that nature with a man I've just met. A man who is not a free agent. And, excuse me, a man who has been compromised.”

  Austin stared off into space awhile, rocking in his chair. Finally he said, “I understand your reservations. However, I expected from you, at the very least, some message from the outside.”

  “I am not the bearer of any message. I am an intelligence officer, and I've been trained and instructed not to speak to anyone on matters that they have no need to know, rank notwithstanding.”

  “I think I'm in a better position than you to determine if I have a need to know.”

  Hollis did not respond directly but said, “General, I have been drugged and interrogated by Burov, and I have so far not divulged more than I absolutely had to in order to establish myself to Burov as a potential traitor. That's why I'm here and not in a cell. Whatever I know will do you little good anyway.”

  Poole asked, “Colonel, can't you at least tell us if our government knows we're here?”

  “No, I can't.” Hollis looked at Austin. “I want you to tell me how Dodson got out.”

  Austin replied, “Only a handful of men know that. Using your reasoning, you have no need to know.”

  Poole added, “If they catch Jack Dodson, they will torture him the way they tortured Captain Romero and make him reveal the names of the men on the escape committee. They will then torture those men to determine if there are others. Two of those men will be me and General Austin. So if we told you how Dodson got out, we might, under torture, be forced to tell the KGB that you know the secret as well. Then they might torture and execute you and Ms. Rhodes. They tolerate a lot from us, but they will not tolerate an escape attempt. So if you still want to know how Jack Dodson got out of here, be advised you might get caught up in the bloodbath to follow his recapture.”

  Hollis looked at Lisa, who nodded.

  Austin spoke. “All right. A catapult.” He explained, “We cut our own wood for our fires. We designed a catapult, cut the pieces, and scattered them about in the forest. One day a few weeks ago before the cold set in, we assembled the catapult, wrapped Major Dodson in padded blankets, and sent him over the barbed wire.” General Austin added a few more details. “We intended to send three more men over in quick succession, then cut up the catapult and burn it in our fireplaces. But as luck would have it, a motorized patrol came along between the wire fences and shone a light on us, illuminating the catapult. We abandoned the rest of the escape and made it back unseen to our houses. The alarm went up, and we didn't give Jack Dodson much of a chance.” Austin looked from Hollis to Lisa. “So you see, they already know how we got Dodson out. I was testing your courage.”

  “We don't need testing, General.”

  “I don't know that. I don't even know what brought you two here.”

  Hollis replied, “Fate and destiny brought us here, General.”

  Austin nodded. “We take your presence here as a positive sign.” He leaned toward Hollis in his rocker. “I'll tell you som
ething, Colonel. As much as we would want to go home, I think we'd all sacrifice our lives if we thought one man could get out of here and tell the world about this place. If you are to be that man, if you have a plan from the outside, you need only give the word. We're ready for just about anything.”

  Hollis nodded in acknowledgment.

  Lisa said, “That's very brave.” She looked at Hollis. “Sam?”

  Hollis made no response.

  Poole spoke. “As for the catapult, Colonel, it is now behind the headquarters building under twenty-four-hour guard. No one has told us why, but since we can read the Russian mind by now, we know why. Do you know why? You, Ms. Rhodes?”

  Neither replied, and Poole continued, “If they catch Dodson, he will be the first—without the padding this time. If they don't find him and they don't learn who is on the escape committee, they will just pick ten or so names at random. So even if you find us contemptible as traitors, don't think we are the Russians' docile house pets. We did do something that we are prepared to die for.”

  Hollis said to Poole, “I am not judging you. I'm only reminding you that you've all violated the Code of Conduct for prisoners of war by collaborating with the enemy. And, yes, so did I to an extent. As long as we all understand that, then we can move on to our next obligation under Article III of the Code, which is to escape. I don't think two men in two decades is a very impressive effort.”

  Poole's face reddened. “Colonel, I don't think you can say—”

  “The colonel is right,” Austin interrupted. “The Russians have long ago eliminated those of us who refused to collaborate, and others of us have committed suicide, actively or passively. What you see left here, Colonel Hollis and Ms. Rhodes, are the traitors. That's why we're alive. And why Ernie Simms among others is dead. Correct, Colonel?”

  “Correct, General.”

  Poole stood. “Colonel, let me quote you some rules that apply to POWs. First—'Even as a POW, you continue to be of special concern to the United States; you will not be forgotten.' Two—'Every available national means will be employed to establish contact with you, to support you, and to gain your release.'” Poole said to Hollis, “Look me in the eye, Colonel, and tell me that my government has lived up to its obligation to us. Tell me we are not forgotten and forsaken. Tell me they don't know we are here.”

  Hollis looked Poole in the eye. “If they knew you were here, Commander, they would have done something too get you out.”

  Poole stared at Hollis, then drew a deep breath. “Then let me tell you what we are doing here in lieu of escape. We sabotage the curriculum at every opportunity. And we justify staying alive by saying that if we could just live long enough to get one of us out, we could warn our country about this place. And there is some truth to that, Colonel. Because, as you see, this is not just a POW camp, and other rules prevail here. We've tried to maintain our integrity and our honor as officers, I can tell you for instance that not one man here has ever been found to be a stool pigeon. We can trust one another, and we've never accepted the friendship of a single Russian. It's a very bizarre situation, and we try to deal with it as it evolves. General Austin has formed an ethics committee for that purpose.” Poole looked at Hollis and Lisa. “I hope you're not here twenty years, but if you are, I hope you can maintain your own sense of duty and honor.”

  Hollis said, “You mean you'd like to see me eat my words.”

  “That's right,” Poole replied tersely.

  Hollis stood. “Well, perhaps I will.”

  Lisa stood also and addressed Poole and Austin. “I… think from what I see and hear that you've done the best you could.”

  General Austin stood. “Well, we know we haven't. And your friend knows that too.” He looked at Hollis and said, “The fall of Vietnam, Watergate, the surrender of the Pueblo, Iran-Contra, the shameful episode of the hostages in Iran, Lebanon, and on and on. We've witnessed from afar nearly twenty years of American disasters and humiliations. But we haven't used that to justify our own shameful and weak behavior.”

  Hollis replied, “You don't have to justify yourselves to me or to anyone except a duly constituted board of inquiry should you ever get home.”

  Austin's mind seemed to have wandered, and Hollis wondered if he'd heard him. Then Austin said, “Home. You know… we all saw on tape the POWs coming home from Vietnam. We saw men we knew. Some of us even saw our wives and families who were there to unselfishly share the joy of other families whom they'd come to know through common grief.” Austin looked from Hollis to Lisa. “I don't think there was a worse torture the Russians could have devised for us than to show us that.”

  Lisa turned and left quickly.

  Hollis walked toward the door.

  Poole said, “We also read about the continuing efforts to locate POWs, mostly by private groups and families, I should add, not our government. Do you know how frustrating that is for us? And why hasn't anyone been clever enough to make some deductions? SAM missiles for American pilots. My God, the Russians and North Vietnamese were allies. How smart do you have to be to figure it out? Why hasn't anyone thought we might be here! In Russia!” Poole studied Hollis' face. “Or have they figured it out? And is Washington too worried about the repercussions to act? Is that it? Colonel?”

  “I can't answer any of those questions,” Hollis replied, then added, “But you have my personal word that I will do everything in my power to get you all home. Good evening, General, Commander.” Hollis took the flashlight and left.

  He found Lisa on the path and saw she had been crying. He took her arm, and they picked their way down the dark log trail. They came back to the main road and turned right, back toward their cottage.

  Lisa composed herself and said, “You were cruel.”

  “I know that.”

  “But, why… how could you be so hard on men who have suffered so much?”

  “I can't endorse what they've done.”

  “I don't understand you. I don't understand your code or your—”

  “It's not necessary that you do. That's my world, not yours.”

  “Damn you. Your world got me into this.”

  “No. The KGB got you into this.” He added, “There are a lot of wrongs to be righted here, Lisa. I'm not judge and jury, but I'm damned sure a witness. I know what I see and I know I'm not one of the criminals here. You keep that in mind.”

  She looked at him, and it came to her that he was very upset by the meeting. She said, “You saw yourself in their place, didn't you? They were your people once. It's not anger and contempt you feel for them. It's pity, so deep you can't comprehend it. Is that it?”

  He nodded. “Yes, that's it.” He put his arm around her shoulder. “I can't give them hope, Lisa. That would be crueler than anything else I could say to them. They understand that.”

  She moved closer to him. “Ernie Simms is dead and buried, Sam. Now you have to find peace.”

  * * *

  35

  Halloween day dawned cold and frosty. Hollis got out of bed and went into the bathroom, a prefab unit usually used in apartment houses but now attached to their cottage off the bedroom. The tap water was barely warm, and Hollis guessed the propane water heater was having problems again.

  Lisa rose and put on a quilted robe over her nightgown. She went into the living room and built a fire, then into the galley kitchen and made coffee in an electric pot.

  Hollis shaved, showered, and dressed in one of the four warm-up suits he had been issued. He joined Lisa in the kitchen, and they took their coffee mugs to the living room and sat before the fire.

  Lisa said, “Tomorrow it's your turn to do coffee and fire.”

  “I know.”

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “I suppose.”

  She asked, “Does it bother you that we sleep together without sex?”

  “No. But your feet are cold.”

  “Can we get a wood stove for this place?”

  “I don't plan on stayin
g.”

  “That's right.”

  “I was thinking,” she said, “as primitive as this place is, it's a palace compared to a peasant's izba. We have an electric coffeepot, toaster, and hot plate, a refrigerator, indoor plumbing, hot water—”

  “Tepid water.”

  “Again?”

  “I'll check it out later.”

  “It's good to have a man around the house.”

  “To fix things.”

  “I'm sorry about the sex.”

  “Me too. But to be perfectly frank, I'm not much in the mood either. I think this place has suppressed my libido.”

  She looked at him with concern. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. I don't feel it anymore.”

  She put her cup on the coffee table. “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  She thought a moment. “Well… they can't do that to us.”

  “It's all right.”

  “No, it's not.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Why don't we go… back to bed?”

  “I'm not sure I can do you much good.”

  “You'll be fine, Sam.”

  “Well… all right.” He stood, and they went back into the bedroom. Hollis looked at the icon, now hanging over the double bed. He said, “Is that an appropriate place for a religious painting?”

  “Oh, yes. The Russians put them anywhere. Like Catholics put crucifixes over their beds.”