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said, “Put him through.”
    She put the phone on conference call and released the hold button. “Mr. Fisher? Are you there?”
    There was no answer.
    “Mr. Fisher?”
    “Yes… . There’s someone standing—”
    “Here is the gentleman with whom you asked to speak.”
    Hollis’ voice came on the line. “Mr. Fisher, you say you are calling from the lobby of the Rossiya?”
    “Yes. I’m—”
    “Is the lobby crowded?”
    “No. Why?”
    “Who is standing by the phone booth?”
    “A man. Listen, should I try to get to the embassy—”
    “No, sir. You stay there. Do not leave that hotel. Do not go back to your room. There is a restaurant on the top floor. Go to the lounge there and introduce yourself to some Westerners—English-speaking, if possible—and stay with them until I arrive. Is that clear?”
    “Yes… yes.”
    “What are you wearing?”
    “Blue jeans… black windbreaker—”
    “Okay, son. Get to the lounge quickly. If anyone tries to stop you, kick, scream, yell, and fight. Understand?”
    “Yes… yes, I…” Fisher’s voice sounded strained. “Oh… God… hurry.”
    Hollis’ tone was soothing. “Ten minutes, Greg. Get to the lounge.”
    Lisa heard the phone click as Fisher hung up. Hollis’ voice came on. “Ms. Rhodes, I need a car—”
    “I’ve already called for one, Colonel. With driver.”
    “I’ll be bringing Mr. Fisher here. Have a visitor’s room ready in the residency and alert the appropriate security people.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Stay in the duty office.”
    “Of course.”
    There was a silence, then Hollis said, “Nicely handled, Ms. Rhodes.”
    She heard him hang up before she could respond. Lisa Rhodes put the phone back in the cradle. “You, too, Colonel Hollis.”

 
5
    Colonel Sam Hollis, American air attaché to the Soviet Union, left his office and took the elevator to the ground floor of the chancery building. He went directly to the duty office adjacent the empty lobby and opened the door.
    Lisa Rhodes turned toward him. “Yes?”
    “Hollis.”
    “Oh… .” She stood. “I didn’t recognize you in civvies.”
    “Have we met?”
    “A few times.” She regarded him a moment. He was wearing a leather bomber jacket, jeans, and leather boots. He was in his late forties, tall, and lanky. She thought he was rather good-looking in a tough sort of way. She remembered his pale blue eyes and unmilitary-length sandy hair. She also remembered that he and Seth had business dealings.
    Hollis said, “I don’t want you to breathe a word of this to anyone.”
    “I know that.”
    “Good. There is someone however… do you know Seth Alevy? Political affairs officer.”
    “Yes.”
    “Mr. Alevy is attending a party in town—”
    “I know that.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “He invited me.”
    “I see. So you know how to reach him?”
    “Yes, through his people here.”
    “That’s right. Please do that.”
    She hesitated, then said, “I’ve already asked his people to get him here.”
    Hollis gave her a close look.
    She returned his stare. “I guess I know he’s involved with things like this.”
    Hollis went to the door, then turned back to her. “Are
you
involved with things like this?”
    “Oh, no. I’m just a PIO. Seth and I are social friends.”
    They looked at each other a moment. Hollis guessed she was in her late twenties. She was lightly freckled, with reddish auburn hair. She was not the type of woman you forgot meeting, and in fact, he had not forgotten the times they’d met in the embassy. He also knew that she and Alevy had been recent lovers. But by instinct and training he never offered information, only solicited it. “Hold the fort. See you later.” He left.
    Lisa moved to the door and watched him walk quickly through the lobby to the front doors. “Strong, silent type. Silent Sam.”
    Sam Hollis pushed through the glass doors into the damp, misty night. He zipped his leather jacket and headed toward a blue Ford Fairlane