*
Dimka and Natalya sat on the black leather chairs in Gorbachev’s office feeling excited and tense. Gorbachev’s strategy, of letting the Eastern European satellites go their own way, had led to a crisis that seemed about to boil over. This could be either dangerous or hopeful. Perhaps it was both.
For Dimka the issue was, as always, the sort of world his grandchildren would grow up in. Grigor, his son with Nina, was already married; Dimka’s and Natalya’s daughter, Katya, was at university; both would probably have children in the next few years. What did the future hold for those kids? Was old-fashioned Communism really finished? Dimka still did not know.
Dimka said to Gorbachev: ‘Thousands of people are gathering at the Berlin Wall checkpoints. If the East German government does not open the gates, there will be riots.’
‘That’s not our problem,’ said Gorbachev. It was a litany. He always said it. ‘I want to speak to Chancellor Kohl of West Germany,’ he went on.
Natalya said: ‘He’s in Poland tonight.’
‘Get him on the phone as soon as you can – not later than tomorrow. I don’t want him to start talking about German reunification. That would escalate the crisis. The opening of the Wall is probably all the destabilization that East Germany can deal with right now.’
He was dead right, Dimka thought. If the border was opened, a united Germany could not be far in the future; but it was better not to raise such an inflammatory issue right now.
‘I’ll get on to the West Germans right away,’ said Natalya. ‘Anything else?’
‘No, thank you.’
Natalya and Dimka stood up. Gorbachev still had not told them what to do about the immediate crisis. Dimka said: ‘What if Egon Krenz calls from East Berlin?’
‘Don’t wake me up.’
Dimka and Natalya left the room.
Outside, Dimka said: ‘If he doesn’t do something soon, it will be too late.’
‘Too late for what?’ Natalya asked.
‘Too late to save Communism.’
*
Maria Summers was at Jacky Jakes’s home in Prince George’s County, having an early supper with her godson, Jack. The TV was on, and she saw Jasper Murray, in a coat and scarf, reporting from Berlin. He was on the Western, free side of Checkpoint Charlie, standing in a crowd near the little Allied guard post that had been built in the middle of Friedrich Strasse, beside a sign that said ‘You are leaving the American Sector’ in four languages. Behind him she could see floodlights and watch towers.
Jasper said: ‘The crisis of Communism is reaching a new peak of tension here tonight. After weeks of demonstrations, the East German government today announced the opening of the border with the West – but it seems no one has told the border guards or the passport police. So thousands of Berliners are gathering on both sides of the infamous Wall, demanding to exercise their brand-new right to cross over, while the government does nothing – and the armed guards grow increasingly nervous.’
Jack finished his sandwich and went off for his bath. ‘He’s nine years old, and newly shy,’ Jacky said with a wry smile. ‘He tells me he’s too old to be bathed by his grandmother.’
Maria was fascinated by the news from Berlin. She was remembering her lover, President Kennedy, saying to the world: ‘Ich bin ein Berliner.’
‘I’ve spent my life working for the American government,’ she said to Jacky. ‘All that time, our aim has been to defeat Communism. But, in the end, Communism defeated itself.’
‘Why is it happening?’ said Jacky. ‘I can’t make it out.’
‘A new generation of leaders came to power, most importantly Gorbachev. When they opened the books and looked at the numbers, they said: “If this is the best we can do, what’s the point of Communism?” I feel as if I might as well never have joined the State Department – me and hundreds of other people.’
‘What else would you have done?’
Without thinking, Maria said: ‘Got married.’
Jacky sat down. ‘George never told me your secrets,’ she said. ‘But I thought you must be in love with a married man, back in the sixties.’
Maria nodded. ‘I’ve loved two men in my life,’ she said. ‘Him, and George.’
Jacky said: ‘What happened? Did he go back to his wife? They usually do.’
‘No,’ said Maria. ‘He died.’
‘Oh, my goodness!’ said Jacky. ‘Was it President Kennedy?’
Maria stared at her in astonishment. ‘How did you figure that out?’
‘I didn’t, I guessed.’
‘Please don’t tell anyone! George knows, but no one else does.’
‘I can keep secrets.’ Jacky smiled. ‘Greg didn’t know he was a father until George was six.’
‘Thank you. If it ever gets out I’ll be all over those trashy supermarket newspapers. Goodness knows how much damage that would do to my career.’
‘Don’t worry. But listen. George will be home soon. You two are practically living together now. You’re so well matched.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I like you much better than Verena.’
Maria laughed. ‘And my folks would have preferred George to President Kennedy, if they had known, you can bet on that.’
‘Do you think you and George might get married?’
‘The problem is that I couldn’t do my job if I were married to a congressman. I have to be bipartisan, or at least appear so.’
‘You’ll retire one day.’
‘Another seven years and I’ll be sixty.’
‘Will you marry him then?’
‘If he asks me – yes.’