*
Rebecca arrived at the State Department in Washington on a warm spring day. There were daffodils in the flower beds, and she was full of hope. The Soviet empire was weakening, perhaps fatally. Germany had the chance to become united and free. The Americans just needed a nudge in the right direction.
Rebecca reflected that it was because of Carla, her adoptive mother, that she was here in Washington, representing her country, negotiating with the most powerful men in the world. Carla had taken a terrified thirteen-year-old Jewish girl in wartime Berlin and had given her the confidence to become an international stateswoman. I must get a photograph to send her, Rebecca thought.
With her boss, Hans-Dietrich Genscher, and a handful of aides, she went into the art-moderne State Department building. The two-storey lobby featured a huge mural called The Defense of Human Freedoms, which showed the five freedoms being protected by the American military.
The Germans were greeted by a woman whom Rebecca had known, until now, only as a warm, intelligent voice on the phone: Maria Summers. Rebecca was surprised to see that Maria was African American. Then she felt guilty at being surprised: there was no reason why an African American should not hold a high post in the State Department. Finally, Rebecca realized there were very few other dark faces in the building. Maria was unusual and Rebecca’s surprise was, after all, justified.
Maria was friendly and welcoming, but it soon became clear that Secretary of State James Baker did not feel the same. The Germans waited outside his office for five minutes, then ten. Maria was clearly mortified. Rebecca began to worry. This could not be an accident. To keep the German Vice-Chancellor waiting was a calculated insult. Baker must be hostile.
Rebecca had heard before of the Americans doing this kind of thing. Afterwards they would tell the media that the visitors had been snubbed because of their views, and embarrassing stories would appear in the press back home. Ronald Reagan had done the same to the British opposition leader, Neil Kinnock, because he, too, was a disarmer.
Rebecca hardly cared about the insult as such. Male politicians postured a lot. It was just boys waving their dicks around. But it meant the meeting was likely to be unproductive, and that was bad news for detente.
After fifteen minutes they were shown in. Baker was a lanky, athletic man with a Texas accent, but there was nothing of the country bumpkin about him: he was immaculately barbered and tailored. He gave Hans-Dietrich Genscher a notably brief handshake and said: ‘We are deeply disappointed in your attitude.’
Fortunately, Genscher was no *cat. He had been Vice-Chancellor of Germany and Foreign Minister for fifteen years, and he knew how to ignore bad manners. A balding man in glasses, he had a fleshy, pugnacious face. ‘We feel that your policy is out of date,’ he said calmly. ‘The situation in Europe has changed, and you need to take that into account.’
‘We have to maintain the strength of the NATO nuclear deterrent,’ Baker said as if repeating a mantra.
Genscher controlled his impatience with a visible effort. ‘We disagree – and so do our people. Four out of five Germans want all nuclear weapons withdrawn from Europe.’
‘They are being duped by Kremlin propaganda!’
‘We live in a democracy. In the end, the people decide.’
Dick Cheney, the American Secretary of Defense, was also in the room. ‘One of the Kremlin’s primary goals is to denuclearize Europe,’ he said. ‘We must not fall into their trap!’
Genscher was clearly irritated to be lectured on European politics by men who knew a good deal less about the subject than he did. He looked like a schoolteacher trying in vain to explain something to pupils who were deliberately being obtuse. ‘The Cold War is over,’ he said.
Rebecca was aghast to see that the discussion was going to be completely profitless. No one was listening: they had all made up their minds beforehand.
She was right. The two sides traded irritable remarks for a few more minutes, then the meeting broke up.
There was no photo opportunity.
As the Germans were leaving, Rebecca racked her brains for some way to rescue this, but came up with nothing.
In the lobby, Maria Summers said to Rebecca: ‘That didn’t go the way I expected.’
It was not an apology, but it was as near to one as Maria was permitted, by her position, to offer. ‘That’s okay,’ said Rebecca. ‘I’m sorry there wasn’t more dialogue and less point-scoring.’
‘Is there anything we can do to move the senior people closer together on this issue?’
Rebecca was about to say that she did not know, then she was struck by a thought. ‘Maybe there is,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you bring President Bush to Europe? Let him see for himself. Have him talk to the Poles and the Hungarians. I believe he might change his mind.’
‘You’re right,’ said Maria. ‘I’m going to suggest it. Thank you.’
‘Good luck,’ said Rebecca.
60
Lili Franck and her family were astonished.
They were watching the news on West German television. Everyone in East Germany watched West German television, even the Communist Party apparatchiks: you could tell by the angle of the aerials on their roofs.
Carla and Werner were there, plus Karolin and Alice, and Alice’s fiancé, Helmut.
Today, 2 May, the Hungarians had opened their border with Austria.
They did not do it discreetly. The government held a press conference at Hegyeshalom, the place where the road from Budapest to Vienna crossed the border. They might almost have been trying to provoke the Soviets into a reaction. With great ceremony, in front of hundreds of foreign cameras, the electronic alarm and surveillance system was switched off along the entire frontier.
The Franck family stared in incredulity.
Border guards with giant wire cutters began to slice up the fence, pick up great rectangles of barbed wire, carry them away and throw them carelessly into a pile.
Lili said: ‘My God, that’s the Iron Curtain coming down.’
Werner said: ‘The Soviets won’t stand for this.’
Lili was not so sure. She was not certain of anything these days. ‘Surely the Hungarians wouldn’t have done this unless they expected the Soviets to accept it, would they?’
Her father shook his head. ‘They may think they can get away with it . . .’
Alice was bright-eyed with hope. ‘But this means Helmut and I can leave!’ she said. She and her fiancé were desperate to get out of East Germany. ‘We can just drive to Hungary, as if we’re going on holiday, then walk across the border!’
Lili sympathized: she yearned for Alice to have the opportunities in life that she herself had missed. But it could not possibly be that easy.
Helmut said: ‘Can we? Really?’
‘No, you cannot,’ said Werner firmly. He pointed at the television set. ‘First of all, I don’t see anyone actually walking across the border yet. Let’s see if it really happens. Second, the Hungarian government could change its mind at any time and start arresting people. Third, if the Hungarians really do start to let people leave, the Soviets will send in the tanks and put a stop to it.’
Lili thought her father might be too pessimistic. Now seventy, he was becoming timid in his old age. She had noticed it in business. He had scorned the idea of remote controls for television sets, and when they rapidly became indispensable his factory had had to scramble to catch up. ‘We’ll see,’ Lili said. ‘In the next few days, some people are bound to try to escape. Then we’ll find out whether anyone stops them.’
Alice said excitedly: ‘What if Grandfather Werner is wrong? We can’t just ignore a chance like this! What should we do?’
Her mother, Karolin, said anxiously: ‘It sounds dangerous.’
Werner said to Lili: ‘What makes you think the East German government will continue to allow us to go to Hungary?’
‘They’ll have to,’ Lili argued. ‘If they cancelled the summer holidays of thousands of families, there really would be a revolution.’
‘Even if it turns out to be safe for others, it may be different for us.’
‘Why?’
‘Because we’re the Franck family,’ Werner said in a tone of exasperation. ‘Your mother was a Social Democrat city councillor, your sister humiliated Hans Hoffmann, Walli killed a border guard, and you and Karolin sing protest songs. And our family business is in West Berlin so they can’t confiscate it. We’ve always been an irritant to the Communists. In consequence, unfortunately, we get special treatment.’
Lili said: ‘So we have to take special precautions, that’s all. Alice and Helmut will be extra cautious.’
‘I want to go, whatever the danger,’ Alice said emphatically. ‘I understand the risk, and I’m prepared to take it.’ She looked accusingly at her grandfather. ‘You’ve raised two generations under Communism. It’s mean, it’s brutal, it’s stupid and it’s broke – yet it’s still here. I want to live in the West. So does Helmut. We want our children to grow up in freedom and prosperity.’ She turned to her fiancé. ‘Don’t we?’
‘Yes,’ he said, though Lili sensed he was more wary than Alice.
‘It’s mad,’ said Werner.
Carla spoke for the first time. ‘It’s not mad, my darling,’ she said forcefully to Werner. ‘It’s dangerous, yes. But remember the things we did, the risks we took for freedom.’
‘Some of our number died.’
Carla would not let up. ‘But we thought it was worth the risk.’
‘There was a war on. We had to defeat the Nazis.’
‘This is Alice and Helmut’s war – the Cold War.’
Werner hesitated, then sighed. ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he said reluctantly.
‘Okay,’ said Carla. ‘In that case, let’s make a plan.’
Lili looked at the TV again. In Hungary, they were still dismantling the fence.