Page 473 of Edge of Eternity (The Century 3)

However, Nemeth was not finished. He had won from Gorbachev a huge concession--a promise that the USSR would not intervene to prevent the overthrow of Communism in Hungary! Yet now, with surprising audacity, Nemeth pressed for a further guarantee. "The fence is dilapidated," he said. "It has to be either renewed or abandoned."

Dimka knew what Nemeth was talking about. The border between Communist Hungary and capitalist Austria was secured by a stainless steel electric fence one hundred and fifty miles long. It was naturally very expensive to maintain. To renew the whole thing would cost millions.

Gorbachev said: "If it needs renewing, then renew it."

"No," said Nemeth. He might have been nervous, but he was determined. Dimka admired his guts. "I don't have the money, and I don't need the fence," Nemeth went on. "It's a Warsaw Pact installation. If you want it, you should renew it."

"That isn't going to happen," said Gorbachev. "The Soviet Union no longer has that kind of money. A decade ago, oil was forty dollars a barrel and we could do anything. Now it's what, nine dollars? We're broke."

"Let me make sure we understand one another," said Nemeth. He was perspiring, and he wiped his face with a handkerchief. "If you do not pay, we will not renew the fence, and it will cease to operate as an effective barrier. People will be able to go to Austria, and we will not stop them."

There was another pregnant silence. Then at last Gorbachev sighed and said: "So be it."

That was the end of the meeting. The farewell courtesies were perfunctory. The Hungarians could not get away quickly enough. They had got everything they asked for. They shook hands with Gorbachev and left the room at a fast walk. It was as if they wanted to get back on the plane before Gorbachev had time to change his mind.

Dimka returned to his own office in a reflective mood. Gorbachev had surprised him twice: first by being unexpectedly hostile to Nemeth's reforms, and second by offering no real resistance to them.

Would the Hungarians abandon the fence? It was an essential part of the Iron Curtain. If suddenly people were allowed to walk over the border and into the West, that could be a change even more momentous than free elections.

But Filipov and the conservatives had not yet surrendered. They were on the alert for the least sign of weakness in Gorbachev. Dimka did not doubt that they had contingency plans for a coup.

He was looking thoughtfully at the large revolutionary picture on his office wall when Natalya called. "You know what a Lance missile is, don't you?" she said without preamble.

"A short-range surface-to-surface tactical nuclear weapon," he replied. "The Americans

have about seven hundred in Germany. Fortunately their range is only about seventy-five miles."

"Not any longer," she said. "President Bush wants to upgrade them. The new ones will fly two hundred eighty miles."

"Hell." This was what Dimka feared and Filipov had predicted. "But this is illogical. It's not that long ago that Reagan and Gorbachev withdrew intermediate-range ballistic missiles."

"Bush thinks Reagan went too far with disarmament."

"How definite is this plan?"

"Bush has surrounded himself with Cold War hawks, according to the KGB station in Washington. Defense Secretary Cheney is gung ho. So is Scowcroft." Brent Scowcroft was the national security adviser. "And there's a woman called Condoleezza Rice who is just as bad."

Dimka despaired. "Filipov is going to say: 'I told you so.'"

"Filipov and others. It's a dangerous development for Gorbachev."

"What's the Americans' timetable?"

"They're going to put pressure on the West Europeans at the NATO meeting in May."

"Shit," said Dimka. "Now we're in trouble."

*

Rebecca Held was at her apartment in Hamburg, late in the evening, working, with papers spread over the round table in the kitchen. On the counter were a dirty coffee cup and a plate with the crumbs of the ham sandwich she had eaten for supper. She had taken off her smart working clothes, removed her makeup, showered, and put on baggy old underwear and an ancient silk wrap.

She was preparing for her first visit to the United States. She was going with her boss, Hans-Dietrich Genscher, who was vice chancellor of Germany, foreign minister, and head of the Free Democratic Party, to which she belonged. Their mission was to explain to the Americans why they did not want any more nuclear weapons. The Soviet Union was becoming less threatening under Gorbachev. Upgraded nukes were not merely unnecessary: they might actually be counterproductive, undermining Gorbachev's peace moves and strengthening the hand of hawks in Moscow.

She was reading a German intelligence appraisal of the power struggle in the Kremlin when the doorbell rang.

She looked at her watch. It was half past nine. She was not expecting a visitor and she certainly was not dressed to receive one. However, it was probably a neighbor in the same building on some trivial errand, needing to borrow a carton of milk.

She did not merit a full-time bodyguard: she was not important enough to attract terrorists, thank God. All the same her door had a peephole so that she could check before opening up.

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