“All right,” Dimka said, and he was surprised to hear a note of confidence in his own voice. “I think that’s enough discussion of general principles. Before I close the meeting I will explain the trend of the first secretary’s current thinking on the problem.”

Filipov opened his mouth to protest against this abrupt termination, but Dimka cut him off. “Comrades will speak when invited by the chair,” he said, deliberately making his voice a harsh grind; and they all went quiet.

“In Vienna, Khrushchev will tell Kennedy we can wait no longer. We have made reasonable proposals for regulating the situation in Berlin, and all we hear from the Americans is that they want no changes.” Around the table, several men nodded. “If they will not agree to a plan, Khrushchev will say, then we will take unilateral action; and if the Americans try to stop us, we will meet force with force.”

There was a long moment of silence. Dimka took advantage of it by standing up. “Thank you for your attendance,” he said.

Natalya said what everyone was thinking. “Does that mean we are willing to go to war with the Americans over Berlin?”

“The first secretary does not believe there will be a war,” said Dimka, giving them the evasive answer that Khrushchev had given him. “Kennedy is not mad.”

He caught a look of mingled surprise and admiration from Natalya as he walked away from the table. He could not believe he had been so tough. He had never been a pussycat, but this was a powerful and smart group of men, and he had bullied them. His position helped: new though he was, his desk in the first secretary’s suite of offices gave him power. And, paradoxically, Filipov’s hostility had helped. They could all sympathize with the need to come down hard on someone who was trying to undermine the leader.

Vera was hovering in the anteroom. She was an experienced political assistant who would not panic unnecessarily. Dimka had a flash of intuition. “It’s my sister, isn’t it?” he said.

Vera was spooked. Her eyes widened. “How do you do that?” she said in awe.

It was not supernatural. He had feared for some time that Tanya was heading for trouble. He said: “What has she done?”

“She’s been arrested.”

“Oh, hell.”

Vera pointed to a phone off the hook on a side table and Dimka picked it up. His mother, Anya, was on the line. “Tanya’s in the Lubyanka!” she said, using the shorthand name for KGB headquarters in Lubyanka Square. She was close to hysteria.

Dimka was not taken totally by surprise. His twin sister and he agreed that there was a lot wrong with the Soviet Union, but whereas he believed reform was needed, she thought Communism should be abolished. It was an intellectual disagreement that made no difference to their affection for one another. Each was the other’s best friend. It had always been that way.

You could be arrested for thinking as Tanya did—which was one of the things that was wrong. “Be calm, Mother, I can get her out of there,” Dimka said. He hoped he would be able to justify that assurance. “Do you know what happened?”