Gorbachev went on: “Communism can find its way again, by going back to the time before Stalin.”

“No, it can’t,” said Németh bluntly.

“Only the party can create a just society! This cannot be left to chance.”

“We disagree.” Németh was beginning to look ill. His face was pale and his voice was shaky. He was a cardinal challenging the authority of the Pope. “I must ask you one question very directly,” he said. “If we hold an election and the Communist Party is voted out of power, will the Soviet Union intervene with military force as it did in 1956?”

The room went dead silent. Even Dimka did not know how Gorbachev would respond.

Then Gorbachev said one Russian word: “Nyet.” No.

Németh looked like a man whose death sentence has been repealed.

Gorbachev added: “At least, not as long as I’m sitting in this chair.”

Németh laughed. He did not think Gorbachev was in danger of being deposed.

He was wrong. The Kremlin always presented a united front to the world, but it was never as harmonious as it pretended. People had no idea how shaky was Gorbachev’s grip. Németh was satisfied to know what Gorbachev’s own intentions were, but Dimka knew better.

However, Németh 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, Németh pressed for a further guarantee. “The fence is dilapidated,” he said. “It has to be either renewed or abandoned.”

Dimka knew what Németh 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 Németh. 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,” Németh 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 Németh. 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.