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 pussycat. 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 “We feel that your policy is out of date,” he said calmly.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 Four out of five Germans want all nuclear weapons withdrawn from Europe.”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.

CHAPTER SIXTY

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.

Lili’s parents were there, Carla and Werner, plus Karolin and Alice, and Alice’s fiancé, Helmut.