Dimka was surprised. He had not expected Gorbachev to be this tough.

Krenz was baffled. “Then what am I to do?”

“You must be honest with your people, and tell them that they cannot continue to live in the manner they have become used to.”

“There will be trouble,” Krenz said. “A state of emergency would have to be declared. Measures must be taken to prevent a mass breakthrough across the Wall.”

Dimka thought this was approaching political blackmail. Gorbachev did, too, and he stiffened. “In that case, do not expect to be rescued by the Red Army,” Gorbachev said. “You have to solve these problems yourself.”

Did he really mean it? Was the USSR really going to wash its hands of East Germany? Dimka’s excitement mounted with his astonishment. Was Gorbachev willing to go all the way?

Krenz looked like a priest who has realized there is no God. East Germany had been created by the Soviet Union, subsidized from the Kremlin’s coffers, and protected by the strength of the Soviet military. He could not take in the idea that that was all over. He clearly had absolutely no idea what to do next.

When he had gone, Gorbachev said to Dimka: “Issue a reminder to commanders of our forces in East Germany. They must not under any circumstances get involved in conflicts between the government there and its citizens. This is an absolute priority.”

My God, Dimka thought, is this really the end?

• • •

By November there were demonstrations every week in major towns in East Germany. The numbers grew larger and the crowds grew bolder. They could not be crushed by brutal police baton charges.

Lili and Karolin were invited to play at a rally in the Alexander Platz, not far from their home. Several hundred thousand people showed up. Someone had painted a huge placard with the slogan WIR SIND DAS VOLK, “We are the people.” All around the edges of the square were police in riot gear, waiting for the order to wade into the crowd with their truncheons. But the cops looked more frightened than the demonstrators.

Speaker after speaker denounced the Communist regime, and the police did nothing.

The organizers permitted pro-Communist speakers, too, and to Lili’s astonishment the government’s chosen defender was Hans Hoffmann. From her position in the wings, where she and Karolin were waiting for their turn onstage, she stared at the familiar, stooped figure of the man who had persecuted her family for a quarter of a century. Despite his expensive blue coat he was shivering from the cold—or perhaps it was fear.

When Hans tried to smile amiably, he succeeded only in looking like a vampire. “Comrades,” he said, “the party has listened to the voices of the people, and new measures are on the way.”

The crowd knew this was bullshit, and they began to hiss.

“But we must proceed in an orderly fashion, acknowledging the leading role of the party in developing Communism.”

The hissing turned to booing.