If he’s a French gunrunner, I’m a Japanese sumo wrestler.
The man is a Frenchman, all right, down to the stench of his cologne, but an arms merchant? He’s far too… aristocratic… for that bourgeois occupation. He possesses the slightly remote and superior air of a Russian -
Those damn green eyes.
Was it possible?
Back in his legation quarters, Voroshenin picked up the phone and dialed Leotov’s rooms.
“Get down here.”
“It’s two o’clock in the -”
“I own a watch. I said to bring your skinny ass down here.”
Five minutes later, a sleepy and slightly resentful-looking Leotov appeared in Voroshenin’s office.
“Get on a secure line to Moscow,” Voroshenin ordered. “I want everything on this Michel Guibert and his family.”
Leotov glanced at his watch.
“Don’t say it,” Voroshenin ordered. “Beria’s men rather famously work nights, or would you like to find that out for yourself? Also, I want everything on an old White, the Countess Alexandra Ivanovna. I believe she might have left Petrograd sometime in ‘22.”
“That’s thirty years ago.”
“Is it? Well done, Vasili. See, you’ve already got a start on it.”
A soon as Leotov left, Voroshenin opened the desk drawer and pulled out the bottle. Despite himself, he poured a stiff drink and knocked it back.
Those damn green eyes…
27
GENERAL LIU ZHU DE was small of stature.
His iron-gray hair was cut short, and his browned, lined face showed both his southern roots and every step he had taken on the long journey from guerrilla leader in Sichuan, through the Long March and creation of the 8th Route Army, to the hideous losses he had suffered in command of the Korean venture.
It was said that Liu felt the death of every soldier. He had opposed the Korea invasion, hadn’t wanted the command, but took it as a matter of duty. Now, almost two years later, each of the three hundred thousand casualties showed in his eyes, and rumor had it that he blamed Mao for every one of them.
Colonel Yu knocked on his door, received permission to enter, and sat down in the gray metal chair across from the general’s desk.
He admired Liu more than any man alive. A fellow native of Sichuan, the general was a true Communist and a patriot, unlike the would-be emperor Mao. General Liu worked for China and the people, Mao worked for Mao and Mao.
“How was dinner?” Liu asked. His voice sounded tired.
“Voroshenin showed up.”
“Didn’t we think that he would?”
“He knows about the weapons to the Viet Minh.”
Liu nodded. “Kang tipped him off. He has spies in our department, I’m sure.”
“Shall I send Guibert away?”
“Not necessarily,” Liu said. “Tell me about him.”
Yu related the events of the dinner – Guibert’s knowledge of Chinese, his manners, his intelligence, his little victories over Voroshenin.
“So you think he could be our man?” Liu asked.
“Possibly.”
Liu sat back in his chair to think.
Yu knew the issues.
The Russians were keen to prevent Chinese influence in Vietnam. As such, they wanted to interfere with arms shipments that might earn China just that influence.
Mao was a fool. He had already let Stalin trick him into the Korean disaster, and now he was falling even deeper into the Soviets’ arms. But a quick look at the map showed the danger – the Russians already controlled North Korea, and with it the long northeast border and the strategic Yellow Sea. They retained bases in Manchuria to the northeast and “Outer Mongolia” to the northwest. To the west, they threatened Xinjiang, its Muslim population eager to join their brethren in Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan.
Let the Russians gain control of Vietnam as well, and they would have the southern border too. The French were walking ghosts in all of Southeast Asia; it was only a matter of time. The Russians would scoop up Cambodia, then move on to the weak sister in Siam and Burma. Soviet agents were already busy in India.
The Soviets could soon have China surrounded, and then they would gobble up Manchuria and the rest of Mongolia, and Xinjiang.
But for now, Vietnam was the key. The Korean stalemate was all but over, the Soviets would control the North, the Americans the South.
Vietnam was the next front.
The problem was that the Americans were going to move in to replace the French. That would be a terrible mistake for the United States and a huge problem for China. An American move against the Viet Minh would derail any possible detente between Beijing and Washington, and drive China toward Moscow.
The Americans were busy making their own worst nightmare come true – a Communist monolith.
But the future of China – General Liu knew it and Yu believed it – was not with Russia but with the United States. Only America could provide a counterweight against the Soviets, only an alliance – or at least a working relationship – with Washington could bring China the economic prosperity it needed to develop.
Approaches, indirect and tentative, had been made, but had been rebuffed by antiprogressive elements in the American intelligence and diplomatic communities. The diplomats in Washington were as afraid of their right-wing radicals as the Chinese were of their own left-wing extremists. Yet approaches had been made, people were at least talking, and if General Liu could count on Washington’s support, he might feel strong enough to make a move against the faux-Communist dictator who now terrorized China.
But Yu knew they were in a race against the clock.
The Viet Minh were going to win in Vietnam.
The Americans were also sending aid, money, and weapons to the French and had the CIA crawling all over the country, laying the foundation for the eventual takeover. Only a quick and decisive victory against the French might dissuade Washington from a disastrous intervention that would keep America and China apart for decades.
And such a quick victory would require weapons.
Rocket launchers, for instance.
But, Liu thought, we cannot afford to be seen doing it just yet.
We need middlemen.
We need the Michel Guiberts.
28
NICHOLAI KNELT OVER the toilet and vomited
It is as the Buddhists say, he thought, resting between retches – everything changes and at the end of the day the most pleasurable food turns a disgusting mess. He vomited again, then splashed some cold water on his face and brushed his teeth.
Not bothering to undress, he just flopped face first on the bed for a few hours’ sleep. He awoke early, just
