The Premier of the People’s Republic of China studied his colleagues closely, careful to hide his amusement as he watched the Politburo debate settle into its usual patterns. Late middle age had given him a perspective on human nature unclouded by sentiment or optimism, but it still amazed him that China’s wisest and most experienced leaders could disagree so vehemently and so predictably about so many different issues.
In fairness, however, the Premier had to admit that the matter now before the Politburo was a momentous one, worthy of considered and careful discussion. Still, time pressed on while these men threw the same tired phrases back and forth. The American and Soviet flotillas were within hours of shooting at each other. A war begun in the Sea of Japan could engulf the whole world within minutes. And still these men talked.
The hard-liners, the archconservative communists, were the most predictable of all — the most vocal. Their leader, Do Zhenping, the Party’s general secretary, was the elder statesman of Chinese ideology, the last veteran of the Long March. His words carried weight. “Why even consider this imperialist intrigue? If we act as the Americans suggest, we will help end the war — but it will end in their favor! How do we gain by that?”
“Surely, the answer to that is obvious, Comrade General Secretary?” Liu Gendong was quick to answer. As the minister of trade and one of the youngest men on the Politburo, he led its progressive faction. His oldest son was an exchange student in America now, studying nuclear physics at the California Institute of Technology. Since its early-morning arrival in Beijing, Liu had emerged as the strongest supporter of the American proposal.
He steepled his hands. “The economic and technological concessions the Americans have offered us will be of tremendous benefit to every sector of our economy. And the proposed trade agreements with South Korea are only a start. Japan cannot sit idly by while its archrival trades freely with us. Nor can Hong Kong or Singapore. They will bid against each other for our favor. The Four Tigers will bow to the Dragon!” He smiled, clearly imagining the negotiations he could conduct should such an event occur.
The Premier saw Liu’s words cause a stir among the undecideds who held the balance of power on the Politburo. He nodded slightly to himself. The minister of trade was a persuasive, if overly enthusiastic, young man. He opted to display cautious support for Liu’s position. “The minister’s words are well-taken, Comrade General Secretary. China is a poor country. We need markets for our raw materials, and we desperately need foreign exchange to buy technology.”
Do Zhenping was unconvinced, his tone unrepentant and uncompromising. “Our merchants have been whoring for the West for years. I see no need to allow them to spread their legs wider.” There were grins at the old revolutionary’s coarse language. It was his most conspicuous resistance to the smoother, more sophisticated face of New China. The old man continued, enunciating every word. “If change must come, let it be slow and not sudden. Let us emulate the tortoise and not the hare. That is the best course for our Revolution.”
“Is it, comrade?” Liu spoke quietly. “Do we have the time? The rest of the world leaps forward while we crawl.”
“Let them leap,” the older man answered petulantly. “Their mad consumerism is not an example worthy of imitation.”
He spoke earnestly, directing his words to everyone at the table, especially the Premier. “We owe the West no favors. They sucked our life’s blood for centuries before the people rose up in righteous anger.” Do stood up unsteadily. All eyes were on him. Age was still revered in China, and this survivor of the Revolution was the voice of history. “Listen to me. Despite its successes, America can still lose this war. The Russians stand ready to help swing the balance back. If we help the imperialists win, we will be seen as the nation that turned its back on its socialist brothers.”
He waved a hand, dispelling arguments not yet voiced. “I have no love for Kim and his gang. His ‘dynastic communism’ is a perversion, a personality cult reduced to absurdity. But what will the world see? China, aspiring to be the world’s third superpower, rescuing capitalist America from a situation that her own weakness and indecision created. I suggest that would not exactly endear us to our fellow communists.”
The old man coughed, a reminder of his bout with pneumonia earlier in the winter. He wiped his lips and continued, “And there is risk. The only way we could force Kim to end his war would be to threaten him with our own troops. The Koreans are already firmly in the Soviet camp. Can we afford to back them further into the arms of the Kremlin?”
The Premier looked around the table. Heads were nodding. Do’s impassioned words were hitting home with some of the Politburo’s swing voters. But not with enough to be decisive. The conservatives and the progressives were too closely matched on this issue for either to prevail openly.
He smiled. The situation was perfect.
China wanted to act on the world stage, but she did not want to be seen as the puppet of another superpower. China wanted foreign trade, but she did not want the foreign influence that must inevitably follow. China wanted to be America’s friend, but she did not want to be North Korea’s enemy. In short, China wanted it all — the sun, the sea, the moon, and the stars.
And the Premier knew how to get it.
The time had come to intervene — both in the debate and in the war. He leaned forward and rapped sharply on the table. “Comrades! The time grows short. We must make a decision soon, before events move beyond our ability to control them.”
His colleagues nodded, somewhat impatiently. That much was obvious.
He looked first at Do and then at Liu. “Comrade General Secretary and Comrade Minister, I do not believe that our respective positions on this matter are necessarily opposed to each other.” He saw the skepticism on both men’s faces and smiled politely. “Let me show you what I mean.”
The Premier took five minutes to outline his proposal and knew that he had won them over before he finished. China would lay its cards on the table of global politics in its own way.
The general rubbed a hand absentmindedly through the close-cropped thatch of gray bristles he called a haircut and squinted into the early-morning light pouring through his office window. The courtyard outside, normally utterly quiet and empty at this hour, looked like an anthill stirred by some mischievous child. Soldiers in full combat gear ran everywhere, loading bags of rice, machine guns, light mortars, and ammunition boxes onto a ragtag assembly of flatbed trucks. Others were being marshaled in platoon formations and then marched away toward the airfield. The general knew that similar scenes were taking place at barracks areas all across the capital.
He turned at a quick rap on his door. “Come in.”
It was the division’s deputy commander, a short, bandy-legged colonel whose flat-featured face showed Mongol blood. “You wanted to see me, Comrade General?”
“Yes, Colonel.” The general waved a hand toward the window. “I’d like a progress report.”
The shorter man nodded and relaxed slightly. The general’s voice was uncharacteristically friendly. “The division’s assembly is proceeding precisely on schedule, sir. The First Parachute Regiment and Major Lin’s Reconnaissance Company are already at the airfield. The Second Regiment is enroute from its barracks area, and the Third will follow shortly.”
“Excellent. So I can tell the high command that we shall be ready for movement later this afternoon?”
“Certainly, Comrade General.” The colonel hesitated, apparently unsure about whether to say anything more.
“Yes? Is there something else, Colonel?”
The other nodded and tugged his tunic straight. “Simply this, Comrade General. I only wanted to ask if this mobilization was merely some kind of surprise drill.”
The general frowned and paused, considering his answer carefully. He wasn’t in the habit of telling his subordinates more than they needed to know. Still, this was an unusual situation, and his deputy had always been discreet. He opted for candor. “No. I spoke with the Premier himself, late last night. The alert is genuine and concerns possible service outside the People’s Republic.”
“Indeed, Comrade General?”
“Something puzzles you, Kua?” The general was curious. The colonel’s skepticism had been obvious.
The shorter man nodded. “Yes, sir. Before reporting to you, I spoke with General Chen of the Air Force. His transport aircraft have not been alerted. That leaves a question in my mind, Comrade General. If we are being sent to foreign lands, how are we supposed to get there?”
“An excellent question, Colonel.” The general shrugged. “And one I am unable to answer. No doubt the
