conglomeration of fine carpets and antique tapestries mixed with cheap 1960s office furniture. A half dozen humorless men, comprising the elite Standing Committee of the Political Bureau, the most influential body in China's government, sat at a scarred round table with the general secretary and president of China, Qian Fei.
The stuffy room felt much hotter to the minister of commerce, a balding man with beady eyes named Shinzhe, who stood before the party chiefs with a young female assistant at his side.
'Shinzhe, the State just approved the five-year plan for economic progress last November,' President Fei lectured in a belittling tone. 'You mean to tell me that a few 'accidents' have rendered our national objectives unfeasible?'
Shinzhe cleared his throat while wiping a damp palm on his pant leg.
'Mr. General Secretary, politburo members,' he replied, nodding to the other assembled bureaucrats.
'The energy needs of China have changed tremendously in the last few years. Our rapid and dynamic economic growth has driven a high thirst for energy resources. Just a few short years ago, our country was a net exporter of crude oil. Today, more than half of our consumption is supplied by crude oil imports. It is a regrettable fact due to the size of our economy. Whether we like it or not, we are captive to the economic and political forces surrounding the foreign petroleum market, just as the Americans have been for the last four decades.'
'Yes, we are well aware of our growing energy appetite,' stated Fei. The recently elected party head was a youthful fifty-year-old who catered to the traditionalists in the bureaucratic system with equal parts charm and wile. He had a reputation for being hot-tempered, Shinzhe knew, but respected the truth.
'How severe is the shock?' another party member asked.
'It is like having two of our limbs cut off. The earthquake in Saudi Arabia will drastically restrict their ability to ship us oil for months to come, though we can develop alternate suppliers over time. The fire at Ningbo Harbor is perhaps more damaging. Nearly a third of our imported oil flows through the port facility there. The infrastructure necessary to receive oil imports by ship is not something that can be quickly replaced. I am afraid to report that we are facing immediate and drastic shortages that cannot be easily remedied.'
'I have been told the damage repairs may take as long as a year before the current level of imports can be restored,' a white-haired politburo member said.
'I cannot dispute the estimate,' Shinzhe said, bowing his head.
Overhead, the room's fluorescent lights suddenly flashed off, while the noisy and mostly ineffective air- conditioning system fell silent. A stillness settled over the darkened room before the lights flickered back on and the cooling system slowly clanged back to life. Along with it came the temper of the president.
'These blackouts must stop!' he cursed. 'Half of Shanghai was without power for five days. Our factories are operating limited hours to conserve electricity, while the workers have no power to cook their dinner at night. And now you tell us that we will be short of fuel oil from abroad and our five-year plan is rubbish? I demand to know what is being done to solve these problems,' he hissed.
Shinzhe visibly shrunk before the tirade. Glancing around the table, he saw that none of the other committee members were brave enough to reply, so he took a deep breath and began speaking in a quiet tone.
'As you know, additional generators will go on line shortly at the Three Gorges Dam hydroelectric development, while a half dozen new coal-and gas-fired power plants are in various stages of construction. But obtaining sufficient natural gas and fuel oil supplies to operate the non-hydro power plants has been a problem, and is more so now. Our state-sponsored oil companies have stepped up exploration in the South China Sea, despite protests from the Vietnamese government. Furthermore, we continue to broaden supply relationships abroad. The foreign ministry has recently completed successful negotiations to purchase significant quantities of fuel oil from Iran, I might remind the committee. And we are continuing efforts to acquire Western oil companies that own rich stocks of reserves.'
'Minister Shinzhe is correct.' The gray-haired foreign minister, who sat quietly to the side, coughed.
'These activities address long-term sources of energy, however, and will do nothing to solve the immediate problem.'
'Again, I ask, what is being done to address the shortfall?' Fei nearly shrieked, his voice rising an octave.
'In addition to Iran, we have spoken with several Middle Eastern countries about boosting their exports.
We must of course compete with the Western countries on price,' Shinzhe said softly. 'But the Ningbo Harbor damage physically limits the amount of oil we are able to bring in by sea.'
'What about the Russians?'
'They are in love with the Japanese,' the foreign minister spat. 'Our attempt to jointly develop a pipeline from the western Siberian oil fields was rejected by the Russians in favor of a line to the Pacific that will supply Japan. We can only boost rail shipments of oil from Russia in the short term, which, of course, is not a feasible means to transport any sizeable quantities.'
'So there is no real solution,' Fei grumbled, his anger still simmering. 'Our economic growth will terminate, our gains against the West will cease, and we can all just return to our cooperative farms in the provinces, where we will enjoy continuing blackouts.'
The room fell silent again as no one dared even breathe in the face of the general secretary's ire. Only the tinny rattle of the air-conditioning rumbling in the background stirred the heavy morose in the air. Then Shinzhe's assistant, a petite woman named Yee, cleared her throat.
'Excuse me, General Secretary, Minister Shinzhe,' she said, nodding to the two men. 'The State has just today received a peculiar offer of energy assistance through our ministry. I am sorry I didn't have the opportunity to brief you, Minister,' she said to Shinzhe. 'I didn't recognize the importance at the time.'
'What is the proposal?' Fei asked.
'It is an offer from an entity in Mongolia to supply high-quality crude oil...'
'Mongolia?' Fei interrupted. 'There's no oil in Mongolia.'
'The offer is to supply one million barrels a day,' Yee continued. 'Delivery commencing within ninety days.'
'That's preposterous,' Shinzhe exclaimed, glaring at Yee with irritation for publicly sharing the communique.
'Perhaps,' Fei replied, a look of intrigue suddenly warming his face. 'It is worth investigating. What else does the proposal say?'
'Just the terms they demand in return,' Yee replied, suddenly looking nervous. Pausing in hopes the discussion would end there, she sheepishly continued when she saw all eyes were fixed on her. 'The price of the oil shall be set at the current market price and locked for a period of three years. In addition, exclusive use of the northeast oil pipeline terminating at the port of Qinhuangdao shall be granted, and, further, the Chinese-controlled lands denoted Inner Mongolia shall be formally ceded back to the ruling government of Mongolia.'
The staid audience erupted in an uproar. Cries of outrage rocked through the room at the shocking demand. After minutes of boisterous dissent, Fei pounded an ashtray on the table to regain silence.
'Silence!' the president shouted, immediately quieting the crowd. A pained look crossed his face, then he spoke calmly and quietly. 'Find out if the offer is real, if the oil does, in fact, exist. Then we shall worry about negotiating an appropriate price.'
'As you wish, General Secretary,' Shinzhe bowed.
'Tell me first, though. Who is it that is making this contemptuous demand?'
Shinzhe looked helplessly at Yee. 'It is a small entity that is unknown to our ministry,' she answered, addressing the president. 'They are called the Avarga Oil Consortium.'
-14-
They were hopelessly lost. Two weeks after departing Ulan-Ude with instructions to explore the upper Selenga River valley, the five-man seismic exploration team had lost its way. None of the men from the Russian oil company LUKOIL were from the region, which added to their misfortune.
The trouble began when someone spilled a hot coffee on the GPS unit, drowning it in a quick death. It was not enough to halt their progression south, even when they stumbled across the Mongolian border and off the edge
