‘Why?’ said Tao.
‘No reason given. There was no indication that they knew about our shipments to Pakistan.’
‘But the weather has been clear,’ said Tang. ‘Their satellites would pick it up.’
‘I don’t think that matters,’ said Tao. ‘If we wish to arm an ally against an aggressive enemy, then we shall do so. Tibet, though, is more sensitive because of the Americans. What did you tell Reece Overhalt?’
‘That I was Foreign Minister and Tibet was an integral part of China.’
‘Comrade Song,’ said Tao, insistent on retaining some old-style Communist Party formalities, ‘Comrade Tang and I were discussing the international repercussions of martial law; whether we should declare it in Tibet. I don’t believe it is necessary, but we would welcome your view.’
Song chose his words carefully. ‘I would certainly advise against using the term “martial law”. We will shortly — and by that I mean within the next twenty-four hours — have to make a statement about what is going on there. The cordon Comrade Tang has thrown around the city appears to be holding and no news is getting out. Yet the Western democracies are demanding access.’
‘When the West stamps its feet, China closes its doors,’ said Tao. ‘We have been through this before and survived, and a declaration of martial law would give an umbrella of legitimacy to our operation to crush dissent there.’
‘Nothing we do in Tibet has legitimacy in the eyes of the Western democracies. They tolerate it only through gritted teeth.’
Tao interrupted: ‘Comrade Tang, how long will the present operation last?’
‘We need to retain the seal around Lhasa for at least another two weeks to ensure that the splittist elements are neutralized.’
‘And if you loosen it? If, say, a European Union diplomat is taken to Lhasa for a day?’ asked the President.
Tang was silent for a moment, then began by addressing Song: ‘If Comrade Song can give me two weeks, I can ensure that the Tibetan problem is solved once and for all.’
‘How will you do that?’ said Song softly.
‘I don’t ask you the details of your foreign diplomacy,’ said Tang bluntly. ‘The incursion by India has given us an opportunity to act. We should not lose it.’
‘I am concerned about how our policy in Tibet will impact on our global position,’ retorted Song. ‘Since the 1989 Tiananmen incident and the Dragon Strike war, we have skilfully become a role model for the developing world. The myth that Western-style democracy is a panacea to end global poverty and civil war has been exploded by our achievements. Our human rights policy, once reviled by Western democracies, is now regarded as a necessity to keep economic development on course. Our citizens are proud to be Chinese and proud to be ruled by the Communist Party, and I would not like to see this ruined because of a sudden iron-fist campaign in Tibet.’
‘What would you prefer, then, Foreign Secretary?’ said Tang. ‘UN/NATO forces running Lhasa?’ The security chief cleared his throat and spat into the spittoon by the side of his chair.
‘That is precisely what I am trying to avoid,’ snapped Song.
President Tao held up his hand. ‘Comrades, we are losing our focus. Chinese sovereign territory has been violated from the Indian side. There has been an armed incursion deep inside our country. It is only right that we defend ourselves, and the international community will have to accept that. The problem lies in their interpretation of what we are doing in Tibet. The Indian incursion was the catalyst for a much larger terrorist uprising, which we have to put down. Yet we have seen in places like Serbia that Western democracies only permit an iron fist if it is clenched by one of their own. President Milosevic acted out of principle and paid the price. We will not make a similar mistake. We have been forthright in putting down the rebellion, and we have reinforced our border with India in order to prevent a similar incursion happening in the future. Comrade Song, you are quite right in suggesting we make a statement within the next twenty-four hours and that is why I have arranged for the Defence Minister to brief us.’ President Tao stood up. ‘A train is waiting to take us to the Western Hills.’
The three men travelled in silence, mainly because of the noise: Muxidi, Gongzhufen, Yuquan Lu, then just as the metro line should have come to an end at Pingguoyan, the train only slowed, went through the station and picked up again. The sides of the tunnel were more roughly hewn and illuminated only by the light of the train. Further along, a few kilometres before the Summer Palace, the tunnel widened into a vast brightly lit chamber. In rows of three, and forming a line which stretched more than 1,500 metres, was a column of tanks and armoured vehicles. When they ended, the train passed the quarters for the troops stationed down there, with some working in vehicles and others relaxing on bunks.
Tao and Tang shuffled, indicating they were almost there, and Song readied himself. The train door opened onto a narrow platform, no wider than three feet, and they walked straight into a lift, which took them down another level. Song stepped out into a chamber, lit crudely with fluorescent light and split into two levels. This was the nerve centre of China’s defence policy, which had served as the war room for all its military operations in the past half-century.
The man waiting to greet them was General Leung Liyin, who was both the Defence Minister and the Vice-Chairman of the Central Military Commission (CMC). Apart from President Tao himself, who was Chairman of the Military Commission, Leung was the most powerful military voice in China and the CMC had direct command of the Second Artillery Regiment, which controlled the nuclear forces.
If anything, Leung was more hawkish than Tang and less diplomatic, making him an unlikely candidate for higher political office. At Central Committee meetings he pushed China’s expansion to the limits, floating and reviving old territorial claims and causing naval stand-offs with South-East Asian neighbours. The journey out to the Western Hills and the mere presence of Leung at the meeting suggested that the Chinese President had far more up his sleeve than a measured response to the raid on Drapchi prison. Leung ushered them across the chamber. They had to duck under a gigantic computer-generated map of Asia. Then they were shown into a small conference room.
‘General Leung will explain his military strategy for the present situation,’ said President Tao. ‘As we discussed in Zhongnanhai the situation in Tibet has a danger of spilling over to adversely affect our foreign relations. This must be avoided. Yet it is unacceptable that we allow the splittists in Lhasa to gain the upper hand because of international pressure. Comrade Tang’s operation will continue as he sees fit. General Leung has devised a staggered response to India’s incursion into our territory.’
Leung turned to a smaller map of Asia on the wall. ‘We have already allowed the American and Indian satellites to photograph troop movements near the border at Mazar close to Pakistan-controlled Kashmir, Zanda and Garyarsa in the Himalayan foothills of Himachal Pradesh and far to the east around Lhunze and here near Nyingchi. We assume that this information has been passed on to India, which also has its own imagery. Our plan is simple. We draw attention away from Tibet and towards our military response to India. As a global superpower, everything we do will be justified, mature and measured.’
‘Comrade Song,’ said Tao, ‘it will be your task to explain the policies to the international community and retain the relationships we have carefully built up over the years. But first, I would like Comrade Tang to tell us how far he has got in finding the escaped prisoner, Togden.’