Blackmail

16 BEIJING, CHINA

Defense Minister Boris Chernov peered out the side window of his sedan, its armored frame riding low to the ground, as it wound through the center of Beijing. Joining Chernov in the back of the car was the Russian ambassador to China, Danil Sokolov, who would translate during this morning’s meeting with Xiang Chenglei, China’s president and general secretary of the Party. The sedan came to a halt in front of the Great Hall of the People, where President Xiang’s executive assistant greeted the two Russians as they stepped from their car. Sokolov translated as the men spoke.

“Welcome to Beijing, Minister Chernov. I am Xie Hai, the president’s executive assistant.”

Chernov shook Xie’s hand. “Thank you for arranging this meeting.”

Xie smiled. “It was my pleasure.”

Xie escorted the two Russians up the steps toward the building entrance, framed by massive gray marble colonnades. As Chernov entered the Great Hall of the People, his thoughts turned to Belarus. The request Chernov would make today would be similar, but the dynamics were different. Although Russia’s share of oil and natural gas imports to China was rising, it was still a small fraction due to China’s insistence, wisely so, on multiple sources. Still, the deal could be sweetened other ways.

Whether China was willing to enter another conflict so soon was unknown. Russia and China’s relationship over the last several centuries had been contentious, but there was much common ground, particularly when it came to the United States. Chernov was a firm believer in the proverb The enemy of my enemy is my friend. The Soviet Union had employed the construct during World War II, working with the West despite their inherent distrust. Now, Russia would strive for an allegiance with the East.

The meeting didn’t take long. As Chernov and his translator exited the Great Hall of the People and slid into their waiting sedan, Chernov reflected on his discussions with the Chinese president and the head of the People’s Liberation Army. Neither man asked many questions, and when they did, Chernov had difficulty gauging their level of interest. The Chinese language was complex, with many nuances lost in translation. Still, the proposal had been made, and President Xiang was mulling the offer over.

As Chernov’s sedan headed toward the airport, he pulled a folder from his leather briefcase and reviewed the document inside, preparing for his next meeting.