Dragon Fire

Operational Directorate, South Block, New Delhi, India

Hari Dixit, the Indian Prime Minister, slapped his hand on the conference table in his office and angrily pulled out a chair. ‘Why do I have to find out what is happening from the Chinese?’ he snapped at the two men standing in front of him. ‘It’s your job to tell me.’

Mani Naidu, the director of the Intelligence Bureau, which handled internal intelligence, and Chandra Reddy, Special Secretary of the Research and Analysis Wing, responsible for external intelligence, were unlucky enough to be the first members of the National Security Council to arrive for the meeting.

Twenty minutes earlier, Dixit had been holding meetings at his official residence at 7 Race Course Road. He was a tough medical doctor in his early sixties, who through sheer political brilliance and some brawn had moulded a coalition to keep his party in power. Three years earlier, he had suddenly risen to political fame, from the obscurity of being Chief Minister in Andhra Pradesh. His policies had concentrated on disease prevention, health education, housing, education and information technology, and had become a model for Third World development. The press hailed him as the only genuine leader India had had since Jawaharlal Nehru, a man who could balance the needs of the poor with the national aspirations of the world’s greatest democracy.

The unexpected visitor to the Prime Minister’s residence was the Chinese Ambassador, who came in person, unannounced, his lower lip quivering with rage. ‘Unless my government has an immediate explanation as to why Indian troops have invaded Chinese sovereign territory,’ he spluttered, ‘I am instructed to tell you that China will consider itself to be in a state of war with India.’

The British High Commissioner telephoned. The Russian Ambassador sent a hand-delivered note. Dixit blocked calls when he heard that the American Ambassador was also trying to get through. He ordered a meeting of the National Security Council at the Operational Directorate, which was a military crisis centre near the Prime Minister’s office in South Block. On the way, Dixit spoke to his Foreign Minister, Prabhu Purie, who told him: ‘It appears a renegade unit of the Special Frontier Force was responsible, sir, but the Chinese are refusing to accept this explanation.’

The telephone line from the Prime Minister’s white Ambassador car was encrypted and secure. The car had been custom-built in Calcutta by Hindustan Motors with bullet-proof tyres and windows, and an armour-plated chassis. Special Protection Group (SPG) officers changed the number plates at least twice a week.

Two SPG cars pulled out in front. The one closest carried a scanner to detect missile attacks. Two more cars flanked the Ambassador behind and an ambulance followed the convoy. The driver and an SPG commando with a Sten gun were in the front, while the Prime Minister sat alone in the back.

The route varied each time he travelled from his residence to his office. This morning the convoy headed along Akbar Road and on to Vijay Chowk, just below Raisina Hill at the foot of the Central Secretariat complex. The final leg took it up towards the elegant red-stone buildings of South Block, designed by Edwin Lutyens in the final days of the Raj and now the nucleus of government for the world’s biggest democracy.

The car turned into gate eleven near Rajaji Marg, and Dixit saw his two most senior intelligence officials drive in just before him. As he stepped out of his car, Dixit could only wonder whether he was to preside over an era of yet more war.

Tibet was the silent, dangerous front which had been swept under the carpet for more than half a century, dormant, but never forgotten. On his way in, Dixit walked past walls covered with photographs of men who had won the highest Indian award for bravery, the Param Vir Chakra.

His private secretary was waiting at the lift and they rode up together to the first floor, turning left towards the room marked OPERATIONAL DIRECTORATE. There had been no time to separate the tables, which had been moved together for a meeting of twenty-five people late the night before. The officials of India’s National Security Council pulled up chairs and sat down. Present were the Prime Minister, the Foreign Minister, the Defence Minister, the Home Minister, the National Security Advisor, the heads of the Intelligence Bureau and the Research and Analysis Wing, the deputy chairman of the Planning Commission and the chiefs of the Army, Air and Navy. The Finance Minister, who would have been present, was out of the country.