Dragon Fire

Zhongnanhai, Beijing, China

Jamie Song ushered the Russian Ambassador, Nikolai Baltin, into President Tao’s official reception room in Longevity Hall. The windows, dripping with condensation, looked out over the Garden of Benevolence and beyond onto Nan Hai, or southern sea, the smaller of the two lakes in the compound.

The two men stood awkwardly in silence, waiting for Tao to arrive. They knew that anything they said would be recorded and this was not the time for small talk. Tao arrived grim-faced without an interpreter. Baltin was a fluent Mandarin speaker. Song was glad that the unsophisticated security chief, Tang Siju, was in the Western Hills, putting his hawkish views into practice in Tibet, rather than using them to wreck diplomacy in Zhongnanhai.

‘You wanted to see me, and I am here,’ said Tao, abruptly.

‘Thank you, President Tao,’ said Baltin. ‘President Gorbunov is worried that the United States has everything to gain from the outbreak of war and that we — Russia and China — have everything to lose.’

‘Has President Gorbunov sent you on the request of John Hastings?’

Baltin shook his head. ‘He believes the United States will use this crisis to divide our strategic alliance, particularly your conflict with India.’

None of the men were sitting down, and Tao paced the room before answering. ‘The long-term aim of India is to draw Tibet out of China and bring it under Indian influence, just like Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan. If we show weakness, India will support a fully independent Tibet and win applause within the international community for doing so. I would not even be surprised if it offers to run an interim administration there, in other words, claiming its own suzerainty, which would be recognized by the Western powers.’

‘We don’t believe that is the case,’ said Baltin.

‘Well, we do,’ said Tao. ‘India and China have a difficult history. While we are naturally the Great Power in Asia, India has tried to assume that role through its colonial links with the West. We have still not forgotten the gracious way in which India treated us at the Afro-Asian Bandung Conference in 1955. Comrade Zhou Enlai gave the most memorable speech about the resentment of Western domination, which was applauded by all, particularly those Western puppets which resented our presence. “Most of the countries of Asia and Africa have suffered from colonialism,” he said. “We are economically backward… If we seek common ground to remove the misery imposed upon us it will be easy to for us to understand each other, respect each other, to help each other.” Nehru embraced comrade Zhou afterwards.’

‘Which is precisely what President Gorbunov would like you to do to Prime Minister Dixit.’

‘I haven’t finished,’ snapped Tao. Baltin fell quiet, remembering the Chinese president’s penchant for lecturing. ‘Since the end of colonialism, India has purported to be the civilized face of Third World development. At Bandung, Nehru was gracious, like a father to an adopted child. Yet it was comrade Zhou who stole the show and no amount of embraces could hide the fact. While Nehru had been selling his books to Western publishers and dressing in Western suits, comrade Zhou had been commanding our fighters to rid China of corruption and oppression. The developing countries knew that Zhou was the genuine reformer. Nehru resented it deeply. Nehru’s India had copied the Western democratic model and used English as its national language of communication. We pursued a more difficult path of finding our own way, the Asian way, which has proved more suitable to the culture of this region. We are now richer than India. Our people are better educated. Our hospitals and schools are better equipped. Our influence in global affairs is greater. The Chinese people are more confident.

‘Yet India knows there is one weakness it can exploit and that is Tibet. In 1959, when the Dalai Lama escaped, Prime Minister Nehru travelled all the way to the Mussoorie Hill Station to greet him. This was a completely unfitting reception for a government to give the leader of a rebellion in a friendly neighbouring state. Your Russian troops have been in Chechnya to prevent separation, causing great bloodshed. We have done nothing like that in Tibet since putting down the rebellion in 1959. Even now, during the riots after the escape of prisoner Togden, our reaction has been constrained. Indian troops carried out that operation. The rebels are given sanctuary and supplies on Indian territory. The Dalai Lama, the inspirational leader of the rebellion, lives there. I sympathize with your President’s concerns. I am worried, too. But I cannot allow the dismemberment of the Motherland in exchange for Russia’s desire to lead a tripartite power bloc which might or might not work.

‘So tell President Gorbunov to bring his influence to bear on India. An end to terrorism in Tibet. The expulsion of the Dalai Lama. The arrest of terrorists. The closing of their camps. Once that is announced, we will withdraw our troops from Arunachal Pradesh and then Russia can mediate in talks about our disputed border with India. Until then, the war continues.’

Without saying goodbye, Tao turned on his heels and left the room. Jamie Song escorted Baltin outside, so they could talk more freely.

‘We are offering you six Typhoon-class nuclear-powered submarines,’ said Baltin.

‘President Tao sees it as a trick,’ said Song. ‘The issues on the table now will be solved within a few days. The submarines will take months of training and trials before we can put them to use.’

Baltin nodded. ‘Do me one favour, then, Jamie. I understand the Americans are about to come down on the side of India, which will put them directly at odds with you. The Indian communities in Europe and the States are carrying out an impressive lobbying campaign, way smarter than anything the Chinese can do. Mushroom clouds, democracy, all that sort of thing. Get yourself on CNN and do something to neutralize it.’

Song laughed sarcastically: ‘So while India and Pakistan are in the middle of a nuclear war, China goes on CNN.’