Emerald Buddha

Chapter 53

“This is unacceptable,” Xiaoping’s superior snarled, slamming the table with his hand. “You assured me that our systems were bulletproof.”

Xiaoping nodded, taking measured breaths, commanding himself to remain calm. “Yes. I was relaying what I was told. As you’re aware, I am not a technological expert. I must rely on their assurances, which it appears were… overly optimistic.”

Xiaoping paused and surveyed the room, which was a who’s who of government ministers — all demanding answers. Xiaoping stalled for time by taking a sip from his water glass, and then sat forward, his hands folded.

“So far what has leaked is embarrassing, but not disastrous. Our record on human rights has never been our strength, so that portion of the revelations won’t matter to our allies. Our intention to ramp up our defense spending? Again, relatively predictable, given that the U.S. has encircled us with bases and aircraft carriers. So far there is nothing that will change our position on anything, except perhaps the speed at which we move forward with our investments, and our official announcement of our precious metals reserves.”

China was the largest manufacturer of gold in the world and exported exactly none of it. It was also the largest buyer of foreign gold through a network of shell banks as well as through legitimate channels. The propaganda it advanced to outsiders was that its population had a long tradition of hoarding gold — that it was a remnant of primitive habits, of a lack of sophistication in an era where Western financial groups referred to the yellow metal as a barbaric relic from a bygone age.

The truth was that in order for China and its allies to escape the U.S. dollar’s grip, a superior solution needed to be advanced; and throughout history, when paper currencies failed — which they ultimately did, with one hundred percent regularity — the new global standard that was used for trade and for settling debts was always backed by gold in some manner. That had been true of the prior reserve currency to the dollar, the British pound, and it had been true of the dollar when the greenback had replaced the pound as the world’s reserve currency. But the U.S. had made the classic mistake that all others before it had — namely, to reject the discipline that backing its currency with gold enforced — and instead turned on the printing presses, after declaring that the quasi-gold standard was inadequate for the modern world.

China and Russia had quietly begun amassing gold, all the while nodding along with the U.S. agenda. That the dollar was doomed to be relegated to a lesser role than the one it had played since the Second World War was not only predictable, but inevitable. China’s policy had been to support the U.S. central bank’s efforts to keep the price of gold artificially low, all the while shifting its dollar inventory quietly to gold without moving the price higher — taking advantage of the hubris of the nation’s bankers and their belief that they could mislead the world indefinitely.

The amount of gold in China’s government vaults was one of the country’s most jealously guarded secrets, and in the last twenty-four hours, a report had been posted on the Internet detailing precisely how much it held, and where. The Chinese response had been typical — no comment — but they could only stonewall for so long.

“It is intolerable that our secrets are displayed for all to see,” the defense minister said. “If you can’t guarantee that they are safe, why did you put them where they could be accessed by some hacker?”

“With all due respect, Minister, I did no such thing,” Xiaoping corrected. “The decision was made by a collective, and I was not invited to offer my opinion to that esteemed group.”

“What steps are being taken to ensure this never happens again?” the chairman’s deputy asked, his voice deceptively quiet.

All eyes moved to Xiaoping, including his superior’s — the man was a veteran of the byzantine infighting of the party and had survived many crises during his career. Xiaoping had no doubt that he’d be thrown under the bus if a scapegoat was necessary, so when he responded, he did so with great care.

“As you know, our agent Jiao is missing and presumed dead. So are his men. There has been no communication for days, so that is the safe assumption. Our sources tell us that the woman survived somehow, and that she has made it her mission to broadcast the information her cursed lover was able to amass. But let’s consider what the likely focus will continue to be: the Americans. The information that has been made public in the last day is devastating to their credibility, and there are already calls for regime change, as well as prosecution of past leaders for treason. I’d argue that given that damage, we have been fortunate.” Xiaoping paused.

“Yes, we know all that. The question is what is being done so we aren’t victimized again?”

“I would propose that our sensitive information be stored on a set of failsafe systems which can’t be connected to the outside world, even via protected networks, as ours was believed to be. The only way to ensure nobody is ever able to hack it is to ensure it is physically impossible to retrieve information from outside the vault where it is located.”

The discussion of the pros and cons of Xiaoping’s solution were debated for thirty minutes before he was excused while the powerful continued to confer. He was under no illusions that his future was assured, but he was breathing more easily than he had been when he’d climbed the steps that led to the conference room. The penalty for failure was usually extreme, and even though the failure wasn’t his, he would share the blame.

Xiaoping moved like an older man than he was. When he emerged from the building, the wind cut through his coat, chilling him. He’d always favored philosophy over fear, and if he was to be spirited away in the dead of night, a bullet to the skull his reward for thirty-six years of loyal service, then so be it. He’d lived a full life and wouldn’t flinch if his destiny was an unmarked grave.

Of course he’d miss this world, but he also believed that, like his ancestors, when his time came, he would face the unknown bravely — the alternative pointless in the face of eternity.

The thought gave him comfort, so much so that he barely noted the pair of hatchet-faced men approaching fast from behind, or the van that trailed them, his destiny rushing to meet him with imminent finality.