Harrison Van Lynden came to his feet as the Secret Service agent ushered his two guests into the sitting room of his suite.
“Secretary Duan, Professor Djinn, I thank you for coming here this evening.”
“It is our pleasure, Mr. Secretary,” Ho replied. “How may we be of assistance to you?”
“I hope we may be of assistance to each other. Please, be seated.” Van Lynden gestured to the couch that faced him across the low coffee table.
However, it was tea that was brought forward by another silent aide — steaming green tea served in delicate handleless porcelain cups. More than a gesture of hospitality, Van Lynden was invoking an ancient Chinese ritual of negotiation, one that he hoped would stand him in good stead tonight.
The secretary of state and his two guests shared the first sip, which signaled the beginning.
“I would like to speak about the current state of the crisis reduction talks,” Van Lynden began. “And I have called you here tonight in this rather unconventional manner because, sometimes, that is the best way to circumvent an impasse. And we are at an impasse, a very dangerous one.”
“Impasses are sometimes born of commitment, Mr. Secretary,” Professor Djinn replied. “I fear that this is the case.”
“I understand that, Professor. Unfortunately, I fear that this commitment of yours, Professor, could lead to the world’s first nuclear war. That is an option that I know that neither United Democratic Forces, nor the Nationalists, nor the Communists desire. There has got to be some solution here that does not require the death of millions.”
“There is,” Professor Djinn replied levelly. “The solution is for the Communists to admit their defeat.”
“That’s not an easy thing for anyone to admit to. But possibly we might be able to get the Communists to admit that it’s time for change. I would like to put forward the following proposition tomorrow. A freeze-in-place of all UDF and Red Chinese forces, a ceasefire, and the deployment of a U.N. observer group to monitor the truce.”
“Which would resolve nothing, Mr. Secretary.”
“It would put this nuclear confrontation on hold! It would give you the chance to initiate direct negotiations with the Communists. They have got to accept the United Democratic Forces as a factor in China’s future. Maybe we can broker some kind of power-sharing agreement.”
“And what part would the Nationalists have to play in this power sharing?” Secretary Duan inquired.
“As a supportive faction of the UDFC. Speaking frankly, any ceasefire agreement that we might make with the Communists will probably mandate a Nationalist withdrawal from the mainland.”
“That is unacceptable, Mr. Secretary,” the Nationalist statesman replied flatly.
“Even in exchange for seeing Taipei enveloped in a thermonuclear fireball.”
“Yes.” Duan deliberately picked up his cup and drank from it. “We have been denied our homeland and our heritage for half a century. We are a patient people, but even we have a limit to our patience. We are going home, Mr. Secretary, even though the path there may have its risks.”
“We of the mainland have also waited a long time,” Professor Djinn interjected, picking up the line of the discourse. “We have waited for a liberation from tyranny, a liberation from want, a liberation from death.”
The elderly man lifted a torment-distorted hand. “We are dying now. We have died slowly for every day of the fifty years that the Communists have ruled us. Why should we fear their bombs? The death that they give us will only be swifter and cleaner.”
Duan nodded in agreement. “We have planned a very long time for this moment. Mr. Secretary. It will be another long time before we could bring another such moment about again. We will not be content with half-measures, nor will we permit half of our people to continue to live under the lie of the Communists!
“We have nuclear arms of our own. We will trust in that shield, and in the hope that Beijing will not be foolish enough to commit this last great atrocity.”
“You risk much,” Van Lynden replied slowly.
“So we understood when we launched this battle.”
Secretary Duan lifted and drained his cup with great deliberation.
Professor Djinn following suit. The negotiations were over. Their last word on the subject had been spoken.
“I see.” Van Lynden left the remainder of his tea unfinished on the table.
The secretary of state bid good evening to his two guests.
After their departure, however, he recrossed the sitting room and entered his sleeping quarters.
Lucena Sagada awaited him there, tending the microphone relay. Also seated in the room in a collection of acquired chairs were the representatives from Japan, Korea, and the Philippines. Each man was removing an earphone as Van Lynden entered.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “now it is my turn to apologize to you about my unconventional form of diplomacy. However, I felt that it was imperative that, in the face of the decision that we must make, you all have the opportunity to hear the latest and last word from our friends the Chinese.”
Ambassador Moroboshi gave a slight smile. “I daresay, Mr. Secretary, that it won’t be the first time matters of statesmanship have been resolved in a bedroom.”
“But few, I suspect, quite this grave,” Ambassador Chung Pak responded. Counter to the Japanese, the solid, stocky Korean looked grim.
“The fools are truly going to do it, aren’t they?” Jorge Apayo, the Philippine representative, said. “They are going to push this thing until they use the bomb.”
“So it would appear,” Chung replied. “The Analyses Section of our General Staff have completed their review of the projections provided by the United States. While they will not commit to the extent of the American RAND team, they do say that a nuclear exchange is a definite possibility.”
“Our Self-Defense Forces people said probably,” the Japanese ambassador interjected.
Van Lynden took a seat on the edge of the bed. “I also know that your people have been doing some projections on what we can expect out here if events do go nuclear in China.”
“It will be bad,” Moroboshi replied. “Very bad for all of us, including the United States. The equivalent of Chernobyl a dozen times over.”
The Japanese ambassador accessed his personal-computer pad. “We are projecting between thirty and forty low-to medium-yield nuclear and thermonuclear detonations within a twenty-four-hour period. We can expect extensive fallout and elevated radiation levels throughout the Pacific Rim. Extensive ozone-layer damage. Long-term strontium 90 contamination in water and soil. The possibility of plutonium hot-spotting that could render hundreds or thousands of square miles of land uninhabitable. Trillions will be required for decontamination and medical aid. Damage to the Pacific economic environment will be beyond significant.”
“What about casualties?” Lucena Sagada asked softly.
“Within the western Pacific Rim states, we can expect hundreds of thousands of cases of low-grade radiation poisoning. All nations within the Northern Hemisphere may expect a measurable increase in the number of cancer cases to be recorded over the next fifty years. Possibly by as much as twenty to twenty-five percent.
“These figures, of course, cover only the secondary effects on our nations,” Moroboshi concluded with irony. “The situation within China itself will be … more difficult.”
That silenced the room for a moment.
“Gentlemen,” Van Lynden said eventually. “I believe that we all agree that this is an unacceptable outcome. Earlier today, each of your governments received an official note from the president of the United States. It proposed that, should no other alternative be available, we consider intervention in the China crisis. At least to the point of seeking out and eliminating the threat posed by the Red Chinese ballistic-missile submarine currently at sea.
“I put to you now that we have no alternative. Can you tell me now what answer we may expect from your governments?”
Ambassador Chung shrugged slightly. “We are the closest to the flame. We have no choice. If the United States is willing to take the lead in this matter, the Republic of Korea will lend both military and diplomatic support.”
“As will the Philippines,” Minister Apayo added. “We have few military units suitable for such operations, but we can provide air and sea basing and logistical support.”
The focus of the room shifted to Ambassador Moroboshi and the decision of Japan. The Ambassador hesitated for a long moment before speaking. “Japan has forsworn aggressive warfare as an aspect of national policy. It would take a very powerful motivation for us to make an exception to this doctrine. However, the threat of nuclear devastation returning to our shores provides just such a motivation. I believe that you may expect the full assistance of my nation in this matter.”
Van Lynden nodded. “Gentlemen, on behalf of the United States, I thank you. May our decision be the correct one. And now I believe we all will need to communicate with our respective governments.”
“One point further, Mr. Secretary,” the Philippine representative said. “What about the Taiwanese? We understand that their fleet is already at sea in pursuit of the Communist submarines. Would the military action we are considering be launched in coordination with theirs?”
“It would seem logical for us to work with them, Mr. Apayo.”
“To the Communists, it may appear as if we are now siding openly with the Nationalists in their conflict.”
“That’s very true, Mr. Apayo. However, it also appears as if neutrality is no longer a valid option.”