The Emperor's Tomb

TWENTY-SIX

GANSU PROVINCE, CHINA

TANG TAPPED THE KEYBOARD, ENTERING A PASSWORD THAT completed the video connection. He preferred cyber-communication to face-to-face meetings. If performed with the right encoding, security was nearly foolproof. Unless one of the parties to the conversation allowed a violation.

But that wasn’t a worry here.

All of the participants were sworn by oath, bound by the brotherhood, each a loyal and dedicated member of the Ba.

He stroked the touch pad, and the laptop’s screen divided into ten panes. A man’s face appeared in each, bearing features of the Han Chinese, all of them in their fifties like himself. They served in diverse areas. One was a judge on the Supreme People’s Court. Several were respected department heads. Two were generals in the military. Three were members of the all-powerful Central Committee. They’d risen in rank, just like Tang—steadily, unnoticed—and served as Ba division leaders. Men who supervised other brothers, scattered throughout the national and local governments and the military. Their total numbers were limited, little more than two thousand, but enough to accomplish their goal.

“Good day,” he said into the laptop’s microphone.

China, though 5,000 kilometers across and spread over five international time zones, stayed on Beijing time. He’d never understood the logic since it led to annoying differences in work hours, but it explained the varied dress of the men on the screen.

“I wanted to report that the premier’s health is rapidly deteriorating,” he said. “I have learned that he has less than a year left. Of course, that fact will be kept secret. But it is imperative we maintain a constant readiness.”

He saw heads nod.

“The Central Committee is prepared,” he said. “We have a solid majority to achieve the premiership.”

One hundred and ninety-eight people served on the all-powerful Central Committee. He’d cultivated well over a hundred, men not of the Ba, who believed as he did that China must head in a direction more reminiscent of Mao than Deng Xiaoping.

“And what of Ni Yong?” one of the men asked. “He has growing support.”

“That matter is being handled. A state funeral in his honor will greatly rally the people to our cause.”

“Is that necessary?”

“The simplest way to eliminate the problem is to eliminate the candidate. This was discussed and approved.”

“Conditionally,” one of the others quickly added. “As a last resort. Ni’s death could have implications, depending on the manner of his demise. We don’t want a martyr.”

“That will not happen. His death will be attributed to one of his many investigations, one that went terribly wrong. It will happen outside the country.”

He saw that several agreed, but a few did not.

“Ni has strong support in the military,” one of the generals said. “His death will not be ignored.”

“Nor should it be. But in the larger view, he will be quickly forgotten as events play out. The premier’s demise will be unexpected. That will inevitably lead to uncertainty, and the people will not allow that condition to exist for long. They will crave security, and we will provide it.”

“How fast will we move?”

“As fast as the constitution allows. I’ve arranged for the provinces to call for an immediate vote. Of course, until that happens, I will be in temporary charge, as first vice president. We should have control in a matter of weeks.”

Then the real work would begin, starting with a swift, hasty retreat from democratization, which should stay the Party’s demise. And there would no longer be a need for the Central Discipline Inspection Commission. Instead corruption would be dealt with privately. Likewise, all dissension would be quelled with appropriate punishments. Many world observers had predicted either the Westernization of China or the end of the Communist Party, and staying the present course would almost certainly have accomplished both. His goal was to alter that course 180 degrees.

Qin Shi, the emperors after him, and Mao had all done it.

Now he would do it.

All Chinese have an irrational fear of chaos and disorder.

“We will offer the nation exactly what it craves,” he said. “Stability. Order. Once those are established, the people will grant us many liberties.”

“We are but a few,” another of the men said. “Keeping that order could prove difficult.”

“Which is why we must control the premiership. That office grants us unrestricted power. From there, we can easily reshape the nation.”

He was careful when speaking with the brothers to always use the first-person plural we. Theirs was, in theory, a collective effort, and he realized that he could not accomplish his goal without everyone’s help.

“We must be ready to act with short notice,” he said to the others. “For my part, I am presently working on a tactic that could greatly enhance our position, perhaps even grant us a dominant hand in world politics. The West will not be dictating how China lives, moralizing on what is right and wrong, deciding our future.”

“You sound confident.”

“Their missionaries and educators tried to modernize and Christianize us. The Japanese wanted to conquer us. The Americans attempted to democratize us. The Soviets tried to insinuate control. They all failed. Even worse, we experimented with ourselves and failed, too. We are a great civilization.” He paused. “We shall once again be what we were.”

He saw that the men on the other end of the connection agreed with him.

“And what of the master?” one of the men finally asked. “We hear nothing from him.”

“Rest assured,” he made clear. “He is with us.”