The Secret Cardinal

24

Xiyuan, the site of the Summer Palace, was once in the countryside northwest of the imperial capital, separated from it by an expanse of farms and wilderness. Urban sprawl over the past sixty years had consumed much of that open land, erasing the separate sense of place Xiyuan once enjoyed. The sphere of the Beijing metropolitan area fully encompassed the garden campus of the Ministry of State Security, rendering Tian Yi’s ride into the central city paved and urban.

The Chinese spymaster stared absently at the lights of Beijing as his driver sped down the broad avenues toward the center of the capital. A steady stream of cars flowed along the city’s main arteries despite the late hour, and towering cranes populated the rapidly changing skyline like a flock of wading birds hovering over a river teeming with fish. Floodlights illuminated the slender structures, the glow evidence of night workers toiling to complete a century of civic construction in a few short years. In China, live cranes were a sign of good luck. Tian Yi wondered what kind of luck the giant steel cranes would bring.

The driver turned on to Xichangan Jie, heading east toward Tiananmen Square, the symbolic heart of China. Ahead on the left, Tian saw the southern portion of the massive red walls that enclosed a two-square-kilometer compound of Zhongnanhai. The compound took its name from the two small lakes contained within its walls, though most in China thought of it as the Sea Palaces. From its origin as an imperial pleasure park during the Jin dynasty, the region of rolling hills and lakes immediately west of the Forbidden City evolved from a place of leisure for residents of the imperial court, filled with pavilions and gardens, into the seat of power for the Communist ruling elite. In 1949, Zhongnanhai became China’s Kremlin.

Near the center of its length, the southern wall angled away from the road, receding to form a forecourt in front of an ornate two-story structure with a columned facade and a traditional red tile roof. The eighteenth-century Emperor Qianlong built the Precious Moon Tower — as the Xinhuamen (New China) Gate was originally known — as a gift for his homesick concubine.

As his driver turned into the guarded forecourt, Tian saw two large red signs emblazoned with white characters on the walls flanking the gate.

The guards verified Tian’s appointment and permitted his driver to proceed. Inside the gate, Tian saw a third sign—

As the driver followed the narrow road around the southern lake, Tian thought of the slogans at the gate and recalled Yin Daoming’s exhortation to the audience in the Beijing theater. Mao famously said that all political power grows out of the barrel of a gun, yet the very real threat of death did not cow Yin or his fellow Roman Catholics.

How many communists, Tian mused, would sing the praises of the illustrious Mao while being immolated for refusing to denounce the party?

The car entered an area northwest of the southern lake called Fengzeyuan (Garden of Plenty). There, guards on night patrol directed Tian’s driver to a parking space near a small pavilion that dated to the Qing dynasty. A large contingent of armed men near the building served to alert Tian that the Premier was already inside waiting for him.

A soldier opened the car door and saluted as Tian stepped out. A man in his late fifties, Tian was of average height with a trim build and a lean face with a smooth pate of lightly freckled skin stretched taut over the uneven topography of his skull.

The pavilion doors opened for Tian as he approached them and closed once he was inside. Premier Wen Lequan sat in a high-backed chair carefully watching Tian. A thickset man in his mid-sixties, the Premier was an electrical engineer who rose through the party ranks before taking the reins of the world’s most populous nation four years earlier.

Seated beside Wen were President Chong Jiyun and Minister Fu Yushan of the Ministry of Justice. Chong, a thin bookish man, was an economist and the architect of the country’s two-system approach wedding communist politics with capitalist economics. Fu tackled the equally daunting task of modernizing the nation’s legal code and processes for administering justice. Trim and athletic, the fifty-three-year-old Fu was the youngest man in the room. His quick political rise was attributed in equal parts to his brilliant legal mind and fiery personality.

Facing three of China’s most powerful figures was an empty chair.

‘Minister Tian,’ Wen said, pronouncing the name with great formality, ‘please sit.’

Tian did as the Premier instructed, his expression betraying no emotion despite the attention now directed at him. He gazed past the three men and focused instead on the exquisite brushwork in a painting of the Qutang Gorge hanging on the far wall.

‘Throughout your many years of service to our country,’ Wen said, ‘you have cultivated a reputation as a man of reason and thoughtful, considered action. What most urgent matter has arisen that requires the immediate attention of me and my esteemed comrades?’

‘Premier Wen, President Chong, Minister Fu,’ Tian began, nodding respectfully to each man in turn, ‘I believe the sovereignty of our nation has been violated by forces of Western aggression.’

‘Please explain,’ Wen said.

‘A few hours ago, we received a message from our chief of station in Rome. The Vatican has set in motion an effort to extract a prisoner from the laogai in Chifeng and remove him from the country.’

‘Which prisoner?’ Fu demanded.

‘Yin Daoming, the Roman Catholic Bishop of Shanghai.’

Tian saw Wen tense slightly at the name.

‘The Vatican?’ Chong mused softly. ‘Are they not now leaderless?’

‘Yes, and that I believe is the reason behind this provocative action. In a recorded message, Pope Leo himself revealed the plot to his cardinals — the men who are now meeting in secret to select a new leader. This message also revealed that Pope Leo secretly named Bishop Yin a cardinal and asked that he be considered by the committee as the next Pope.’

‘Incredible,’ Fu said. ‘Would they even consider selecting Yin?’

‘My information indicates he is one of the top candidates.’

‘History often acts with a keen sense of irony,’ Wen offered.

‘How so, Premier Wen?’ Fu asked.

‘I was raised in Shanghai Province, in a small village just outside the city — the same village as Yin Daoming. We attended the same school, so I knew him. I remember Yin as a good student and difficult competitor. We were not friends, but we respected each other. There was an old man in our village — a recluse who many believed could glimpse the future. One summer day, I was swimming with Yin and a group of boys in a small lake. We were racing, and Yin and I were ahead of the others when we reached the far shore. There, we encountered the old man standing in the shade of a willow by the water’s edge. We were young, perhaps twelve, and the old man was a frightening figure. He stared at us for a moment, then said, “One of you will rule, the other will lead”.’

‘Yin is in prison because he leads a dangerous cult,’ Fu said. ‘He should have been executed years ago.’

‘Perhaps,’ Chong said, ‘but martyrs are more dangerous than prisoners. And once made, they cannot be unmade. If the agents of the Vatican know where Yin is, can we not simply move him?’

‘That may not be sufficient,’ Tian answered. ‘The information we received was provided by our Italian partners. They view the appearance of Yin as a contender for the leadership of the Vatican as a threat to our mutual interests. They correctly recognize Yin as an internal matter and request that we resolve it quickly and quietly before it can negatively impact our business relationship.’

Tian did not have to elaborate. Everyone in the room knew of Beijing’s clandestine involvement in the arms and drug trade through the Ministry of State Security. The Premier considered Tian’s report and the opinions of Chong and Fu.

‘I do not like the idea of killing Yin Daoming, but I recognize the danger he poses to China. Our society is undergoing a great transformation, and in questioning their faith in the party, the people are vulnerable to subversive influences. If the agents of the Vatican succeed in taking Yin out of China, he will be far more troublesome than the Dalai Lama. If we move Yin, do you think the Vatican will continue trying to free him?’

Tian nodded. ‘They are a patient foe with a long memory. I do not see them easily abandoning the course they have chosen.’

‘We cannot permit Yin to be set free, and death seems the only way to ensure this,’ Wen decided. ‘Minister Fu, please draft the order for the execution of Yin Daoming. Minister Tian, have one of your men deliver the order to Chifeng and serve as witness that it is carried out.’

‘What of the Vatican agents?’ Tian asked.

‘I leave that investigation to you. I expect they will disperse once word of Yin’s execution is known. If any are found, they are to be killed.’