The Third World War: A Terrifying Novel of Global Conflict

18

'Jim, how are you?' asked Jamie Song, the sharp, flamboyant, and media-savvy President of the People's Republic of China. 'Your call is a pleasure to receive, of course, but I can't say it was unexpected. Now before we go on, tell me: is this an official conversation, in which case I'll have to bring in an interpreter, or is it just a friendly chat?'

'Let's make it friendly,' said West.

'Very good. Fire away and don't hold back. The franker you are the better.'

Jamie Song's idiomatic English reflected his years of living in the United States, first as a law student at Harvard, then switching seamlessly between the roles of international businessman and diplomat, becoming China's foreign minister and eventually president. Song was a spiritual child of Deng Xiaoping, the leader who in the 1980s put China on the path to modernization with a speed that no nation had experienced before.

Shanty towns were ripped down to be replaced by high-rise apartments. Swamplands became airports. Country lanes were turned into expressways. Whole areas were declared economic zones with their own sets of rules for creating wealth. While India and Russia foundered through lack of resources and conflict, China pulled hundreds of millions out of poverty and gave them a sense of their own destiny. It skilfully lured in foreign investment and allowed the wealth to spread. Yet it gave little heed to international opinion. Political dissent was silenced. Demonstrations were put down. Poverty was hidden. Books were censored. Newspapers and television broadcasts were controlled. China apologized for none of this.

In China's eyes, Western democracy had failed the poor. China had developed a system that was working. Jamie Song, who so cleverly straddled all worlds, was now at the helm for the nation's journey forward.

'North Korea,' said West bluntly. 'What's going on?'

Song let the question hang on the scrambled satellite telephone line between them. He had perched himself on a window sill overlooking Zhonghai Lake in the secure and secretive compound where the Chinese leadership lived and worked. Through the misted glass, Song watched fresh snow turn the lake's dirty ice back into a brilliant white.

'We're almost certain there's been a military takeover, Jim,' said Song. 'Park Ho is in charge and he has the loyalty of the military. What we don't know is whether he ordered the firing of the missile, or whether it was done in the heat of the moment by someone else.'

'When will you know?'

'You're the one with all the gadgetry.'

'You have the border, Jamie. You have the trust—'

'Don't kid yourself,' Song laughed. 'They've been such a pain in the neck, I'm beginning to wish we had lost the Korean War.'

'We've got fifty-eight dead Americans, Jamie, killed by a North Korean missile,' said West, in no mood for jokes. 'You're the closest they've got to an ally. You're also a world leader.'

Song tapped his index finger lightly on the telephone. He didn't like being lectured. But he understood the high emotion of American society. 'OK,' he said with deliberation. 'How exactly can I help?'

'What influence can you use to stop Park?'

'Doing what?'

'Carrying out more hostile acts against Americans.'

'If he is in charge, we can try to persuade. In the present climate that would work more than threats. I understand your position has to be different. But ours will be a softly-softly approach. If you want, you could be the stick and we would be the carrot.'

'In what way?'

'Your electorate is demanding retribution for the deaths of its compatriots. Being the president of an autocracy, I have no such constraints. If you wish, Jim, you can threaten to obliterate North Korea. I will urge you to restrain, while between us we can broker a deal which will advance the situation on the Korean peninsula towards some kind of resolution.'

West was silent for a few seconds before responding. 'In reality, how far can we go?'

'If Park Ho ordered the firing of that missile, then you would have my private support to take out his missile launch sites. If he retaliates across the Military Demarcation Line, then you're on your own. Should you go beyond attacks on the missile launch sites, I will have to consider my support. Should you launch a military attack on North Korea designed to cripple its military machine, overthrow the present regime and either reunify with the South or install a government of your own choosing, China will oppose you.'

'If it self-implodes, then what do we do?'

Outside, a strong north-Asian winter wind blew through the barren trees around the lake. Soon the branches would be alive with spring blossom, but Song wondered what folly the leaders of the world might have imposed on their citizens before then. He leaned forward and rubbed a small, clear patch in the condensation on the window of the Central Committee Office. A silver-grey Mercedes limousine was drawing up.

'If it self-implodes — God forbid — you have to keep your troops off North Korean soil.'

'That sounds reasonable, but South Koreans?'

'No. They're too closely entwined with you. My military wouldn't stand for it either, specifically up near the border.'

'Who then?'

'A UN force led by Chinese and Russian units on six-monthly rotations, leading to a non-elected government of technocrats for the first five years of transition. South Koreans will have de facto control of the economy, but a World Bank panel, comprising Chinese, Russian, Singaporean and European Union delegates will oversee.'

'You have a blueprint?' said West, not hiding his surprise.

'We have a blueprint of more than a thousand pages translated into seven languages, Jim. The bottom line is no direct US involvement. A buffer state between great powers has to be deflated slowly and with deliberation.'

'Thank you, Jamie,' said West. 'Thank you for being so upfront.'

Jamie Song replaced the telephone in the cradle on the chair. Outside, a tall, brisk figure, dressed in a blue silk shirt and tie and a pinstripe suit cut by a Parisian tailor, stepped out of the Mercedes. General Yan Xiaodong brushed down his lapels and bounced energetically up the steps to the front door. Yan was the head of the Communist Party's International Liaison Department. His visiting card named him as executive director of the China Association for International Friendly Contacts. Its main mission was counter-espionage and to watch on Hong Kong, Taiwan and North Korea.

Jamie Song picked up the telephone. 'General Yan has arrived,' he said. 'As soon as you locate Park Ho in North Korea, put him through.'

An hour later, the call had still not come.