The Third World War: A Terrifying Novel of Global Conflict

56

For Jamie Song, this was nothing less than a struggle for China's life. It was fierce and silent, being played out through satellite images, secure phone calls and in those shadows that had always lured his country towards its own destruction.

'Why?' he had asked Park Ho, when the unexpected call came through.

'Why not?' Park had responded. Historians would draw their own conclusions, but for the moment Song could think of no two words to describe more accurately what Park Ho was doing. He could, so he would.

'Because you will destroy us,' Song had said lamely.

'Only if you surrender.'

Park had ended the call. Now Song looked across the room to Yan, whose hand was on a telephone, about to pick it up. Two of Yan's guards stood at the entrance. Outside, the ice on the lake was gone, but the water was still thick with melting snow. The waiting cars were unfamiliar, the drivers and number plates from another military unit.

Yet there was tranquillity in the room. The murky shifts of allegiance among China's ruling elite were being played out somewhere on the end of Yan's telephone line.

'They won't accept it,' said Yan. 'I cannot persuade them otherwise. Neither can you.'

Song had no secrets. They knew what he stood for; had always stood for. The confusion lay with them. 'Why then did they give me the presidency?' he asked. 'They knew about Park Ho. They knew about Pakistan. What has changed?'

Yan did not answer. He was the conduit whom Song had hired, the loyal protector, fulfilling his role to the last before receiving accolades from the other side for a job well done.

'You will retain all your posts,' said Yan. 'Once these events have settled, your power will be restored.'

'To do what?'

'You are a peacetime leader,' said Yan. Without stating it, Yan was offering his sympathies.

'Do they want war?' Some did. But did they all? Surely not Yan? Surely not those who knew the missiles were not perfected; that the navy could not deploy and extend; that the pilots did not have enough training hours? So who wanted a war that would stall trade and growth?

'Give me one last shot,' said Song.

'To achieve what?' asked Yan, the negotiator.

'No territory has been seized. If anything, we have gained Pakistan.'

'You'll speak to West?'

'I'll speak to Newman. She is here. If it stops here, we will accept it. We stabilized Pakistan. They sought retribution in North Korea.'

'Above the fortieth parallel — against your express wishes.'

'We'll take it on the chin,' said Song. 'We're big enough.'

Yan began shaking his head, his brow furrowed in confusion. 'I will tell them,' he said. But as he picked up the receiver to make the call, another telephone rang, not from an office within Zhongnanhai but from China's central command and control centre in the Western Hills just outside Beijing.

Yan listened briefly. 'We may be too late,' he said, handing the receiver to Jamie Song.