Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 03 (40 page)

           
Once inside the complex, the
motorcade sped past willow- lined streets and meticulously tended sidewalks as
they curved upward toward the center cluster of buildings, the private
residence of Premier Cheung. The motorcade came to a sudden halt underneath a
long breezeway, and the limousine’s occupants hurried inside the reception
hall. If they had paused to look, they could have seen one of the grandest
vistas in all
Beijing
—
Yuyan
Tan
Lake
to the west, the expansive Peking Zoo to
the north, and the massive brick monuments of the
Imperial
Palace
and
Tian’anmen Square
to the east, now glowing fiery crimson in
the rising sun. But the limousine’s occupants were hustled directly inside and
to the immediate meeting with the Premier himself in his private office.

           
Leing Yee Tak, ambassador to
China
from the
Republic
of
Vietnam
, hardly had time to remove his shoes before
none other than Premier Cheung himself entered the office, along with members
of his Cabinet. This was highly unusual: the Premier never met with lowly
ambassadors, only heads of state or occasionally minister- or Cabinet-level
officials. Leing waited until the Premier had taken his seat at the center of a
long dark granite table, then bowed deeply and approached the table. Cheung
immediately offered him a seat with a gesture, and Leing sat. His interpreter
aide remained standing behind him.

           
Cheung was old, incredibly old even
for a Chinese politician. The ninety-one-year-old leader of the world’s most
populous nation still moved fairly well without assistance, although two burly
Chinese Marines were on hand to help him in and out of his chair. His hair was
dark, obviously dyed at the insistence of his advisers or from some deep-
seated vanity, but his face was deeply etched from age and his fingers gnarled
from arthritis. But Leing had been taught from his first days in the Vietnamese
Socialist Party and the People’s Foreign Ministry that the eyes were the
giveaway— Cheung’s eyes were still gleaming, still quick, still alert.

           
Despite rumors to the contrary,
Cheung still appeared to be in charge . . .

           
But after quickly scanning the faces
of the other Cabinet members, perhaps not. The Chinese Foreign Minister, Party
Counsel, and Minister of Commerce were present, but the Ministers of Interior,
Finance, Defense, and Industry were all replaced by their military
counterparts. This was a military tribunal represented here, not a peacetime
government.

           
And Leing knew well the Supreme
Commander of the People’s Liberation Army, High General Chin Po Zihong. Chin
was young for a Chinese government official—sixty- seven, if Leing remembered
correctly—but he appeared to be half that age. He was a short, barrel-chested,
dark-haired Mongol that instantly reminded one of how the Mongol hordes of
centuries past had struck fear into the hearts of soldiers throughout
Europe
and
Asia
. Unlike most other high-ranking military
officers, Chin wore few accoutrements on his plain, dark grey uniform. He
didn’t need ribbons and badges to demonstrate his power and authority to
others.

           
Cheung spoke, and afterward his
interpreter said, “The Premier extends his government’s greeting to Comrade
Leing. The Premier wishes to know if there is anything that would make the
ambassador from the
Republic
of
Vietnam
more comfortable.”

           
“Nothing, Comrade Premier,” Leing
replied. “I thank you for your generous offer. I too wish to extend the
greetings of the
Republic
of
Vietnam
.” Cheung bowed slightly at the neck, and
the civilian members of the Cabinet did likewise—the military members did not
move. Chin appeared as immobile as stone, unblinking and inscrutable.

           
“The Premier wishes to extend an
invitation to the ambassador from
Vietnam
to attend a briefing on the situation in
the
Philippines
and the
South China Sea
,” the interpreter said. “High General Chin
will conduct the briefing. We will outline the actions and events that
precipitated the current military actions in that nation and explain our
objectives and intentions.”

           
Leing could have fallen over
backward in surprise. The Chinese Chief of Staff himself, conducting a briefing
on his military actions—for a member of the
Vietnamese
government? The offer was astounding.

           
China
and
Vietnam
had a long, off-again and on-again
relationship over the past fifty years. Both were Communist republics;
Vietnam
’s government was fashioned as a smaller
copy of
China
’s. Both were military powers in the Pacific, with
Vietnam
having the world’s fourth-largest army and
the world’s eighth-largest small-boat navy. But political relations were based
on expediency and short-term interests, and those relations were usually stormy
at best and warlike at worst.

           
Currently, relations were at the
simmering but nonbelligerent level. The
Spratly
Islands
question, long a point of contention, was
at an impasse, with
China
having the definite edge.
Vietnam
had countered with its full membership in
ASEAN, and with improving its relations with the
Soviet Union
, the
United States
, and many other countries. The brief but
violent war over the
Spratly
Islands
in the late 1980s was all but forgotten,
border skirmishes were rare, and things were tense but bloodless for a few years
now. Why would
China
feel the need to advise
Vietnam
on its current conflict in the
Philippines
?

           
“On behalf of my government, I
accept your gracious offer, Comrade Premier,” Leing replied warily. “The
incidents of the past few days in the
Philippines
have caused much concern in my country.”

           
“Allow me to assure you, Comrade
Ambassador,” the interpreter said, “that the People’s Republic of
China
harbors no ill feeling toward
Vietnam
. Our forces will not threaten any
Vietnamese facilities or vessels in the region. You have the word of the
Premier.”

           
“I thank you for your assurances,
Comrade Premier,” Leing said. Leing risked a full glance at General Chin, to
perhaps see if Chin, the
real
power
where Chinese foreign intrigue was concerned, would give similar assurances; he
did not. His return stare was powerful enough to make Leing silent: “Your
assurances are important, since Chinese naval vessels patrol the entire Spratly
archipelago, within striking distance of Vietnamese-settled islands. My
government will be relieved to hear that these warships mean no harm.”

           
It was General Chin’s turn to speak
now, and he did so without waiting for permission. “I give you my assurance
that no Chinese vessel will approach any Vietnamese- claimed islands or
interfere with Vietnamese naval operations in any way,” he said through the
interpreter. Leing’s own interpreter gave a slightly different version of
Chin’s statement—he said that no Chinese vessel will
land
on a Vietnamese-claimed island or interfere with
legitimate
Vietnamese naval operations
in any way. Leing nodded. The exact wording was not important: these men were
not to be trusted no matter what they said. Actions spoke louder than words,
and so far their actions suggested the Chinese Navy was in the
Spratly
Islands
to stay.

           
“So I am to assume, Comrade General,
that Chinese warships will continue to patrol north of the neutral zone, in
violation of international treaty?”

           
“We were invited by the government
of the
Philippines
to assist in national self-defense matters,”
Chin said. “The request included patrolling their islands for signs of rebel
activity. We are protecting their interests as well as yours, since as we have
seen the rebel military’s actions are a threat to all nations.”

           
Lies, Leing thought, struggling to
keep his face as impassive as possible. The whole world knows it was a
Chinese
nuclear warhead that exploded in
the Palawan Straits. Do they really expect me to believe this fairy tale? “My
government appreciates the truth in your words, Comrade General,” Leing said
evenly, “but also prefers that international treaties be strictly followed.”

           
“The terms of the treaty between us
have been altered by recent events,” the Chinese Foreign Minister, Zhou Ti Yan-
bing, said. “Because of the nuclear explosion, we felt our forces were at
substantial risk in the
South China Sea
and that an escalation of our naval presence was necessary. At the same
time, we were invited by the government of the
Philippines
to assist them in putting down a suspected
coup and a violent military attack by well-armed forces. Those are the facts,
and we speak the truth.” Not the
whole
truth, Leing noted: it was the Chinese who set off the nuclear explosion, the
Chinese who posed the greatest risk to neighboring nations. The Philippine coup
was just a fortuitous opportunity for the Chinese to complete their long
sought- after conquest. . . .

           
“However, the situation has become
even more unstable . for us and for all nations involved in this incident,”
Zhou continued. “We realize that new priorities must be established and new
ties formed between the affected nations— especially between
China
and
Vietnam
.”

           
“What sort of ties are you referring
to, Comrade Foreign Minister?”

           
There was a pause, an uneasy silence
notably between General Chin and Premier Cheung—although no words or glances
were exchanged, the two men were on edge. Then Cheung spoke, and the
interpreter said, “We wish to issue a ninety-nine-year irrevocable lease to the
Republic
of
Vietnam
to occupy, develop, patrol, and regulate
affairs in the entire
Nansha
Island
archipelago.”

           
Leing was stunned. “I... Please,
Comrade Premier, if you would be so good to repeat your last statement. . .”
General Chin made a sudden outburst, and Cheung replied hotly without turning
toward him. “The General said, This is nonsense,’ and the Premier ordered him
to keep quiet,” Leing’s interpreter whispered into the ambassador’s ear. "

           
“I believe you heard correctly,
Comrade Ambassador,” Foreign Minister Zhou said through his interpreter. “We
wish to turn over control of the
Nansha
Islands
to
Vietnam
. We will surrender all interests we
currently hold in the islands to you for a period of ninety-nine years, after
which time we will agree to enter into negotiations for outright transfer of
ownership or an extension of the lease to you.” Then Leing’s interpreter added,
“It appears to me that General Chin is opposed to the plan.”

           
Leing was shocked.
China
, which patrolled the
Nansha
Islands
—the Chinese term for the
Spratly
Islands
—as if they were a mainland province—had
even defended their rights to the islands with atomic weapons. Now they were
willing to just give the islands up? And give them up to
Vietnam
, which was once an ally but was now a clear
adversary? As early as 1988,
China
had come a hairsbreadth away from invading
Vietnam
over the
Spratly
Islands
. . . .