They left, and Pauline retreated to her bedroom for a few minutes of quiet. Sitting at her dressing table, she asked herself whether she really thought Gerry was having an affair. Dull old Gerry? If so she would soon know. Illicit lovers usually thought they were being rigorously discreet, but an observant woman could always read the signs.
Pauline had never met Ms Judd but had spoken to her on the phone and found her intelligent and thoughtful. It was hard to believe she would go to bed with someone else’s husband. But women did, of course, all the time, millions of them, every day.
There was a tap at the door and she heard the voice of Cyrus, the butler, a long-time member of the White House domestic staff. ‘Madam President, the National Security Advisor and the Secretary of State are here for lunch.’
‘I’ll be right there.’
Her two most important advisors had spent the last hour or two trying to find out more about Chinese intentions, and the three of them had agreed to meet at lunch to decide what to do next. Pauline got up from her dressing table and walked along the Center Hall to the Dining Room.
She sat down to a plate of seafood in a cream sauce with rice. ‘What have we learned?’ she said.
Chess said: ‘The Chinese won’t speak to the Vietnamese. I’ve had the Vietnamese foreign minister almost in tears telling me that Wu Bai won’t take his calls. The British have proposed a UN Security Council resolution condemning the sinking of the Vu Trong Phung, and the Chinese are furious that there’s no motion against the drone attack.’
Pauline nodded and looked at Gus.
He said: ‘The CIA station in Beijing has a more or less amiable relationship with Chang Kai, the head of the Guoanbu, the Chinese intelligence service.’
‘I’ve heard that name before.’
‘Chang has let us know that Joan Lafayette is in good shape and has no real need of hospital treatment. She has been questioned about what she was doing in the South China Sea, she has answered frankly and, off the record, they don’t think she’s any kind of spy. She clearly knows everything there is to know about prospecting for oil and very little about international politics.’
‘Pretty much what we would have guessed.’
‘Yes. All this is unofficial, of course. The Chinese government may well say the opposite in public.’
Chess put in: ‘They’re taking an aggressive line. The Foreign Ministry refuses to discuss Dr Lafayette’s return home or anything else to do with her unless we admit that the Vu Trong Phung was engaged in illegal activity.’
‘Well, we can’t do that, even to rescue an American,’ Pauline said flatly. ‘We would be stating that the South China Sea is not international waters. That would violate every maritime agreement and undermine our allies.’
‘Precisely. But the Chinese won’t discuss Dr Lafayette until we do.’
Pauline put down her fork. ‘They’ve got us up against the fucking wall, haven’t they?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Options?’
Chess said: ‘We could increase our presence in the South China Sea. We already carry out FONOPs, Freedom of Navigation Operations, sailing battleships through the waters and overflying. We could simply double our FONOPs.’
Pauline said: ‘The diplomatic equivalent of a gorilla beating its chest and tearing up the vegetation.’
‘Well, yes.’
‘Which would get us nowhere, though it might make us feel better. Gus?’
‘We could arrest a Chinese citizen here in the States – the FBI keeps tabs on them all, and there’s always someone breaking the law – then we could offer to trade.’
‘It’s what they would do in parallel circumstances, but it’s not our style, is it?’
Gus shook his head. ‘And we don’t want to escalate. If we arrest a visiting Chinese person, they might arrest two Americans in China.’
‘But we have to get Joan Lafayette back.’
‘If you’ll forgive me for being mundane, bringing her home would also give your popularity a boost.’
‘Don’t apologize, Gus – this is a democracy, which means we should never stop thinking about public opinion.’
‘And public opinion likes James Moore’s nuke-’em-all approach to international diplomacy. Your Timid Jim remark didn’t have the same traction.’
‘I should never descend to name-calling – it’s not really me.’
Chess said: ‘Then it looks as if poor Joan Lafayette is going to spend the next few years in China.’
‘Wait,’ said Pauline. ‘Perhaps we haven’t thought hard enough about this.’
The other two looked puzzled, evidently wondering what she would come up with.
She said: ‘We can’t do what they’re asking – but they must know that. The Chinese aren’t stupid. They’re the opposite of stupid. They’ve demanded something they know we can’t give. They don’t expect us to do it.’
Chess said: ‘I guess that must be true.’
‘So what do they really want?’
‘They’re making a point,’ said Chess.
‘Is that all?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Gus?’
‘We could just ask them.’
‘One possibility,’ said Pauline, thinking aloud. ‘They don’t expect us to support their claim to the entire South China Sea, but perhaps they just want to muzzle us.’
‘Explain,’ said Gus.
‘They may be seeking a compromise. We don’t accept that the Vu Trong Phung was doing something illegal, but at the same time we don’t accuse the Chinese government of murder. We just shut up.’
Gus said: ‘Our silent acquiescence in exchange for Joan Lafayette’s freedom.’
‘Yes.’
‘It sticks in my throat.’
‘And mine.’
‘But you’ll do it.’
‘I don’t know. Let’s find out whether your guess is right. Chess, ask the Chinese ambassador, off the record, whether Beijing might consider a compromise.’
‘Okay.’
‘Gus, get the CIA to ask the Guoanbu what the Chinese really want.’
‘Right away.’
‘We’ll see what they say,’ said Pauline, and she picked up her fork again.
*
Pauline’s guess was right. The Chinese were satisfied with a promise by her not to accuse them of murder. Not that they cared about a charge of murder. They wanted her to refrain from implying that they did not have sovereignty over the South China Sea. In that long-running diplomatic conflict, they would consider American silence a significant victory.
With a heavy heart, Pauline gave them what they wanted.
Nothing was written down. All the same, Pauline had to keep her promise. Otherwise, she knew, the Chinese would just arrest some other American woman in Beijing and reboot the whole drama.
Next day Joan Lafayette was put on a China Eastern flight from Shanghai to New York. There she was put on a military plane and debriefed en route to Andrews Airbase near DC, where Pauline met her.
Dr Lafayette was an athletic middle-aged woman with blonde hair and glasses. Pauline was surprised to see her looking refreshed and immaculately dressed after her fifteen-hour flight. The Chinese had given her smart new clothes and a first-class suite on the plane, she explained. That was clever of them, Pauline thought, for now Dr Lafayette showed little sign of having suffered at their hands.
Pauline and Dr Lafayette took a photocall in a conference room crowded with television and still cameras. Having made an unpleasant diplomatic sacrifice, Pauline was keen to get media credit for bringing the prisoner home. She needed some positive coverage: James Moore’s supporters were hammering her every day on social media.
The American consul in Shanghai had explained to Dr Lafayette that the media back in the States would be less likely to chase and harass her if she gave them the pictures they wanted as soon as she landed, and she had gratefully agreed.
Sandip Chakraborty had announced in advance that they would pose but would not answer questions, and there were no microphones. They shook hands and smiled for the cameras, and then Dr Lafayette impulsively hugged Pauline.
As they were leaving the room, an enterprising journalist taking pictures on his phone shouted: ‘What’s your policy on the South China Sea now, Madam President?’