The president began formally. ‘Chang Jianjun, as vice-chairman of the National Security Commission, what is your assessment of the war in Korea?’
‘The south is winning,’ Jianjun said without hesitation. ‘They have more weapons, and their missiles are more accurate.’ He spoke in the clipped manner of an army briefing, just the facts, one, two and three, no frills.
Chen said: ‘How long can North Korea hold out?’
‘They will run out of missiles in a few days at most.’
‘But we are resupplying them.’
‘As fast as we can. Undoubtedly, the Americans are doing the same for the south. But neither of us can keep this up indefinitely.’
‘So what will happen?’
‘The south may invade.’
The president turned to Kai. ‘With American help?’
Kai said: ‘The White House will not send American troops into the north. But they will not need to. The South Korean army can win without them.’
Jianjun said: ‘And then the whole of Korea will be ruled by the regime in Seoul – which means by the United States.’
Kai was not sure the last part was true anymore, but this was not the time to have that argument.
Chen said: ‘Recommendations for action?’
Jianjun was emphatic. ‘We have to intervene. It’s the only way to prevent Korea becoming an American colony – on our doorstep.’
Intervention was what Kai was afraid of. But before he could say so, Kong Zhao spoke. ‘I disagree,’ Kong said, not waiting for the president to ask him.
Jianjun looked angry at being contradicted.
‘Go ahead, Kong,’ said Chen mildly. ‘Tell us why.’
Kong ran a hand through his already messy hairstyle. ‘If we intervene, we give the Americans the right to do the same.’ He spoke in the reasonable tones of a philosophical discussion, in sharp contrast to Jianjun’s bullets of fact. ‘The important question is not how to save North Korea. It’s how to prevent war with the US.’
General Huang shook his head vigorously in negation. ‘The Americans don’t want war with us any more than we do,’ he asserted. ‘As long as our forces do not cross the border into South Korea, they will stay put.’
‘You don’t know that.’ Kong shrugged. ‘No one knows for sure what the US will do. I’m asking whether we can take the risk of a superpower war.’
‘Life is risk,’ Huang growled.
‘And politics is the avoidance of risk,’ Kong countered.
Kai decided it was time for him to speak. ‘May I make a suggestion?’
‘Of course,’ said Chen. He smiled at Jianjun. ‘Your son’s suggestions are often useful.’
Jianjun did not really agree. He bowed his head in acknowledgement of the compliment, but said nothing.
Kai said: ‘There is one thing we could try before sending Chinese troops into North Korea. We could propose a reconciliation between the Supreme Leader in Pyongyang and the ultras based in Yeongjeo-dong.’
Chen nodded. ‘If the regime and the rebels could be reconciled, the missing half of North Korea’s army could be deployed.’
Jianjun looked thoughtful. ‘And the nuclear weapons.’
That was a problem. Kai added hastily: ‘The nuclear weapons don’t have to be used. The mere fact that they became available to the government in Pyongyang should be enough to bring the South Koreans to the negotiating table.’
Chen thought of another snag. ‘It’s hard to imagine the Supreme Leader sharing power with anyone, let alone people who tried to overthrow him.’
‘But if he faces a choice between that and total defeat . . .’
Chen considered this. After a minute or two deep in thought, he said: ‘It’s worth a try.’
Kai said: ‘Will you phone Supreme Leader Kang, sir?’
‘Right now.’
Kai was satisfied.
General Huang was not. He did not like talk of compromise: it made China look weak. President Chen had been a disappointment to him. Huang and the old guard had backed Chen’s rise to power, believing that he favoured orthodox Communism, but in office Chen had not been as hardline as they had hoped.
However, Huang knew how to accept defeat and limit the damage, and now he said: ‘We can’t afford any delay. If Kang agrees, president, I suggest, if I may, that you insist he approach the rebels with this offer today.’
‘Good thinking,’ said Chen.
Huang looked mollified.
The group had circumnavigated the lake and was now almost back at Qinzheng Hall. Jianjun spoke quietly to Kai at a moment when no one else could hear. He said: ‘Have you spoken to your friend Neil recently?’
‘Of course. I speak to him at least once a week. He’s a valuable source of insight into White House thinking.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘Be careful,’ said Jianjun.
They all went into the building and climbed the stairs.
Chen said to an aide: ‘Get Kang on the phone.’
They took off their coats and rubbed their cold hands. A servant brought tea to warm them up.
Kai wondered what his father had meant. The words had sounded ominous. Did anyone know what he and Neil said to one another? It was possible. They could be bugged, despite all the precautions they took. Both Kai and Neil routinely reported their discussions, and such reports could be leaked. Had Kai said anything culpable? Well, yes, he had told Neil how weak North Korea was, and that revelation might be considered disloyal.
Kai felt uneasy.
The phone rang and Chen picked it up.
They all listened in silence as the president ran through the points that had been made in their discussion. Kai paid attention to Chen’s tone. Although all presidents were theoretically equals in status, in reality North Korea was dependent on China, and this was reflected in Chen’s attitude, which was that of a father speaking to an adult son who might or might not obey.
There followed a long silence in which Chen listened.
Finally he said one word: ‘Today.’
Kai’s hopes lifted. That sounded good.
Chen said insistently: ‘It must be done today.’
There was a pause.
‘Thank you, Supreme Leader.’
Chen hung up and said: ‘He said yes.’
*
As soon as Kai got back to the Guoanbu, he put in a call to Neil Davidson. Neil was in a meeting – about Korea, Kai guessed. He tuned in to South Korean television news, which sometimes reported developments first. The North seemed even weaker, firing few missiles, most of which were intercepted, while the South Koreans were energetically clearing rubble and reinforcing bomb-damaged buildings. There was nothing new.
At midday General Ham called.
He spoke quietly, and evidently had his mouth close to the phone, as if he was afraid of being overheard. ‘The Supreme Leader has fulfilled all my expectations,’ he said.
It sounded like praise but Kai knew it was the opposite.
Ham went on: ‘He has completely vindicated the decision I made all those years ago.’
He meant the decision to spy for China.
‘However, he has now surprised me by attempting to make peace.’
Kai knew that, of course, but he did not say so. ‘When did that happen?’
‘Kang phoned Yeongjeo-dong this morning.’
Right after he heard from President Chen, Kai calculated. That was quick. ‘Kang is desperate,’ he said.
‘Not desperate enough,’ said Ham. ‘He didn’t offer the rebels any incentive other than an amnesty. They don’t trust him to keep an amnesty and, anyway, they want much more.’
‘Such as?’
‘The leader of the rebels, Pak Jae-jin, wants to be made Minister of Defence and Kang’s designated heir as Supreme Leader.’
‘Which Kang refused.’
‘Not surprisingly,’ Ham said. ‘Designating a rebel as heir is like signing your own death warrant.’
‘Kang could have offered a compromise.’
‘But he did not.’
Kai sighed. ‘So there will be no truce.’
‘No.’
Kai was dismayed, though not much surprised. The rebels did not want a truce. Clearly they thought they only had to wait patiently for the Pyongyang regime to be destroyed, whereupon they would step into the power vacuum. It would never be so simple, but they did not realize that. In any case, why was the Supreme Leader not trying harder? Kai said to Ham: ‘At this point, what does Kang actually want?’