Li bristled. ‘Subversion is investigated by the Domestic Department, not by the families of accused persons,’ he said in a tone of wounded dignity.
But the minister hesitated. ‘A degree of latitude is normal in such cases,’ he said. ‘We don’t want prominent people brought into disrepute unnecessarily. It does the Party no good.’ He turned to Kai. ‘Find out what you can.’
‘Thank you.’
‘But be quick. Report to me within twenty-four hours.’
‘Yes, minister.’
Kai stood up and walked briskly to the door. Li did not follow him. He would stay behind and whisper more poison to the minister, no doubt. There was nothing Kai could do about that now. He went out.
He needed to talk to Ting as soon as possible, but to his frustration he had to put her out of his mind for now. First he had to deal with the UN problem. Back in his own suite he spoke to his principal secretary, Peng Yawen, a lively middle-aged woman with short grey hair and glasses. ‘Call the foreign minister’s office,’ he said. ‘Say I would like to meet him to convey some urgent security information. Any time today that suits his convenience.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Kai could not move until he knew when that would happen. The Beautiful Films studio was not far from the Guoanbu headquarters, but the Foreign Ministry was miles across town in the Chaoyang District, where many embassies and foreign businesses had their premises. If traffic was bad, the journey could take an hour or more.
Fretting, he looked out of the window, across the assorted roofs with their satellite dishes and radio transmitters, to the highway that curved around the Guoanbu campus. The traffic appeared normal, but that could change quickly.
Happily, the Foreign Office responded promptly to his message. ‘He’ll see you at twelve noon,’ said Peng Yawen. Kai looked at his watch: he could make it comfortably. Yawen added: ‘I’ve called Monk. He should be outside by the time you reach the ground floor.’ Kai’s driver had gone bald at a young age and had been nicknamed Heshang, Monk.
Kai stuffed the messages from embassies into a folder and went down in the lift.
His car crawled through the centre of Beijing. He could have made the journey faster by bike. On the way he mulled over the UN resolution, but his mind kept shifting to his worry about Ting. What had she been saying? He wrenched his thoughts back to the problem the Americans had created. He needed to have a solution to offer the foreign minister. Eventually, he thought of something, and by the time he reached No. 2 Chaoyangmen Nandajie he had a plan.
The Foreign Office was a fine tall building with a curved facade. The lobby gleamed luxuriously. It was intended to impress foreign visitors, by contrast with the Guoanbu headquarters, which never received any visitors, ever.
Kai was ushered into the elevator and taken up to the office of the minister, which was, if anything, more lavish than the lobby. His desk was a Ming Dynasty scholar’s writing table, and on it stood a blue-and-white porcelain vase that Kai thought must be from the same period, and therefore priceless.
Wu Bai was an affable bon viveur whose main aim, in politics and life, was to avoid trouble. Tall and handsome, he wore a blue chalk-striped suit that looked made in London. His secretaries adored him but his colleagues thought he was a lightweight. Kai’s view was that Wu Bai was an asset. Foreign leaders liked his charm and warmed to him in a way they never would to a more hidebound Chinese politician such as Security Minister Fu Chuyu.
‘Come in, Kai,’ said Wu Bai amiably. ‘It’s good to see you. How’s your mother? I used to have a crush on her when we were young, you know, before she met your father.’ Wu Bai would sometimes say things like this to Kai’s mother and make her giggle like a girl.
‘She’s very well, I’m happy to say. So is my father.’
‘Oh, I know that. I see your father all the time, of course – I’m on the National Security Commission with him. Sit down. What’s this about the United Nations?’
‘I got a sniff of it yesterday and confirmed it overnight, and I thought I’d better tell you right away.’ It was always good for Kai to emphasize to ministers that he was giving them the very latest hot news. He now repeated what he had told the security minister earlier.
‘It sounds as if the Americans have made a major effort.’ Wu Bai frowned disapprovingly. ‘I’m surprised my people haven’t got wind of it.’
‘To be fair, they don’t have the resources I’ve got. We focus on what is secret – that’s our job.’
‘These Americans!’ Wu said. ‘They know that we hate Muslim terrorists as much as they do. More.’
‘Much more.’
‘Our worst troublemakers are the Islamists in the Xinjiang region.’
‘I agree.’
Wu Bai shrugged off his indignation. ‘But what are we going to do about it? That’s the important question.’
‘We could push back against the American diplomatic campaign. Our ambassadors can try to change the minds of neutral countries.’
‘We can try, of course,’ Wu Bai said dubiously. ‘But presidents and prime ministers don’t like to go back on their promises. It makes them look weak.’
‘May I make a suggestion?’
‘Please do.’
‘Many of the neutral countries whose support we need are places where the Chinese government is making massive investments – literally billions of dollars. We could threaten to withdraw from those projects. You want your new airport, your railway, your petrochemical plant? Then vote with us – or go ask President Green for the money.’
Wu Bai frowned. ‘We wouldn’t want to carry out that threat. We’re not going to cripple our investment programme for the sake of a pesky UN resolution.’
‘No, but the threat alone might work. Or, if necessary, we could pull out of one or two minor projects symbolically. We could always restart them later anyway. But the news that a bridge or a school had been cancelled would scare those who are expecting a highway or an oil refinery.’
Wu Bai looked thoughtful. ‘This could work. Big threats, backed up by one or two token withdrawals that can be reversed later.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’m seeing the president this afternoon. I’ll put it to him. I think he’ll like the idea.’
Kai thought so too. In the manoeuvring over the choice of a new Chinese leader – more secretive and byzantine than for a pope – President Chen Haoran had given the traditionalists the impression that he was on their side, but since becoming leader he had generally made pragmatic decisions.
Kai stood up. ‘Thank you, sir. My kind regards to Madame Wu.’
‘I’ll be sure to tell her.’
Kai left.
Down in the swanky lobby he called Peng Yawen. She gave him several messages but none demanded his immediate attention. He felt he had done a good morning’s work for his country, and now he could attend to a personal matter. He left the building and told Monk to take him to the Beautiful Films studio.
It was a long crosstown journey, almost all the way back to the Guoanbu. On the way he thought about Ting. He was passionately in love with her, but sometimes baffled by her, and occasionally – as now – embarrassed. He had fallen for her partly because he was enchanted by the free-and-easy ways of film people. He loved their openness and lack of inhibition. They were always joking, especially about sex. But he also felt a conflicting impulse that was just as strong: he longed for a traditional Chinese family. He did not dare to mention this to Ting, but he wanted her to have a child.
It was something she never mentioned. She adored being adored. She liked it when strangers approached her and asked for her autograph. She drank up their compliments and fed off the excitement they showed just meeting her. And she enjoyed the money. She had a sports car and a room full of beautiful clothes and a holiday home on Gulangyu Island in Xiamen, twelve hundred miles from the polluted air of Beijing.
She showed no inclination to retire and become a mother.