Kai spoke up. ‘In the last few minutes we’ve heard something – only a rumour, but an interesting one.’
Fu glared at him. Kai had shown that he was more up to speed in the crisis. That will teach him to use my wife against me, Kai thought with satisfaction. Then he had a more cautious thought: I must be careful, I shouldn’t overdo it.
He went on: ‘People in Chad believe their army stole the drone from the Americans and gave it to Salafi Jihadi Sudan, as revenge for an attempt on the president’s life. It’s just possible that the rumour is true.’
‘Rumour?’ General Huang growled. ‘It sounds to me like a feeble American excuse.’ His Northern Mandarin accent sounded especially harsh today, the ‘w’ changed to ‘v’, an ‘r’ added to the end of some words, a nasal intonation to the ‘ng’ sound. ‘They’ve done something criminal and now they’re trying to evade responsibility.’
‘Perhaps,’ Kai said. ‘But—’
Huang persisted. ‘They did the same thing in 1999, when NATO bombed our embassy in Belgrade. They pretended that was an accident; they made the ludicrous excuse that the CIA got the address of our embassy wrong!’
The old guard around the table were nodding. ‘They believe our lives are worthless,’ Kai’s father said angrily. ‘They think nothing of killing a hundred Chinese people. They’re like the Japanese, who massacred three hundred thousand of us in Nanjing in 1937.’ Kai suppressed a groan. His father’s paranoid generation never ceased to bring up Nanjing. Jianjun went on: ‘But Chinese lives are precious, and we must show them that they cannot kill us without grave consequences.’
How far back in history are we going to go? Kai thought.
Defence Minister Kong Zhao tried to bring them back to the twenty-first century. ‘The Americans are clearly embarrassed by this,’ he said, pushing his hair out of his eyes. ‘Whether the incident is something they planned that went too far, or an accident they never intended, the fact remains that they’re on the defensive – and we should be thinking about how to profit from that. We might gain some advantage.’
Kai knew that Kong would not say that unless he had a plan.
President Chen frowned. ‘Gain advantage?’ he said. ‘I don’t see how.’
Kong took his cue. ‘The Guoanbu report mentions that the chief engineer’s twin sons were killed. There must be a photograph somewhere of those two boys. All we have to do is give that photo to the media. Twins are cute. I guarantee the picture will appear in television news broadcasts and on front pages all around the world: the children killed by an American drone.’
That was clever, Kai thought. The propaganda value would be enormous. The story running alongside the photo would be a denial of responsibility by the White House – which, like all denials, would suggest guilt.
But the men around the table would not like the idea. Too many of them were old soldiers.
General Huang made a scornful noise and said: ‘International politics is a power struggle, not a popularity contest. You don’t win with pictures of kids, no matter how cute.’
Fu Chuyu spoke for the first time. ‘We must retaliate,’ he said. ‘Anything else will be seen as weakness.’
Most of them seemed to agree. As Wu Bai had anticipated, retaliation was inevitable. President Chen appeared to accept that. He said: ‘Then the question is what form our retaliation should take.’
Wu Bai spoke up. ‘Let us remember our Chinese philosophy,’ he said. ‘We should balance yin and yang. We must be strong, but not foolhardy; restrained, but never weak. The word should be retaliate, not escalate.’
Kai smothered a smile: it was what he had said to Wu only a couple of hours ago.
Kai’s father was in a belligerent mood. ‘We should sink an American navy ship in the South China Sea,’ he said. ‘It’s time we did that anyway. The Law of the Sea does not oblige us to put up with destroyers armed with missiles threatening our shores. They’ve been told time and time again that they have no right to be there.’
Admiral Liu agreed with this. The son of a fisherman, he had spent much of his life at sea, and his weathered skin was the colour of old piano keys. ‘Sink a frigate, rather than a destroyer,’ he said. ‘We don’t want to overdo it.’
Kai almost laughed. Destroyer or frigate or dinghy, the Americans would erupt.
But his father agreed with Liu. ‘Sinking a frigate would probably kill about the same number of people as the drone at Port Sudan.’
‘About two hundred, on a US frigate,’ said Admiral Liu. ‘But it’s in the same neighbourhood.’
Kai could hardly believe they were serious. Did they not realize it would mean war? How could they talk so casually about igniting the apocalypse?
Fortunately, Kai was not the only person to have that thought. ‘No,’ said President Chen firmly. ‘We’re not going to start a war with the US, not even after they have killed a hundred of our people.’
Kai was relieved, but others were dissatisfied. Fu Chuyu repeated what he had said before: ‘We must retaliate, otherwise we look feeble.’
‘That point has been agreed,’ Chen said impatiently, and Kai had to smother a smile of satisfaction at Fu’s humiliation. Chen went on: ‘The question is how to retaliate without escalating.’
There was a moment of silence. Kai recalled a discussion at the Foreign Office a couple of weeks ago, when General Huang had proposed sinking a Vietnamese oil exploration vessel in the South China Sea, and Wu Bai had refused. But it gave Kai an idea, and he said: ‘We could sink the Vu Trong Phung.’
Everyone looked at him, most not knowing what he was talking about.
Wu Bai explained: ‘We protested to the government of Vietnam about a ship of theirs that was prospecting for oil near the Xisha Islands. We considered sinking the ship, but decided to try diplomacy first, especially as there are probably American geology advisors aboard.’
President Chen said: ‘I remember. But did the Vietnamese respond to our protest?’
‘Partially. The vessel moved away from the islands, but it is now prospecting in another area, still within our Exclusive Economic Zone.’
Jianjun spoke in frustrated tones. ‘It’s a game they play,’ he said. ‘They defy us, then back off, then defy us again. It’s maddening. We’re a superpower!’
General Huang agreed. ‘It’s time we put a stop to it.’
‘Consider this,’ said Kai. ‘Officially, our sinking the Vu Trong Phung would have nothing to do with Port Sudan. We would kill some Americans, but they would be collateral damage. We could not be accused of escalation.’
President Chen said thoughtfully: ‘This is a subtle proposal.’
And a lot less provocative than sinking a US navy frigate, Kai thought. He said: ‘Unofficially, the Americans would know that this is retaliation for their drone attack; but it is also very modest retaliation – two or three American lives for more than one hundred Chinese.’
Huang protested: ‘It’s a timid response.’ But his opposition was half-hearted: clearly he sensed that the mood of the meeting was leaning towards a compromise.
President Chen turned to Admiral Liu. ‘Do we know where the Vu Trong Phung is now?’
‘Of course, Mr President.’ Liu touched his phone and put it to his ear. ‘The Vu Trong Phung,’ he said. Everyone watched him. After a few moments he said: ‘The Vietnamese ship retreated fifty miles south, still within our territory. It’s being tracked by the People’s Liberation Army Navy ship Jiangnan. We have video from our ship.’ He looked to the area below the stage and raised his voice. ‘Which of you is the technician managing the images on the giant screens?’ A young man with spiked hair stood up and raised his hand. Liu said: ‘Take my phone and talk to my people. Get the video from the Jiangnan on the big screens here.’