Never, p.67
Never, page 67
“Where?”
“Wait . . . North Korea.”
Her heart sank.
Gus, sitting next to Pauline, said: “Look at the radar.”
Pauline saw the red arc. “Just one missile,” she said.
Bill was wearing the headset that kept him in permanent contact with the Pentagon. He said: “It’s not aimed at Seoul—it’s too high.”
Pauline said: “Where, then?”
“They’re triangulating. . . . Just a minute. . . . Busan.”
It was South Korea’s second city, a huge port on the south coast with eight million inhabitants. Pauline buried her head in her hands.
Luis said: “This wouldn’t have happened if we’d nuked Yeongjeo-dong an hour ago.”
Pauline ran out of patience suddenly. “Luis, if all you can say is I told you so, why don’t you just shut the fuck up.”
Luis went pale with shock and anger, but he fell silent.
She said to no one in particular: “Let’s see a satellite photo of the target city.”
An aide said: “There’s scattered cloud but you can see a lot.”
The picture appeared on a screen and Pauline studied it. She saw a river delta, a broad railway line, and vast docks. She recalled her brief visit to Busan, when she was a congresswoman. The people had been warm and friendly. They had given her an item of traditional dress, a red-and-gold silk shawl that she still wore.
Bill said: “Radar confirms that there is just one missile.”
“Any video?”
One of the screens lit up with film of the city from a distance. By the way the camera rose and fell it was clear that the video was coming from a ship. The sound came on, and she heard the rumble of a big engine and the swish of waves, plus a casual conversation between two men who clearly had no idea what was about to happen.
Then an orange-red dome appeared over the docks. Whoever was filming cried out in shock. The dome grew into a pillar of smoke, which then turned into the dread shape of a mushroom cloud.
Pauline wanted to close her eyes but she could not.
Eight million people, she thought; some killed instantly, others wounded horribly, many poisoned forever by radiation. Koreans and Americans and, in a port city, many other nationalities. Schoolboys and grandmothers and newborn babies. Luis had been right: she could have prevented this and she had not. She would not make that mistake a second time.
The delayed shock wave hit the ship, and the picture became deck, then sky, then blank. Pauline hoped the sailor who had been filming would survive.
She said: “Bill, have the Pentagon confirm that what we’ve just seen is a nuclear explosion.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She did not really doubt it, but radionuclide detectors could verify, and for what she was about to do she could not have too much proof.
General Pak had now done it twice. She could no longer pretend that nuclear war might be avoided. She was the only person in the world who could stop him from doing it a third time.
She said: “Chess, get a message to President Chen any way you can, telling him the US is about to destroy every nuclear base in North Korea but will not attack China.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Pauline took from her pocket the Biscuit. She twisted the plastic case to break the seal, then removed the little card from inside.
Everyone in the room was watching her in silence.
Bill said: “It’s confirmed. That was nuclear.”
Pauline’s last faint hope vanished.
She said: “Call the War Room.”
Her phone rang and she picked up. A voice said: “Madam President, this is General Evers in the Pentagon War Room.”
She said: “General, in accordance with my earlier instructions, you have targeted nuclear weapons on every military base in the rebel-held zone of North Korea.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I am now going to give you the authentication code. When you have heard the correct code you will give instructions to fire the weapons.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She looked at the Biscuit and read out the code: “Oscar November three seven three. I say again, Oscar November three seven three.”
“Thank you, Madam President. That is the correct code and I have now given the order to fire.”
Pauline hung up. With a heavy heart she said: “It’s done.”
* * *
At Zhongnanhai they watched a radar graphic that showed missiles rising into the American sky like a flock of gray geese embarking on their great seasonal migration.
Chen said: “Launch an all-out cyberattack on American communications of all kinds.”
This was routine. Kai’s best guess was that it would be only partly successful. The Americans had prepared for cyberwar, as the Chinese had, and both sides had fallback plans and counterattack options. The cyberattack would do some damage without being decisive.
Fu Chuyu said: “Where are the rest of the missiles? I see only twenty or thirty.”
Kong Zhao said: “It seems to be a limited attack. They’re not starting an all-out nuclear war. Which means the target is probably not China.”
Huang said: “We can’t be sure of that. And we can’t take the risk of leaving it too late to counterattack.”
Kong said: “We’ll know soon. But right now the target could be anywhere between Vietnam and Siberia.”
Kai could see from the radar feed that the missiles were already over Canada. He barked: “Someone give us an estimate of arrival time.”
An aide said: “Twenty-two minutes. And the target is not Siberia. The missiles are now too far south for that.”
Kai realized the target could even be the very building he was in. The Situation Room was armored against anything but a direct hit by a nuclear bomb. If the American missiles were accurate he would be dead in twenty-two minutes.
Less, now.
He had an urge to phone Ting. He resisted it.
The missiles were now over water.
“Fifteen minutes,” said an aide. “Vietnam is not a plausible target. It’s Korea or China.”
It was Korea, Kai felt sure. This was not just wishful thinking. President Green would be crazy to attack China with only thirty missiles. The damage would be survivable, and the Chinese would retaliate with everything they had, destroying much of the American military before it could be deployed. Anyway it was not China but General Pak who had nuked Seoul and Busan.
Foreign Minister Wu Bai said: “I have received a formal communication from the White House saying that they are attacking nuclear bases in North Korea and nothing else.”
Huang said: “Could be a lie.”
The aide said: “Ten minutes. Multiple targets, all in North Korea.”
Assuming it was not a lie, how would the men in the room deal with this? The Americans had now sunk an aircraft carrier, killing two thousand five hundred Chinese sailors, and they were about to turn half of North Korea, China’s only military ally, into a radioactive wasteland. Kai knew that his father and the old Communists could not live with that much humiliation at the hands of their old enemy. Their pride in their country and themselves would not stand it. They would demand a nuclear attack on the US. They knew the consequences but they would want it anyway.
“Five minutes. The targets are all in the north and east of Korea, avoiding Pyongyang and the rest of the territory occupied by the South Korean military.”
After this, Kai and Kong Zhao would find it difficult to restrain General Huang and his allies, including Chang Jianjun. But President Chen would have the last word, and Kai felt he would in the end lean toward moderation. Probably.
“One minute.”
Kai stared at a satellite picture of North Korea. He was overwhelmed by a sense of tragedy, knowing he had failed to prevent this.
The radar graphic showed the missiles landing within a space of a few seconds all over the northeast quarter of Korea. By Kai’s calculation there were eleven military bases within that area, and it looked as if President Green had hit every one.
The same picture was even more vivid in the image from the infrared satellite.
Chang Jianjun stood up. “If I may, Mr. President, as vice chairman of the National Security Commission?”
“Go ahead.”
“Our response must be tough, and must do real harm to the US, but it should nevertheless be proportional to the offense. I propose three nuclear attacks on American military bases outside the American heartland: in Alaska, Hawaii, and Guam.”
Chen shook his head. “One would be enough. One target, one bomb—if we do this at all.”
Kong Zhao said: “We have always said we would never be the first to use nuclear weapons.”
Jianjun said: “And we will not be the first. If we do as I suggest we will be the third. The North Korean ultras were the first and the US was second.”
“Thank you, Chang Jianjun.” President Chen looked at Kai, clearly wanting to hear arguments against.
Kai found himself in direct public conflict with his father. “First, note that American aggression against us, sinking the Fujian, did not employ nuclear weapons.”
“An important point,” said Chen.
Kai was encouraged. The president was clearly favoring restraint. Perhaps moderation would prevail. He went on: “Second, the Americans have used nuclear weapons not against us, or even against our friends in North Korea, but against a rogue group of rebels who are not owed loyalty by the People’s Republic of China. We might even consider that President Green has done a favor to us and the world by getting rid of a dangerous maverick group of usurpers who have almost started a nuclear war.”
An aide whispered in the ear of Foreign Minister Wu Bai. Wu looked angry. “The chief executive of Hong Kong has turned on us,” he said gravely. “He formally requests the Chinese military to evacuate its garrison in Hong Kong immediately, all twelve thousand personnel, to ensure that Hong Kong does not become a nuclear target.” Wu paused. “He has made this request publicly.”
Huang was red-faced. “The traitor!”
President Chen said furiously: “I thought we had that under control! We appointed that chief executive because he was loyal to the Party.”
You installed a puppet government, Kai thought privately, and you never expected the puppet to bite you.
“You see?” said Huang. “First Taiwan becomes defiant, then Hong Kong. I keep telling you, it’s fatal to appear weak!”
Kai’s boss, Fu Chuyu, spoke. “I’m sorry to follow bad news with worse,” he said. “But I have a message from the vice minister for homeland intelligence that you ought to hear. It seems there is trouble in Xinjiang.” This vast desert province in the west of China had a majority-Muslim population and a small independence movement. “Separatists have seized control of the Diwopu airport and Communist Party headquarters in Urumqi, the capital. They have declared that Xinjiang is now the independent country of East Turkestan and will remain neutral in the present nuclear conflict.”
Kai reckoned that rebellion would probably last half an hour. The army in Xinjiang would come down on the separatists like a wolf pack on a flock of sheep. But at a time like this even a comic-opera military coup was a blow to China’s pride.
It was unnerving, as General Huang immediately demonstrated. “This is reactionary imperialism, obviously,” he fumed. “Look at what has happened in the last two months. North Korea, Sudan, the South China Sea, the Diaoyu Islands, Taiwan, and now Hong Kong and Xinjiang. It’s the death of a thousand cuts, a carefully planned campaign to deprive China of territory bit by bit, and the Americans are behind it every step of the way! We have to stop it now. We have to make the Americans pay the price of their aggression—otherwise they will not stop until China is reduced to the kind of servile colony it was a century ago. A limited nuclear attack is the only possible course for us now.”
President Chen said: “We’re not yet at that point of desperation. It may come, I know. But for now we must try less apocalyptic methods.”
Out of the corner of his eye Kai saw a look pass between his father and General Huang. Naturally, he thought, they would be disheartened at losing the argument.
Then Jianjun stood up, muttered something about a call of nature, and left the room. That was surprising. Kai knew that his father did not suffer from the bladder problems that were common among older men. Jianjun never admitted to health issues but Kai’s mother kept him informed. However, Jianjun must have had a strong reason to leave the room in the middle of such a vital discussion. Was he ill? The old man was a dinosaur but Kai loved him.
Chen said: “General Huang, please prepare for the People’s Liberation Army to enter Hong Kong in force and take control of the government there.”
It was not what Huang wanted, but it was better than nothing, and he agreed without resistance.
Kai noticed Wang Qingli entering the room. Wang was head of presidential security. Although a crony of Huang and Jianjun’s, he was much better dressed, and was sometimes mistaken for the president he guarded. Now he stepped up onto the stage and spoke in Chen’s ear.
Kai did not like this. Something was going on. Jianjun had left the room, then Wang had come in. Coincidence?
He caught the eye of his ally Kong Zhao. Kong frowned. He too was unnerved.
He looked at the president. Chen, listening to Wang, looked startled, then anxious, and even went slightly pale. He was shocked.
By now everyone around the table had realized that something odd was happening. The discussion came to a halt and they waited in silence.
Fu Chuyu, the security minister and Kai’s boss, stood up. “Forgive me, comrades, but I must interrupt our discussion. I have to inform you that a Guoanbu domestic investigation has revealed strong evidence that Chang Kai is an agent of the US.”
Kong Zhao burst out: “Ridiculous!”
Fu pressed on. “Chang Kai has been running his own clandestine foreign policy agenda, unknown to his comrades.”
Kai could hardly believe this was happening. Were they really moving to get rid of him, in the middle of a global nuclear crisis? “No, no, you can’t do this,” he said. “China isn’t some banana republic.”
Fu continued as if Kai had not spoken. “We have proof of three fatal charges against him. One, he informed the CIA about the weakness of the supreme leader’s regime in North Korea. Two, that at Yeongjeo-dong he made an agreement with General Pak that he was not authorized to negotiate. Three, that he gave the Americans early warning of our decision to replace the supreme leader with General Pak.”
All of that was more or less true. Kai had done those things—not because he was a traitor, but because they were in China’s best interest.
But this was not about justice. Such accusations never were. He might just as easily have been charged with corruption. This was a political attack.
He had thought he was armored against his political enemies. He was a princeling. His father was vice chairman of the National Security Commission. He should have been untouchable.
But his father had left the room.
Kai now saw the profound symbolism of that action.
Fu said: “Kai’s close partner in these activities has been Kong Zhao.”
Kong looked as if he had been punched. “Me?” he said incredulously. He quickly recovered his composure and said: “Mr. President, it’s obvious that these allegations have been brought forward at this precise moment because an aggressive warlike faction within your government sees it as the only way to win the argument.”
Chen did not reply to Kong.
Fu said: “I have no alternative but to place Chang Kai and Kong Zhao under arrest.”
Kai thought: How can they arrest us in the middle of the Situation Room?
But they had thought of that.
The main door opened, and six of Wang’s security men came in, in their trademark black suits and black ties.
Kai said: “This is a coup!”
He guessed this was what his father had been plotting with Fu Chuyu and General Huang over their dinner of pigs’ feet at the Enjoy Hot restaurant.
Wang spoke to Chen again, but this time loudly enough to be heard by everyone. “With your permission, Mr. President.”
Chen hesitated for a long moment.
Kai said: “Mr. President, if you go along with this, you cease to be the leader of our country and become a mere tool of the military.”
Chen looked as if he agreed with that. Clearly he thought the moderates had won the argument. But the old guard were more powerful. Could he defy them and survive? Could he defy the army and the collective authority of the old Communists?
He could not.
“Go ahead,” said President Chen.
Wang beckoned his men.
Everyone watched in hypnotic silence as the security men crossed the room and mounted the stage. Two stood on either side of Kai and two beside Kong. Both men stood up and were held lightly by the elbows.
Kong spoke furiously. Looking at Fu Chuyu, he yelled: “You will destroy your country, you motherfucking idiots!”
Fu said quietly: “Take them both to Qincheng Prison.”
Wang said: “Yes, Minister.”
The guards marched Kai and Kong down from the stage, across the floor, and out of the room.
Chang Jianjun was in the lobby, by the elevators. He had stepped outside so that he would not have to witness the arrest.
Kai recalled a conversation in which his father had said, Communism is a sacred mission. It comes above everything else, including our family ties and our own personal safety. Now he understood what the old man had meant.
Wang stopped and said uncertainly: “Chang Jianjun, did you wish to speak to your son?”
