57

PRESIDENT ZHANG SAT at the head of the table at the daily meeting of the Central Military Commission. On one side of him was Defense Minister Xu Changjiang and on the other side General Fan Keming. In theory, as chairman of the commission, Zhang was the most senior figure in the military chain of command.

One of the two admirals on the commission was giving an outline of the battle plan for the Mao Zedong and Chou Enlai strike groups against the American forces. He expected forward elements of the Kennedy strike group to be in position to join battle off Lamu Bay in support of the Abraham Lincoln within two hours of the arrival of the Chinese ships. The objective of the plan was the recovery of the Kunming and Changchun. Should the two ships or any others be destroyed during the fighting, the objective would be continuation of the battle until a surrender of the American forces on terms providing compensation for the losses suffered by the Chinese forces.

‘And you believe our forces will be capable of bringing the American fleet to surrender.’

The admiral glanced at Xu, then back at the president. ‘Yes, President Zhang.’

From the looks that he could see around the table, Zhang doubted it. He doubted that any of the other twelve men shared the admiral’s faith, including the admiral himself. But standing up to the American fleet and inflicting at least some losses on them could be portrayed as a victory. He knew the way the Chinese press would be ordered to present it.

He looked at Xu. A couple of years previously the defense minister had developed a twitch that made his left eye blink frequently. He was blinking now, more often than normal.

‘Thank you, Admiral,’ said Zhang.

The admiral nodded.

Fan gave an overview of other developments. He described the current deployments of the Russian, Japanese and Taiwanese navies and the deployment of land forces on the Indian and Russian borders. People’s Liberation Army troops had been dispatched to reinforce both sectors. After a Chinese victory, action by the United States could be anticipated in a number of sectors including punitive strikes on mainland army installations. The commission staff had drawn up plans for a series of pre-emptive strikes on US military facilities in the East Asia region to prevent this, as well as having a number of preselected targets in Hawaii and the west coast of the United States for immediate retaliation if US forces responded. Submarines would be in position to launch missile strikes at the naval bases in Pearl Harbor, San Diego, China Lake and Puget Sound.

Zhang listened with a growing sense of unease. ‘When will you launch the pre-emptive strikes in our region?’ he asked.

‘As soon as battle commences between the ships,’ replied the general.

‘And the retaliatory strikes?’

‘If the Americans respond with any other action.’

‘Do you think the Americans will be able not to take action if we launch these pre-emptive strikes?’

‘They may retaliate,’ said Fan calmly. ‘But they should not. The strikes will be in our region. Their defensive intent will be clear.’

‘But if they did take action, we would retaliate on their west coast?’

‘Yes. But if we do not launch the pre-emptive strikes, we do not protect ourselves. We must launch them. If the Americans are wise, they will not retaliate. They will see that the pre-emptive strikes are defensive.’

‘The strikes will be forceful,’ said another general. ‘They will see that we will defend China with every means we have available.’

Zhang glanced at Xu. The defense minister blinked.

Zhang turned back to Fan. ‘What will the Americans do after we retaliate for their retaliation?’

‘After these strikes are launched, it will take them some days to put in place new deployments.’

‘And then?’

‘That will be a new phase, if they wish to open it.’

Zhang nodded. ‘General Fan, these pre-emptive strikes do not sound defensive.’

‘We are defending ourselves. The aggressive action was the hijacking of the two ships. Everything we do now is defensive.’

‘Maybe we should not do the pre-emptive strikes.’

‘Then we will be hit.’

‘Maybe not.’

‘We will be hit and the people will see that we are hit,’ said Fan pointedly.

Zhang was silent. He envisaged a terrible series of escalatory actions. But he was not in control of the situation. It was unclear to him to what extent Fan had engineered it. Before President Knowles had made his public demand that China force Sudan to release the two American airmen, he had told Fan that he wanted the airmen released. He had told the Sudanese president as well. The American president’s demand had made it easier for Fan to keep helping the Sudanese army hold them, if that was what he was doing. Zhang had not authorized that, much less had he authorized a Chinese-led ambush of an American rescue force to be planned, although it was clear from the military reports he had seen, and from what President Knowles had told him, that this is what had happened. By then, the Chou Enlai and Mao Zedong were under way towards the Kenyan coast. They must have been placed on station to be ready to intervene. He had not been consulted prior to their departure. From the beginning, therefore, the order that would have been required from him was not to let the carriers go, but to turn them around.

All of this had changed the balance of power in the crisis. While it had been economic, he had held the levers. Once it became military, it was Fan who had the initiative.

Zhang couldn’t be sure what would happen if he made the demand for the ships to turn around. He could not be sure it would be obeyed. If that happened, if he gave the order to turn the ships around and it was not obeyed, he would be facing a coup. He would have to finish Fan or he would be finished himself.

Those ships would not be sailing without Xu’s agreement. Zhang knew that didn’t mean Xu had put his support definitively behind Fan, but it did mean he had put himself in a position to do that. If Zhang demanded that the ships turn around, Xu would have to decide. The question was whether this was the right moment to put the defense minister in a position where he would be forced to make that decision.

Zhang was certain that Fan would not move against him if Xu’s support was not assured. To do that would run the risk of provoking a civil war with roughly equal military factions confronting each other on either side. He, Zhang, would be supported by the security forces, and Xu would have the leadership of the air force and key naval units. Fan would have the hardline wing of the army, which believed after 2014 that the military, as the guarantor of the state, should hold open political power. Fan would not want to see the Chinese air force, on Xu’s orders, bombing army barracks. On the other hand, if Fan believed that he had Xu behind him, or if he believed the defense minister had been abandoned by his supporters, he might move. The internal security forces alone would be no match for the army. The fight would be bloody, but the army would prevail.

Zhang glanced at the defense minister. Xu was blinking furiously. He must know, thought Zhang, that if he brought Fan to power, he would not last long. That was what had kept the balance of power between the three of them for the past four years. Even now, if he lost his support, he would become irrelevant. So the question Xu must be asking himself, thought Zhang, was what would cause his support to drain away? What would cause the admirals and air force generals to abandon him? Being ordered to go into battle with the Americans – or being ordered to turn around? If that was the most important question for Xu, Zhang knew, it was the most important question for him too.

Zhang did not believe the admirals really wanted to fight the Americans. For all the talk he had just heard, he didn’t believe they thought they would win and he didn’t believe they would want to see two of their precious new carrier forces destroyed. But if the only way to avoid this was to back down, would they accept it? If he gave the order in the commission to turn the Chou Enlai and Mao Zedong around, and if Xu stood with him, would they feel that the Chinese military would lose so much face against the Americans that they would nonetheless support Fan in opposing it? Actually the question was not whether they would – but whether Xu believed that they would. It was not reality that mattered now, but perception. If Xu believed that his supporters would desert him if he agreed to back down, he would countermand the order. If he countermanded the order, then Xu would have definitively joined Fan, and the general would have won.

Yet if Zhang did not give the order, there would be a battle off Lamu Bay that would escalate on the other side of the world even before it was finished.

He had told the American president that the ships must be released. He had told him again and again. The only other thing he could have said was that Knowles must release the ships because he did not feel strong enough to give the order to turn the Chou Enlai and Mao Zedong around, but he could not say such a thing to the American president. Even if Knowles complied, the damage to China would be incalculable.

Zhang did not know what he would do. There was little time left now. The Americans had to back down. If they did not, he didn’t know whether he would risk the coup or the confrontation. The confrontation, he felt sure, would escalate, but he did not know how far, and if he cracked down immediately on the opposition, domestic unrest might be contained. The coup, if he gave the order, might not happen, but if it did, the violence in China would be terrible, and the country’s enemies, inside its borders and out, would seize the opportunity to seek their own goals.

Fan was watching him.

‘How long is it until the carriers arrive?’ he asked.

‘Thirty-six hours.’