The secretary of state shook his head, smiling. “Welcome to Chinese internal politics.”
“If China holds all the cards, and if Zhao is truly concerned, why doesn’t he just take care of the problem?” Ryan asked.
Adler shrugged. “Same answer, I’m afraid. Internal politics. There are factions within the Politburo and within the military that are at odds with Zhao on the issue. Beyond that, we really don’t have a clue. Right now we have to ask ourselves what they have to gain and what we have to lose by turning down President Zhao’s offer.”
“I’m confused. What exactly is he offering?” Burgess asked.
“That was my question to the foreign minister. He was intentionally vague, but he insisted his government is as interested as we are in North Korean regime change. Beyond that, he doesn’t want to show his cards until he has a commitment from us to attend the security summit.”
The chief of staff frowned. “So we don’t know what their specific proposals are for stopping the North Koreans?”
“No. But he emphasized it would be a permanent solution.”
“I’m not interested in anything less,” Ryan said. “We need to solve the North Korean problem once and for all before we’re all dragged into World War Three.”
Van Damm shook his head. “So the President is supposed to fly halfway around the world to find out what Zhao’s plan is? That’s ridiculous. Why can’t he tell us up front?”
“He might be afraid of a leak on our end — a real possibility with some of the old ‘China hands’ lurking in the bureaucracy. Or he’s worried that we’ll reject his proposal and then we’ll tell someone else about it,” Adler said.
“It must be something big,” Ryan said. “Something that affects his position, or the factions that oppose him. What do we know about the political power structure inside China right now?”
“Frankly, not enough,” Mary Pat admitted. “The tectonic plates are still shifting.”
Ryan turned to Adler. “Can we trust Zhao?”
“We don’t have any reason not to at this point, but frankly, we don’t know enough about him, either.”
“But he needs to keep his cards close to the vest on this thing. That tells me his position might not yet be fully secure,” Ryan said, the wheels turning in his mind. “And the fact he needs to keep this secret and to do it quickly sounds like this will be a decisive action. Something strategic, not tactical.” Ryan turned to his SecDef. “Sound about right, Robert?”
“I think you’re onto something, sir.”
Van Damm leaned forward. “Excuse me, but I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves here. If he doesn’t want to tell us up front, why can’t he fly over here to tell us what’s going on?”
Ryan grinned. “Maybe the new Chinese president is afraid of flying.”
“More likely, he’s afraid of leaving his country. Again, it speaks to the idea he’s still consolidating his position,” Mary Pat said.
Adler added, “And Zhao must think he needs you standing at his side to carry out his plan, not to mention draw the other heads of state to the summit.”
“Or Zhao wants the President standing there next to him holding the bag when the summit goes sideways,” Van Damm countered.
Ryan sat back in his chair, tenting his fingers in front of him, thinking. “Scott, what happens if we turn the summit down?”
“If we turn Zhao down and he’s committed to North Korean regime change, he’ll turn to the Russians, since Zhao obviously can’t do it on his own — otherwise, why call us? Given the current geopolitical realities in Europe and Asia, we don’t want a renewed Chinese-Russian alliance. That would strengthen China’s hand in the South and East China Seas, and that means we’d have to devote even more of our air and naval assets to the region, potentially weakening our ability to respond to any new Russian threats in Europe.”
“I agree with that assessment,” the SecDef said.
“So do I,” Ryan said. “And that ain’t good. Now give me the downsides to showing up for this thing.”
“This summit might be another huge waste of time where everyone gets all excited but nothing substantive actually happens,” Van Damm said.
SecDef Burgess added, “Maybe the Chinese want us to waste our time and only appear to be concerned so they can continue their buildup of North Korea.” He pointed at the monitor. “They know that we know what’s going on over there, and they know we’re concerned. This might just be sleight of hand on their part.”
“It’s also a prestige play for them,” Secretary Adler said. “No matter the outcome of the summit, the fact that they invited us to Beijing to solve a regional crisis and that we accepted the invitation reinforces the impression that they are the dominant power in Asia and coequals with us. And if the summit fails, they’ll blame us.”
Van Damm added, “To some, it might even look more like a summons than an invitation. Especially since this is the second time you will have flown to Beijing to meet with a Chinese president.”
“And perception is reality in politics,” Adler was quick to add. “Especially in Asia.”
“There’s one other possibility,” Van Damm said. “You show up and he springs a plan on you that puts us in a bind.”
Adler shook his head. “If he does that, we’d walk away and he’d look the fool. I don’t think Zhao will offer anything that we can’t agree to.”
“So there are plenty of downsides,” Ryan said. “But despite those, there’s still the real possibility that the Chinese have a plan that will permanently change the situation on the Korean peninsula,” Ryan said. “That interests me.”
The President’s eyes narrowed, his mind concentrating. The others watched in silence as he put all of the pieces together. Finally, he leaned forward on the table.
“The dilemma as I see it is this: risk wasting our time and looking like fools at a worthless summit, or risk losing the opportunity to solve the North Korean problem once and for all. Is that about the size of it?”
They all agreed.
Ryan smiled a little. “When I put it that way, the decision seems clear. It’s worth the risk, given the possible reward, even if it means another long damn airplane ride. Let’s do this.”
“I’ll contact the foreign minister directly and tell him that we’re interested,” Adler said.
“I’ve got a better idea. Arrange for me to speak with President Zhao directly. I want to take the measure of the man myself and show him I’m serious.”
Adler smiled. “That’s an excellent idea, Mr. President.”
Ryan stood, signaling that the meeting was over. The others stood, too. “Thank you all. I’ll be in touch.”
As the others shuffled out, Ryan poured himself another coffee. The Chinese could be handing him an opportunity for sure. But he also knew from boot camp that the bullet you didn’t hear was the one that took your head off.
8
They met in the underground bunker deep beneath the drab and unassuming five-story granite building on the outskirts of the city, far from the central government district. Nominally it was the subheadquarters of the State Ministry of Fisheries, just another administrative organ in North Korea’s micromanaged, state-owned command economy.
Aboveground, harried black-coated technocrats exerted enormous bureaucratic energies administering the regulations and procedures of the vast ministry, which, unsurprisingly, had very little productive impact on North Korea’s fishing industry. Most of the bureaucrats’ work was designed to justify the generous food ration cards they received, the less cramped public housing they lived in, and the meager but regular salaries their privileged jobs paid them.