Ambassadors almost always dealt with representatives of the State Department, and the meetings would typically take place in the Roosevelt Room, or — if the ambassador happened to be in ill favor — the West Wing Lobby. For Ambassador Shankar, the current meeting was contrary to all expectations: face-to-face with the president, in the Oval Office, with no diplomatic support team.
“I’m glad to hear that,” the president said. “I hope you will forgive me if I skip past the polite small talk, and go directly to the matter at hand.”
“Of course,” said the ambassador.
“Good,” the president said. “Because I would like to know whether or not your country intends to carry out an attack on the Three Gorges Dam.”
He nodded toward Brenthoven. “It’s my understanding that Greg… that is to say my National Security Advisor… has relayed our concerns to you regarding the potential consequences of such an attack. Have you had an opportunity to discuss this issue with your government?”
“I have been fully briefed on my government’s intentions in this matter,” the ambassador said. “Officially, there is no plan to attack the Three Gorges Dam.”
“What about unofficially?” the president asked.
“The unofficial answer, I’m afraid,” said the ambassador, “is somewhat different. Unofficially, I have been authorized to inform you — in strictest confidence — that the destruction of the Three Gorges Dam is considered a valid and necessary military option, if hostilities with the People’s Republic of China continue to escalate.”
President Wainwright rubbed the back of his neck. “I see. Your government is aware that China will almost certainly regard such an attack as a direct strategic assault against their critical national infrastructure? And is your government also aware that such a devastating blow will likely result in nuclear reprisals?”
“My government has been advised of your concerns,” the Indian Ambassador said. “But we do not agree with your assessment of the PRC’s response. My government does not believe that the Chinese politburo will resort to nuclear retaliation.”
“What if your projections are wrong?” the president asked. “Why would you even risk the possibility?”
The ambassador folded her hands in her lap. “Mr. President, China is not my country’s only concern. As your satellites have no doubt revealed to you, our Pakistani neighbors have begun massing troops near our eastern border, in the provinces of Punjab and Sindh. Even as we speak, Pak Faza'ya—Pakistan’s Air Force — is carrying out a campaign of intensive air patrols just within the boundaries of Pakistani airspace. Although these measures technically do not qualify as military action against my country, the armed forces of Pakistan are moving to an aggressive footing. The Pakistani government is clearly preparing to take advantage of India’s current discomfort.”
She raised her eyebrows. “To use an American idiom, the sharks are circling, Mr. President. Both to our north, and to our east. We cannot allow them to smell blood in the water.”
“I understand your concerns,” the president said.
Before he could continue, Ambassador Shankar spoke again. “With all due respect, Mr. President, you do not understand our concerns. If the United States truly understood the cultural and political tensions in our portion of the world, you would not be so quick to sell weapons to Pakistan, or to back up the regime of terrorists who sit in power in Islamabad. Nor do you understand our concerns about China. I turn your attention to the so-called Sino-Indian War of the early 1960s. My people know what it is like to have the People’s Liberation Army come crashing across our borders. Your country, I am pleased to say, has never had such an experience.”
“For us, this is not an exercise in foreign policy,” she said. “It is not political theory. We are faced on two sides by enemies who have historically demonstrated their will to destroy India, and are currently taking actions which are directly hostile to my country. We will not show weakness. And if that means that the Three Gorges Dam must be destroyed, then such is the price China will pay for massacring our villages without warning or provocation.”
The president shook his head. “Madam Ambassador, I beg you not to do this.”
Ambassador Shankar sat for several seconds before speaking. “Can you offer us an alternative? Will you align your military power directly with ours, and signal to China and Pakistan that to fight India is to fight the United States of America?”
The president said nothing.
The ambassador smiled sadly. “There is your answer, Mr. President. If you will not stand with us, then we will defend ourselves without your help. And we will use whatever means are at our disposal.”
“What if your projections are wrong?” the president asked again. “What if China retaliates with nuclear weapons?”
Ambassador Shankar sighed. “Then they will discover that India also has such weapons, and — if we must — we are not afraid to take the war to our enemy’s doorstep.”
CHAPTER 28
The video came to an end, and Irene Schick immediately hit the play button again. She had watched the clip five times in a row, and she still couldn’t believe it. She fast-forwarded to the point where the assault rifles started firing into the crowd, and the bodies began hitting the ground.
The audio was muffled and nearly unintelligible, but the video footage was amazing… Chinese troops gunning down peaceful protestors with no visible provocation of any kind. Blood. Raw panic. The terrified crowd stampeding like cattle.
Tibetan activists had been accusing China of similar atrocities since the 2008 riots, but the evidence — what little there was — had nearly always been lacking in quality or persuasiveness.
But the scene unfolding on her computer monitor was the real deal. As tactless as the cliché sounded in this context, this footage looked like the proverbial smoking gun. Not just one or two rioters fired at under questionable conditions, but a hundred people dead or injured. Maybe more. She’d have to assign a crew to analyze the video frame-by-frame, count the bodies, and pull up subtle details that might be overlooked without meticulous study.
According to Byron Maxwell at Amnesty, the recording had been shot from a cell phone. Judging from the quality of the video, it must have been a good one. Even when expanded to full size on Irene’s 25 inch LCD monitor, the images were clear and well-defined. Far short of professional quality, but more than good enough for broadcast.
The video would lose some detail and pick up some digital artifacts when it was enlarged for A-roll, but that would only add to the drama, and confirm the authenticity in the minds of the viewers.
They could get the tourist guy who shot it into a local affiliate studio in California, or maybe just do a voice interview while his video ran in the background. They’d also have to let one of the Amnesty International spokespeople sneak in some air time, as payback for the tip and the video. Irene was already starting to plan the first segment in her head. This was going to be the lead story for days. She could already feel it.