Ministry of State Security head, Hu Gong had heard both sides of the conversation. A couple of female interns had listened in on the call as well. Hu Gong couldn’t believe that the Premier would let a bunch of twenty something interns listen in on an important state call.
The rant still hadn’t ended. Unlike the politician throwing the tantrum, he was an intelligence dude. Guys like him always knew more, always had an upper hand in any conversation, and almost always outlived their premiers. Bush Sr., Beria, well almost, Andropov and a long line of Pakistani presidents had all proved that being an intelligence chief was the best place to chart a Presidency. Perhaps he would be the first good one.
“Premier, relax.”
The premier wasn’t listening or relaxing. Just give it a rest already, thought Gong. What was it with these adult children? Anna Petrova was barely 40, and his own moron premier was 42. There was no subtlety in threats and counter threats these days. The Russian President had almost openly admitted to being involved in the Guangdong train incident. Both would have failed Presidency 101.
“How can I relax? Turn around our ICBMs… turn around the ones aimed at Indianapolis, Denver and Seattle… point them at Moscow. Right now.”
Gong tried again, “Or maybe it’s that time of the month for Anna… you know cycles…”
The stunned Chinese Premier stopped and turned around. He looked intensely at his head of counter intelligence. The female interns gasped in horror.
Hu Gong thought he heard Katy Perry in the background… was it ‘Firework’. Yep… one of the darned interns was fiddling with her iPod. But he plodded on, “Or maybe you know, she is quite pretty, almost in a Nicole Kidman way, her boyfriend probably dumped her. Heartbreak?”
Premier Xiannian was seething, “Time of the month? What kind of comment is that? It’s probably the worst thing you can say about a woman. Whats with you old party boys? Time of the month, really?”
It was Gong’s turn to lose it, “Turning away our missiles is probably the dumbest thing a Chinese President could do. Nukes aren’t play things.”
“Huh? So what do you propose? Get her to see a psychologist about her bad break up?”
“See… now we are thinking… that might actually work. I will add it to our arsenal of offensive initiatives. Great… maybe we could recruit one of Moscow’s psychologists… or maybe a Chinese citizen of Russian ethnicity… we could train him… or her…”
Gong actually took out a small notepad and began scribbling his brain fart. He made a big show of his ballpoint pen not working and jerked it around for a while. It took him 45 to get it all down. Luckily, by then, some sort of sanity had returned to the Premier’s office.
The Premier motioned the interns to get out.
“Ok so what’s the Russian motive here? Why are they suddenly cuddling with the Japanese and Germans? Who, right now are threatening a new set of sanctions against Russia?”
“Well it’s a classic cry for help,” replied the smug Hu Gong.
“So you are certified physiologist now? First with the love theory and now this… I think I need a drink.” Premier Xiannian opened his bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of Maker’s Mark and two glasses.
Gong began, “Don’t you see, we shouldn’t have voted against them on Ukraine… Crimea.”
“But we didn’t. We abstained at the UN vote.”
“Exactly. What do you think, ‘you are either a friend of the Federation or not’ means? Plus that gas pipeline.”
“But we can’t just sit down and take this Russian shit. I will look weak to the Politburo. We need to retaliate.”
“I know, I know. I found something from Anna Petrova’s past in Volgograd.”
“What?”
“Pictures.”
“Huh?”
“Oooh yeah. Trust me, they are not shots of her saluting the Mamayev Kurgan.”
“Mama what? Wait is that code for dirty pictures? Come on Hu…”
“No Premier, not dirty pictures. I will let you know when my team has developed this ‘initiative’ into something potent…”
“Just spill it right now, I am your boss,” pleaded Premier Xiannian.
“Sure whatever. I thought you wanted probable deniability when it came to the operations of MSS. You know if something went wrong?”
The Chinese Premier sighed.
“Trust me… the moment I have something concrete, you will know… here have another drink.”
The premier gulped down the smooth liquid as Gong refilled his glass.
Before the Crimean rapture, everything had been dainty in Europe. Things had been so dainty, that the French had agreed to sell aircraft carriers to the Russian Navy. Super dainty.
Not willing to arm Russia with anything from the 21st century, the French had followed NATO’s aka America’s orders and suspended the sale of the
As everything was fair in war, both sides had agreed to let the matter slide — at least for the time being. But despite such assurances, everyone knew something was bound to happen sooner or later… one way or the other.
