Once inside the complex, the motorcade sped past willow- lined streets and meticulously tended sidewalks as they curved upward toward the center cluster of buildings, the private residence of Premier Cheung. The motorcade came to a sudden halt underneath a long breezeway, and the limousine’s occupants hurried inside the reception hall. If they had paused to look, they could have seen one of the grandest vistas in all Beijing — Yuyan Tan Lake to the west, the expansive Peking Zoo to the north, and the massive brick monuments of the Imperial Palace and Tian’anmen Square to the east, now glowing fiery crimson in the rising sun. But the limousine’s occupants were hustled directly inside and to the immediate meeting with the Premier himself in his private office.
Leing Yee Tak, ambassador to China from the Republic of Vietnam, hardly had time to remove his shoes before none other than Premier Cheung himself entered the office, along with members of his Cabinet. This was highly unusual: the Premier never met with lowly ambassadors, only heads of state or occasionally minister- or Cabinet-level officials. Leing waited until the Premier had taken his seat at the center of a long dark granite table, then bowed deeply and approached the table. Cheung immediately offered him a seat with a gesture, and Leing sat. His interpreter aide remained standing behind him.
Cheung was old, incredibly old even for a Chinese politician. The ninety-one-year-old leader of the world’s most populous nation still moved fairly well without assistance, although two burly Chinese Marines were on hand to help him in and out of his chair. His hair was dark, obviously dyed at the insistence of his advisers or from some deep- seated vanity, but his face was deeply etched from age and his fingers gnarled from arthritis. But Leing had been taught from his first days in the Vietnamese Socialist Party and the People’s Foreign Ministry that the eyes were the giveaway — Cheung’s eyes were still gleaming, still quick, still alert.
Despite rumors to the contrary, Cheung still appeared to be in charge…
But after quickly scanning the faces of the other Cabinet members, perhaps not. The Chinese Foreign Minister, Party Counsel, and Minister of Commerce were present, but the Ministers of Interior, Finance, Defense, and Industry were all replaced by their military counterparts. This was a military tribunal represented here, not a peacetime government.
And Leing knew well the Supreme Commander of the People’s Liberation Army, High General Chin Po Zihong. Chin was young for a Chinese government official — sixty- seven, if Leing remembered correctly — but he appeared to be half that age. He was a short, barrel-chested, dark-haired Mongol that instantly reminded one of how the Mongol hordes of centuries past had struck fear into the hearts of soldiers throughout Europe and Asia. Unlike most other high-ranking military officers, Chin wore few accoutrements on his plain, dark grey uniform. He didn’t need ribbons and badges to demonstrate his power and authority to others.
Cheung spoke, and afterward his interpreter said, “The Premier extends his government’s greeting to Comrade Leing. The Premier wishes to know if there is anything that would make the ambassador from the Republic of Vietnam more comfortable.”
“Nothing, Comrade Premier,” Leing replied. “I thank you for your generous offer. I too wish to extend the greetings of the Republic of Vietnam.” Cheung bowed slightly at the neck, and the civilian members of the Cabinet did likewise — the military members did not move. Chin appeared as immobile as stone, unblinking and inscrutable.
“The Premier wishes to extend an invitation to the ambassador from Vietnam to attend a briefing on the situation in the Philippines and the South China Sea,” the interpreter said. “High General Chin will conduct the briefing. We will outline the actions and events that precipitated the current military actions in that nation and explain our objectives and intentions.”
Leing could have fallen over backward in surprise. The Chinese Chief of Staff himself, conducting a briefing on his military actions — for a member of the
China and Vietnam had a long, off-again and on-again relationship over the past fifty years. Both were Communist republics; Vietnam’s government was fashioned as a smaller copy of China’s. Both were military powers in the Pacific, with Vietnam having the world’s fourth-largest army and the world’s eighth-largest small-boat navy. But political relations were based on expediency and short-term interests, and those relations were usually stormy at best and warlike at worst.
