It was a beautiful day. Wei caught himself wishing he came here more than once a year.
A voice called from behind. “Zongshuji?” It was one of his titles, general secretary, and though Wei was president as well, his staff put his role as general secretary of the Communist Party well above his role as president of the country.
The party was more important than the nation.
Wei ignored the voice, and now he regarded two gray vessels in the water just a mile or so offshore. A pair of Type 062C coastal patrol boats sat motionless on the still water, their cannons and antiaircraft guns pointed skyward. They looked powerful, impressive, and ominous.
But to Wei they looked inadequate. It was a big ocean, a big sky, both were full of threats, and Wei knew that he had powerful enemies.
And he feared that after the meeting he was about to have with his nation’s top military official, his list of enemies would soon grow even larger.
—
The pinnacle of power in China is the nine-member Politburo Standing Committee, the tiny body that sets policy for the nation’s 1.4 billion citizens. Each year in July the members of the PSC, as well as dozens if not hundreds of adjuncts and assistants, leave their offices in Beijing and travel one hundred seventy miles to the east to the secluded coastal resort of Beidaihe.
It is suggested that more strategic decisions affecting China and its people are decided in the small meeting rooms in the buildings in the forests and along the beaches of Beidaihe than in Beijing itself.
Security had been tight at this year’s Standing Committee retreat, even more so than in recent times. And there was good reason for the extra protection. President and General Secretary Wei Zhen Lin had retained his hold on power, thanks to the backing of his nation’s military, but popular dissent in the nation was growing against the Communist Party of China and protest rallies and civil disobedience, something not seen in large scale in China since the Tiananmen Square massacre of 1989, had sparked in several of the provinces. In addition to this, though the coup plotters had been arrested and imprisoned, many associates of the leadership of the plot still remained in positions of high authority, and Wei feared a second coup attempt more than anything else in this world.
In the more than ninety years the CPC had been in existence, it had never been as fractured as it was at this moment.
Several months ago Wei had been one second away from putting a bullet into his own brain. He woke most nights covered in sweat from the nightmares of reliving those moments, and these nightmares had created paranoia.
Despite his fears, Wei was well protected now. He remained under heightened guard by members of China’s security and military forces, because China’s security and military forces had a stake in the man now, they owned him, and they wanted him safe from harm.
But this provided little comfort for Wei, because he knew that, at any moment, the People’s Liberation Army could turn against him, and his protectors would become his executioners.
The Beidaihe conference had closed the day before, the majority of the attendees had returned to the bustle and smog of Beijing, but President Wei had delayed his trip west for a day to meet with his closest ally in the Politburo. He had things to discuss with General Su, the chairman of the Central Military Commission and, he explained when he asked for the meeting, the government offices in Beijing were not a secure enough venue for this matter to be addressed.
Wei had high hopes for this informal meeting because the conference itself had been a failure.
He’d opened the week of talks with a frank and bleak update on the economy.
The news of the attempted coup had only scared more investors away from the nation, weakening the economy further. Wei’s enemies had waved this fact around as even more evidence that his opening of China’s markets to the world had made China beholden to the whims and whimsy of the capitalist whore nations. Had China remained closed, and traded exclusively with like-minded nations, then the economy would not have been so vulnerable.
Wei had listened to these statements from his political foes, and he had done so without any outward expression. But he found the assertions idiotic, and those making the assertions to be fools. China had benefited greatly from world trade, and had China remained closed off for the past thirty years, while the rest of the planet underwent mind-boggling economic development, either the Chinese would now be eating dirt like the North Koreans or, more likely, the proletariat would have stormed Zhongnanhai and killed every last man and woman in government office.
Ever since the coup attempt he had worked tirelessly, mostly in secret, on a new plan to right his nation’s economic ship without destroying his government. He presented it at the retreat to the Standing Committee, and the Standing Committee had rejected it out of hand.
They made it plain enough to Wei; they held him responsible for the economic crisis, and they would not attach their support to any portion of his domestic plan to cut spending, wages, benefits, and economic development.
So Wei knew at yesterday’s close of the Beidaihe conference that his preferred course of action was dead in the water.
Today he would lay the foundation for his secondary course of action. He felt it would work, but it would not be without hurdles as great or greater than some short-term domestic pain.
As he stood at the water’s edge the voice from behind called again. “General Secretary?”
Wei turned to the voice, found the man calling out among the phalanx of security guards surrounding him. It was Cha, his secretary.
“It’s time?”
“I just received word. Chairman Su has arrived. We should get back.”
Wei nodded. He would have liked to stay out here all day in his slacks and sleeves. But he had work to do, and this work would not keep.
He began walking up the beach, back to his obligations.
—
Wei Zhen Lin entered a small conference room adjacent to his quarters at the resort, and he found Chairman Su Ke Qiang waiting for him.
The two men embraced perfunctorily. Wei felt the collection of medals on General Su’s left breast against his own chest.
Wei did not like Su, but he would not be in power without Su. He would likely not be alive without Su.
After their perfunctory embrace, Su smiled and took his seat at a small table adorned with an ornate traditional Chinese tea service. The big general—Su stood over six feet tall—poured tea for both men while their two secretaries took seats against the wall.
“Thank you for staying behind to speak with me,” Wei said.
“Not at all, tongzhi.” Comrade.
It was small talk at first, gossip about the other Standing Committee members and light discussion about the events of the retreat, but soon Wei’s eyes hardened in seriousness. “Comrade, I have tried to make our colleagues see the calamity that is about to transpire if we do not take desperate measures.”
“It has been a difficult week for you. You know that you have the full support of the PLA, and my own personal support, as well.”
Wei smiled. He knew that Su’s support was hardly unconditional. It depended on Wei falling into line.
And Wei was about to do just that. “Tell me about the readiness of your forces.”
“The readiness?”
“Yes. Are we strong? Are we prepared?”
Su’s eyebrows rose. “Prepared for what?”
Wei sighed for a moment. “I tried to set in place difficult but necessary domestic austerity measures. I failed in this endeavor. But if we do nothing at all, by the end of the current five-year plan, China will find itself pushed back a generation or more in its development, we will be thrown from power, and the new leaders will drive us further into the past.”
Su said nothing.
Wei said, “I now mus
t accept my responsibility in adopting a new direction in improving China’s strength.”
Wei looked into Su’s eyes, and he saw the growing pleasure there as the realization came slowly.
Su asked, “This new direction will require our military forces?”
With a nod, Wei answered, “At the outset, there may be . . . resistance to my plan.”
“Resistance from within, or resistance from without?” Su asked before taking a sip of tea.
“I am speaking, Chairman, of foreign resistance.”
“I see,” said Su flatly. Wei knew that he was giving the man exactly what he wanted.
Su put down his cup and asked, “What are you proposing?”
“I am proposing we project our military power to reassert ourselves in the region.”
“What will we gain from this?”
“Survival.”
“Survival?”
“An economic disaster can only be avoided by expanding territory, creating new sources of raw materials, new products and markets.”
“What territory are you talking about?”
“We need to project our interests more aggressively in the South China Sea.”
Su dropped the veil of detached interest and nodded vigorously. “I absolutely agree. Recent events involving our neighbors have been troublesome. The South China Sea, territory that we have every right to control, is slipping away from us. The Philippine congress passed a Territorial Sea Baseline Bill, staking their claim to Huangyan Island, territory that belongs to our nation. India has entered into a partnership with Vietnam to drill for oil off Vietnam’s coast, and they threaten to move their new aircraft carrier into the theater, provocatively challenging us and testing our resolve.
“Malaysia and Indonesia are actively interfering with our economic zones in the South China Sea, seriously affecting our fishery operations there.”
“Indeed,” Wei said, agreeing to all of Su’s points.
The chairman was smiling as he said, “With some carefully calculated advances into the South China Sea, we will bolster our nation’s finances.”
Wei shook his head like a professor disappointed with his student’s lack of comprehension of a fundamental principle. He said, “No, Chairman Su. That will not save us. Perhaps I did not make the gravity of our economic problems clear. We are not going to fish our way back to prosperity.”
Su made no reaction to the condescension. “Then there is more?”
“Total dominance in the South China Sea is step one, and it is necessary for us to enact steps two and three.” Wei paused, knowing that Su would not expect what he was about to say.
Wei also knew that this was his last jumping-off point. Once the next words left his lips there would be no going back.
After another moment’s hesitation he said, “Step two is returning Hong Kong to the mainland, abolishing the Hong Kong Basic Law, and keeping the territory as a Special Economic Zone. Our long-standing policy of ‘One country, two systems’ will remain in effect, of course, but I want us to really be one country. Beijing should be receiving revenue streams from Hong Kong capitalists. We do provide them security, after all. My advisers tell me that if we can take Hong Kong, and its dirty little cousin Macau, and fold them as a single unit into the SEZ of Shenzhen, we will quadruple our gains over what we now receive from the territory. The money will support the CPC as well as the capitalists, who have been doing quite well for themselves there.
“I also want to push moral national education curriculums in schools and increased membership in the Communist Party among government employees in Hong Kong. ‘Nationalism’ has become a dirty word to them, and I will put an end to that.”
Su nodded, but Wei saw the wheels spinning in his head. Right now the general would be thinking about resistance from the semi-autonomous state of Hong Kong, as well as resistance from the UK, the EU, America, Australia, and any other nation that had massive amounts of capital investment there.
Hong Kong and Macau were Special Administrative Regions of China, which meant they had enjoyed capitalism and nearly autonomous rule since the British handed them over in 1997. This was to last for fifty years, according to China’s agreement. No one in China, certainly no leader of China, had ever proposed dissolving the autonomy of the two city-states and returning them to the mainland.
Su said, “I see why we would need to control the South China Sea first. Many nations would find it in their national interests to fight to retain Hong Kong’s current status.”
Wei all but waved this comment away. “Yes, but I plan on making it very clear to the international community that I am a businessman, I am pro–free-market capitalism, and any change with how Hong Kong and Macau operate will be very minor and almost imperceptible to the outside world.”
Before Su could comment, Wei added, “And step three will be the long-standing stated goal of our nation, the absorption of Taiwan. Doing this in the right way, turning it into the largest Special Economic Zone, will assure, my advisers project, a retention of the vast majority of its economic viability. Obviously there will be resistance from the Republic of China and its allies, but I am not talking about invading Taiwan. I am talking about reabsorbing through diplomacy and economic pressure, controlling access to waterways, and through this showing them, over time, that the only viable option for their people is for them to accept their future as a proud member of our New China.
“Remember, Chairman Su, that China’s SEZs, an economic model I refined and promoted throughout my career, are looked on around the world as a success, a show of détente with capitalism. I personally am looked at by the West as a force for positive change. I am not naive, I recognize that my personal reputation will suffer after it becomes clear what our objectives are, but that is of no importance to me. Once we have what we need, we will grow beyond any prognostications we could make at this time. I will make it my responsibility to repair any relationships damaged by these actions.”
Su did not hide his surprise at the audacity of the plan put forth by the mild-mannered president, a man who was, after all, a mathematician and economist, and no military leader.
Wei saw this near shock on the general’s face, and he smiled. “I have studied the Americans. I understand them. Their economy, to be sure, but also their culture and their politics. They have a saying. ‘Only Nixon could go to China.’ Do you know this saying?”
Su nodded. “Of course.”
“Well, Chairman Su, I will see that they have a new saying: ‘Only Wei could retake Taiwan.’”
Su recovered somewhat. “The Politburo, even with the new membership after the . . . unpleasantness, will be difficult to convince. I say this with some expertise, having spent the better part of a decade encouraging a more hawkish stance with regard to our neighbors and our rightful ocean territory.”
Wei nodded thoughtfully. “After the events that transpired recently, I no longer expect to persuade my comrades through reason alone. I won’t make that mistake again. I would like, instead, to slowly begin maneuvers, politically and with your force projection, that will make step one of my vision a reality before proceeding with steps two and three. Once we have all the ocean territory around our two prizes, the Politburo will see that our goals are within our grasp.”
Su took this to mean that Wei would adopt small measures at first that would cascade into larger measures as success came closer.
“What is your time frame, tongzhi?”
“I want your help in determining that, of course. But speaking from the perspective of someone with an eye toward our economy, I think within two years the South China Sea, territorial waters five hundred miles to the south of our shores, should be under our control. Some three and a half million square kilometers of ocean. We will void our agreement with Hong Kong twelve months after this. Then Taiwan should be un
der our control by the end of the five-year cycle.”
Su thought carefully before speaking. Finally, he said, “These are bold steps. But I agree they are necessary.”
Wei knew Su knew little about the economy past that portion of it that involved China’s military-industrial complex. He surely did not know what was necessary to revive it. Su wanted military power projection, and that was all.
But Wei did not say this. He instead said, “I am glad that you agree with me, Chairman. I will need your help through every step.”
Su nodded. “You started our conversation by asking me about the readiness of our forces. Sea denial operations, which is what you are asking for here, are among the capabilities of our Navy, but I would like to discuss this further with my admirals and intelligence staff. I would ask that you give me a few days to speak to my leadership and prepare a plan, based on what you have just told me lies before us. My intelligence staff can pinpoint our exact needs.”
Wei nodded. “Thank you. Please prepare a preliminary report to hand-deliver to me in one week’s time. We will speak of this in my personal quarters back in Beijing, and nowhere else.”
Su stood to leave and the men shook hands. President Wei knew that Chairman Su already had detailed plans to take every island, shoal, sandbar, and reef in the South China Sea. He also had plans to deny all access to Taiwan and to shell and rocket it back to the Stone Age. He might not, however, have much contingency drawn up regarding Hong Kong. A week’s time should be adequate for this.
Wei knew that Su would be ecstatic to return to his offices and to brief his senior staff about the activities to come.
—
Ten minutes later Chairman Su Ke Qiang arrived at the eight-vehicle convoy that would whisk him 175 miles back to the capital. With him was his adjunct Xia, a two-star who had served alongside Su through all of his senior commands. Xia had been in the room during the meeting with Wei, silently listening and taking notes.