The public had been admitted to Zhongnanhai for a brief period in the let-it-all-hang-out atmosphere of the Cultural Revolution, but now security was massive. The firepower at the Gate of the New China might have withstood an invasion. Helmeted troops with bullpup rifles stared menacingly while guards examined the underside of the car with mirrors. Even though Kai had visited the president before, his Guoanbu identity card was carefully scrutinized and his appointment double-checked. When his bona fides had at last been established, tyre-shredding obstacles sank back into the tarmac so that the car could go forward.
Two lakes took up more than half the area of Zhongnanhai. The water bleakly reflected the grey sky. Just looking at it made Kai shiver. It would freeze in a hard winter. Kai’s car circled the southernmost lake clockwise to the north-west quarter, where most of the land was. The buildings were traditional Chinese palaces and summer houses with swooping pagoda roofs, suitable to the pleasure garden this had once been.
The compound was the official home of members of the Politburo Standing Committee, including the president, but they were not obliged to live here, and some chose to stay in their homes outside. The grand reception rooms were now used for conferences.
Monk parked outside Qinzheng Hall, on the far side of the first lake. This was a new building on the site of what had once been an imperial palace. The office of the president was here. There were no helmeted infantry, but Kai noticed several burly young men in cheap suits that bulged with ill-concealed weapons.
In the lobby Kai stood at a desk where his face was compared with an image on record. He then stepped into a security booth and was scanned for concealed weapons.
On the other side he met the head of Presidential Security, who was on his way out. Wang Qingli was a crony of Kai’s father, and they had met at Chang Jianjun’s house. Qingli was part of the conservative old guard, but smarter, perhaps because he was often with the president. He was well groomed, his hair brushed back and neatly parted, his navy-blue suit well cut in the European style; in fact, very like the man he guarded. He greeted Kai with a smile and a handshake and escorted him up the stairs. He asked after Ting and said that his wife never missed an episode of Love in the Palace. Kai had heard that from a hundred men, but he did not mind: he was happy that Ting was so successful.
The building was furnished in a style Kai liked. Traditional Chinese sideboards and screens were carefully mixed with comfortable modern seating so that neither looked out of place. This contrasted with many of the other buildings, which were still stuck with the splayed-leg furniture and atom-inspired fabrics that had once been chic and now looked awkward and shabby.
In the president’s waiting room Kai saw Foreign Minister Wu Bai, lounging on a couch with a glass of sparkling water. He was immaculate in a black suit with a herringbone weave, a gleaming white shirt, and a dark-grey tie with a faint red stripe. ‘I’m glad you showed up,’ he said sarcastically. ‘In a few more minutes I would have had to tell President Chen that I don’t know why the fuck I’m here.’
He was Kai’s superior, so Kai should have been here before him, not the other way around. ‘I just flew back from Yanji,’ Kai said. ‘I apologize for keeping you waiting.’
‘You’d better tell me what the hell you’re up to.’
Kai sat down and explained, and by the time he had finished Wu’s attitude had been transformed. ‘We have to act on this right away,’ he said. ‘The president will have to call Pyongyang and warn the Supreme Leader. It could already be too late.’
An aide appeared and invited them to follow him into the president’s office. As they walked, Wu said: ‘I will open the discussion.’ This was correct protocol: the spymaster served the politician. ‘I’ll tell him that a coup is being plotted, and you will give him such details as we have.’
‘Very good, sir,’ said Kai. It was important to defer to older men. Anything else would offend both Wu and Chen.
They went in. The president’s room was wide and long, with a large window looking out over the water. President Chen in real life was a bit different from the formal portraits that hung in so many government offices. He was quite short, and had a slightly protruding belly that did not appear in photographs. But he was friendlier than his public image suggested. ‘Minister Wu!’ he said amiably. ‘A pleasure to see you. How is Mrs Wu? I know she had a minor medical procedure.’
‘The operation was a success and she has fully recovered, Mr President, thank you for asking.’