Wu lived in Chaoyang Park, the swankiest neighbourhood in Beijing. His building overlooked the golf course. In the glittering lobby Kai had to prove his identity and pass through a metal detector before he went up in the elevator.
Wu opened the apartment door dressed in a pale-grey shirt and the trousers of a pin-striped suit. His cologne had a vanilla note. The place was luxurious, though nothing like as large as some of the apartments Kai had seen in the US. Wu took him through to a dining room where breakfast was laid out with gleaming silverware on a white linen cloth. Bone china dishes held steamed dumplings, rice porridge with prawns, fried dough sticks, and paper-thin crepes with a plum sauce. Wu believed in living well.
Kai drank some tea and talked while Wu ate porridge. He ran through the tanker dock project, the bombing, the drone, the claim of responsibility by SJS and the American allegation that the drone had been stolen. He showed Wu the photograph of the drone wreckage and gave him a copy of the Vulture file. All the while, the aroma of spicy food was making his mouth water. When he had finished speaking Wu told him to help himself to breakfast, and he gratefully took some dumplings and tried not to wolf them.
Wu said: ‘We have to retaliate.’
Kai had expected this. He knew it would be pointless to argue for no reprisals: that would never fly. So he began by agreeing. ‘When just one American is killed the White House reacts as if there has been a holocaust,’ he said. ‘Chinese lives are equally precious.’
‘But what form should our retaliation take?’
‘Our response should balance yin and yang,’ he said, edging towards an argument for moderation. ‘We must be strong, but not foolhardy; restrained, but never weak. The word should be retaliate – not escalate.’
‘Very good,’ said Wu, who was a moderate out of laziness rather than conviction.
The door opened and a dumpy middle-aged woman came in. When she kissed Wu, Kai realized she was Wu’s wife. He had not met her before, and he was surprised that she was not more glamorous. ‘Good morning, Bai,’ she said to her husband. ‘How is breakfast?’
‘Delicious, thank you,’ Wu said. ‘This is my colleague Chang Kai.’
Kai stood up and bowed. ‘I’m delighted to meet you,’ he said.
She smiled pleasantly. ‘I hope you got something to eat.’
‘The dumplings are wonderful.’
She returned her attention to Wu. ‘Your car is here, my dear.’ She left the room.
She was a complete contrast to Wu, thought Kai, but they were clearly a fond couple.
Wu said: ‘Have some more breakfast while I’m putting my tie on.’ He went out.
Kai took out his phone and called Peng Yawen, his secretary. ‘There’s a file called “Vulture” in my Africa folder,’ he said. ‘Send it immediately to Fu Chuyu, with copies to List Three – that’s the one with all ministers, generals and senior Communist Party officials. Attach the photo of the drone wreckage. Do it right away, please – I want these people to get the news from me, not from anyone else.’
‘The Vulture file,’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘And the drone photo.’
‘That’s what I said.’
There was a pause, and Kai could hear her tapping her keyboard.
‘To Fu Chuyu, with copies to List Three.’
‘Correct.’
‘It’s done, sir.’
Kai smiled. He loved efficient staff. ‘Thank you.’ He hung up.
Wu returned in a jacket and tie, carrying a slender document case. Kai went down in the elevator with him. The two government cars were waiting outside the building. Wu said to Kai: ‘When will you report to everyone else?’
‘I did it while you were getting ready.’
‘Good. I’ll probably see you later. The ructions will go on all day.’
Kai smiled. ‘I’m afraid so.’
Wu hesitated, evidently deciding just how to phrase what he wanted to say. His face changed: the mask of the bon viveur vanished, and suddenly Kai saw a worried man. ‘We can’t let them kill Chinese people with impunity,’ he said. ‘That move isn’t on the board.’
Kai just nodded.
‘What we must do,’ Wu said, ‘is stop the warriors on both sides turning this into a bloodbath.’ He got into his car.
‘You said it,’ Kai murmured as the car drove away.
It was half past seven. Kai needed a shower and clean clothes and his best suit – the armour of political combat. If he was going to get home today, now was the time. He told Monk to return to the apartment building. Meanwhile, he called the office.