Shi Xiang, the head of the North Africa desk, wanted to speak to him. ‘An interesting story from my people in Chad,’ he said. ‘It seems that the US military there has lost a drone, and everyone thinks it was stolen by the Chad National Army.’
Perhaps Neil had been telling the truth. ‘That sounds horribly plausible.’
‘The theory is that the president of Chad – he’s called the General – gave the drone to a Sudanese rebel group, knowing it would be used against the Sudan government.’
‘Why the hell would he do a thing like that?’
‘My people there think it might be the General’s revenge for a recent attempt on his life by suicide bombers connected with Sudan.’
‘A Saharan idol drama,’ Kai observed. ‘I bet it’s true.’
‘That’s what I think.’
‘The White House hasn’t commented yet, but I’ve heard from a CIA contact that the drone was stolen.’
‘Then it’s probably true.’
‘Or an elaborate cover story,’ Kai said. ‘Keep me updated. I’m going home to freshen up.’
He almost got there. He was a few minutes away from his building when Peng Yawen called. ‘President Chen has read the Vulture file,’ she said. ‘You’re summoned to the Situation Room at Zhongnanhai. The meeting begins at nine.’
In rush-hour traffic it might take an hour to get there. Kai could not risk being late. There was no time to go home. He told Monk to turn around.
Suddenly he was tired. He had done almost a day’s work already. Now, when ordinary people were rising and getting ready for work, he wanted to go back to bed. This would not do. He was going to advise the president during a crisis. He wanted to steer China towards a conciliatory approach. He needed to be alert.
He could rest for a few minutes now, though. He closed his eyes. He must have dozed, for when he opened his eyes the car was driving through the Gate of the New China into the Zhongnanhai campus.
At the entrance to Qingzheng Hall, the presidential building, the dapper head of Presidential Security, Wang Qingli, was supervising the security operation. He greeted Kai amiably. The metal detector in the lobby beeped at the shaver in Kai’s pocket and he had to leave it with security. However, his name was on the list of people who were allowed to keep their phones.
The Situation Room was a bombproof underground vault. In a room like a sports hall, a conference table on a raised stage was surrounded by fifty or more desks, each with multiple screens. In addition there were giant screens all around the walls. Several of them were showing the fire in Port Sudan, where it was still dark.
Kai took out his phone and saw that he had a good signal. He called the Guoanbu and said to Peng Yawen: ‘Tell everyone to message me with developments. At this point I need to know everything in real time.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He crossed the room and stepped up onto the central stage. His boss, Security Minister Fu Chuyu, was already there, talking to General Huang Ling, who was in full uniform. They were the leaders of the old guard, and they believed in bold, assertive action. Fu pointedly turned his back on Kai: he was undoubtedly angry that Kai had gone on his own to see Wu Bai.
However, President Chen greeted Kai affably. ‘How are you, young Kai? Thank you for your report. You must have worked all night.’
‘We did, Mr President.’
‘Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to take a nap while I’m talking.’
It was a self-deprecating joke, and to agree or disagree would have been equally impolite, so Kai laughed and said nothing. Chen often tried to put people at ease with humour, but he was not very good at it.
Kai nodded to Wu Bai and said: ‘Our second meeting today, Foreign Minister, and it’s not yet nine o’clock.’
Wu said: ‘The food’s not as good at this one.’ In the middle of the conference table, along with the usual bottles of water and trays of glasses, were plates of sachima pastries and green bean cake that looked several days old.
Kai’s father, Chang Jianjun, was honoured with a vigorous handshake from President Chen. Jianjun had helped to get him made president, but since then Chen had disappointed Jianjun and his cronies by his caution and restraint in international affairs.
Jianjun smiled at Kai, and Kai bowed his head, but they did not embrace: both felt that displays of family affection looked unprofessional on occasions such as this. Jianjun sat down with Huang Ling and Fu Chuyu, and they all lit cigarettes.
Aides and junior officials sat at some of the desks at lower level, but most remained unoccupied. The big room would probably not be filled for any event short of war.