As he raced along he thought fondly about Ting. She was an actress, beautiful and alluring, and half the men in China were in love with her. Kai and Ting had been married five years, and he was still crazy about her.
His father disapproved. For Chang Jianjun, people who appeared on television were shallow and frivolous, unless they were politicians enlightening the masses. He had wanted Kai to marry a scientist or an engineer.
Kai’s mother was equally conservative but not so dogmatic. ‘When you know her so well that all her faults and weaknesses are familiar to you, and you still adore her, then you can be sure it’s true love,’ she had said. ‘That’s how I feel about your father.’
He cycled to the Haidian District in the north-west of the city and entered an extensive campus next to the Summer Palace. This was the headquarters of the Ministry of State Security, in Mandarin the Guojia Anquan Bu, or Guoanbu for short. It was the spy organization responsible for both foreign and domestic intelligence.
He parked his machine in a bike rack. Still breathing hard and sweating from his exertion, he entered the tallest of the campus buildings. Important though the ministry was, the lobby was shabby, with furniture in the angular style that had been excitingly modern in the Mao era. The doorman bowed his head deferentially. Kai was Vice-Minister for International Intelligence, in charge of the overseas half of China’s intelligence operation. He and the Vice-Minister for Homeland Intelligence were equals who reported to the Security Minister.
Kai was young for such a senior post. He was fiercely bright. After studying history at Peking University – which had the top history department in China – he had studied for a PhD in American History at Princeton. But his brain was not the only reason for his rapid rise. His family was at least as important. His great-grandfather had been on the legendary Long March with Mao Zedong. His grandmother had been China’s ambassador to Cuba. His father was currently vice-chairman of the National Security Commission, the committee that made all the important foreign policy and security decisions.
In short, Kai was Communist royalty. There was a colloquial word for people like him, the children of the powerful: he was a princeling, tai zi dang, a phrase that was not used openly but spoken quietly, between friends, behind the back of the hand.
It was a derogatory name, but Kai was determined to use his status for the benefit of his country, and he reminded himself of this vow every time he entered Guoanbu headquarters.
The Chinese had thought they were in danger when they were poor and weak. They had been wrong. No one had seriously wanted to wipe them out then. But now China was on its way to becoming the richest and most powerful country in the world. It had the largest and smartest population and there was no reason why it should not be foremost. And so it was in serious danger. The people who had ruled the globe for centuries – the Europeans and the Americans – were terrified. They saw world domination slipping day by day out of their grasp. They believed they had to destroy China or be destroyed. They would stop at nothing.
And there was a dreadful example. The Russian Communists, inspired by the same Marxist philosophy that had driven China’s revolution, had striven to become the world’s most powerful country – and had been brought down with a seismic crash. Kai, like everyone else in the highest levels of the government, was obsessed with the fall of the Soviet Union and terrified that the same thing would happen to China.
Which was the reason for Kai’s ambition. He wanted to be president, so that he could make sure China rose to its destiny.
It was not that he thought he was the smartest person in China. At university he had met mathematicians and scientists a good deal cleverer. However, nobody was more capable than he of guiding the country to the achievement of its aspirations. He would never say this aloud, not even to Ting, for who could help regarding it as arrogant? But secretly he believed it, and he was determined to prove it.
The only way to approach a mammoth task was to divide it into manageable parts, and the minor challenge Kai had to deal with today was the United Nations resolution on the arms trade, proposed by the United States.
Countries such as Germany and Britain would support the US resolution routinely; others, such as North Korea and Iran, would equally automatically oppose it; but the outcome would depend upon the many non-aligned countries. Yesterday, Kai had learned that American ambassadors in several Third-World countries had petitioned their host governments to secure support for the resolution. Kai suspected that President Green was quietly mounting a massive diplomatic effort. He had ordered Guoanbu intelligence teams in every neutral country to find out immediately whether the government had been lobbied and with what success.