The Ninja and the Diplomat, page 20
part #2 of The Chinese Spymaster Series
“Old Chen has spoken of the Filipinos and their open display of affection,” remarked the spymaster. “This should teach us that affection and compassion are not wasted sentiments.”
“Right, now there is just one more of those devices, safe in the possession of dissidents who live outside China,” said Ma.
“I would love to know just some of what the ninja did for the Yakuza and his associates,” murmured Owyang. “Perhaps we should send our assets to interview the Japanese woman in the Philippines.”
Gong rose immediately to make the arrangements but caught Ma’s eye and went to confer with him. “We have no secrets from Commissar Wang or Analyst Owyang,” declared Ma. “I just thought you should instruct our Japanese assets to redouble their efforts to locate the Yakuza’s hide-outs and organization.”
“If he has anyone who knows the rest of his organization as well as the ninja did, let us try to protect that person from being purged,” remarked Wang.
“Is that what you think happened to Viktor?” asked Owyang, startled by the thought.
Wang merely shrugged and said, “Perhaps Chen or someone should review and monitor the continuing interrogation of Cousin Yu.” Then he turned to Ma and asked, “How do you feel now, acting spymaster?”
Ma blushed at the reminder of his moment of panic when the agency received the alert from Kim. “Do you think I will ever be ready?”
“I already have confidence you will make sure that our family wealth lasts for more than three generations,” said Wang, alluding to a familiar Chinese saying about the fear that one generation might squander the achievements of its predecessor. “Of course, this agency of ours must last more than three generations.”
“And?” asked Ma.
“What would you yourself do now?”
“For a start, I think we need Chen or someone like him to build a technologically savvy department.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Wang before adding in a firm tone, “You also need to believe in yourself.”
***
Late that Monday night, Wang met with former ambassador Yu in Cai’s hospital room.
“You do not have to report the details of all this to the Committee on Counter-terrorism,” stated Cai. “I know that does not make it any better.” He was referring to a new committee that had just been created to deal exclusively with terrorism, particularly that directed against China.
“Spymaster, you are too hard on yourself,” added Yu. “This world is full of crazy people. Sometimes you win, sometimes they do.”
“The eleventh device is in the Philippines; now we know it has been disarmed. I want your advice on the twelfth device,” said Wang, resolutely keeping his mind off the untidy ending of the local operations.
“The MFA would deem this to be no longer an intelligence issue but has become something that should go through diplomatic channels,” remarked Yu as Cai nodded. “If you send a team to locate the item, you would be open to the accusation of interfering in the affairs of a sovereign nation.”
Again Cai nodded, more vigorously.
Wang reflected on Yu’s equanimity. He had made no mention of the disciplinary action pending against him. This was a courtesy visit on a sick man who had been a source of sympathy and support in prior bureaucratic struggles. All three men studiously avoided making any reference to the elephant in the room, as it were.
Yu remarked, in an attempt to distract the spymaster, “If you want to worry about something, Old Wang, consider that you know how to find the Yakuza. He is a very dangerous man.”
“I suppose you want to know why, having him right in our hands, I let him go,” said Wang to his companions, reading their minds. They fell silent. “He may be as dangerous to us as Osama bin Laden was to the Americans, but I think we need to know more about his organization, more than the location of the twelfth device. What other groups does he maintain contact with? Who are his agents, in addition to the Japanese woman in the Philippines?”
“No doubt Old Wang has more on his operational list, but I must say that the ninja provided a surprise ending for the nuclear device in Manila,” noted Cai. “I’m not sure I understand why. The reports mentioned his encounter with a Japanese woman in the Philippines.”
“It has to do most likely with the cultural differences between the Japanese and the Filipinos regarding orphans and orphanages,” opined Yu. “Now I must leave you two.”
“Thank you for this bouquet of my favorite flowers. Where do they grow peonies that bloom so late in the year?”
“That is beyond the mandate of the intelligence agency,” Wang remarked before addressing the diplomat, “Old Yu, forgive me for not leaving with you. I have just thought of something that I need to bring up with the senior commissar.”
After the diplomat left, Cai asked, “Fresh development in the disciplinary case?”
“Yes,” said Wang, proceeding to explain. “We have found a connection between the Yakuza who masterminded the distribution of the nuclear devices and the Taiwanese branch of the Yu family. It appears the nationalists were not fastidious about their methods when they occupied Taiwan. That branch of the Yu family took advantage of a middle-class family and dispossessed it of its property. An infant daughter of that family grew up to hate mainlanders and to prefer the company of the Japanese. She went to university in Japan and eventually married the man who became the Yakuza.”
“Though the family threw him out for marrying a Chinese,” added Cai. “What irony! I found the briefs on his activities fascinating. What will the disciplinary commission make of it, one wonders.”
“The evidence is clear, but circumstantial, since we do not have a transcript of the Yakuza’s thoughts. Even if we did, we could not be sure of his true intentions,” said Wang.
***
Five weeks after Kim sent his warning and the CPS faced the question regarding the security of China’s munition manufacture and warehousing, Wang convened the first meeting of the Committee on National Security (against counter-terrorism). Towards the end of the meeting, he stated,
“Terrorism has elevated itself to a level requiring this committee, which reports directly to the Politburo committee, to meet weekly.”
“Ironic, is it not, that we confront attacks not only by groups, but also by individuals,” noted the representative from the army, a stony-faced general. “It used to be that wars were supposed to be fought between ‘systems.’ For years it was socialism against imperialism.”
“Never mind that the imperialists chose to call themselves democrats,” added the MFA delegate.
“Systems, states, and groups are easier to monitor,” remarked the appointee from the intelligence agency, Owyang. “This recent episode has shown us what difficulties must be overcome to track the malicious activities of a single individual.”
“It is not so different from the operations of terrorist groups,” remarked the spokesperson for the police counter-terrorism force. “They inevitably have a mastermind.”
“You are right,” responded Owyang. “We will investigate the Yakuza in the same way. He could not have done all that he did by himself.”
“It was clever to leave the nuclear devices with tracking devices after you disarmed them,” said the general.
“Our colleagues in police counter-terrorism have given us many lessons on not killing the goose that lays the golden eggs,” said Wang.
After the meeting, the former spymaster paused for a personal moment with Owyang to congratulate her on mastering her duties as head of analysis. He confessed to his initial reservations about appointing to that position someone who lacked experience in operations, but she had made whatever mental leap was necessary to think like an agent.
“It is evident to all that your input is always practicable,” the spymaster said. “That was very clear, especially at the briefings for Chen, Wong and the ninja as they scrambled to disable the nuclear devices. Your contributions were noted, even if not acknowledged at the time.”
“Thank you, Spymaster,” she replied. After a brief pause, she commented, perhaps to change the subject, “The ninja was an incredibly effective instrument in the Yakuza’s arsenal, wasn’t he?”
Sensing that she might be thinking of the ideological question implied in the general’s remarks at the meeting, Wang said, “We do all the planning and analysis we can but there is no ideological net big enough for all the fish in the sea.”
Contents
CHAPTER 22
The sixth Friday, in Beijing
Zhuge Liang among the councilors of Wu.
A reference to a major character in the Romance of the Three Kingdoms. (See The Battle of Chibi.)
A week after the mission to retrieve the trigger mechanisms of the stolen nuclear devices concluded, Wang accompanied Cai to a very secret meeting. It was that of the party’s disciplinary tribunal and had been convened to decide on the sentencing of MFA Deputy Minister Yu. Wang had attended its preliminary proceedings only as a substitute for Cai. Though still frail from his treatments, Cai felt it important enough to attend in order to lend the weight of his seniority within the party to salvaging Yu’s life and career.
“I see minister Yu has an extra advocate for this hearing,” declared the presiding party cadre, an elder of the party, with a smile.
“I can wait outside,” offered Wang.
Cai interrupted, “Commissar Wang has represented me throughout your deliberations last month and is kind enough to accompany me here to make sure I do not stumble. I would consider it a great favor if this august body would let him stay, without a vote, of course.”
The other three men, who had known Cai for decades nodded as they turned to focus on the issue before them.
“As I see it,” elaborated the presiding cadre, “the committee on discipline wants to make a point.”
“We created the whole process and institution,” added a second party elder. “It would be illogical for us to obstruct or pervert its processes.”
“Do they want to see Yu executed?” asked Cai. “So far as I can see, he is guilty of a single lapse when he issued the export permit. I understand that the permit was used only once to export a single tactical nuclear device.”
“That is in his favor,” interjected the second elder, “as is the fact that he did not gain from this lapse.”
“So the inquiry has satisfied itself of that fact?” asked Cai, seeking confirmation.
“They did,” confirmed the third elder. “But only after a very thorough investigation including an intrusive search of Yu’s residence that greatly distressed his wife.” Wang knew that this elder was the favorite uncle of Yu’s wife and fervently hoped the older man would give no leverage to the Party disciplinarians hunting for signs of favoritism.
“I believe that the process would be satisfied with his dismissal from the ministry and the party,” concluded the chairman. Cai and Wang exchanged a look as if affirming to each other a previously prepared position.
Cai asked,
“Would the process be suitably appeased with his suspension rather than dismissal from the party and ministry?”
“Possibly,” responded the chairman, “but only if the removal of the suspension is subject to the jurisdiction of the disciplinary committee.”
“Why would we want to urge a lesser punishment by the disciplinary process?” asked the second elder. “I knew his father and I don’t think he would have supported bending the rules for his son.”
Cai looked around to assess the mood of the others as Wang held his breath.
“I don’t think we are bending the rules for former minister Yu,” stated Cai deliberately. “I believe the punishment is excessive. I also consider that the valuable service to his country Yu has given should be taken into account.”
“I’m only playing the devil’s advocate,” offered the second elder. “Why do we think he is personally so valuable? He works with a whole ministry and the support of the Party.”
“Senior Commissar Cai should address the ideological question of the role of an individual in a collective,” observed the chairman, “but I wish to note that I have been impressed over two decades by the dedication of comrade Yu.”
“Perhaps our spymaster has an assessment to share with us,” suggested Cai in a tone deferential to the others at the meeting. “He has sat in for me over the last few weeks in a number of the meetings involving international liaisons.”
Both Cai and the chairman looked around to make sure there were no visual cues of dissatisfaction from the others in the meeting before nodding at Wang.
“With respect,” stated the spymaster, “I have noticed that both the MFA and the committees in which Yu participates benefit from his passion, initiative, and grasp of the various complex issues. He has the rare ability to balance economic, political, military, and other interests, as well as to foresee how our friends and enemies will respond to our initiatives.”
Sensing that his words were not adequately conveying his message, Wang reached into a familiar Chinese classic for an illustration. “He is like Zhuge Liang among the councilors of Wu.”
Smiles lit up among the elders. One responded, “Like lightning among the lightning bugs.”
The chairman of the meeting added, “I believe the English have a saying, like a swan among the ducks.”
The senior commissar observed light-heartedly, “Our elder is very fashionable.” Turning around to Wang, he said, “It is well that the classics illuminate our discourse, but we must not forget that China was brought to her knees by four thousand years of ignorance of the outside world, a world into which Minister Yu would be a brilliant guide.”
After a pause to catch his breath and to collect his thoughts, the ‘devil’s advocate’ declared, “I am happy to have our reasons outlined so clearly and trust this confirms our recommendation to the committee on discipline.”
Thus Yu’s fate for the immediate future was determined. He would leave the ministry immediately and be relieved of all party positions and perquisites.
“Does the Committee on Discipline have any stipulation about what Yu can or cannot do?” asked Cai innocently.
The cadre chairing the meeting, who had known Cai from their days together as lukewarm Red Guards, maintained a straight face as he stated, “I believe it would be displeased if he should be given any access to wealth or power. But otherwise I know of no restrictions.”
Without taking a vote, which was always the preferred outcome, this meeting arrived at a decision that would guide the disciplinary process.
A position was found for Yu as a lecturer on comparative political theories and systems. This was proposed to the Committee on Discipline with the argument that thereby the Party’s expenditure on Yu’s education and career might not be a total waste.
***
A week after disciplinary proceedings against Deputy Minister Yu, formerly China’s most brilliant diplomat, he could be found lecturing at a school for mid-level bureaucrats, party cadres, and very carefully selected entrepreneurs. They represented the future managers and leaders of China. His lectures did not belong to the core curriculum of party theory and management technique, and he knew that party cadres would often sit in his class to evaluate his lectures for ideological correctness and sincere effort.
On this occasion, his visitors were friendly, unlike the stony-faced cadres from the disciplinary arm of the party. Spymaster Wang escorted his guest, a foreign woman who, unknown to the students, was head of the British intelligence agency, into the classroom where a seminar would shortly begin. They nodded to the lecturer who was already at the front of the class. The students in the class, though burning with curiosity about the presence of a foreigner in the company of a high official, affected to ignore her presence. Wang’s presence in the class, let alone that of his companion, announced to everyone that he was a high-ranking official. His well-tailored grey Mao suit signified a willingness to defy the general preference for western dress. Professor Yu seemed to be aware of who he was but had chosen not to make any introductions. This would provide fodder for gossip later.
Former Minister Yu began the class. It was a course studying theories of the ideal state or society. This in itself made the students uncomfortable. No one wished to say that whatever state China was currently in was not ideal as any such discussion implied.
Yet Yu blithely continued to describe the syllabus that in the forthcoming weeks would take them through discussion of theorists like Hobbes, Locke and Rousseau, before turning to Marx, Lenin and Mao Zedong. He had chosen, however, to begin with Confucianism, a departure from orthodoxy that would have had the Red Guards screaming obscenities in a different era, but still it seemed so old-fashioned. Worse, the assignment for the day had been the Dao De Jing, surely a book of riddles.
If the students at the “other school,” the China Executive Leadership Academy of Pudong in Shanghai, found out, they would surely laugh. Actually, there were five schools in all dedicated to the further training of middle and high ranking officials, but as commonly happens, rivalry was strongest between number one and number two.
“Who will begin our discussion? Does anyone have a comment on the reading assigned for today?” asked Yu.
This was another disconcerting aspect of the course, the professor always asks for opinions and comments. Doesn’t he know we are Chinese? Who among us makes comments?
Nonetheless, a brave soul ventured,
“I have heard that this classic proposes a way of life and thought that is obsolete. They say no person or state could live in such isolation as is recommended.”
“Very good. I myself thought that. Does everyone agree?”
The students murmured restively, realizing that the professor had set a trap for them. They could not agree because he would then criticize them for not thinking for themselves. But what should they say if they disagreed? This man is devious, everyone in the class agreed. Some rumors said that he was a princeling and had been a rising star in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. If so, what was he doing here? Perhaps it was true that this school meant something in their party career.
