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‘I’ll steal someone else’s phone.’

‘And after you’ve called me?’

‘I’ll throw the phone in the river.’

‘Good enough.’ He shook Ham’s hand. ‘Be careful, my friend. Survive the emergency, then retire and come back here.’ He looked around the gleaming modern kitchen. ‘You deserve this.’

‘Thank you.’

He left the site and walked towards the supermarket. On the way he called a cab. Stored in his phone he had a list of all the taxi firms in Yanji, and he had never used one twice. No driver got the chance to notice the pattern of his movements.

He dialled the Guoanbu and spoke to Peng Yawen. ‘Call the office of the president,’ he said.

‘Yes, sir,’ she said crisply. Nothing flustered her. She probably could have done Kai’s job.

‘Say it’s vital that I speak to him today. I have extraordinary intelligence that cannot be mentioned over the phone.’

‘Extraordinary intelligence, yes.’

Kai could imagine her pencil racing across the page of her notebook. ‘Then call the air force and tell them I must have an immediate flight to Beijing. I’ll be at the air base within half an hour.’

‘Mr Chang, I’d better tell the president’s office that you need an appointment this afternoon or this evening. You won’t be back before then.’

‘Good thinking.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘As soon as the president’s people give you a time when he can meet me, call the Foreign Ministry and say I would like Wu Bai to attend the meeting.’

‘Yes.’

‘Keep me in touch with progress.’

‘Of course.’

Kai hung up. A minute later he arrived at the Wumart store to find a taxi waiting for him. The driver was watching a South Korean television drama on his phone.

Kai got into the back and said: ‘Longjing air base, please.’

***

The headquarters of the Chinese government was a 1,500-acre compound known as Zhongnanhai. In the old heart of Beijing, it was adjacent to the Forbidden City and had once been the emperor’s park. Kai’s driver, Monk, went in by the south entrance, called the Gate of the New China. The view from the gate to the interior was hidden from prying eyes by a screen wall with the giant slogan ‘Serve the People’ written in the distinctive calligraphy of Mao Zedong, a stylish cursive hand that was recognized by a billion people.

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 ofLove 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.’