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‘Gus?’
‘We could just ask them.’
‘One possibility,’ said Pauline, thinking aloud. ‘They don’t expect us to support their claim to the entire South China Sea, but perhaps they just want to muzzle us.’
‘Explain,’ said Gus.
‘They may be seeking a compromise. We don’t accept that theVu Trong Phungwas doing something illegal, but at the same time we don’t accuse the Chinese government of murder. We just shut up.’
Gus said: ‘Our silent acquiescence in exchange for Joan Lafayette’s freedom.’
‘Yes.’
‘It sticks in my throat.’
‘And mine.’
‘But you’ll do it.’
‘I don’t know. Let’s find out whether your guess is right. Chess, ask the Chinese ambassador, off the record, whether Beijing might consider a compromise.’
‘Okay.’
‘Gus, get the CIA to ask the Guoanbu what the Chinese really want.’
‘Right away.’
‘We’ll see what they say,’ said Pauline, and she picked up her fork again.
***
Pauline’s guess was right. The Chinese were satisfied with a promise by her not to accuse them of murder. Not that they cared about a charge of murder. They wanted her to refrain from implying that they did not have sovereignty over the South China Sea. In that long-running diplomatic conflict, they would consider American silence a significant victory.
With a heavy heart, Pauline gave them what they wanted.
Nothing was written down. All the same, Pauline had to keep her promise. Otherwise, she knew, the Chinese would just arrest some other American woman in Beijing and reboot the whole drama.
Next day Joan Lafayette was put on a China Eastern flight from Shanghai to New York. There she was put on a military plane and debriefed en route to Andrews Airbase near DC, where Pauline met her.
Dr Lafayette was an athletic middle-aged woman with blonde hair and glasses. Pauline was surprised to see her looking refreshed and immaculately dressed after her fifteen-hour flight. The Chinese had given her smart new clothes and a first-class suite on the plane, she explained. That was clever of them, Pauline thought, for now Dr Lafayette showed little sign of having suffered at their hands.
Pauline and Dr Lafayette took a photocall in a conference room crowded with television and still cameras. Having made an unpleasant diplomatic sacrifice, Pauline was keen to get media credit for bringing the prisoner home. She needed some positive coverage: James Moore’s supporters were hammering her every day on social media.
The American consul in Shanghai had explained to Dr Lafayette that the media back in the States would be less likely to chase and harass her if she gave them the pictures they wanted as soon as she landed, and she had gratefully agreed.
Sandip Chakraborty had announced in advance that they would pose but would not answer questions, and there were no microphones. They shook hands and smiled for the cameras, and then Dr Lafayette impulsively hugged Pauline.
As they were leaving the room, an enterprising journalist taking pictures on his phone shouted: ‘What’s your policy on the South China Sea now, Madam President?’
Pauline had anticipated this question and discussed it with Chess and Gus, and they had agreed a response that did not break her promise to the Chinese. She kept her face stonily expressionless as she said: ‘The US continues to support the United Nations’ position on freedom of navigation.’
He tried again as Pauline reached the door. ‘Do you think the sinking of theVu Trong Phungwas retaliation for the bombing of Port Sudan?’
Pauline did not answer, but as the door closed behind them, Dr Lafayette said: ‘What did he mean about Sudan?’
‘You may have missed the news,’ Pauline said. ‘A drone attack on Port Sudan killed a hundred Chinese people, engineers building a new dock plus some members of their families. Terrorists were responsible but somehow they had got hold of a US air-force drone.’
‘And the Chinese blamed America for that?’
