Dragonfire

by Humphrey Hawksley

  Song hadn’t risen to the top of both global business and the last surviving Communist autocracy without an in-built safety valve that detected disasters. He sensed that while the new deal with Pakistan would largely go unnoticed, the mayhem which was mushrooming over Tibet and the Lama Togden could test the limits of their statesmanship.

  ‘Just what hell is going on in Lhasa?’ pressed Overhalt. ‘The networks are comparing it to Phnom Penh after Pol Pot took over.’

  ‘You want the truth, Reece?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘I haven’t got a clue. Tibet comes under Tang Siju, a deputy chief of General Staff. You want his mobile number? I’m only the Foreign Minister.’

  ‘Jamie, don’t do this, for Christ’s sake. Drop by the China World Hotel, if you don’t want to be seen at the residence. You’ve got to fill me in.’

  Prime Minister’s Residence, Tokyo, Japan

  Local time: 0130 Friday 4 May 2007

  GMT: 1630 Thursday 3 May 2007

  General Shigehiko Ogawa had been in the waiting room of the spartan official residence for more than half an hour, while the Prime Minister’s nightcap with a visiting American trade delegation wound up. Ogawa was Japan’s long-serving Director, Defence Intelligence Headquarters and since the Dragon Strike war he had been charged with substantively increasing the human intelligence network inside the centre of power in China.

  More than any other power in the region, including the United States, Japan had the ability to feed agents into China’s institutions. But it had been painstaking work and there was still a long way to go. While Ogawa knew just about every negotiating tactic in advance from the Ministry of Foreign Trade and Economic Co-operation (MOFTEC), he had failed to make any headway in the Second Artillery Regiment, which controlled China’s nuclear weapons programme.

  He had, however, thanks to a sickness, had some success within Zhongnanhai. While he was unsure of the value of his intelligence, Ogawa, who was just two years from retirement, felt he should let the Prime Minister know what he had found out, even if it meant wasting his evening waiting for an audience. The intelligence had come by way of the interpreter of Tang Siju, the Chinese security chief. Tang’s usual interpreter was off with the flu. The replacement was a spy for the Japanese.

  The Americans left noisily, passing through the anteroom, eyeing Ogawa as if he was a janitor waiting to clear up. Then Prime Minister Shigeto Wada greeted him formally and offered him tea.

  ‘I have information that China authorized the coup in Pakistan and has formed a new military alliance with the new government there,’ began Ogawa.

  ‘But the two governments have always been strategically close,’ said Wada.

  ‘The Foreign Minister, Jamie Song, and Tang Siju, of the General Staff Department, have both given their personal backing to General Hamid Khan for specific support during this crisis.’

  He handed Wada a transcript of two separate meetings at which Tang had used Ogawa’s agent as interpreter. One was of the conversation within Zhongnanhai with the Pakistani Ambassador, Jabbar, and the Defence Attaché, Hussein. The second was in the military General Command Centre in the Western Hills just outside Beijing. Hussein and Jabbar were with Tang, being consulted on moving extra troops towards the Indian border.

  ‘In order to both threaten and humiliate,’ said Jabbar, ‘I suggest you concentrate your area of attack on the Thag La Ridge, as you did for the 1962 war.’

  Prime Minister’s Office, South Block, Delhi, India

  Local time: 2130 Thursday 3 May 2007

  GMT: 1600 Thursday 3 May 2007

  ‘We are facing a scenario which only our doomsday soothsayers would have forecast,’ said Hari Dixit. ‘A military strongman has taken power in Pakistan on an Islamic Kashmir ticket and China is pouring troops towards our border in a way that is reminiscent of our humiliating war in 1962.’

  The Indian press had not yet had time to advise on how Hari Dixit should handle Hamid Khan, but they had had a field day with China’s attack on the Tibetan government-in-exile and Major Choedrak’s mission into Lhasa. The daring and bravery of the men involved was heralded as if it was a new era of Indian nationalism, and it was conveniently forgotten that the commandos and aircrew were, to a man, Tibetan. The capture of Dehra Dun airbase and the theft of the Antonov-32, the faked flight-plan for the Mi-26, the refuelling in Sikkim and the sheer ingenuity of the break-out at Drapchi had fired the public’s imagination. As yet, very little was known about what had happened in Lhasa itself. But reports from Dharamsala implied that Togden was still at large somewhere in Tibet, protected by men from the Special Frontier Force.

  The Times of India, regarded as the voice of the establishment, suggested that Prime Minister Dixit should distance himself from the whole affair. ‘It beggars belief, during a decade when relations with China have been so difficult, that the government maintained a fighting force of ten thousand Tibetans, stationed them close to the Chinese border and gave them an environment in which to carry out the sort of operation we have just seen.’

  The reaction of other newspapers was not so restrained. The Hindu agreed with Dixit’s decision to disband the SFF, but argued that the ‘Drapchi incident and the unforgivable violent response in Dharamsala by the Chinese should be used to pull the festering border problem of Tibet to the forefront of Sino-Indian relations. Until this problem is solved, very little can move forward between the two great Asian superpowers . . . and, on the issue of sanctuary, India would be morally obliged to offer Lama Togden a safe home should he survive his present flight from Chinese-controlled territory.’

  The Pioneer was among the more jingoistic newspapers. It ran pictures of Major Choedrak and his senior officers with potted stories of their lives, together with intricate military details about the two aircraft stolen for the mission. Togden himself received a double-page spread and was hailed as a ‘new global voice’ for the Tibetan cause. The paper’s columnists called on the Indian air force to give air cover for Togden’s escape and for those SFF troops still in India to go in and give him safe passage. ‘China has stolen territory from India,’ raged the editorial. ‘It represses the people of Tibet. It is an ally of Pakistan which has caused immeasurable suffering to the Indian people, and, most importantly, China is not a member of the club of democratic governments. In brief, China is the world’s “Enemy Number One”.’

  ‘Foreign Minister, what are your thoughts?’ asked Dixit once he had convened the meeting.

  Prabhu Purie took a few seconds to answer. ‘My instincts are to follow the moderate line set down in The Times of India, although it would not be a popular one in the present climate.’

  ‘True, there is a groundswell for us to play tough. It is a case where the line between mob rule and democracy blurs.’

  ‘We do have a chance now to create a formula agreeable to both sides,’ said Purie. ‘Something to be implemented when the Dalai Lama dies.’

  ‘The Hindu is wrong,’ growled Chandra Reddy, ‘and now is not the right climate in which to start.’

  ‘What they are saying,’ pressed Purie, ‘is that if we want a normal relationship with China, which would include secure borders, trade, equal punching weight on the global stage, we have to sort out Tibet. We could begin by guaranteeing cooperation on sealing the border and checking on infiltration, rather like the Irish government agreed with Britain over Northern Ireland.’

  ‘Then every time someone slips through, we are blamed for conspiring,’ said the Chief of Army Staff, Unni Khrishnan. ‘With all due respect, we would be creating a diplomatic nightmare.’

  ‘And what about Togden?’ said Dixit.

  ‘If they haven’t caught him by now, I suspect the SFF will get him out,’ said Reddy.

  ‘I suggest we hand him over to a third government,’ said Purie.

  ‘Isn’t that playing it too safe?’ said Dixit. He picked up the Pioneer, glanced at its populist front page, tossed it back on the table, then paced back
and forth at the end of the room. ‘The Chinese are going to bleed this for everything they can. If we give an inch now, before they even begin to cut us up, we will be left with nothing. It was a cock-up, not a conspiracy, but you can be sure they will treat it as the latter.

  ‘There is also a wider element, of values, democracy and where India is heading as a society and as a country. Correct me if I am wrong, but Lundrup Togden is an innocent man. He is a monk. A man of God. He should not have been in prison. The Chinese run a repressive regime in Tibet which is condemned by the democratic world. Therefore, should he choose to seek sanctuary in India, we have no choice but to give it to him and damn the consequences.’

  ‘Even without him,’ said Reddy quietly, ‘I think the consequences have already begun.’ He withdrew a number of folders from his briefcase, each marked in black felt pen. ‘These are satellite pictures from overnight, some courtesy of the Americans, some courtesy of Indian technology,’ he explained. ‘They show irregular movements of men and equipment towards our border.’

  The members of the National Security Council were on their feet, leaning over the photographs spread out on the table. ‘This is in the west. The circled area is a leftover from the 1962 war on the Thag La Ridge where invasion began. The land is claimed by us, but is under Chinese control and is technically a demilitarized zone.’ He brought out three more pictures. ‘This is a closer image of the town of Qizl Jilga, and this, gentlemen, is a fleet of helicopters flying in at around 0300 hours this morning.’

  Reddy pointed to another. ‘The town of Zanda is only two hundred kilometres from Dehra Dun. This is unmistakably a column of armour. These look like 155mm artillery guns, but I am getting confirmation. This photograph is of an army barracks just outside the town of Garyarsa from where a mountain road leads directly to Namgia just across the border.’

  He turned to another envelope. ‘This file is even more interesting. The formations you see here are infantry. The image next to them is of a troop transport plane. The town is Mazar, in Chinese territory, but worryingly close to Pakistani-controlled Kashmir and only four hundred kilometres from Srinagar. This is not the terrain for tanks, but here and here you will see armoured build-ups, north of the Sikkim border, along the Indus Valley at Demchok and at Chusul in Ladakh.’

  ‘One would have thought they were preparing for this,’ said Dixit.

  ‘So far,’ said Reddy, ‘it seems they are using their reserve supply of border forces. We have no evidence that any reinforcements are being brought in from outside the area.’ He opened the last file on the table. ‘Now we move more than six hundred and fifty kilometres to our eastern flank. These are similar sort of activities, here around the town of Lhunze and here near Nyingchi.’

  Reddy unfolded a larger map of the area, showing the locations of the two Chinese towns. ‘They are here and here. This is the border with Arunachal Pradesh and it’s only about two hundred and forty kilometres across until you get to Burma, a staunch ally of China’s and no friend of ours. China claims Arunachal Pradesh as its own sovereign territory. Only six months ago the New China News Agency said it had a “sacred mission” to reclaim it, as it has with Taiwan. We only officially created the state in 1986 and during 1986 and 1987, after a stand-off with the Chinese we moved our forces closer to the border.’

  ‘If I might add,’ said Purie, so softly that he was barely audible, ‘we have an enormously strong advantage over Pakistan. With China, I am not so sure.’

  ‘Go on,’ said the Prime Minister.

  ‘If we make it clear immediately that we have every intention of going to war with Pakistan if necessary, we will have complete international backing. True, we are a democracy, and they are now a military dictatorship. But the reality is more than that. In diplomatic circles it is known as the Tiananmen effect, drawn from the Chinese killings of democracy protesters in China in 1989. No major power will risk its overall relationship with India because of Kashmir. We are simply too big. That is not, however, the case with Pakistan, particularly since Khan himself has indicated the pariah characteristics of his own government. If it comes to the brink, Pakistan will be left to swing in the wind.’

  ‘But China?’ said Dixit.

  ‘While we threaten to demolish Pakistan, Prime Minister, you get on a plane to make a visit of peace to China.’

  The White House, Washington, DC

  Local time: 1400 Thursday 3 May 2007

  GMT: 1900 Thursday 3 May 2007

  Tom Bloodworth rang to ask for a meeting with the President and was let straight in to the private office.

  ‘Could you spend five minutes reading this transcript, sir. It explains why Hamid Khan took power with such confidence. It was sent to me personally from General Shigehiko Ogawa, head of Japanese intelligence.’

  John Hastings looked up impatiently, irritated that crises in far-off lands were drawing him away from domestic agenda. ‘Not if it’s to do with the coup in Pakistan, Tom,’ he replied.

  ‘It’s more than that, sir.’

  Bloodworth handed the President a copy of the transcript and kept one himself. ‘Jabbar is Pakistan’s Ambassador to Beijing,’ explained Bloodworth. ‘Hussein is the Diplomatic Attaché. Dr Malik Khalid is an eccentric and brilliant missile physicist from Quaid Azam University in Islamabad, and now the predominant figure involved in the missile programme against India. He flew to Beijing on instructions from Hamid Khan thirty-six hours ago – before the coup. Tang Siju is one of the most powerful hawkish generals in charge of strategic planning. Tao Jian is marked in the transcript just as President and General Leung Liyin is the Defence Minister. You’ll see there were others present, but we don’t have an identification on them.

  ‘The meeting took place in an office off the war room in the General Staff Headquarters, an underground bunker in the Western Hills just outside of Beijing. The verbatim transcription is from the interpreter’s own notes. The non sequiturs and gaps are where the interpreter couldn’t remember the true record of conversation.’

  They began reading through in silence and Hastings had to admit to himself that it was a remarkable piece of intelligence gathering.

  Jabbar: You ask why? India must understand once and for all that the threats to our existence must stop.

  President: And you want us to give you practical help. Perhaps, Ambassador, for the benefit of those who were not with us earlier in Zhongnanhai, you could explain the thinking behind your policy.

  Jabbar: We are aware that Tibet could within days, even hours, become a flashpoint. Diplomatically it is your weakest area of policy. You also have the other vulnerability in the far-western Muslim region of Xinjiang, which has suffered a spate of bombings and riots. Islamic unrest on your western borders and a terrorist campaign in Tibet is your nightmare scenario. It would suck your resources away from development and the economy, wreck your nurtured friendships with the Western democracies and throw China itself into a separatist war.

  I have told President Tao that Pakistan will use every means at our disposal to stop foreign insurgents operating in Xinjiang. By that I mean we will intercept them in their countries of origin, be it Afghanistan, Iran, Algeria or wherever. We will intercept them on their way to Xinjiang and, if you wish, we will offer our unique expertise to work with the Chinese security forces on the counter-terrorist operation in Xinjiang itself.

  Leung: You’re saying you will encourage the holy war in Kashmir, but fight against it in Xinjiang. It seems an ideological contradiction . . .

  Jabbar: You disagree with the policy, General?

  Leung: Not at all, Ambassador. I think it is an admirable example of pragmatism.

  Jabbar: My colleagues General Hussein and Dr Malik Khalid will explain in detail how we think you can help Pakistan.

  Hussein: Until recently China used commercial SPOT and LANDSAT imagery surveillance, which was basic and unsatisfactory. Now, thanks to help from the French and the Russians, your new space surveillance system has just become
operational. It’s outdated by Western standards, because you have yet to get real-time satellite reconnaissance. But with the launch of the new military photo-reconnaissance satellite two months ago, you are now receiving good intelligence around the Asia–Pacific region. We need constant guaranteed round-the-clock access to it.

  You have been helpful in the past day in providing material about Indian troop movements along the Kashmir, Punjab and Rajasthan border. We need that to continue, together with imagery of Indian nuclear installations, air-bases for nuclear-capable aircraft, mainly the SU-30MK, and anything which could threaten the security of Pakistan.

  Tang: The Indians get everything they want from the Israelis, who get it from the Americans. I see no problem with this.

  President: Agreed.

  Khalid: [Inaudible because of soft voice] . . . all know the areas I will be talking about well enough.

  In any nuclear exchange, the Indians have two weapons of choice. The Agni is the intermediate-range missile. Agni, gentleman, means ‘fire’. The missile project began in 1979 at the Indian Defence Research and Development Laboratory in Hyderabad. The first successful launch was in 1989. The second test in 1992 failed, but tests in 1994 and 1999 were successes. Since then, three more tests have been carried out and we believe this is now a highly sophisticated weapons system. The first stage missile [sic] is solid fuel. The second is liquid. It can carry multiple re-entry nuclear warheads and its range is two thousand five hundred kilometres, meaning it can hit anywhere in Pakistan and a significant area of China.

  In a limited exchange with Pakistan, they would choose the Prithvi, their short-range missile. The name means ‘earth’. Design started in 1983. The first test was in 1988 and it has three versions with ranges of a hundred and fifty, two hundred and fifty and three hundred and fifty kilometres respectively. All three are now operational, launched vertically from an eight-wheel mobile truck. One Prithvi fired from Indian territory could destroy Rawalpindi within eight minutes of launch with a single 500 kilogram warhead.