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It is the latter, of course. Mao and true communism were the past. China had transcended that era and become a capitalist dynamo. That was the present. And, in Wen’s eyes, Empire was the future.
He passed the spot where Mao’s tanks had famously stopped for a single protester who thought he could hold back the might of the state. Nothing marked the man’s act. No one even knew who he was or if he was still alive. The moment lived only in people’s memories.
At the western edge of the square, Wen reached his destination: a vast, monolithic building. He climbed a wide swath of triple-tiered steps, passed between towering marble columns and entered the Great Hall of the People.
The monstrous building was over a thousand feet in width and six hundred feet from front to back. Its vaulted roof covered nearly two million square feet, larger by far than the American Capitol Building, the United Kingdom’s Westminster Hall or even the giant Smithsonian Museum on the Mall in Washington, D.C.
Inside lay several full-sized auditoriums with droll names, such as the Congressional Hall of the National People’s Congress. Hundreds of offices, conference rooms and work areas were spread about. Wen’s official, Party-sanctioned office lay at the southern end.
The guards stiffened at Wen Li’s approach and he was hustled through the checkpoint without a word. He arrived at the end of the hall to find an old friend waiting outside his door.
“Admiral,” he said, as he entered, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’ve come here with news,” the Admiral said. “And a warning.”
Wen had broad influence within the Party, but there were those who didn’t agree with his vision of China’s future, those who thought the current trajectory was sufficient. They refused to see the limits put on them by American imperialism.
“A warning?” Wen replied. “Personal or otherwise?”
“Both,” the Admiral said. “Perhaps we should talk inside.”
Wen opened the door and the two men passed through the outer office and entered Wen’s inner sanctum: a hothouse filled with hanging plants, stacks of old books and aged furniture of the most basic type.
Wen offered the Admiral a seat in an overstuffed chair, as he saw to his plants. “The heat is not healthy for them,” he said. “It dries the leaves. But the cold is no better.”
“The same might be said for men like us,” the Admiral replied. “Have you ever thought of stepping down?”
Wen put the watering can down. “There is no retirement for us,” he said. “We die at our posts . . . one way or another.”
“Usually after making a large mistake,” the Admiral said, laughing.
Wen shared the joke. A major misstep could bring an end to more than a career in the People’s Republic. “Are you suggesting I’ve made such an error?”
“There are rumors of your partnership with Walter Han,” the Admiral said. “And then we have your operation in the East China Sea.”
“What of it?” Wen said. “It was an experiment. Closed down last year.”
“Yes,” the Admiral said. “And, at your request, I have spent considerable resources protecting the area. But whatever it was your people did down there, it’s begun attracting attention of a most unwanted kind.”
“What are you telling me, Admiral?”
“To begin with, there are problems with the fisheries. One-point-five billion people require a great deal of food to sustain them. Our fishing fleet is the world’s largest and our trawlers scour every sea on the globe, but the banks in the East China Sea have long been one of our most fertile resources. Not anymore. Catches are down every month since you began your experiments. The sea itself is turning barren. The men who run the fishing fleets are complaining . . . loudly.”
“I do not answer to fishermen,” Wen said coldly. “At any rate, our operations took place on the seafloor. Deep-sea mining. You know this. Nothing we did could affect the aquatic ecosystem. More than likely, pollution from Shanghai and its ten thousand factories are to blame, not a tiny operation my people have long since ended.”
The Admiral looked as if he’d expected this answer. “Have you closed it down?”
“You know I have.”
“Then why did my ships detect an American submersible operating directly in your restricted zone?”
Wen caught himself before overreacting. “I would ask you the same question, Admiral, since it’s your job to see that they don’t. When did this occur?”
“Early this morning,” the Admiral said. “We picked up a coded transmission on a known American frequency. It was a short-range transmission. In addition, our sonar buoys briefly detected the presence of a vessel, though it was lost before we could locate it.”
Wen was simultaneously angered and puzzled. “How did an American submarine penetrate your defenses?”
“This was not a naval vessel,” the Admiral said. “The signature is consistent with a small, remotely operated submarine.”
