death by pistol shot. Whom would they bill for the bullet?
For Lee, it sometimes seemed a question of when, not if, his stubborn idealism would prove fatal. He fancied himself a genuine patriot, determined to stand and fight to the end. Yet, in his private moments, he questioned his flirtations with discovery and death. He could anticipate no brighter future. Seeing no other way, he grew more daring with each passing challenge.
Chen, leaning over the long rectangular table, was holding his tea when Lee entered.
“Cable traffic?” Lee’s question seemed to startle his colleague.
“Yeah, same old crap. Guys in the field trying to suck up to the boss.”
“But the boss eats it up, right?”
Chen set his papers down and sighed. “Yes, Lee, just like your foreign affairs boys. The ministers always welcome such loyalty.”
He was only a few years younger than Chen. But Chen’s wife—who fussed affectionately over Lee, the divorced bachelor—insisted the burden of the Defense Ministry post had aged Chen prematurely. Chen was almost bald, with thick white eyebrows and John Lennon granny glasses, giving the appearance of a Chinese leprechaun.
“I’m sure this makes your contrarian views even more valuable.”
“Valuable? At present, I am not certain what value is placed on caution.”
“Deliberation has served us well on the Taiwan question. Bought us time.”
“Our leadership needs some results,” Chen said as he reached across the table for a cigarette from Lee’s pack. “May I?”
“Sure,” Lee said, noticing for the first time a slight tremor in his colleague’s hand.
“Results?” Lee made no effort to hide his skepticism. “Right.”
“It is real this time,” Chen warned. “We’re ratcheting things up, my friend. Finally going to kick Taiwan in the ass.”
“Really?”
“And you know what I think Washington is going to do about it? Nothing. Just like when our brave pilot rammed the American spy plane out of the sky over Hainan.”
“Now wait. They didn’t sit when the Taliban in Afghanistan let that Saudi madman attack their—”
“That wasn’t about Afghanistan. That was about New York, and the Pentagon. The fact is, most Americans can’t even find Taipei on a map. Besides, their military is already over-extended. If they make too big a stink, we can crash their stock market in a day just by sitting out their Treasury bond auctions.”
“Why now?” Lee turned his head sharply towards the door, but they were alone in the room, the others drinking tea and watching CNN.
“Because our fearless leaders have been farting around on the Taiwan issue for decades. How many Party Congresses can they make the same empty pledge to?”
“We’ve got plenty to show.” Lee’s voice shot up. “Hong Kong’s return. The trade agreement. We’ve come quite a ways since Tiananmen.”
“Why should our generals forget the promises to bring Taiwan back to the Motherland?”
“Generals always overestimate the utility of force.”
“So do politicians. But this isn’t a grad school seminar, my friend. You have military men here. They spend a generation building bases and missiles, they eventually want to use their toys.”
“You can’t—”
“It’s like the Americans’ Manhattan Project. Imagine the grief Truman would have caught if they’d spent all that money and effort, and then he didn’t drop the bomb?”
“But that is illogical.”
“It is inevitable,” Chen insisted. “Every year that goes by, Taiwan drifts farther away from us. Their kids have no memory of the Mainland. They sit there with all the treasures they stole from our National Museum. They are Chinese, yet they show us no respect. Problem is, they believe all that Star Wars stuff—that they’ll be able to sit for generations taunting us from behind some impregnable missile shield. Just like that corrupt old dog, Chiang Kai-Shek, hiding behind Eisenhower’s knees and the Seventh Fleet. Time is not on
For Lee, it sometimes seemed a question of when, not if, his stubborn idealism would prove fatal. He fancied himself a genuine patriot, determined to stand and fight to the end. Yet, in his private moments, he questioned his flirtations with discovery and death. He could anticipate no brighter future. Seeing no other way, he grew more daring with each passing challenge.
Chen, leaning over the long rectangular table, was holding his tea when Lee entered.
“Cable traffic?” Lee’s question seemed to startle his colleague.
“Yeah, same old crap. Guys in the field trying to suck up to the boss.”
“But the boss eats it up, right?”
Chen set his papers down and sighed. “Yes, Lee, just like your foreign affairs boys. The ministers always welcome such loyalty.”
He was only a few years younger than Chen. But Chen’s wife—who fussed affectionately over Lee, the divorced bachelor—insisted the burden of the Defense Ministry post had aged Chen prematurely. Chen was almost bald, with thick white eyebrows and John Lennon granny glasses, giving the appearance of a Chinese leprechaun.
“I’m sure this makes your contrarian views even more valuable.”
“Valuable? At present, I am not certain what value is placed on caution.”
“Deliberation has served us well on the Taiwan question. Bought us time.”
“Our leadership needs some results,” Chen said as he reached across the table for a cigarette from Lee’s pack. “May I?”
“Sure,” Lee said, noticing for the first time a slight tremor in his colleague’s hand.
“Results?” Lee made no effort to hide his skepticism. “Right.”
“It is real this time,” Chen warned. “We’re ratcheting things up, my friend. Finally going to kick Taiwan in the ass.”
“Really?”
“And you know what I think Washington is going to do about it? Nothing. Just like when our brave pilot rammed the American spy plane out of the sky over Hainan.”
“Now wait. They didn’t sit when the Taliban in Afghanistan let that Saudi madman attack their—”
“That wasn’t about Afghanistan. That was about New York, and the Pentagon. The fact is, most Americans can’t even find Taipei on a map. Besides, their military is already over-extended. If they make too big a stink, we can crash their stock market in a day just by sitting out their Treasury bond auctions.”
“Why now?” Lee turned his head sharply towards the door, but they were alone in the room, the others drinking tea and watching CNN.
“Because our fearless leaders have been farting around on the Taiwan issue for decades. How many Party Congresses can they make the same empty pledge to?”
“We’ve got plenty to show.” Lee’s voice shot up. “Hong Kong’s return. The trade agreement. We’ve come quite a ways since Tiananmen.”
“Why should our generals forget the promises to bring Taiwan back to the Motherland?”
“Generals always overestimate the utility of force.”
“So do politicians. But this isn’t a grad school seminar, my friend. You have military men here. They spend a generation building bases and missiles, they eventually want to use their toys.”
“You can’t—”
“It’s like the Americans’ Manhattan Project. Imagine the grief Truman would have caught if they’d spent all that money and effort, and then he didn’t drop the bomb?”
“But that is illogical.”
“It is inevitable,” Chen insisted. “Every year that goes by, Taiwan drifts farther away from us. Their kids have no memory of the Mainland. They sit there with all the treasures they stole from our National Museum. They are Chinese, yet they show us no respect. Problem is, they believe all that Star Wars stuff—that they’ll be able to sit for generations taunting us from behind some impregnable missile shield. Just like that corrupt old dog, Chiang Kai-Shek, hiding behind Eisenhower’s knees and the Seventh Fleet. Time is not on
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