The Mandarin Code

by Steve Lewis

  McDonald caught the Tea Party wave, and rose to become leader of the House. When it came to foreign affairs he joked that he had never owned a passport and was reluctant to get one.

  Big Mac neatly divided the world into allies and foes: at home and abroad. An ally did what you told them. Foes were everyone else. He liked to quote the Bible to back this view.

  ‘Hell, Jesus said, “If you aren’t with us, you are against us.”’

  Since the fall of the Berlin Wall, McDonald had been convinced that no state would ever again rival American power. But he watched the rapid rise of a new breed of communist in the East with growing dismay. And Beijing was more cunning than Moscow.

  Wolves who’ve wrapped themselves in the sheep’s clothing of capitalism.

  Big Mac was deeply offended by what he saw as China’s manipulation of the market. While America had written the rules and exported wealth and freedom to the far-flung corners of the globe, the communist state was gaming the system and building wealth to export its malign influence everywhere.

  And they have us by the financial balls.

  Beijing now owned more than a trillion dollars of US bonds and, in Big Mac’s view, held the American economy hostage. He’d been staggered to learn that China might rise to become the world’s largest economy by 2030. He wanted to bring the Reds to heel, before it was too late.

  We have seventeen years to corral this beast or it will kill us.

  Big Mac became obsessed with stunting China’s rise. He encouraged a two-pronged plan, which he’d developed with a trusted few cronies.

  The first step was containment. Big Mac supported the creation of a new strategic block that included the USA, Japan, the Philippines, Taiwan, Indonesia, Malaysia, India, Vietnam and Australia.

  Publically he called it the Asian Area of Cooperation and Peace, but privately it was the ‘Dog Collar’. He would surround, isolate and choke the beast. As part of this pact, the US would respond to any incursion into the territorial waters of treaty members.

  Despite some early promise, work on the treaty had stalled. So Big Mac set to work on the second prong of his plan: confrontation. He had confided it in a well-received secret briefing to his Pentagon pals during the Presidential election campaign.

  ‘We need to goad China into a fight with America before it acquires sufficient military strength to be a real threat. If it believes we are frustrating its financial growth, it will lash out as Japan did at Pearl Harbor. Once it does that, gentlemen, you need to argue that America should respond with devastating force.’

  He had crafted the President’s threat to declare China a currency manipulator and would ensure that his friend followed through. For too long, the US had been weak in the face of growing Chinese provocation and it was time to strike back.

  ‘I don’t want my kids to live in an America where everything is stamped “Made in fucking China”.’

  Some of his confidants worried that the US couldn’t afford a long war, that Iraq and Afghanistan had demonstrated that it couldn’t occupy a foreign country. Big Mac dismissed such weakness with a standard response: ‘We ain’t gonna occupy them, son, we gonna nuke ’em.’

  And if that meant the end of the world through nuclear war?

  ‘Well son, then that’s God’s will. And remember your Bible.

  The end of the world will bring about the second coming of Christ. Jesus will sort through the corpses and bring the Christians to eternal life. If that is to be, then I will be proud to be the disciple who made it happen.’

  Big Mac was at his desk when the call came through. He listened for less than a minute, then exploded.

  ‘Goddamn you as a coward, Earle Jackson. We made a deal. You made a sacred pledge to the American people. You will keep your promise no matter how hard the road seems. You will impose tariffs. You will bring China to heel. You will restore the empire. For if you do not, I’ll give you four years of hell.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Canberra

  Tian Qichen angrily pointed at the small group opposite the front gates of his embassy.

  ‘Why are they still here? Pestilence.’ The Chinese Ambassador spat out the words as his late-model BMW turned out of the driveway, the protesters just metres from his window.

  Three women and a man camped beneath a trio of banners accusing China of harvesting human organs and other abuses.

  ‘Falun Gong has no right to be here.’ Tian had arrived in Canberra five weeks earlier, excited at the prospect of becoming his country’s representative in Australia. But he struggled to understand the country’s tolerance of troublesome minorities, like the one that was a permanent fixture outside his embassy.

  For the past decade, successive ambassadors had lobbied prime ministers and other figures in power to remove this embarrassment. Now Tian turned to his political counsellor. ‘I want them gone within a month.’

  His deputy nodded wearily, knowing the request was futile.

  The Ambassador flicked open a briefing note. He was heading to Parliament House for his first formal meeting with Prime Minister Martin Toohey.

  The most important item was finalising the 99-year lease over the Northern Territory gas-field. The resource was valuable, but more important was the unambiguous signal that would ricochet across the Pacific when the deal was signed. Australia would be crossing a Rubicon by allowing effective foreign ownership of some of its key resources. This southern land would be tied, ever closer, to the economic apron strings of China. The deal would bind the two nations in a long-term strategic embrace.

  Tian looked out the window as the car purred up the road that climbed the outer edge of Parliament House. He smiled.

  How will the United States and Japan respond?

  Tian wondered why Australia clung to the American alliance like a national security blanket. The dependence was personified by the presence in Darwin of a battalion of US marines. That was also on his list.

  As the BMW pulled up outside the ministerial wing, the PM’s deputy chief of staff, Richard Andrews, was waiting.

  ‘Mr Andrews, very nice to see you.’

  ‘Welcome, Mr Ambassador. Nice to see you. Please, this way.’ It was a short walk to the Prime Minister’s office and the Ambassador was ushered straight in. Martin Toohey and George Papadakis were waiting and effusively welcomed Tian and his counsellor.

  ‘Mr Prime Minister, the President sends his best wishes,’ Tian began. ‘And I hope that my time here will be as successful as my predecessor’s was.’

  Toohey had prepared a welcome gift – a package of a rare green tea. He offered it to Tian.

  ‘Your favourite, I’m reliably informed. I’ve bought some for us to share in our meeting today.’

  Toohey pointed to the tea service on the table placed between two comfortable chairs.

  ‘Ah Mr Toohey, your spies have done good work.’

  They laughed as they eased into each other’s company.

  ‘Please.’ Toohey motioned to the lounge. ‘I apologise for the weather, Ambassador. Must be a difficult change after coming from your winter.’

  ‘I have been through much worse. Three years in Egypt prepares for you for even the most extreme heat.’

  ‘Ah yes, that was the experience of our soldiers too – during World War II.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine they would have suffered. I have read of the exploits of your 6th Division in battles with the Italians in Egypt. They fought with the British and they fought well.’

  Toohey was impressed. This Ambassador had done his homework.

  Tian continued. ‘Australian soldiers seem to make many expeditions to fight in foreign wars. But since the Second World War, always with America: in Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan.’

  It was the neatest of verbal transitions, a move worthy of a chess grandmaster. Toohey had offered an opening and Tian had taken it, pivoting the conversation to the American alliance.

  ‘Well, we are out of Iraq and in the process of withdrawing
our troops from Afghanistan,’ Toohey countered. ‘They’ll be out of that place by year’s end. And then? Well I fret for that country’s future, I really do.’

  ‘Its future will be like its past, Prime Minister. Lawless. Tribal. Violent. It has driven out invaders for centuries. The British and the Soviets could not hold it, so why did the US believe that it could?’

  Tian took a sip of his green tea, nodding approval at its familiar taste.

  ‘But the Americans have a new interest. In Asia. And they will have a much warmer welcome in Darwin.’

  This was the main game. Toohey had been expecting it.

  ‘Your country should not fret the small stuff, Ambassador. Australia and the United States have shared joint military exercises for decades – and never has that encroached on our relations with your wonderful country. At times, we’ve told the Americans they’ve overstepped the mark – I remind you of John Howard’s speech to the Asia Society in New York in . . . when was it . . . 2006? Washington did not take kindly to that.’

  Tian put down his tea and looked up at the large map of the world on the southern wall.

  ‘You are right, of course, Prime Minister. But the strong economic and trade links we have built are no threat to America, while an increased American presence in the Pacific could be interpreted as a threat to us. You can understand that some of my colleagues might be concerned about a build-up of US troops in Darwin and increasing joint military exercises. Some don’t necessarily view that as being the action of a country that is seeking a special relationship with China.’

  Toohey sipped the green tea. It was bitter.

  My move.

  ‘And countries seeking that special relationship need to be fully open and transparent with each other. We are concerned about a recent, serious security breach of our air-traffic control systems. There are signs that point back to China.’

  Tian was impassive as he leaned forward to return his cup and saucer to the table.

  ‘Yes, I have read the reports in The Australian newspaper. It seems it has a very negative view of our government.’

  Toohey laughed, genuinely.

  ‘The Australian has a very negative view of my government. Believe me, you get better press than I do.’

  Tian’s face held a trace of a smile. ‘But it seems that some in your government believe we are acting as aggressors. It does disturb me that China is so often blamed without evidence. All countries are at risk from cyber-attacks. We believe the United States is behind many security breaches in our own systems.’

  After several more minutes of moving verbal pawns about the table, Toohey decided to open another delicate line of inquiry.

  ‘We are also concerned about the rising tensions in the East China Sea. As you know, we take no position on who owns the disputed islands and have simply called for calm. But we are concerned about the potential for this fishermen’s occupation to be . . . misinterpreted . . . and to get out of hand.’

  ‘Prime Minister, my government thanks you for your temperate response on this matter. You will appreciate that, just as you cannot control your newspapers, we cannot be held responsible for the zeal of some of our citizens. We are working on removing the fishermen but they have become very popular at home. We ask for patience and believe the matter can be resolved.’

  Toohey knew a long discussion on the disputed rocks would go nowhere. Besides, he was keen to nail down some outstanding issues concerning the proposed gas deal.

  ‘Mr Ambassador, happily most of our dealings are about issues of friendship and mutual benefit. We are very excited about the Northern Territory gas hub and George and I would now like to discuss the details with you.’

  Tian beamed. ‘May I say that my superiors in Beijing view this agreement as a sign of a new maturity in our relationship.’

  Twenty minutes later, Toohey and Tian ended what had been a mostly successful meeting.

  ‘Mr Ambassador, I would be honoured if you would be my special guest when I give the speech at the Press Club announcing the agreement.’

  Tian clasped his hands as a smile creased his face. ‘Of course, Prime Minister, I would enjoy that. Very much.’

  The two men rose and shook hands. As the Ambassador departed, Toohey turned to his chief of staff.

  ‘Well, what do you think? How did I go?’

  ‘About a draw, I’d say. Got a bit interesting at the start but the two of you brought it back on track pretty well. You never know, you may actually get to like him.’

  ‘I do like him, George.’

  ‘But do you trust him?’

  The PM gazed out at the courtyard’s summer haze.

  ‘About as much as I trust any member of Cabinet.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Canberra

  Tears streamed down Catriona Bailey’s pallid face as she looked at the empty plastic cup resting in her trembling hand. It had taken all of her formidable willpower to lift it to her mouth and drink.

  It was a liberation. After twenty months on life support Bailey had been unshackled: from the ventilator that kept her lungs pumping; the catheters that drove her circulatory system; and the oxygen that flowed through the tracheotomy in her throat.

  She was propped upright in her hospital bed, drinking alone and unassisted. That simple act had been a daydream just a few weeks ago. She put down her cup and slowly practised flexing and unflexing her fingers.

  The slightest of movements made her feel powerful, alive.

  Bailey recalled the moment she had awoken in hospital after her stroke. It was so horrifying she’d thought she was having a nightmare. She could hear the doctors, nurses and visitors come and go from her room, could feel the weight of her body on the bed, the sheets that covered her and the tubes that cut into her. But she could not move, see or speak.

  When I realised it wasn’t a dream I thought I would go mad.

  She’d heard the whispered conversations, the doctors who’d measured her life in days and discussed harvesting her organs. And the sound of that hated voice. Martin Toohey. Visiting with a posse of his gormless ministers.

  She would never forget the poisonous words he’d uttered when they were alone – ‘You selfish bitch.’

  That’s when she’d decided to fight. To recover. To rise and destroy him. The thought of revenge had given her the will to live.

  The first miracle had occurred only days after that encounter when the Melbourne specialist had removed the gauze from her eyes and realised that she could see and was alert. The simple act of being able to blink her eyes meant Bailey could communicate.

  The second miracle was the technology that could turn her eye movements into words on a computer screen and transmit them around the world. That meant she could work and continue her love affair with the public.

  My people.

  Bailey had lived out every moment of her life in public. She maintained an almost continuous Twitter stream. But only the very observant among her two million followers would have noted that recently she had stopped talking about every minute change in her condition.

  And as her health rapidly improved, she’d restricted visiting access to just her chief of staff.

  When I return no one will see me coming.

  ‘Eight thousand fucking words!’ Brendan Ryan shook his head as he scrolled through line after line of the pedestrian prose that marched off the Guardian’s online features page. The typically pseudo-intellectual babble carried the byline ‘Catriona Bailey’ and the headline: TOOHEY CAN BRING PEACE IN THE PACIFIC.

  It began, as articles by Bailey almost always did, by quoting herself. ‘In 2008 I coined the term “the age of non-polarity” to describe a world dominated not by one or two states but by dozens of actors’.

  It then rambled on through bloated sentences of tortured syntax, each stuffed with academic and Biblical references, historical analogies and a dozen more verbal selfies before it got to the point.

  We live in a dangerous time where the
two largest actors on the world stage are locked in a rapidly escalating battle over who will build the international frameworks of the twenty-first century, frameworks that will replace the settlements struck and maintained by the United States after the Second World War. Both China and the United States are wrestling for the pen with which to write those settlements. I fear they might see the sword as being mightier.

  Another thousand mind-numbing words on, Bailey stirred Australia into her witch’s brew of an argument.

  Australia can use its privileged place as one of the United States’ oldest allies and China’s most reliable energy supplier to broker peace between the behemoths of the world stage by leveraging its role as a creative middle power.

  Then came the coup de grâce, the point Bailey knew would run in the news and cause maximum grief.

  On my advice, Prime Minister Martin Toohey has been masterful in ensuring Australia does not get trapped into taking sides in the East China Sea islands dispute. But he can, and must, take a larger role. He must use our middle power status to immediately engage in shuttle diplomacy between the major powers to bring about an enduring peace and an agreed international framework in the Pacific. Or a ‘Pax Pacifica’, as I like to call it.

  As a political professional Ryan had a grudging admiration for Bailey. She was an evil genius. She knew her ‘shuttle diplomacy’ line would be parroted by the media the next time Martin Toohey stuck his head up for a press conference. Like all of Bailey’s advice it sounded reasonable but it was designed to put Toohey in an impossible position. If he demurred he would be portrayed as missing an opportunity for peace. But if he was mad enough to agree it meant he would be out of the country for weeks on end during an election year. And that would cruel the minute chance he had of winning the poll.

  Who am I kidding, he might as well go. Jesus Christ couldn’t raise this party from the dead.

  Ryan had orchestrated the coup that snatched the prime minister’s mantle from Bailey and he was still proud of it as a clinically brilliant political assassination. But he had been very disappointed in Toohey. He was a decent man but the public saw him as a devious back-stabber. Far worse in Ryan’s eyes was that Toohey liked grand, expensive, centralised social planning. That cost money the Treasury didn’t have and so he racked up debt and cut deeply into other areas, particularly Defence.