Drone Command

The polls were unsurprising. The Communist Chinese government had spent the last six decades demonizing Japan and its vicious assault on the Chinese mainland before and during World War II. In addition, every Japanese success in the postwar period was depicted as being at the expense of the Chinese people even as Japanese contributions to Chinese development in the post-Mao years were ignored. The ongoing narrative of China’s victimhood by the entire world, especially by the West and particularly Japan, was constantly promoted throughout the Chinese education system. It was a shrewd calculation by the Party leadership. The greater China’s humiliation at the hands of foreigners, the greater the victory — and hence legitimacy — of the Party as it restored China’s fortunes and sacred honor to their previous glory. They freely taught the ancient Chinese concept of tianxia, the idea that China was the center of the world, the highest civilization according to the Mandate of Heaven, and that everything and everyone under heaven owed obeisance to the greatest of all human societies.

It wasn’t terribly difficult for the MSS to tease the smoldering public hatred of Japan into a roaring fire. The trick was not letting it burn out of control. The prospect of a billion angry citizens rising up was even more worrisome than the prospect of war with Japan or even the United States. MSS operatives were at the scene of each of the riots, carefully and quietly directing events, even restraining the most overzealous. The local police departments had been warned not to fire on any Chinese citizens under penalty of extreme sanction. This wasn’t a humanitarian concern. The last thing Feng wanted was for the crazed monster of a public riot to suddenly turn on the authority of the state. Nearly thirty years later, the government was still living down the nightmare of Tiananmen Square. The Chinese people and their innate desire for freedom was still the greatest threat that Feng and the ruling class most feared.

Feng stabbed out the cigarette in his ashtray. Now the Japanese will know how serious he is about the Diaoyus. They might resent the loss of the islands and their revenues, but now they’ll fear opposing China even more.

FIFTEEN

PRIME MINISTER ITO’S OFFICIAL PRIVATE RESIDENCE

THE KANTEI

CHIYODA, TOKYO, JAPAN

8 MAY 2017

You seem distracted tonight,” Prime Minister Ito said.

Myers was. A splitting headache. But worse, she couldn’t stop thinking about President Lane’s urgent text. The Pentagon meeting didn’t provide any new answers. She told Pearce, of course. No one else. Time was running out.

It was her last scheduled evening in Tokyo, and she and Pearce had been invited to Ito’s home for a private soirée of entertainment and food, all of it quite traditional. Ito’s lovely young wife joined them, along with Tanaka and his equally intimidating spouse. Pearce and Myers were the third couple, or so it seemed. Despite her throbbing headache, Myers looked stunning in her form-fitting black-sequined evening gown, and Pearce was quite handsome in his hand-tailored gray suit. A striking pair. Their comfortable friendship could have been mistaken for intimacy. They all sat in leather club chairs around a large hammered-copper cocktail table in Ito’s expansive library.

“I’m still thinking about the Noh play we saw tonight,” Myers said. Ito had invited a troupe of Japan’s finest Noh actors and musicians to perform for his honored guests.

“What is it that most captivated you?” Tanaka’s wife asked. Her eyes were searching, imperious. “The singing, perhaps? It must sound strange to Western ears.”

Everything about the play was strange to Myers. The atonal chorus, the carved masks, the drums. Her eyes drifted to the full suit of samurai armor standing in the corner. It had been worn by one of Ito’s ancestors in battle long ago.

“I’m still amazed that there is no director for the play and that the actors have only one rehearsal. And yet, everything was so well choreographed. The singing, the music, the blocking.”

“The oldest Noh plays are more than seven hundred years old,” Prime Minister Ito said. “Each play, and each part in the play, has been passed down through generations of actors who continue to study. It is a collective effort, but each actor has a duty and responsibility to his or her own role. No two performances are ever the same, either for the actors or the audience. Each is completely unique.”

“Of course, more Japanese have listened to Simon and Garfunkel than they have to Noh music,” Tanaka lamented. “Even the Carpenters are more popular.”

“Noh is difficult,” Ito’s young wife insisted. The former actress and model was an inch taller than her husband, even with his towering shock of gray hair. She turned to Myers. “How many young Americans prefer Shakespeare to Duck Dynasty?”

“Not enough.” Myers took a sip of bourbon. The glass trembled slightly in her hand.