There was one thing in Yang’s past that especially roused Mao’s suspicion. Yang’s office had tape-recorded Mao. Mao did not want any record kept of what he said and did, unless it was carefully sanitized. In the old days, he would light a match to telegrams once they were sent. After he came to power, he would constantly ask his listeners not to take notes. But this caused insoluble problems, as Mao’s words were commands, and the absence of written records made it hard for subordinates to know what he had really said and thus, at times, to carry out his orders. So he had to allow some of what he said to be noted down or taped. With Mao’s approval, Yang’s office began installing recording systems in the late 1950s. But a couple of years later, the tape operator unwisely teased a girlfriend of Mao’s about overhearing her with Mao on his train. “I heard everything,” he claimed, though in fact he had not. The girlfriend told Mao, who instantly ordered the systems dismantled and the tapes destroyed. All Mao’s houses and cars were combed for bugs. Although none was found, Mao was not convinced. He suspected the taping was part of a plot linked with President Liu and the Russians. All those involved would in time be interrogated, quite a few meeting gruesome deaths.
In March 1966, all the strands of Mao’s suspicions meshed together. In January Brezhnev had visited Mongolia — the first Soviet leader ever to do so — and had been joined there by none other than defense minister Malinovsky, the man who had put out the feeler about ditching Mao. Brezhnev had never had dealings with Mao, but knew Liu Shao-chi, having been Liu’s host when he visited Russia for a summit of the world Communist parties in 1960. Brezhnev, then No. 2 to Khrushchev, had spent more than a week with Liu traveling in Russia and to the Soviet Far East on the Trans-Siberian train, and the two had got on well. Now Brezhnev signed a military treaty with Mongolian chief Yumjaagiyn Tsedenbal. Russian units were moved into Mongolia and stationed only about 500 km from Peking, across open country, accompanied by ground-to-ground missiles, apparently armed with nuclear warheads. Tsedenbal, who had been on the receiving end of Mao’s plots to overthrow him earlier in the 1960s, volunteered to carry the fight against “the Mao clique” into China itself.
This was a real crisis for Mao, and he needed forceful support from Lin Biao — at once. He consented to Lin’s demand to have Chief of Staff Luo condemned for “treason.” On 18 March, Luo threw himself off the roof of his house, in a failed attempt to kill himself. This was regarded, as always, as “betraying” the Party, and qualified him for the nastiest punishment. Later, he was subjected to mass denunciation meetings, and as he had broken both ankles when he jumped off the roof, he would be dragged up onto the stage in a big basket, his crippled feet dangling over the rim, oozing blood.
The day after Luo’s suicide attempt, Mme Mao wrote to Lin Biao asking him to endorse her “kill culture” manifesto, which Mao himself had meantime revised, writing Lin’s name into the heading (“Comrade Lin Biao Has Authorized Comrade Jiang Qing to …”) so as to highlight Lin’s backing. Lin endorsed it at once in writing, and before the end of the month he had presented a formal demand to the Party, in the name of the army, for a comprehensive purge.
THIS MOVE BY Lin propelled another crucial man into affirming his stand. This was Chou En-lai, who had so far managed to maintain an ambivalent position. Chou now told Mayor Peng that he, Chou, was with Mao. It was with Chou on board that the unbeatable trio of Mao, Marshal Lin and Chou was complete, thus dooming any hope of resistance.