NOTE: This is part of a continuing online novel. Here is the Table of Contents.

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A wise leader will strike when the opportunity is greatest.

America’s internal distress was China’s great opportunity.

India’s former ambassador to China, Shiv Shankar Menon, already had a reputation for swallowing hard. His friendly visit to Tibet in 2002 proved it. Hua Junduo, the peoples’ man in New Delhi, affirmed that he was trustworthy.

So for the two men to meet in Hong Kong excited no interest from America’s State Department. The exhibit of Indian-made furniture at the Hong Kong Convention Center was a natural venue. The two men cut a ribbon together, smiled for the cameras, then adjourned to an inner conference room.

What was unusual, had anyone cared to notice, was the security attached to that conference room. A network of serious-looking men, both Indian and Chinese, paced all the nearby hallways, and another network of cameras kept watch on the watchers. Inside, a 45 Mbps Internet hook-up was encrypted to Chinese standards by an Indian engineer. Menon and Hua sat down solemnly on opposite ends of a wooden conference table, and aides nervously poured both men tea, then left them alone.

The screen above Hua Junduo’s head suddenly came to life, and Menon inwardly gasped.

Chinese President Hu Xintao smiled back at him. His face, several times life-sized, was being beamed from his office in Beijing. “The leader can see you clearly,” Hua told Menon, in English, “and it is clear you can see the leader.” Hua then stood up, bowed to both the physical man before him and the virtual man behind him, then retired to a nearby couch, his teacup in hand.

“Mr. Ambassador, it is a pleasure to see you again,” Hu said now. Menon nodded as this was translated into Hindi for him. “You have done well in your new appointment, and it is the hope of this government to assist you in your efforts.”

“How can you assist me?” Menon asked.

The answer came back surprisingly fast, given the need to translate it. “It is always difficult to be frank and open with an adversary to a conflict when you are in public. Every meeting is a form of theater. There is little freedom available to either side. It is only when both sides have true privacy that frank talks can take place, in an atmosphere of trust and openness.”

Menon nodded. “Our talks go well and they have been followed by real action,” he said. “The 98 steps are moving ahead.”

“Given that things are moving ahead on the ground, would there be more trust on your side in the event of private talks?” Hu asked.

Menon took several moments to let this sink in, after he heard the translation. “Private talks?” he asked, this time in English.

“We are having a private talk right now,” said Hu with a smile. “We can speak frankly here. That was not the case a few weeks ago, of course, when I met here with the Prime Minister of Pakistan. Then we were limited to the language of diplomacy.

“Tell me, Mr. Ambassador,” Hu continued. “Can you conceive of making greater progress in private than might be possible in public?”

Menon nodded, and at that, Hu’s face moved into a small corner of the screen, while the bulk of it was occuped by a man Menon knew well, Pakistani Prime Minister Shaukat Aziz.

“Mr. Aziz was on a courtesy visit to our embassy in Islamabad,” Hu Xintao said now, as the face on the screen nodded to Menon. “We are offering our technical auspices for private talks on all issues, to be mediated by the United Nations.”

And with that the hair on the back of Menon’s head stood up as the screen behind him lit. He shifted in his seat and saw, towering above him, the face of Kofi Annan. “It is a great pleasure to see you, President Hu, Prime Minister Aziz, Ambassador Menon,” he said, in his cultivated English accent. “I am speaking to you from the Republic of South Africa, where I have been meeting with President Mbeki to discuss his work in the Ivory Coast.”

Noting a look akin to panic on Aziz’s face, Annan held up a hand. “I am not in any official government office. I am not even in Pretoria. I am in the Carlton Center in Johannesburg, in the private offices called Virgin Maverick. I am using the bandwidth and encryption of Mr. Richard Branson, who assures me he has personally traded billions of Yuan and dollars on this link without interception from anyone.

“Gentlemen, we know one anothers’ positions. I am here in hope that we can find some way out of our present difficulties and come to complete agreement on all outstanding issues, pending final treaty negotiations.

“President Hu has convinced me that both of you are sincere on this. The time to end the crisis of Kashmir has come. And to assure this, I bring with me a second mediator.” The door opposite Menon then opened, and an old man entered, surprising Menon’s host and causing a succession of bows.

“Mr. Prime Minister, Mr. Ambassador, my Chinese interlocutor, Jiang Zemin.”

And now it was Aziz’s turn to be shocked, for the first words to issue from Jiang’s mouth were “Allahu Akbar.”

His Arabic was flawless.