Dragonfire (29 page)

‘We have lost nothing which we need if Pakistan is going to be a modernized state with no external enemies. Airfields can be rebuilt. But we are winning Kashmir and now we must talk to the
world.’

‘Do you want President Tao in Beijing?’

‘No. We will have no communication with China. The signals will be picked up. Get me John Hastings in Washington.’

The Oval Office, The White House, Washington, DC

Local time: 2235 Sunday 6 May 2007
GMT: 0335 Monday 7 May 2007

‘Hamid Khan is
on the line and wants to speak directly to you.’

John Hastings sipped from his cup of Chinese herbal tea, which he hoped would keep him alert, yet calm, throughout the night. In any other circumstances he would have refused the call. Ennio
Barber would have warned against the President of the United States speaking directly to a military dictator who had just started a nuclear war. But as Hastings was learning fast, a nuclear war was
like no other. The rules had not yet been written.

‘Unless you bring your powers to bear, Mr President, Pakistan may soon cease to exist as a nation,’ said Hamid Khan.

‘You forfeited that right by your actions last night.’

‘You are correct. I have forfeited my right to rule Pakistan and I will never again be accepted by the Western democratic nations. But you cannot condemn the people of Pakistan for my
actions. They are being blasted by the full might of the Indian air force. They are threatened with a far more powerful nuclear strike. Muslims are being slaughtered in India and riots have begun
here in Pakistan. Only the United States has the influence to call an immediate halt to the Indian offensive. Once there is a ceasefire, you have my guarantee that I will step down from
office.’

‘And who will take over?’

‘An interim leader who has full international support.’

Hastings put Hamid Khan on hold and called Tom Bloodworth along to the office.

‘So far all the strikes are conventional,’ said Bloodworth. ‘Specifically against legitimate military targets. Far more than ours were in Serbia. If anything, India’s
response has been remarkably measured.’

‘Will Dixit go nuclear?’

‘I sense not. Not if Pakistan doesn’t strike again.’

‘General Khan, are you still there?’ said Hastings.

‘Yes, Mr President.’

‘I want a statement from you right now on Pakistan radio and television that you will not use another nuclear weapon in this conflict. It must be short, unequivocal and in both English and
the languages of Pakistan. When we hear that and have it translated, I will call on India for a complete ceasefire.’

‘But people are being killed—’

‘Then get a move on and make the statement.’

Foreign and Commonwealth Office, London

Local time: 0345 Monday 7 May 2007

John Stopping, Chairman
of the Joint Intelligence Committee, was woken by the telephone ringing on his secure line. Only a handful of people in London knew the number,
together with a small circle of colleagues in the international circles in which he mixed. Stopping’s career in the diplomatic and intelligence services had forged trust and friendships
lasting many years. Often he suddenly found them adversaries amid unpredictable events of foreign policy.

Stopping automatically checked his watch and saw he had been dozing on the office couch for less than twenty minutes. He was surprised but delighted to hear the voice of Chandra Reddy on the
other end.

‘John, I think we need to look ahead and perhaps we could do each other a favour.’

‘Only the greatest optimist would try to look beyond nuclear conflict,’ said Stopping. ‘Why is Hari Dixit not taking any calls?’

‘He is trying to stop a nuclear war, John. He can’t do that if he’s yacking on the bloody telephone to every head of government who wants to get involved. Don’t tell me
that Margaret Thatcher chatted to Indira Gandhi during the Falklands conflict.’

‘Given that you’ve just been nuked, Reddy, you sound in remarkably good form.’

‘I need Britain’s help. No one else can do it.’

‘Go on.’

‘Can we agree that Pakistan would never have done this without China’s backing?’

‘Let’s say we do.’

‘And that China’s incursion into India was timed to coincide with the flare-up in Kashmir?’

‘Agreed.’

‘Then, until a shot is fired across China’s bows, the war in Asia cannot be stopped.’

‘This is a diplomatic, not a military issue.’

‘No, John. It is one for men like us.’

Stopping kept quiet, allowing Reddy to continue. ‘The Chinese have been building up the port facilities at the Burmese naval base in Hanggyi. In the past two months they have sent two
warships there, the
Kaifang
, a 3,600 tonne destroyer, and the
Anqing
, a 2,500 tonne frigate. Both ships are expendable. They know we could blow both of them out of the water. They
also have three or four
Kilo
-class diesel-electric submarines in the Andaman Sea. We spotted them going through the Malacca Straits, but now have no idea where they are. In a conflict like
this, the presence of those ships is a clear incursion into our theatre of influence.’

‘But not illegal,’ said Stopping.

‘Kosovo changed the frontiers of international legality.’

‘I still don’t see how we can help.’

‘You have HMS
Ocean
coming down from Chittagong towards Hanggyi Island right now. On board is a unit from the Special Boat Squadron together with a VSV; length 53 feet, three crew
plus room for eleven commandos, capable of 60 knots with two 750 b.h.p. diesel engines and stealth technology which enables it to avoid radar and infrared heat sensors and a range of 700 nautical
miles. If they went in to destroy the Chinese ships and whatever else they find in Hanggyi, China would think twice about continuing to stir things up on the subcontinent.’

‘You’re out of your mind,’ said Stopping.

‘You know I’m not. I estimate that by late afternoon, our time, the
Ocean
will be within VSV range of Hanggyi. Send them in at nightfall. The war could be over by
midnight.’

Prime Minister’s Office, Downing Street, London

Local time: 0345 Monday 7 May 2007

‘I am not
speaking to you as a member of the House of Lords, but as a businessman, a private citizen and an Indian.’

Like John Hastings, Anthony Pincher was drawing himself a completely new set of guidelines. Right now, in the middle of the night, with conventional diplomacy failing, Pincher accepted that he
needed to explore unorthodox methods to reach a peace. Military action of any kind against India or Pakistan could create a fearsome backlash which might easily prompt more use of nuclear weapons.
That was why when Lord Thapar called from his mansion in Hampstead to announce he was on his way to Downing Street in his Rolls Royce, Pincher instructed that he be let straight in.

Lord Thapar had been ennobled by Pincher as a recognition of the contribution of the Indian community. Both in Britain and the United States they had overtaken any other immigrant group in
economic performance and had become a serious lobbying machine, fielding candidates for parliament, making inroads into the City and, most dramatically, contributing enormous expertise and ideas to
the information technology revolution. Lord Thapar himself was a second-generation Indian in his mid-sixties, whose wealthy parents had found themselves a victim of the partition, lost everything
and decided to emigrate to Britain. While they struggled, impoverished, against the pressures of racism, they ensured that Mani Thapar was given the best the English state education system could
offer, such that he won a place at Cambridge, went on to study in France and the United States, then built up a multi-million-pound empire. Only after his wealth was secure did he begin serious
investment in India itself, winning business and political friends, and persuading the inward-looking governments to ease up on their investment laws. Hari Dixit was the Health Minister in Andhra
Pradesh when Mani Thapar pioneered the building of a pharmaceutical factory there. The two men became close friends, with Dixit using Thapar as his conduit to the West, which he then regarded as
arrogant, colonial and interfering. Dixit understood as little about the workings of international business as Thapar did about the aspirations of the rural Indian. They both learnt keenly from
each other.

Anthony Pincher was acutely aware of this relationship when Thapar called. He had just finished speaking to an exasperated John Hastings in Washington, who was still unable to get hold of Hari
Dixit. With the rolling news media it was becoming a humiliating political issue. Reports coming from France and Germany indicated that Europe might find it difficult to approach the crisis with a
united front. Already, there were enough divisive issues over trade, currency and customs control. A nuclear exchange, albeit in Asia, could be the one which finally caused a split.

‘Thank you for seeing me at such an inhospitable hour, Prime Minister,’ said Thapar while taking a seat. ‘I felt I had to get my oar in early.’

‘Anything you can do would be appreciated.’

‘I will be blunt, then. We are all aware that Pakistan and China are in cahoots over this. Burma, too, but it is such a basket case that it is barely relevant. I can get a message right
now to Hari Dixit to take his hand off that bloody nuclear trigger, if you come out in support of India. Without reservation, of course. We don’t have time to go through the “we are
friends with both nations” business, like the Americans did with you in the Falklands.’ Thapar checked his watch as if to emphasize what he was saying. ‘If either Dixit or Khan
give the order now, there could be a city destroyed in eleven minutes.’

‘It is something we would need to discuss with the Americans and our European partners.’

‘My friend Ratu Keni Vohra is at this minute with Joan Holden in Washington. Other meetings are going on throughout Europe. India is a democracy, Prime Minister. China and Pakistan are
not.’

‘Lord Thapar, are you threatening to escalate this conflict unless Britain publicly sides with India? I would hope that Hari Dixit is a more mature statesman than that.’

‘Threats and reality are often confused. China is the threat. Pakistan is its foot-soldier. India has no superpower aspiration.’

‘But it went nuclear.’

‘Thank God we did. Or we would now be a colony of China’s. Listen, if Hari Dixit knows the international community is on-side, he can afford to let India absorb its punishment and
open a diplomatic channel. If you sit on the fence, he has no alternative but to fight.’

‘You can talk to him?’

‘I can get a message to him within five minutes.’

Anthony Pincher spoke to his Private Secretary on the intercom: ‘Can you get me John Hastings again?’

‘He’s in the Situation Room, Prime Minister. He’ll be at least half an hour.’

National Command Centre, Karwana, Haryana, India

Local time: 0915 Monday 7 May 2007
GMT: 0345 Monday 7 May 2007

Hari Dixit, unshaven
and frustrated, watched the broadcast from Hamid Khan in Pakistan on the BBC World Service. Khan himself did not appear, leaving a newscaster to
deliver his historic message.

‘Pakistan used its ultimate weapon of defence only because Indian military forces threatened to suck our nation away into oblivion. That has been its aim in the sixty years since
partition. Last night, I made the terrible decision to defend our right to exist and we halted the Indian advance. But it was a terrible decision and I now pledge two things. Firstly, as soon as
India declares a ceasefire, Pakistan will never use nuclear weapons again in this conflict. Secondly, as soon as peace is assured, I will step down as the leader of Pakistan. I call on the United
States and the international community to support my pledge and persuade Prime Minister Dixit that this is the only way forward to avoid a nuclear conflict. Finally, I must remind all of you, that
Pakistan carried out the nuclear strike on Pakistani soil. It did not breach the sovereignty of any other nation.’

The broadcast ended with the Pakistani national anthem, then cut to a studio discussion which Dixit muted with the remote control. ‘What happens if we declare a ceasefire?’ Dixit
asked Unni Khrishnan, the Chief of Army Staff.

‘They’re well beyond the Line of Control in Kashmir. We have the huge loss of the armoured brigades from the nuclear strike. We have surrounded and cut off Sialkot. We could
negotiate to hold our positions there. We would have to pull back from Lahore.’

Dixit glanced at the silent television screen running pictures of rioting and arson in Delhi. ‘I can’t think in this bloody dungeon,’ he said. ‘And I shouldn’t be
here while ordinary Indians are facing the threat of death.’

‘Sir, the American President is insisting on speaking to you,’ said an aide-de-camp.

‘No,’ snapped Dixit. ‘I’ll only speak to him after he has decided whose side he’s on. Get me Hamid Khan instead. We’ll give him one last chance. Link up
Chandra Reddy, Prabhu Purie and the usual suspects with the call.’

Hamid Khan came on the phone keen to talk. ‘The ceasefire will incorporate a referendum on Kashmir,’ he said, immediately.

‘There will be no ceasefire, yet, General,’ said Dixit. ‘You will release a statement announcing your withdrawal from Indian-controlled Kashmir. You will cease all hostilities.
You have thirty minutes to do so. If we detect any aircraft movement or the hint of a missile launch, we will obliterate Pakistan with nuclear weapons.’

The Situation Room, The White House, Washington, DC

Local time: 2245 Sunday 8 May 2007
GMT: 0345 Monday 7 May 2007

‘Hamid Khan’s stuffing
us around,’ said Hastings. This was the second meeting of the Principals’ Committee since the Pakistani strike. It had
been timed to take in Khan’s broadcast and then decide on as long-term and substantive strategy as possible. Hastings had added the Commerce Secretary, Stuart Hollingworth, to the committee
for this reason.