Double Identity

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From modern Peking Airport to the center of the ancient Forbidden City is about forty kilometers. That is the linear distance. Reckoned in terms of time, or in any other possible fourth dimension a traveler might conjure up, it could as easily be forty millenniums! Once through the busy Outer City where tall chimneys belch clouds of smoke and long rows of new apartments remind one strangely of Los Angeles — white stucco and red tile — the traveler can enter into the comparative peace and quiet of the Purple City. Beyond this, at the very center of the great yellow web that is China, is the Imperial City. Or, as the masters of China today prefer to call it, the Tartar City.

Wang-wei, Chief of Coordination of Chinese Secret Services, glanced impatiently at the watch on his slim wrist. It would never do to be late to this conference! The Celestial Twins — upon occasion Wang-wei permitted himself a sense of humor — the Twins themselves had summoned him. Mao and Chou.

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