The Summit

The cold wind lashed his cheek in a freshening, invigorating embrace. All around a harsh moonscape of jagged rock could be seen. Nothing grew here, nothing survived. The sky above a brilliant blue, he wondered for about the fortieth time that day, just why on earth was he here.

Dan glanced to his left. The four wooden uprights and skeletal scaffolding of the roof stood out bare against the rock. That was why. He walked over, nodding to the Chinese guards, and spoke to Steve Lim. “So, how’s it going?”

“Foundations are in, and all the pieces seem to be here.” He then lowered his voice and leaned in, “But whoever manufactured this piece of shit didn’t do a very good job. The thing is absolutely shoddy; the joints don’t match properly, and the jambs are wonky.”

Dan nodded. “That’s where you come in.” He turned to the Korean overseeing the construction of the pagoda. “Is everything alright, Captain Kim?” he asked with a smile.

“We will be ready on time, Lieutenant Kim. There are no problems.”

He felt a spot of cold on the tip of his nose and both men looked up. Thick flakes were falling. “Will this provide us with a problem?”

“Not even this. During the Arduous March we worked under far more testing conditions.”

‘I bet you bloody did,’ thought Dan. He thought of the President and glanced at his watch. 09:23. He would have set out by now. He imagined him, brandishing his staff like some holy man of old, walking up the mountain.

And he imagined the scores of TV cameras following him.

---

The snow continued to fall, and the pagoda continued to rise. The Koreans had erected a tent over it and under the tent they beavered away like worker ants, some hammering, some painting, others doing… whatever. Their energy and work ethic were incredible. If only they could be freed from the tyranny that oppressed them and the potential was endless. But that was why the President was coming. That was why they were here.

He turned away from the pagoda and walked towards the crater. Before coming here he’d heard about what an incredible place it was; a mountain over 3,000 metres high with a deep lake of still water at its peak. A mountain half in one world and half in another. The very fault-line of global politics and yet it was all so calm, so untouched, as if man had never been born. For an unknown reason he felt an irrational urge to leap onto the highest rock and then dive down into that water, hundreds of metres below. He knew that it would kill him, the cold if nothing else, and yet what a way to go. He fought the urge in his mind and instead sat down on a rock and stared out.

“Smoke?”

He looked up. It was the Korean Captain. He took in the prominent cheek bones, star on his cap and pin badge on his lapel. He also took in the proffered cigarette. Dan hadn’t smoked for twenty years. Normally he would have refused outright, but here he was in a snowstorm, setting on a rock looking into a volcanic crater with a North Korean – probably a member of the secret police – offering him a cigarette whilst the Leader of the Free World climbed a mountain in the full glare of the world’s media. This was no time for normality. “Yes, thank you,” he replied, taking the cigarette.

The enemy Captain struck up a light and Dan took a drag. It felt good.

“You are Korean,” said Captain Kim.

“My father was, yes. From Pusan. My mother is Vietnamese.”

“They both ran away from war then.”

Dan knew they probably had a detailed dossier on him anyway. “You could say that. Dad left in fifty-eight when he was ten; mum in seventy-two. Her parents were in Diem’s clique.”

The Korean nodded.

“War fucks up everything, but it can bring opportunities. Without it, you would not be born, and neither would I.”

“Why not?”

“My mum came from Chongjin and my dad from Kaesong. They met when they served in the same troop.”

Dan nodded. “The world is a strange place.”

They stared out at the crater and then, when the cigarettes had run out, returned to their positions.

---

“Where is he?”

“I can’t get a signal because of the snow, but I’m guessing past the one thousand metre mark by now. He’s a strong walker.”

“What about the snow?”

“He’s walked in worse in the Rockies and besides, the weather could be sunny down there.”

“That’s true.”

The pagoda had progressed. The structure was basically complete now and the Koreans were busy completing the undercoating. The Chinese guards just stood around looking bored, inconsequential observers in one of history’s great dramas, not even sure why they were there. Why this particular act was being played out on their soil. In his mind’s eye Dan thought of the Field of the Cloth of Gold. He pictured the handsome bearded Henry, arraigned in all his pomp, followed by hundreds of sumptuously-clad retainers striding forward to meet Francis, equally godlike and gorgeously-attired. All around was colour and wealth but there, in the background, in the corner of his mind’s eye, a splash of brown and grey: the farmer whose field it actually was, looking on bemused at the entire pointless spectacle.

Pointless. Would this endeavour also prove to be pointless? True, the pagoda was not so grand as Francis and Henry’s embroidered tents, but the gesture was as overt and theatrical.

The snow stopped and the sun started to poke through. Steve came over. “Look, I got the live feed again. He’s at one thousand two hundred!” The tiny image on the phone showed an even tinier man, head bowed, stick in hand, against an empty, unimaginably huge landscape.

---

Others started to arrive. A helicopter deposited more Americans. Tents were erected some distance away from the pagoda, soon populated by smartly-attired waiters and suspiciously-pretty waitresses. Dan recognised each and every one. He had vetted them after all. He picked out Kia from Great Falls, Montana, with her piercing blue eyes and untamed dark hair. She seemed at home here on the mountaintop but then she should; all he could recall from his only visit to her home state was snow-capped peaks and a lack of people. She smiled at him as she walked past carrying at crate of Coke and he smiled back.

The Koreans too had brought in reinforcements in this war of diplomacy. A troop of similarly suspiciously-pretty girls, all clad in brightly-coloured hanboks which lent a grace and elegance to them that the Americans lacked. Their wide skirts also gave them a presence; they demanded that they be noticed as they took up so much room. For the first time in his life, Dan understood why the Victorians had so loved their ridiculous crinolines. Fashion, like everything else, was all about psychology. These were negotiations and anything that gave the upper hand was crucial. Their heavily made-up faces reminded him more of dolls than live humans, but they attracted him nonetheless. Ultra-coiffured and civilised, they were the polar opposite of the untamed beauty of Kia, and yet both attracted him.

Why was that?

“Two thousand metres reached!” declared Steve.

The clock ticked ever down towards doomsday.

---

“I understand why he’s doing it.”

“Excuse me?”

The Korean Captain had come over to him with another cigarette. He was definitely secret service, but what did it matter. After today they would be friends anyway and sharing information. Perhaps.

“Your President. Why he is walking up this mountain. I understand it and I admire him.”

“Lots of people think he’s crazy,” Dan replied.

“That is because they don’t know history. In 1966, ageing and increasingly side-lined by the politburo, Chairman Mao swam in the Yangtze River. More than any words, that simple act showed the Chinese people that he still had vigour, still had health and was still one of them. Without it, he could never have led the Cultural Revolution. Your President is the same. An old man, weak in the polls, everyone says he is all words, no action. But he likes to hike, no? So, why not use that to his advantage? Turn his weakness into strength. He is clever.”

“But this is not 1966.”

“Neither is it the Yangtze.”

“So why doesn’t your Chairman do the same?”

“We have single-hearted unity. He won the elections last month with 99% of the vote. Unlike your President, he has nothing to prove.”

The Captain’s face betrayed no emotion but, inwardly, Dan was sure that he was laughing at him.

---

“How do you think this will go, Dan?”

Kia had caught up with him as he was getting a coffee in the tent. They were out of earshot of the others, but he still felt uncomfortable. “You shouldn’t call me that. If people were to know about what happened in Wash…”

“Alright then, Lieutenant. But I’m intrigued. What will happen? I mean, we’re witnessing history.”

“Not really. The actual deal was drawn up weeks before by Harris when he met Kim Jong-Suk in Dandong. Today is just a show.”

“Sure is that! This place reminds me o’ home ya know.”

“I bet it does.”

“Even so, I think there’ll be a surprise in store. I can feel it in ma bones.”

“I hope not.”

“Mebbe you’re right but with the Koreans, ya never can tell…”

‘You can’t indeed,” he thought to himself as he checked the phone. 2,300 metres. Not long now, perhaps half an hour at most. His heart started to pound.

---

Ten minutes before the President was expected to arrive, they got ready. He had his uniform spruced up and checked the platoon there to act as a ceremonial guard. The dignitaries were seated in the pagoda: the General Secretary of the UN, the EU delegate, South Korean, Indian, British, Japanese and Chinese notables. All were waiting on tenterhooks. All they needed now was the President…

… and the Chairman.

---

“He’s five minutes off!” Steve whispered in his ear. Five minutes and yet no sight or sound of the Chairman’s helicopter. What if he arrived late? Of course, that would reflect badly on the Koreans, not the Americans but even so…

Shouts of exclamation! Cheers!

Dan spun round. Was the President here?

The path was empty and silent. Fireworks were cracking and banner unfurled. He looked at Steve in confusion. “Still three minutes away,” Steve whispered.

They read the banner: ‘LET US STRIDE TO VICTORY IN THE RACE UP MOUNT PAEKTU!’

The race?

The portly figure of the Chairman, beaming, dressed in hiking gear, joyfully accepting flowers from the adoring hanbok-clad girls strode up towards the pagoda. The shutters of the world’s press clicked on him. The beads of sweat on his brow looked as if they had been sprayed on moments before. There was no way that he had hiked up an entire mountain and yet did it matter; he was there first, and the press were loving it.

A bitter taste filled Dan’s mouth.

---

In the distance the President appeared, leaning on his stick, clearly tired from the long climb. The Chairman beamed to greet him, a figure of health and vitality against this aged, shattered relic from decadent West. Dan saw the image and imagined the headlines. Kia had been right: these were the Koreans; there had been a surprise in store. He searched around with his eyes for her and saw her standing by the tent holding something, a bottle perhaps. He gestured to her to tell her that she’d been spot on, but she didn’t see him. Instead, her eyes were fixed on Captain Kim and as Dan gazed at them both impotently, he saw the Korean stare back at her and then gesture with his hand.

Written Smallthorne, UK, 16/10/21-19/01/22

Copyright © 2022, Matthew E. Pointon