he read the papers and the government-produced Early Bird clipping service. Over breakfast, Jack Ryan would make his own terse comments to be noted by his wife, who might discuss it over lunch with her colleagues at Johns Hopkins, who might discuss it with their spouses, from whom it would go no further. In this way, the President’s thoughts often remained a mystery.
The party broke up at the predetermined hour, and the Americans headed back to the embassy in their official cars.
“So, what can you tell us off the record?” Barry asked Rutledge, in the sanctity of the stretch Lincoln’s backseat.
“Not much, really,” the Assistant Secretary of State for Policy replied. “We’ll listen to what they have to say, and they’ll listen to what we have to say, and it’ll go from there.”
“They want MFN. Will they get it?”
“That’s not for me to decide, Barry, and you know that.” Rutledge was too tired and jet-lagged for intelligent conversation at the moment. He didn’t trust himself to speak under these circumstances, and figured Wise knew that. The reporter was leaning on him for just that reason.
“So, what are you going to talk about?”
“Obviously, we’d like the Chinese to open their markets more, and also to take a closer look at some issues we have, like patent and copyright violations that American business has complained about.”
“The Dell Computer issue?”
Rutledge nodded. “Yes, that’s one.” Then he yawned. “Excuse me. The long flight ... you know how it is.”
“I was on the same airplane,” Barry Wise pointed out.
“Well, maybe you’re just better at this than I am,” Rutledge offered. “Can we postpone this discussion a day or so?”
“If you say so,” the CNN reporter agreed. He didn’t much like this preppy asshole, but he was a source of information, and Wise was in the information business. The ride was a brief one in any case. The official delegation hopped out at the embassy, and the embassy cars took the newsies back to their hotels.
The embassy had sleeping accommodations for the entire official party, mainly to ensure that anything they said wouldn’t be recorded by the MSS bugs in every hotel room in the city. This was not to say that the accommodations were palatial, though Rutledge had a comfortable room. Here protocol failed Mark Gant, but he did have a comfortable single bed in his small private room and a shared bathroom with a shower. He opted instead for a hot bath and one of the sleeping pills the physician who accompanied the official party had issued him. It was supposed to give him a solid eight hours or so, which would just about synchronize him with local time by the morning. There would then be a big working breakfast, much like the astronauts got before a shuttle launch, and as much of an American tradition as the Stars and Stripes over Fort McHenry.
Nomuri caught the arrival of the trade delegation on Chinese TV, which he watched mainly to hone his language skills. These were improving, though the tonal nature of Mandarin drove him slightly nuts. He’d once thought Japanese was hard, but it was a walk in the park compared to Guoyu. He looked at the faces, wondering who they were. The Chinese narrator helped, stumbling badly over “Rutledge,” however. Well, Americans murdered Chinese names, too, except for simple ones like Ming and Wang, and listening to an American businessman try to make himself understood to a local was enough to make Nomuri gag. The commentator went on to talk about the Chinese position on the trade talks, how America owed the PRC all manner of concessions—after all, was not China generous in allowing Americans to spend their worthless dollars for the valuable products of the People’s Republic? In this, China sounded a lot like Japan had once done, but the new Japanese government had opened up their markets. While there was still a trade deficit in Japan’s favor, fair competition on the playing field had muted American criticism, though Japanese cars were still less welcome in America than they had been. But that would pass, Nomuri was sure. If America had a weakness it was in forgiving and forgetting too rapidly. In this, he greatly admired the Jews. They still hadn’t forgotten Germany and Hitler. As well they shouldn’t, he thought. His last thought before retiring was to wonder how the new software was working on Chai’s computer, and if Ming had actually installed it or not. Then he decided to check.
Rising