from bed, he switched his laptop on and ... yes! Chai’s system lacked Ming’s transcription software, but it was transmitting what it had. Okay, fine, they had linguists at Langley to fiddle with that. He didn’t have the desire to do so, and just uploaded it and headed back to bed.
Damn!" Mary Pat observed. Nearly all of it was unreadable, but this was a second SORGE source. That was evident from the pathway it had taken through the ‘Net. She wondered if Nomuri was showing off, or had somehow managed to get in the pants of a second high-ranking Chinese government secretary. It wouldn’t exactly be a first for a field officer to have that active a sex life, but it wasn’t all that common, either. She printed it up, saved it to disk, and called for a linguist to come up and translate. Then she downloaded SONGBIRD’S current take. It was becoming as regular as The Washington Post, and a lot more interesting. She settled back in her chair and started reading the translation of Ming’s latest notes from Minister Fang Gan. He’d be talking about the trade negotiations, she hoped, then to see that, sure enough, he was ... This would be important, the DDO thought. She’d soon be surprised to find out how wrong that impression was.
CHAPTER 23
Down to Business
Bacon and eggs, toast and hash-brown potatoes, plus some Colombian-bean coffee. Gant was Jewish but not observant, and he loved his bacon. Everyone was up and looking pretty good, he thought. The government-issued black capsule (they all called it that, evidently some sort of tradition that he didn’t know about) had worked for all of them, and the cookie-pushers were all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Most of the talk, he noted, was about the NBA. The Lakers were looking tough again. Rutledge, Gant saw, was at the head of the table chatting amiably with Ambassador Hitch, who seemed a solid citizen. Then a more ruffled employee of the embassy came in with a manila folder whose borders were lined with striped red-and-white tape. This he handed to Ambassador Hitch, who opened it at once.
Gant realized at once that it was classified material. There wasn’t much of that to be seen at Treasury, but there was some, and he’d been screened for a Top Secret/Special Access clearance as part of his employment on Secretary Winston’s personal staff. So, there was intel coming in from Washington for the negotiations. Exactly what it was about, he couldn’t see, and didn’t know if he would see it. He wondered if he could flex his institutional muscles on this one, but Rutledge would be the one who decided if he got to see it or not, and he didn’t want to give the State Department puke the excuse to show who was the he-bull in this herd. Patience was a virtue he’d long had, and this was just one more chance to exercise it. He returned to his breakfast, then decided to stand and get more off the buffet. Lunch in Beijing probably wouldn’t be very appealing, even at their Foreign Ministry Building, where they would feel constrained to show off their most exotic national dishes, and Fried Panda Penis with candied bamboo roots wasn’t exactly to his taste. At least the tea they served was acceptable, but even at its best, tea wasn’t coffee.
“Mark?” Rutledge looked up from his seat and waved the Treasury guy over. Gant walked over with his refilled plate of eggs and bacon.
“Yeah, Cliff?”
Ambassador Hitch made room for Gant to sit down, and a steward arrived with fresh silverware. The government could make one comfortable when it wanted. He asked the guy for more hash browns and toast. Fresh coffee arrived seemingly of its own volition.
“Mark, this just came in from Washington. This is codeword material—”
“Yeah, I know. I can’t even see it now, and I am not allowed to have any memory of it. So, can I see it now?”
Rutledge nodded and slipped the papers across. “What do you make of these foreign-exchange figures?”
Gant took a bite of bacon and stopped chewing almost at once. “Damn, they’re that low? What have they been pissing their money away on?”
“What does this mean?”
“Cliff, once upon a time, Dr. Samuel Johnson put it this way: ‘Whatever you have, spend less.’ Well, the Chinese didn’t listen to that advice.” Gant flipped the pages. “It doesn’t say what they’ve been spending it on.”
“Mainly military stuff, so I am told,” Ambassador Hitch replied. “Or