smile, as he walked out to his car. He flipped open his shoephone, dialed up his e-mail access, and sent his own message over the ’Net, 226-234: bao bei, “beloved one.” She liked to hear him say that, and he didn’t mind saying it. So, something other than TV for tonight. Good. He hoped he had enough of the Japanese scotch for the après-sex.
You knew you had a bad job when you welcomed a trip to the dentist. Jack had been going to the same one for nineteen years, but this time it involved a helicopter flight to a Maryland State Police barracks with its own helipad, followed by five minutes in a car to the dentist’s office. He was thinking about China, but his principal bodyguard mistook his expression.
“Relax, boss,” Andrea told the President. “If he makes you scream, I’ll cap him.”
“You shouldn’t be up so early,” Ryan responded crossly.
“Dr. North said I could work my regular routine until further notice, and I just started the vitamins she likes.”
“Well, Pat looks rather pleased with himself.” It had been a pleasant evening at the White House. It was always good to entertain guests who had no political agenda.
“What is it about you guys? You strut like roosters, but we have to do all the work!”
“Andrea, I would gladly switch jobs with you!” Ryan joked. He’d had this discussion with Cathy often enough, claiming that having a baby couldn’t be all that hard—men had to do almost all of the tough work in life. But he couldn’t joke with someone else’s wife that way.
Nomuri heard his computer beep in the distance, meaning it had received and was now automatically encrypting and retransmitting the data e-mailed from Ming’s desktop. It made an entertaining interruption to his current activity. It had been five days since their last tryst, and that was a long enough wait for him ... and evidently for her as well, judging by the passion in her kisses. In due course, it was over, and they both rolled over for a smoke.
“How is the office?” Nomuri asked, with the answer to his question now residing in a server in Wisconsin.
“The Politburo is debating great finance. Qian, the minister in charge of our money, is trying to persuade the Politburo to change its ways, but they’re not listening as Minister Fang thinks they ought.”
“Oh?”
“He’s rather angry with his old comrades for their lack of flexibility.” Then Ming giggled. “Chai said the minister was very flexible with her two nights ago.”
“Not a nice thing to say about a man, Ming,” Nomuri chided.
“I would never say it about you and your jade sausage, shin gan,” she said, turning for a kiss.
“Do they argue often there? In the Politburo, I mean?”
“There are frequent disagreements, but this is the first time in months that the matter has not been resolved to Fang’s satisfaction. They are usually collegial, but this is a disagreement over ideology. Those can be violent—at least in intellectual terms.” Obviously, the Politburo members were too old to do much more than smack an enemy over the head with their canes.
“And this one?”
“Minister Qian says the country may soon be out of money. The other ministers say that is nonsense. Qian says we must accommodate the Western countries. Zhang and the others like him say we cannot show weakness after all they—especially the Americans—have done to us lately.”
“Don’t they see that killing that Italian priest was a bad thing?”
“They see it as an unfortunate accident, and besides, he was breaking our laws.”
Jesus, Nomuri thought, they really do think they’re god-kings, don’t they? “Bao bei, that is a mistake on their part.”
“You think so?”
“I have been to America, remember? I lived there for a time. Americans are very solicitous to their clergy, and they place a high value on religion. Spitting on it angers them greatly.”
“You think Qian is right, then?” she asked. “You think America will deny us money for this foolish action?”
“I think it is possible, yes. Very possible, Ming.”
“Minister Fang thinks we should take a more moderate course, to accommodate the Americans somewhat, but he did not say so at the meeting.”
“Oh? Why?”
“He does not wish to depart too greatly from the path of the other ministers. You say that in Japan people fear not being elected. Here, well, the Politburo elects its own, and it can expel those who no longer fit in. Fang does not wish to lose his own status, obviously, and to make sure that doesn’t happen,