Wexler sighed, suddenly sick of the all too predictable path the argument was taking. It had been a long day — hell, it had been a long week — and it showed no signs of being over any time soon. “Give it a rest, why don’t you? All I’m really interested in is Greece and Macedonia and this blasted insistence of yours that we turn over command of an aircraft carrier to the UN commander. Just once — just this once — would it be too much to ask for a straight answer?”
“I am answering you,” T’ing said stiffly.
“No, you’re not. Not really. What’s really behind this? Teaching the U.S. a lesson after Hong Kong and the Spratleys? That’s it, isn’t it? Or do you have some sort of trade concession you’ll wring out of me eventually when I simply have to know what’s going on?”
T’ing fell silent for a moment, clearly put off by her approach. She understood why — this was not the way diplomacy worked. Her conversations with the Chinese ambassador should be mere formalities to cement agreements worked out by their underlings who could speak frankly without making national policy or committing her to anything definite. By the time it reached their level, all the shouting should be over, reduced to sterile phrases on international accords.
She knew this — knew it too well not to know how uncomfortable she was making T’ing.
Knew it, and was tired of it. Frank talk, like the kind that she’d grown up with in the Midwest, where people worked out their differences out in the open. She understood that that approach was antithetical for the Asian nations, but why did it always have to be the United States that had to try to understand other cultures? How about a little understanding from the other side as well?
“So what is it?” she said, feeling a sense of release of the strictures she’d practiced and perfected over the years. “Talk to me.”
T’ing drew back, a look of deep offense in his eyes. She took a step forward, physically backing him into a corner. “Come on, just this once. I won’t tell anyone that you broke the code. Play ball with me and let’s see if we can come to an understanding instead of dicking around with words for a few years. You want fighter aircraft? The Spratleys? I’m not saying yes to either of those, but I’m willing to discuss it.”
“We do not need your aircraft,” T’ing replied. “And as for the Spratleys, they are not yours to give or to take away.”
Wexler sighed. She’d had a moment of hope, of crazy enthusiasm, that this blunt approach might work. She should have known better. In all the time she’d known T’ing, since their paths crossed during their younger years, she’d never seen a crack in his inscrutable reserve. “Let our staffs talk, then. I had just hoped…” She let her voice trail off, knowing that T’ing would get the point even as he refused to concede an inch.
Then inspiration hit. Right idea, wrong approach. She was asking T’ing to go first.
“You know, the U.S. really doesn’t have that much interest in what happens in Greece,” she said, and watched a shadow of shock race across T’ing’s face. “Not like the Middle East. What we really hope is that there’ll be some way to make Europe solve her own problems for a change.”
“Then why the task force and your public support?” T’ing said.
She shrugged. “What else could we do? The only point is to make sure our historic allies understand that we’ll be there if there’s ever another Hitler on the march. Somehow, that whole idea’s gotten out of hand, made us the nine one one force of the world. You have to know that we’re not happy about that.”
“I see.” She watched T’ing’s face, seeing the subtle changes in his expression that told her he was thinking furiously. “If I might make a suggestion, then,” he said. He stopped and waited.
“It would be welcome,” she said, and for once she meant it. “China’s been at this business of government quite a lot longer than we have. You’ve got a civilization that stretches back centuries. Maybe your solutions aren’t ours, but they’re worth listening to.”
T’ing glanced around to see whether anyone else was watching them. They were, of course, but they were standing back at a polite distance. Both coteries of aides were holding back the rest.
“I think,” he began slowly, “that none of us wish to be the world’s nine one one force. China has had her own problems with the rest of the world in recent times.”
Wexler nodded. Recent times — to T’ing, that would cover the last several centuries, she knew.
“What we wish most is to be left alone,” he said. “It is hard for the rest of the world to understand that, but it is precisely what we desire, what we work for. Yet as the world shrinks, it becomes increasingly difficult to achieve that. Energy demands… the point of the Spratley Islands was not only that we do believe that we have a valid claim to them, but that China has energy requirements growing at a tremendous pace. We’ve seen how your country has been crippled by your reliance on the Middle East — ensuring that you maintain that flow of petroleum from foreign sources has cost you billions in military spending, and yet you are still not assured of access to oil. China does not wish to go down that path. We prefer for all our needs to be satisfied internally. We have learned from the American experience.”
“And this has implications for the Macedonian problem?” she asked, wondering if she’d gone too far. For T’ing, his remarks had been astoundingly frank.
“You might consider that possibility,” he said. “Just as a starting point for discussion.”
Discussion — might that actually be possible? She felt a thrill at the very prospect, not at the advantage that it would give her in her own career, but in the possibility that the U.S. and China might actually be able to reduce the level of aggression and hatred in the world.
“I shall,” she said, and meant it. Then another thought occurred to her. “Would you by any chance be free for dinner this evening? I’m without commitments myself for a change, and was considering dining alone. I’d welcome the company and perhaps a chance to hear your opinions on a number of issues. As a representative of a more experienced country, of course.”
For the first time since she’d known him, T’ing actually looked flustered. “I had not… my plans are…”
“Forgive me,” she said instantly. “I’m afraid I—”
“No, not at all, it is just that—”
“I insist we—”
“If you would—”
They both fell silent. Finally, T’ing inclined his head slightly. “I shall be dining in the Executive Hall this evening. At perhaps nine P.M.”
“Perhaps I shall be as well,” she said tentatively.
“Perhaps,” he answered, his voice giving her no clues.
Suddenly Wexler broke out laughing. “I do not yet understand you, T’ing, not even after all these years. But I do understand the UN. Whatever you’ve got in mind, you’re likely to prefer to have a bit of uncertainty stirred into the pot. And don’t you think that if the two of us are seen dining together that that will set some people talking?”
T’ing almost smiled. “The fact that tigers are dangerous does not alter the fact that there are tigers in the world. At nine, then. Perhaps.” He bowed, gestured to his entourage, and departed.
Wexler stared after him with a bemused expression on her face. Jack edged up to her and asked quietly, “What the heck was that all about?”
Wexler stared at T’ing’s departing back and smiled. “I honestly don’t know. But it felt like progress.”
ELEVEN