“The other matter of concern is the harassment by your Coast Guard and immigration agents of my ships. Search boardings have become more numerous and extensive in the past months, and shipping-schedule delays have proved very costly.”
“I understand your concern, Qin Shang,” said Wallace flatly. “At last count by the INS there were six million people living illegally in the United States. A good percentage of them, so the Immigration and Naturalization Service claims, were smuggled into the country in your ships, and the fiasco at Orion Lake was not an easy event to conceal. By rights I should have you arrested as you stand in my office and indicted for mass murder.”
There was no display of indignation from Qin Shang. He stared at the most powerful man in the world without blinking. “Yes, under your laws you have every right to do so. But then you run the risk of much delicate information being leaked to the American public about your secret dealings with Qin Shang Maritime and the People's Republic of China.”
“Are you threatening blackmail against the President of the United States?” Wallace demanded, suddenly disturbed.
“Please forgive me,” Qin Shang acquiesced quickly. “I merely wished to remind the President of possible contingencies.”
“I will not condone mass murder.”
“An unfortunate event caused by criminal syndicates in your own country,” Qin Shang countered.
“Not in the report I read.”
“You have my solemn oath there will be no repetition of Orion Lake.”
“In return, you want your ships left alone. Is that it?”
Qin Shang nodded. “I would be most grateful.”
Wallace looked at Laird. “Inform Admiral Ferguson and Duncan Monroe that I wish the Coast Guard and INS to treat the inspection of Qin Shang Maritime ships entering our waters with the same courtesy offered to any other foreign shipping company.”
Laird's brow was furrowed in disbelief. He sat quietly and did not immediately acknowledge the presidential order.
“Thank you, Mr. President,” said Qin Shang courteously. “I speak for my board of directors when I say we are very honored by your friendship.”
“You're not off the hook that easily, Qin Shang,” said Wallace. “Please pass on my concern to Premier Wu Kwong regarding the continued use of slave labor to manufacture your trade goods. If we are to maintain close ties, his government must accept the use of decently paid workers in its manufacturing facilities and reject violation of human rights. Otherwise, I will cut off our export of phosphatic fertilizers to China.”
Morton Laird smiled inwardly. At last the President struck a chord. Phosphatic fertilizers exceeded one billion dollars in sales by a chemical company in Texas that was a subsidiary of the vast global chemical corporation in Jiangsu Province with headquarters in Shanghai. Without threatening trade sanctions against Chinese exported cotton goods, shoes, toys, radios, television sets and related items that totaled over fifty billion dollars a year, Wallace had zeroed in on the most essential commodity of all.
Qin Shang's green eyes briefly flashed with uneasiness. “I will relate your counsel to Premier Wu Kwong.”
Wallace stood, signaling an end to the discussion.
“Thank you, Mr. President. It was a privilege to meet with you again.”
“I'll accompany you to the reception room,” said Laird graciously, while diplomatically concealing his contempt for the financial criminal.
A few minutes later Laird returned to the Oval Office. Wallace did not look up as he signed a stack of bills sent over from Congress. “Well, Morton, it was obvious by the sour apple look on your face that you're not happy with my performance.”
“No, sir, I am not. I am appalled that you even talk to that murderer.”
“He's not the first ghoul from hell who has walked in this office since it was built. If not for Qin Shang and his influence with the Chinese government, I might not be sitting where lam.”
“You are being conned, sir. Conned by Qin Shang and his government up and down Pennsylvania Avenue. In the interest of political expediency, Mr. President, you've dug yourself a grave too deep to climb out of.”
“We're dealing with a country that has one-point-four billion people,” Wallace persisted. “This presents an incredible opportunity to sell billions of dollars' worth of American goods. Whatever sin I've committed was in the interest of the country.”
“There is no justification to stand by while the Chinese rip off the American public,” said Laird earnestly. “The last combined CIA-FBI counterintelligence report named over a hundred Chinese agents who have penetrated every level of our government from NASA to the Pentagon. Several have achieved high-level staff jobs in the Congress and the Commerce and Interior departments.”
“Come now, Morton. I browsed the report. I failed to see a critical threat to our security. China no longer harbors a fanatical desire to steal our nuclear technology and military secrets.”
“Why should they?” Laird's voice was hard and low. “Their priority is now political and economic espionage. Besides obtaining our business and technology secrets, they're working every minute of the day to influence our trade policy as it relates to their economic expansion. They've already passed Japan as the trading partner with whom we have the greatest deficit. Economic forecasts put their economy ahead of ours before your term of office expires.”
“So what? Even if China does pass us in the gross size of its economy, her people will still only have a per-capita income one quarter of the average American.”
“I respectfully say to you, Mr. President, wake up and smell the coffee. Their forty-five-billion-dollar balance-of-trade surplus is poured back into building their military and worldwide criminal smuggling activities, all the while enhancing their mushrooming economic power.”
“You've taken a pretty tough stand against me, Morton,” said Wallace coldly. “I hope you know what you're doing.”
“Yes, sir,” said Morton inflexibly, “I do, because I honestly believe you have sold out the country for your own personal political gain. You are well aware how strongly I disagreed when you extended most-favored-nation trade status and at the same time said your decision was no longer contingent on progress in human rights.”
“My only concern was for American jobs.” Wallace was standing behind his desk now, his face turning red with anger.
“If that's the case, how do you explain the fact that in the last fifteen years a total of eight hundred thousand American workers have lost their jobs to cheap Chinese labor, much of it slave labor?”
“Do not push too far, Morton,” Wallace snarled through clenched jaws. “I have done nothing that will not pay dividends for the American public.”
Laird crossed a hand wearily over his eyes. “I've known you too many years not to know when you're distorting the truth.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“That and more, sir. I'm calling you a traitor. And to back up my sentiments, you'll have my resignation as chief of staff on your desk within the hour. I don't want to be around when the chickens come home to roost.”
With that, Morton Laird walked out of the Oval Office for the last time. Fully enlightened as to his former friend's vindic-tiveness, he and his wife soon dropped out of public view and moved to an island off the Great Barrier Reef of Australia, where he began to write the memoirs of his life and times in Washington with great insight into his long association with President Dean Cooper Wallace.
Su Zhong, Qin Shang's personal secretary, was sitting at a desk inside his large armored bus, which he entered after concluding his meeting with the President. As soon as he settled into a leather chair behind a desk covered with a battery of telephones and computer systems, she handed him several messages that had arrived by fax and satellite phone. Qin Shang had developed a code to frustrate any agents, government or commercial, who attempted to eavesdrop on his personal business. He ran the messages through a scanner that instantly translated them.