But Wexler could see, to her credit, Pamela Drake was not fully convinced. Uncertainty furrowed her brow, and she looked as though she had several follow-up questions. That would have been in keeping with the Pamela Drake that Wexler knew.
But apparently in response to a question that she alone could hear, probably from the microphone in her ear, Drake simply said, “Thank you, General. I’m sure we all join you in wishing and hoping for the safety of the men and women on the AWACS.”
I bet you are. Just drooling over the possibility of asking some grieving wife or husband how they feel about it, aren’t you? Shoving the microphone in their faces just seconds after they’ve been told that someone is never, ever coming home again. And you people think diplomats are cold!
Suddenly, Wexler heard a scuffle in the outer office. At first, it consisted of higher female voices raised in protest and indignation. Then, she heard Brad’s deeper voice bark out, “Stop! You can’t go in there.” There was a crash as something hit the floor, and the door to her office flew open.
T’ing was framed in the doorway. Although he was not much taller than she was, the cold glare on his face and icy disdain in his eyes made him seem much more formidable.
Wexler stood, as much out of surprise as courtesy. “What’s going on out there?”
Brad loomed immediately behind the ambassador from China. Wexler could tell he itched to grab T’ing and throw him bodily out, but she knew he wouldn’t. Not under the circumstances.
T’ing drew himself up to his full height. “I apologize for barging in unannounced — but under the circumstances, it is clearly appropriate, if not practically demanded. Yesterday, the United States interfered with lawful, peaceful military operations conducted by my government. First, during a routine test over open ocean, your ships attacked and destroyed a missile. And now your commanders insist on deploying spy ships and aircraft into our territorial waters. Our response was immediate and proportionate, and only the greatest restraint on the part of our military commanders prevented the situation from escalating.” She thought she saw something that looked like pain flit across his face. “And I am personally offended at your treachery. I thought that our working relationship precluded surprises such as this. But obviously I was mistaken.”
“T’ing, please.” She gestured to all of their subordinates. “Can we dispense with the formalities and sit down and have a civilized discussion about this?”
“Civilized? You speak of civilized conduct, after this?” He shook his head, and then renewed his glare. “No, Madame Ambassador. We will not speak alone. Before, that might have been possible. And I like to think that as representatives of two of the most powerful nations on this planet, you and I have managed to avert our share of crises. But this — no, this is far out of our hands. My government demands an immediate and complete apology, coupled with reparations. The president has twenty-four hours in which to comply. If not, whatever follows will be the sole and complete responsibility of the United States. You cannot treat other nations in the world like this. You cannot. It is time that someone demonstrated that to you conclusively and finally.” With that, he turned, spoke sharply to an aide, and stalked out of the room.
Wexler sank back down in her chair, a feeling of loss pervading her soul. She could understand the Chinese position, oh, how well she could. And in one sense, T’ing was right. There should have been a way to resolve this before military action was required.
“That’s it,” Brad said with finality. “Madame Ambassador, I must insist that we upgrade security precautions immediately. I can’t guarantee your safety otherwise.”
“And just who’s going to guarantee the safety of those men and women on our ships?” she said, her frustration boiling over into anger. “You heard the man — something terrible is afoot, Brad, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”
“If you’re dead, there’s nothing you can do at all,” he said bluntly. “I’ve told you we need locked access to our suite, and you refuse to consider it. You’re bull-headed, Sarah Wexler. Bull-headed and blind to the consequences of your actions.” He crossed room and stood directly across from her. He pointed an accusing finger at her. “Just answer me this. If you’re dead, who will sit in that chair? Can you guarantee me that it will be someone as capable?”
“The president will—” she began, and Brad cut her off.
“The president is a political creature. Yes, I know the two of you are friends. So even if you don’t want to admit it to me, I know that you know he doesn’t make his appointments based sheerly on ability. Name one potential candidate who would have been able to pull off the things that you’ve done in the last four years. Name one. And if you can convince me that there’s anyone nearly as capable as you are, I’ll stand aside. Be honest — I’m not asking you to brag or become an egomaniac. Just give me an honest assessment. Is it conceivable that he could appoint anyone with as much commitment to the process of diplomacy, who has as much understanding of international affairs, and who just all in all gives a shit about our military forces? Well? Is it?”
“You’re out of your league, Brad. And way out of line,” she said sharply.
“Am I?” He stood resolute, refusing to back down, and waited for answer. “Because if I am, and there is a great deal I have misunderstood about our working relationship.”
And how had it come to this? First T’ing, now Brad. Was everyone in the world determined to have a showdown at the OK Corral this morning?
Brad had asked the one question that was almost impossible for Sarah Wexler to answer. She had deep streaks of both humility and pride running through her, and his question put them squarely at odds. Yes, she understood her role in the United Nations, understood in a way her predecessors never had. And, if she was forced to honesty, she would have had to say that most of them would not see her role as she saw it. It was something she had worked hard for, spent agonizing hours analyzing diplomacy and the art of it and now, at the culmination of her career, was able to bring every skill to bear on an increasingly precarious world.
At the same time, she was constitutionally incapable of admitting her own uniqueness. It went too hard against her grain to hold herself out as important, to claim to the world that indeed she was irreplaceable.
But a keen intellect such as hers could not long deny the truth of Brad’s position. Yes, if she were replaced, in all probability it would be by someone less capable than she deemed herself. She thought the president would strive for someone he could count on the way he counted on her, but Brad was right about the role politics played as well. And she knew she was distinctly at odds with the rest of the diplomatic community in letting her concern for the American military factor into her decisions. Too often the State Department was foaming at the mouth: Send in the troops, send in the troops, constantly seeming to invalidate the very reason for their own existence. No one from State expressed concern over the American lives that might be lost, over the damage to countless families across the United States. No, when their best efforts failed, they immediately called for firepower, convinced that the failure lay in the intransigence of their opponents rather than in any shortcomings in their own capabilities.