Good. He understands that much about respect. Perhaps there is hope.
“Sit,” Chang said flatly. “Sit, and listen.”
Ho unbent and slipped into the chair in front of Chang’s desk. He perched on the very edge of it, his back straight, his eyes staring at the floor. At that moment, Chang’s plan changed.
“There is no need to review your conduct and your decisions,” Chang began. “By now, you have understood what you did wrong, correct? And how your own pride and ego led to mistakes that almost cost men’s lives. There is no shame in misunderstanding another culture — there is shame in failing to admit to your misunderstanding. As a rule, you must assume that others are honorable until they prove otherwise. You did not allow the Americans that opportunity. Is this a correct summary of your understanding?”
“Yes, Captain.” Ho’s gaze was still fixed on the deck.
Chang leaned back in his chair and studied the man. Certainly he had the family connections and the education to go far in the military — indeed, he could walk the line between the ancient sources of power and authority in Taiwan and the emerging technocracy that was so at odds with tradition. If he were of the right character, Ho could play a key leadership role in Taiwan’s future.
But is he? Has he learned from this, or will it simply sour him, instill in him a desire for revenge? I have the power to ruin him right now. Ruin him, or save him. Which will it be?
“Look at me,” Chang ordered. Hesitantly, Ho raised his head and met Chang’s gaze.
The windows to the soul — and what do I see there? Remorse. Sorrow. Deep shame. Yes, he understands. And if he understands, there is hope.
“Wisdom comes from experience,” Chang said finally. “My report will contain the recommendation that you be ordered to a shore station in the United States for further liaison duties. Perhaps with their army this time.” Chang leaned forward, his voice intense. “Our country’s future will depend on knowing and understanding the United States. You have seen yourself how deadly mistakes can be. Some day, I will retire. It would be of some comfort to me if I knew that there were men such as you, men of pride and honor with the willingness to look beyond the surface to find other men of honor in other cultures. Can I count on you? Are you one of those men?”
Ho shook his head. “Not yet, sir. But I will do my best to follow your example.”
Chang nodded once. “Then go. Return to the ship, make your apologies and prove that my confidence is not mistaken. I shall be watching, Major. I wish to be proud.”
With that, he dismissed the army officer and turned back to the never-ending pile of paperwork on his desk.
Sarah Wexler had never seen the ambassador from China looking quite so — well — what? Embarrassed, perhaps? Chagrined? Or even apologetic? She doubted that anyone who didn’t know him as well as she did wouldn’t even notice it, but there was definitely an undercurrent beneath the smooth, diplomatic facade he always presented to the world.
He stood in her doorway, motionless, his head inclined slightly. How long has he been standing there? Not long, she figured, judging by how Brad, standing directly behind the ambassador, was impatiently shifting his weight.
“Yes?” she said, not really asking a question as much as acknowledging his presence.
T’ing deepened his bow, then said, “May I speak to you privately?”
A request, not an order. That’s a good start. Aloud, she said, “Regarding?” She shot a glance at Brad and continued with, “Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of my staff.”
Now that didn’t go down well with Brad, did it? I doubt he likes being considered just part of the staff.
“Very well.” T’ing’s gaze told her he was not pleased. “China is withdrawing her petition requesting sanctions against America.” He turned abruptly to leave and bumped into Brad.
“Will there be an apology forthcoming?” Wexler asked, her voice still cold.
“No.” He turned back to face her. “You cannot reasonably expect that, can you? Your government will have to be content with what is offered.”
That brought her to her feet. “Oh, really? Is that how you see things?”
He gazed at her for a long moment then said quietly, “I would like to speak to you privately. Please.”
Please, is it? She nodded. “It’s okay, Brad.”
Once they were alone, T’ing slipped into the chair in front of her desk and some of the stiffness in his posture slid away. “I have delivered the message from my government. I cannot elaborate on their position, you know. My orders were quite clear. But privately, I wish to assure you that I have been — perhaps not as well advised as I would like.” He spread his hands out, palms up. “It is no secret that I have many sources of intelligence. And in this instance, they were sufficiently at odds that I was forced to make a choice. Perhaps I made the wrong one. Had I known the truth of the matter, perhaps things might have gone differently.”
So they don’t tell you everything either, do they, my friend? She regarded him for a moment, seeing the similarities in how they’d each been forced to operate. “They want all of our skills, don’t they? But in the end, we represent our governments, and must advocate their positions. Even when we know better.”
His face relaxed. “So you understand, yes?”
“Yes.”
T’ing took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “But we’re more than just hired guns, you and I. We do make a difference. For instance, there was some talk of demanding restitution for the attack on our amphibious group. I would like to think that it would have been rejected without my input, but I certainly argued strongly against it.”
“Well, then. Where do we stand now?”
“With Japan and Russia arguing over the position of the Kuriles, I suppose. It will come back to this forum eventually, but for now we can safely ignore it.”
“For now.”
There was a long silence, not an uncompanionable one. Finally, he stood to leave. “Dinner tomorrow?”
She walked him to the door. “Pacini’s, eight o’clock.”
Tombstone fingered the brown official government envelope, knowing what was inside and not wanting to touch it. Somehow, this made his loss seem continually fresh. The monthly arrival of Tomboy’s paychecks, because her military pay continued as long as she was listed as missing and not declared killed, was a constant reminder of his loss.
Looks like I’m not the only one who can’t believe she’s gone. Tombstone stuck the envelope in his top desk drawer, along with the last three he’d received. Someday soon he’d have to decide what to do with them, but ignoring them for now seemed like the most attractive option he had.
“Mister Magruder?” a voice said hesitantly over the speaker on his telephone. “Someone is here to see you.”
“Who?” he said, slightly befuddled. No one came to see him here who didn’t already have the security codes to all the doors. And if they didn’t have the codes, they had no business being here.
“He won’t give his name. But he said to tell you it’s about going west.”
The phrase reverberated in his mind. Go west — the last words his father had etched on the walls of a Vietnamese POW camp. Tombstone shot out of his chair and headed for the front office. His uncle was only slightly behind him.