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ina did to exclude American manufactured goods from the Chinese marketplace would simply be invoked in order to do the same to Chinese goods； and with a trade surplus of seventy billion dollars per year； that could well mean seventy billion dollars…all of it hard currency。 The money to buy the things the PRC government wanted from America or elsewhere wouldn't be there anymore。 Trade would bee trade； one of mine for one of yours； which was the theory that somehow never became reality。
〃If America embargoes Chinese trade； China can and will do the same to America；〃 Shen shot back。
〃Which serves neither your purposes nor our own；〃 Rutledge responded。 And that dog ain't gonna hunt； he didn't have to say。 The Chinese knew that well enough without being told。
〃And what of most…favored…nation status for our country？ What of entry into the World Trade Organization？〃 the Chinese foreign minister demanded。
〃Mr。 Minister； America cannot look favorably upon either so long as your country expects open export markets while closing your import markets。 Trade； sir； means trade； the even exchange of your goods for ours；〃 Rutledge pointed out again…about the twelfth time since lunch； he reckoned。 Maybe the guy would get it this time。 But that was unfair。 He already got it。 He just wasn't acknowledging the fact。 It was just domestic Chinese politics projected into the international arena。
〃And again you dictate to the People's Republic！〃 Shen replied； with enough anger； real or feigned； to suggest that Rutledge had usurped his parking place。
〃No； Minister； we do no such thing。 It is you； sir； who tried to dictate to the United States of America。 You say that we must accept your trade terms。 In that； sir； you are mistaken。 We see no more need to buy your goods than you do to buy ours。〃 Just that you need our hard cash a damned sight more than we need your chew toys for our fucking dogs！
〃We can buy our airliners from Airbus just as easily as from Boeing。
This really was getting tiresome。 Rutledge wanted to respond： But without our dollars； what will you pay for them with； Charlie？ But Airbus had excellent credit terms for its customers； one more way in which a European government…subsidized enterprise played 〃fair〃 in the marketplace with a private American corporation。 So； instead he said：
〃Yes； Mr。 Minister； you can do that； and we can buy trade goods from Taiwan； or Korea； or Thailand； or Singapore； just as easily as we can buy them here。〃 And they'll fucking well buy their airplanes from Boeing！ 〃But that does not serve the needs of your people； or of ours；〃 he concluded reasonably。
〃We are a sovereign nation and a sovereign people；〃 Shen retorted； continuing on as he had before； and Rutledge figured that the rhetoric was all about taking mand of the verbiage。 It was a strategy that had worked many times before； but Rutledge had instructions to disregard all the diplomatic theatrics； and the Chinese just hadn't caught on yet。 Maybe in a few more days； he thought。
〃As are we； Minister；〃 Rutledge said； when Shen concluded。 Then he ostentatiously checked his watch； and here Shen took the cue。
〃I suggest we adjourn until tomorrow；〃 the PRC foreign minister said。
〃Good。 I look forward to seeing you in the morning； Minister；〃 Rutledge responded； rising and leaning across the table to shake hands。 The rest of the party did the same； though Mark Gant didn't have a counterpart to be nice to at the moment。 The American party shuffled out； downstairs toward their waiting cars。
〃Well； that was lively；〃 Gant observed； as soon as they were outside。
Rutledge actually had himself a nice grin。 〃Yeah； it was kind of diverting； wasn't it？〃 A pause。 〃I think they're exploring how far bluster can take them。 Shen is actually rather a sedate kind of guy。 He likes it nice and gentle most of the time。〃
〃So； he has his instructions； too？〃 Gant wondered。
〃Of course； but he reports to a mittee； their Politburo； whereas we report to Scott Adler； and he reports to President Ryan。 You know； I was a little mad about the instructions I had ing over here； but this is actually turning into fun。 We don't get to snarl back at people very often。 We're the U。S。 of A。； and we're supposed to be nice and calm and acmodating to everybody。 That's what I'm used to doing。 But this… this feels good。〃 That didn't mean that he approved of President Ryan； of course； but switching over from canasta to poker made an interesting change。 Scott Adler liked poker； didn't he？ Maybe that explained why he got along so well with that yahoo in the White House。
It was a short drive back to the embassy。 The Americans in the delegation rode mainly in silence； blessing the few minutes of quiet。 The hours of precise diplomatic exchange had had to be attended to in the same way a lawyer read a contract； word by goddamned word； seeking meaning and nuance； like searching for a lost diamond in a cesspool。 Now they sat back in their seats and closed their eyes or looked mutely at the passing drab scenery with no more than an unstifled yawn； until they pulled through the embassy gate。
About the only thing to plain about was the fact that the limousines here； like those everywhere； were hard to get in and out of； unless you were six years old。 But as soon as they alighted from their official transport； they could see that something was wrong。 Ambassador Hitch was right there； and he hadn't bothered with that before。 Ambassadors have high diplomatic rank and importance。 They do not usually act as doormen for their own countrymen。
〃What's the matter； Carl？〃 Rutledge asked。
〃A major bump in the road；〃 Hitch answered。
〃Somebody die？〃 the Deputy Secretary of State asked lightly。
〃Yeah；〃 was the unexpected answer。 Then the ambassador waved them inside。 〃e on。〃
The senior delegation members followed Rutledge into the ambassador's conference room。 Already there； they saw； were the DCM… the Deputy Chief of Mission； the ambassador's XO； who in many embassies was the real boss…and the rest of the senior staff； including the guy Gant had figured was the CIA station chief。 What the hell？ TELESCOPE thought。 They all took their seats； and then Hitch broke the news。
〃Oh； shit；〃 Rutledge said for them all。 〃Why did this happen？〃
〃We're not sure。 We have our press attache trying to track this Wise guy down； but until we get more information； we really don't know the cause of the incident。〃 Hitch shrugged。
〃Does the PRC know？〃 Rutledge asked next。
〃Probably they're just finding out；〃 the putative CIA officer opined。 〃You have to assume the news took a while to percolate through their bureaucracy。〃
〃How do we expect them to react？〃 one of Rutledge's underlings asked； sparing his boss the necessity of asking the obvious and fairly dumb question。
The answer was just as dumb： 〃Your guess is as good as mine；〃 Hitch said。
〃So； this could be a minor embarrassment or a major whoopsie；〃 Rutledge observed。 〃Whoopsie〃 is a term of art in the United States Department of State； usually meaning a massive fuckup。
〃I'd lean more toward the latter；〃 Ambassador Hitch thought。 He couldn't e up with a rational explanation for why this was so； but his instincts