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child would merely spread her legs for some other couple's boy child； and where was the security for her parents in that？
It had been true in Fang's case。 As he'd grown to a senior party official； he'd made sure that his own mother and father had found a fortable place to live out their lives； for such were the duties of a child for those who had given him life。 Along the way； he'd married； of course … his wife was long dead of cardiovascular disease … and he'd given some lip service to his wife's parents。。。 but not as much as he'd done for his own。 Even his wife had understood that； and used her shadow…influence as the wife of a party official to make her own special but lesser arrangements。 Her brother had died young； at the hands of the American army in Korea； and was therefore just a memory without practical value。
But the problem for China that no one really talked about； even at Politburo level； was that their population policy was affecting the demographics of their country。 In elevating the value of boy children over girls； the PRC was causing an imbalance that was being statistically significant。 In fifteen years or so； there would be a shortage of women … some said that this was a good thing； because they would achieve the overarching national objective of population stability faster but it also meant that for a generation； millions of Chinese men would have no women to marry and mate with。 Would this turn into a flood of homosexuality？ PRC policy still frowned upon that as a bourgeois degeneracy； though sodomy had been decriminalized in 1998。 But if there were no women to be had； what was a man to do？ And in addition to killing off surplus girl babies； those abandoned by their parents were often given away； to American and European couples unable to have children of their own。 This happened by the hundreds of thousands； with the children disposed of as readily and casually as Americans sold puppies in shopping malls。 Something in Fang's soul bridled at that； but his feelings were mere bourgeois sentimentality； weren't they？ National policy dictated what must be； and policy was the means to achieving the necessary goal。
His was a life as fortable as privilege could make it。 In addition to a plush office as pleasant as any capitalist's； he had an official car and driver to take him to his residence； an ornate apartment with servants to look after his needs； the best food that his country could provide； good beverages； a television connected to a satellite service so that he could receive all manner of entertainment； even including Japanese pornographic channels； for his manly drives had not yet deserted him。 （He didn't speak Japanese； but you didn't need to understand the dialogue in such movies； did you？）
Fang still worked long hours； rising at six…thirty； and was at his desk before eight every morning。 His staff of secretaries and assistants took proper care of him； and some of the female ones were agreeably pliant； once； occasionally twice per week。 Few men of his years had his vigor； Fang was sure； and unlike Chairman Mao； he didn't abuse children； which he'd known of at the time and found somewhat distasteful。 But great men had their flaws； and you overlooked them because of the greatness that made them who they were。 As for himself and people like him； they were entitled to the proper environments in which to rest； good nourishment to sustain their bodies through their long and grueling workdays； and the opportunities for relaxation and recreation that men of vigor and intelligence needed。 It was necessary that they live better than most other citizens of their country； and it was also earned。 Giving direction to the world's most populous country was no easy task。 It demanded their every intellectual energy； and such energy needed to be conserved and restored。 Fang looked up as Ming entered with her folder of news articles。
〃Good morning； Minister；〃 she said with proper deference。
〃Good morning； child。〃 Fang nodded with affection。 This one shared his bed fairly well； and for that reason merited more than a grunt。 Well； he'd gotten her a very fortable office chair； hadn't he？ She withdrew； bowing proper respect for her father figure； as she always did。 Fang noticed nothing particularly different about her demeanor； as he lifted the folder and took out the news articles； along with a pencil for making notations。 He'd pare these with MSS estimates of the mood of other countries and their governments。 It was Fang's way of letting the Ministry of State Security know that the Politburo members still had minds of their own with which to think。 The MSS had signally failed to predict America's diplomatic recognition of Taiwan； though in fairness； the American news media didn't seem to predict the actions of this President Ryan all that well； either。 What an odd man he was； and certainly no friend of the People's Republic。 A peasant； the MSS analysts called him； and in many ways that seemed both accurate and appropriate。 He was strangely unsophisticated in his outlook； something The New York Times mented upon rather frequently。 Why did they dislike him？ Was he not capitalist enough； or was he too capitalist？ Understanding the American news media was beyond Fang's powers of analysis； but he could at least digest the things they said； and that was something the intelligence 〃experts〃 at the MSS Institute for American Studies were not always able to do。 With that thought； Fang lit another cigarette and settled back in his chair。
It was a miracle； Provalov thought。 Central Army Records had gotten the files； fingerprints； and photographs of the two bodies recovered in St。 Petersburg … but perversely sent the records to him rather than to Abramov and Ustinov； doubtless because he was the one who had invoked the name of Sergey Golovko。 Dzerzhinskiy Square still inspired people to do their jobs in a timely fashion。 The names and vital statistics would be taxed （faxed？） at once to St。 Petersburg so that his northern colleagues might see what information could be developed。 The names and photographs were only a start … documents nearly twenty years old showing youthful； emotionless faces。 The service records were fairly impressive； though。 Once upon a time； Pyotr Alekseyevich Amalrik and Pavel Borissovich Zimyanin had been considered superior soldiers； smart； fit。。。 and highly reliable； politically speaking； which was why they'd gone to Spetsnaz school and sergeant school。 Both had fought in Afghanistan； and done fairly well … they'd survived Afghanistan； which was not the usual thing for Spetsnaz troops； who'd drawn all of the dirtiest duty in an especially dirty war。 They'd not reenlisted； which was not unusual。 Hardly anyone in the Soviet Army had ever reenlisted voluntarily。 They （Then？） they'd returned to civilian life； both working in the same factory outside Leningrad； as it had been called then。 But Amalrik and Zimyanin had both found ordinary civilian life boring； and both； he gathered； had drifted into something else。 He'd have to let the investigators in St。 Petersburg find out more。 He pulled a routing slip from his drawer and rubber…banded it to the records package。 It would be couriered to St