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proof that the drafters of the Constitution had made one simple but far…reaching error。 They'd assumed that the people selected by The People to manage the nation would be as honest and honorable as they'd been。 One could almost hear the 〃Oops！〃 emanating from all those old graves。 The people who'd drafted the Constitution had sat in a room dominated by George Washington himself； and whatever honor they'd lacked he'd probably provided from his own abundant supply； just by sitting there and looking at them。 The current Congress had no such mentor/living god to take George's place； and more was the pity； Ryan thought。 The mere fact that Social Security had shown a profit up through the 1960s had meant that … well； Congress couldn't let a profit happen； could it？ Profits were what made rich people （who had to be bad people； because no one grew rich without having exploited someone or other； right？； which never stopped members of the Congress from going to those people for campaign contributions； of course） rich； and so profits had to be spent； and so Social Security taxes （properly called premiums； because Social Security was actually called OASDI； for Old Age； Survivors； and Disability Insurance） were transformed into general funds； to be spent along with everything else。 One of Ryan's students from his days of teaching history at the Naval Academy had sent him a small plaque to keep on his White House desk。 It read： THE AMERICAN REPUBLIC WILL ENDURE UNTIL THE DAY CONGRESS DISCOVERS THAT IT CAN BRIBE THE PUBLIC WITH THE PUBLIC'S MONEY … ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE。 Ryan paid heed to it。 There were times when he wanted to grab Congress by its collective neck and throttle it； but there was no single such neck； and Arnie never tired of telling him how tame a Congress he had； the House of Representatives especially； which was the reverse of how things usually went。
The President grumbled and checked his daily schedule for his next appointment。 As with everything else； the President of the United States lived a schedule determined by others； his appointments made weeks in advance； the daily briefing pages prepared the day before so that he'd know who the hell was ing in； and what the hell he； she； or they wanted to talk about； and also what his considered position （mainly drafted by others） was。 The President's position was usually a friendly one so that the visitor（s） could leave the Oval Office feeling good about the experience； and the rules were that you couldn't change the agenda； lest the Chief Executive say； 〃What the hell are you asking me for now！〃 This would alarm both the guest and the Secret Service agents standing right behind them； hands close to their pistols … just standing there like robots； faces blank but scanning； ears taking everything in。 After their shift ended； they probably headed off to whatever cop bar they frequented to chuckle over what the City Council President of Podunk had said in the Oval Office that day … 〃Jesus； did you see the Boss's eyes when that dumb bastard。。。？〃 … because they were bright； savvy people who in many ways understood his job better than he did； Ryan reflected。 Well they should。 They had the double advantage of having seen it all； and not being responsible for any of it。 Lucky bastards； Jack thought； standing for his next appointment。
If cigarettes were good for anything； it was for this； Nomuri thought。 His left arm was curled around Ming； his body snuggled up against her； staring at the ceiling in the lovely； relaxed； deflationary moment； and puffing gently on his Kool as an accent to the moment； feeling Ming's breathing； and feeling very much like a man。 The sky outside the windows was dark。 The sun had set。
Nomuri stood； stopping first in the bathroom and then heading to the kitchenette。 He returned with two wine glasses。 Ming sat up in bed and took a sip from hers。 For his part； Nomuri couldn't resist reaching over to touch her。 Her skin was just so smooth and inviting。
〃My brain is still not working；〃 she said； after her third sip。
〃Darling； there are times when men and women don't need their brains。〃
〃Well； your sausage doesn't need one；〃 she responded； reaching down to fondle it。
〃Gently； girl！ He's run a long hard race！〃 the CIA officer warned her with an inner smile。
〃Oh； so he has。〃 Ming bent down to deliver a gentle kiss。 〃And he won the race。〃
〃No； but he did manage to catch up with you。〃 Nomuri lit another cigarette。 Then he was surprised to see Ming reach into her purse and pull out one of her own。 She lit it with grace and took a long puff； finally letting the smoke out her nose。
〃Dragon girl！〃 Nomuri announced with a laugh。 〃Do flames e next？ I didn't know you smoked。〃
〃At the office； everyone does。〃
〃Even the minister？〃
Another laugh： 〃Especially the minister。〃
〃Someone should tell him that smoking is dangerous to the health； and not good for the yang。〃
〃A smoked sausage is not a firm sausage；〃 Ming said； with a laugh。 〃Maybe that's his problem； then。〃
〃You do not like your minister？〃
〃He is an old man with what he thinks is a young penis。 He uses the office staff as his personal bordello。 Well； it could be worse；〃 Ming admitted。 〃It's been a long time since I was his favorite。 Lately he's fixed on Chai； and she is engaged； and Fang knows it。 That is not a civilized act on the part of a senior minister。〃
〃The laws do not apply to him？〃
She snorted with borderline disgust。 〃The laws apply to none of them。 Nomuri…san； these are government ministers。 They are the law in this country； and they care little for what others think of them or their habits … few enough find out in any case。 They are corrupt on a scale that shames the emperors of old； and they say they are the guardians of the mon people； the peasants and workers they claim to love as their own children。 Well； I suppose sometimes I am one of those peasants； eh？〃
〃And I thought you liked your minister；〃 Nomuri responded； goading her on。 〃So； what does he talk about？〃
〃What do you mean？〃
〃The late work that kept you away from here；〃 he answered； waving at the bedclothes with a smile。
〃Oh； talk between the ministers。 He keeps an extensive personal political diary … in case the president might want to oust him； that is his defense； you see； something he could present to his peers。 Fang doesn't want to lose his official residence and all the privileges that e along with it。 So； he keeps records of all he does； and I am his secretary； and I transcribe all his notes。 Sometimes it can take forever。〃
〃On your puter； of course。〃
〃Yes； the new one； in perfect Mandarin ideographs now that you've given us the new software。〃
〃You keep it on your puter？〃
〃On the hard drive； yes。 Oh； it's encrypted；〃 she assured him。 〃We learned that from the Americans； when we broke into their weapons records。 It's called a robust encryption system； whatever that means。 I select the file I wish to open and type in the decryption key； and the file opens。 Do you want to know what key I use？〃 She giggled。 〃YELLOW SUBMARINE。 In English because of the keyboard … it was before your new software … and it's from a Beatles song I heard on the radio once。 'We all live in