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thing about this guy。 He would have been a pretty good poker player。 His eyes told you nothing at all。 Not a fucking thing。 Gant looked down at the guy again。 〃Excuse me。 I talk too much。〃
The official smiled。 〃There is much of that at times like this。 Why do you suppose everyone gets something to drink？〃 Amusement in his voice； letting Gant know； perhaps； who was really running this affair。。。？
〃I suppose；〃 Gant observed diffidently and wandered off with the junior…or was he？…official in tow。
For his part； Rutledge was trying to decide if the opposition knew what his instructions were。 There had been a few leaked hints in the media； but Adler had arranged the leaks with skill； so that even a careful observer…and the PRC ambassador in Washington was one of those…might have trouble deciding who was leaking what； and to what purpose。 The Ryan administration had utilized the press with a fair degree of skill； probably； Rutledge thought； because the cabinet officers mainly took their lead from Ryan's chief of staff； Arnie van Damm； who was a very skillful political operator。 The new cabinet didn't have the usual collection of in…and…out political figures who needed to stroke the press to further their own agendas。 Ryan had chiefly selected people with no real agenda at all； which was no small feat…especially since most of them seemed to be petent technicians who； like Ryan； only seemed to want to escape Washington with their virtue intact and return to their real lives as soon as they finished serving their country for a short period of time。 The career diplomat had not thought it possible that his country's government could be so transformed。 He assigned credit for all this to that madman Japanese pilot who'd killed so much of official Washington in that one lunatic gesture。
It was then that Xu Kun Piao showed up； sweeping in to the greeting room with his official entourage。 Xu was General Secretary of the munist Party of the People's Republic of China； and Chairman of the Chinese Politburo； though referred to in the media as the country's 〃Premier；〃 which was something of a misnomer； but one adopted even in the diplomatic munity。 He was a man of seventy…one years； one of the second generation of Chinese leaders。 The Long March survivors had long since died out…there were some senior officials who claimed to have been there； but a check of the numbers showed that if they had； they'd been sucking their mothers' nipples at the time； and those men were not taken seriously。 No； the current crop of Chinese political leaders were mainly the sons or nephews of the original set； raised in privilege and relative fort； but always mindful of the fact that their place in life was a precarious one。 On one side were the other political children who craved advancement beyond their parents' places； and to achieve that they'd been more Catholic than the local munist pope。 They'd carried their Little Red Books high as adults during the Cultural Revolution； and before that they'd kept their mouths shut and ears open during the abortive and predatory 〃Hundred Flowers〃 campaign of the late '50s； which had trapped a lot of intellectuals who'd thought to keep hidden for the first decade of Maoist rule。 They'd been enticed into the open by Mao's own solicitation for their ideas； which they'd foolishly given out； and in the process only extended their necks over the broad block for the axe that fell a few years later in the brutal； cannibalistic Cultural Revolution。
The current Politburo members had survived in two ways。 First； they'd been secured by their fathers and the rank that attached to such lofty parentage。 Second； they'd been carefully warned about what they could say and what they could not say； and so all along they'd observed cautiously； always saying out loud that Chairman Mao's ideas were those which China really needed； and that the others； while interesting； perhaps； in a narrow intellectual sense； were dangerous insofar as they distracted the workers and peasants from The True Way of Mao。 And so when the axe had fallen； borne as it had been by the Little Red Book； they'd been among the first to carry and show that book to others； and so escaped the destruction for the most part…a few of their number had been sacrificed； of course； but none of the really smart ones who now shared the seats on the Politburo。 It had been a brutal Darwinian process that they had all gotten through by being a little smarter than those around them； and now； at the peak of the power won for them by brains and caution； it was time for them to enjoy that which they'd earned。
The new crop of leaders accepted munism as truly as other men believed in God； because they'd learned nothing else； and had not exercised their intellectual agility to seek another faith； or even to seek solutions to the questions that Marxism could not answer。 Theirs was a faith of resignation rather than enthusiasm。 Raised within a circumscribed intellectual box； they never ventured out of it； for they feared what they might find out there。 In the past twenty years； they'd been forced to allow capitalism to blossom within the borders of their country； because that country needed money to grow into something more powerful than the failed experiment in the Democratic Republic of Korea。 China had experienced its own killer famine around 1960； and slowly learned from it and the Chinese also used it as a launching point for the Cultural Revolution； thus gaining political capital from a self…imposed disaster。
They wanted their nation to be great。 In fact； they already regarded it as such； but recognized the fact that other nations lacked this appreciation； and so they had to seek out the means to correct the misimpression foolishly held by the rest of the world。 That had meant money； and money had meant industry； and industry required capitalists。 It was something they had figured out before the foolish Soviets to their north and west。 And so the Soviet Union had fallen； but the People's Republic of China remained。
Or so they all believed。 They looked out； when they bothered themselves to do so； at a world that they pretended to understand and to which they felt superior for no better reason than their skin and their language…ideology came second in their self…reckoning； amour propre starts from within。 They expected people to defer to them； and the previous years of interactive diplomacy with the surrounding world had not altered their outlook very much。
But in this； they suffered from their own illusions。 Henry Kissinger had e to China in 1971 at the behest of President Richard Nixon not so much from his perceived need to establish normal relations with the world's most populous nation as to use the PRC as a stick with which to beat the Soviet Union into submission。 In fact Nixon had begun a process so lengthy as to be considered beyond Western capabilities…it was more the sort of thing that Westerners thought the Chinese themselves capable of conceiving。 With such ideas； people merely show ethnic prejudices of one sort or another。 The typical chief of a totalitarian government is far too self…centered to think much beyond his own lifetime； and men all over the world live