“You’re never on top of him, eh?”
“He prefers the ordinary position, but it is hard on his arms.” Ming giggled.
Ryan was glad to see that he was brushing enough. The dentist told him to floss, as he always did, and Ryan nodded, as he always did, and he’d never bought floss in his life and wasn’t going to start now. But at least he’d undergone nothing more invasive than a couple of X rays, for which, of course, he’d gotten the lead apron. On the whole, it had been ninety minutes torn off the front of his day. Back in the Oval Office, he had the latest SORGE, which was good enough for a whispered “damn.” He lifted the phone for Mary Pat at Langley.
“They’re dense,” Ryan observed.
“Well, they sure as hell don’t know high finance. Even I know better than this.”
“TRADER has to see this. Put him on the SORGE list,” POTUS ordered.
“With your day-to-day approval only,” the DDO hedged. “Maybe he has a need-to-know on economics, but nothing else, okay?”
“Okay, for now,” Jack agreed. But George was coming along nicely on strategic matters, and might turn into a good policy adviser. He understood high-stress psychology better than most, and that was the name of the game. Jack broke the connection and had Ellen Sumter call the SecTreas over from across the street.
So, what else do they worry about?” Chester asked.
“They’re concerned that some of the workers and peasants are not as happy as they should be. You know about the riots they had in the coal region.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, the miners rioted last year. The PLA went in to settle things down. Several hundred people were shot, and three thousand arrested.” She shrugged while putting her bra back on. “There is unrest, but that is nothing especially new. The army keeps control of things in the outlying regions. That’s why they spend so much money, to keep the army reliable. The generals run the PLA’s economic empire-all the factories and things-and they’re good at keeping a lid on things. The ordinary soldiers are just workers and peasants, but the officers are all party members, and they are reliable, or so the Politburo thinks. It’s probably true,” Ming concluded. She hadn’t seen her minister worry all that much about it. Power in the People’s Republic decidedly grew from the barrel of a gun, and the Politburo owned all the guns. That made things simple, didn’t it?
For his part, Nomuri had just learned things he’d never thought about before. He might want to make his own report on this stuff. Ming probably knew a lot of things that didn’t go out as SONGBIRD material, and he’d be remiss not to send that to Langley, too.
It’s like a five-year-old in a gun store,” Secretary Winston observed. ”These people have no business making economic decisions for a city government, much less a major country. I mean, hell, as stupid as the Japanese were a few years ago, at least they know to listen to the coaches.”
“And?”
“And when they run into the brick wall, their eyes’ll still be closed. That can smart some, Jack. They’re going to get bit on the ass, and they don’t see it coming.” Winston could mix metaphors with the best of ’em, Ryan saw.
“When?” SWORDSMAN asked.
“Depends on how many companies do what Butterfly did. We’ll know more in a few days. The fashion business will be the lead indicator, of all things.”
“Really?”
“Surprised me, too, but this is the time for them to commit to the next season, and there’s a
“Damn.”
“Yeah, I didn’t know Santa’s reindeer had slanted eyes either, Jack. At least not to that extent.”
“What about Taiwan?” Ryan wondered.
“You’re not kidding. They’re jumping into the growing gap with both feet. Figure they pick up a quarter, maybe a third, of what the PRC is going to lose. Singapore’s going to be next. And the Thais. This little bump in the road will go a long way to restore the damage done to their economy a few years back. In fact, the PRC’s troubles might rebuild the whole South Asian economy. It could be a swing of fifty billion dollars out of China, and it has to go somewhere. We’re starting to take bids, Jack. It won’t be a bad deal for our consumers, and I’ll bet those countries learn from Beijing’s example, and kick their doors open a notch or so. So, our workers will profit from it, too-somewhat, anyway.”
“Downside?”
“Boeing’s squealing some. They wanted that triple-seven order, but you wait an’ see. Somebody’s going to take up that slack, too. One other thing.”
“Yeah?” Ryan asked.
“It’s not just American companies bailing out on them. Two big Italian places, and Siemens in Germany, they’ve announced termination of some business with their Chinese partners,” TRADER said.
“Will it turn into a general movement …?”
“Too soon to say, but if I were these guys”-Winston shook the fax from CIA-“I’d be thinking about fence- mending real soon.”
“They won’t do it, George.”
“Then they’re going to learn a nasty lesson.”
CHAPTER 39 The Other Question
No action with our friend?” Reilly asked.
“Well, he continues his sexual adventures,” Provalov answered.
“Talk to any of the girls yet?”
“Earlier today, two of them. He pays them well, in euros or d-marks, and doesn’t request any, uh, ‘exotic’ services from them.”
“Nice to know he’s normal in his tastes,” the FBI agent observed, with a grunt.
“We have numerous photos of him now. We’ve put an electronic tracker on his cars, and we’ve also planted a bug on his computer keyboard. That’ll allow us to determine his encryption password, next time he makes use of it.”
“But he hasn’t done anything incriminating yet,” Reilly said. He didn’t even make it a question.
“Not under our observation,” Oleg confirmed.
“Damn, so, he was really trying to whack Sergey Golovko. Hard to believe, man.”
“That is so, but we cannot deny it. And on Chinese orders.”
“That’s like an act of war, buddy. It’s a big fucking deal.” Reilly took a sip of his vodka.
“So it is, Mishka. Rather more complex than any case I’ve handled this year.” It was, Provalov thought, an artful understatement. He’d gladly go back to a normal homicide, a husband killing his wife for fucking a neighbor, or the other way around. Such things, nasty as they were, were far less nasty than this one was.
“How’s he pick the girls up, Oleg?” Reilly asked.
“He doesn’t call for them on the phone. He seems to go to a good restaurant with a good bar and wait until a likely prospect appears at his elbow.”
“Hmm, plant a girl on him?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean get yourself a pretty girl who does this sort of thing for a living, brief her on what she ought to say, and set her in front of him like a nice fly on your fishhook. If he picks her up, maybe she can get him to talk.”
“Have you ever done such a thing?”
