wouldn't work, would it? Durling would lose great face were he to do that, and though America deemed it a uniquely Japanese concept, it was as true for them as it was for him. Even worse, Durling would not believe his sincerity. The well was so poisoned by a generation of previous bad-faith negotiations that there was no reason for the Americans to suppose that things were different now—and, truth be known, he probably could not really deliver in any case. His parliamentary coalition would not survive the concessions he would have to make, because jobs were at stake, and with his national unemployment rate at an all-time high of over 5 percent, he did not have the political strength to risk increasing it further. And so, because he could not survive the political effects of such an offer, something even worse would happen, and he would not survive that either. It was only a question, really, of whether he would destroy his own political career or let someone else do it for him. Which was the greater disgrace? He didn't know.
He did know that he could not bring himself to make the telephone call to his American counterpart. It would have been an exercise in futility, just like his entire career, he now realized. The book was already written. Let someone else provide the final chapter.
11—Sea Change
The Trade Reform Act by now had two hundred bipartisan cosponsors. Committee hearings had been unusually brief, largely because few had the courage to testify against it. Remarkably, a major Washington public- relations firm terminated its contract with a Japanese conglomerate, and since it was a PR firm, put out a press release to that effect announcing the end of a fourteen-year relationship. The combination of the event at Oak Ridge and Al Trent's often-quoted barb at a senior lobbyist had made life most uncomfortable for those in foreign employ who stalked the halls of Congress. Lobbyists didn't impede the bill at all. As a man, they reported back to their employers that the bill simply could not fail passage, that any disabling changes in the bill were quite impossible, and the only possible reaction to it would be to take the long view and ride it out. In time, their friends in Congress would be able to support them again, just not now.
The words might have been poetic in Japanese—it was a famous haiku—but it didn't make a hell of a lot of sense in English, Clark thought. At least not to him, but the effect on the man in front of him was noteworthy. 'Oleg Yurievich sends his greetings.'
'It has been a long time,' the man stammered after perhaps five seconds of well-concealed panic.
'Things have been difficult at home,' Clark explained, a slight accent in his voice.
Isamu Kimura was a senior official in the Ministry for International Trade and Industry, MITI, the centerpiece of an enterprise once called 'Japan, Inc.' As such he often met with foreigners, especially foreign reporters, and so he had accepted the invitation of Ivan Sergeyevich Klerk, newly arrived in Japan from Moscow, complete with a photographer who was elsewhere shooting pictures.
'It would seem to be a difficult time for your country as well,' Klerk added, wondering what sort of reaction it would get. He had to be a little tough with the guy. It was possible that he'd resist the idea of being reactivated after more than two years of no contacts. If so, KGB policy was to make it clear that once they had their hooks into you, those hooks never went away. It was also CIA policy, of course.
'It's a nightmare,' Kimura said after a few seconds' reflection and a deep draft of the sake on the table.
'If you think the Americans are difficult, you should be a Russian. The country in which I grew up, which nurtured and trained me—is no more. Do you realize that I must actually support myself with my Interfax work? I can't even perform my duties on a full-time basis.' Clark shook his head ruefully and emptied his own cup.
'Your English is excellent.'
The 'Russian' nodded politely, taking the remark as surrender on the part of the man across the table. 'Thank you. I worked for years in New York, covering the U.N. for
'Really?' Kimura asked.'What do you know of American business and politics?'
'I specialized in commercial work. The new world's circumstances allow me to pursue it with even more vigor, and your services are highly valued by my country. We will be able to reward you even more in the future, my friend.'
Kimura shook his head. 'I have no time for that now. My office is in a very confused state, for obvious reasons.'
'I understand. This meeting is in the manner of a get-acquainted session. We have no immediate demands.'
'And how is Oleg?' the MITI official asked.
'He has a good life now, a very comfortable position because of the fine work you did for him.' Which wasn't a lie at all. Lyalin—was alive, and that beat the hell out of a bullet to the head in the basement of KGB Headquarters. This man was the agent who'd given Lyalin the information which had placed them in Mexico. It seemed a shame to Clark that he couldn't thank the man personally for his part in averting a nuclear war. 'So tell me, in my reporter identity: how bad is the situation with America? I have a story to file, you see.' The answer would surprise him almost as much as the vehemence of its tone.
Isamu Kimura looked down. 'It could bring ruin to us.'
'Is it really that bad?' 'Klerk' asked in surprise, taking out his pad to make notes like a good reporter.
'It will mean a trade war.' It was all the man could do to speak that one sentence.
'Well, such a war will do harm to both countries, yes?' Clark had heard that one often enough that he actually believed it.
'We've been saying that for years, but it's a lie. It's really very simple,' Kimura went on, assuming that this Russian needed an education in the capitalist facts of life, not knowing that he was an American who did. 'We need their market to sell our manufactured goods. Do you know what a trade war means? It means that they stop buying our manufactured goods, and that they keep their money. That money will go into their own industries, which we have trained, after a fashion, to be more efficient. Those industries will grow and prosper by following our example, and in doing so they will regain market share in areas which we have dominated for twenty years. If we lose our market position, we may never get it all back.'
'And why is that?' Clark asked, scribbling furiously and finding himself actually quite interested.
'When we entered the American market, the yen had only about a third of the value it has today. That enabled us to be highly competitive in our pricing. Then as we established a place within the American market, achieved brand-name recognition, and so forth, we were able to increase our prices while retaining our market share, even expanding it in many areas despite the increasing value of the yen. To accomplish the same thing today would be far more difficult.'
'Through their own workers? All of them? Probably not. But they don't have to. Last year automobiles and
