T’ing drew himself up to his full height. “I apologize for barging in unannounced — but under the circumstances, it is clearly appropriate, if not practically demanded. Yesterday, the United States interfered with lawful, peaceful military operations conducted by my government. First, during a routine test over open ocean, your ships attacked and destroyed a missile. And now your commanders insist on deploying spy ships and aircraft into our territorial waters. Our response was immediate and proportionate, and only the greatest restraint on the part of our military commanders prevented the situation from escalating.” She thought she saw something that looked like pain flit across his face. “And I am personally offended at your treachery. I thought that our working relationship precluded surprises such as this. But obviously I was mistaken.”
“T’ing, please.” She gestured to all of their subordinates. “Can we dispense with the formalities and sit down and have a civilized discussion about this?”
“Civilized? You speak of civilized conduct, after this?” He shook his head, and then renewed his glare. “No, Madame Ambassador. We will not speak alone. Before, that might have been possible. And I like to think that as representatives of two of the most powerful nations on this planet, you and I have managed to avert our share of crises. But this — no, this is far out of our hands. My government demands an immediate and complete apology, coupled with reparations. The president has twenty-four hours in which to comply. If not, whatever follows will be the sole and complete responsibility of the United States. You cannot treat other nations in the world like this. You cannot. It is time that someone demonstrated that to you conclusively and finally.” With that, he turned, spoke sharply to an aide, and stalked out of the room.
Wexler sank back down in her chair, a feeling of loss pervading her soul. She could understand the Chinese position, oh, how well she could. And in one sense, T’ing was right. There should have been a way to resolve this before military action was required.
“That’s it,” Brad said with finality. “Madame Ambassador, I must insist that we upgrade security precautions immediately. I can’t guarantee your safety otherwise.”
“And just who’s going to guarantee the safety of those men and women on our ships?” she said, her frustration boiling over into anger. “You heard the man — something terrible is afoot, Brad, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”
“If you’re dead, there’s nothing you can do at all,” he said bluntly. “I’ve told you we need locked access to our suite, and you refuse to consider it. You’re bull-headed, Sarah Wexler. Bull-headed and blind to the consequences of your actions.” He crossed room and stood directly across from her. He pointed an accusing finger at her. “Just answer me this. If you’re dead, who will sit in that chair? Can you guarantee me that it will be someone as capable?”
“The president will—” she began, and Brad cut her off.
“The president is a political creature. Yes, I know the two of you are friends. So even if you don’t want to admit it to me, I know that you know he doesn’t make his appointments based sheerly on ability. Name one potential candidate who would have been able to pull off the things that you’ve done in the last four years. Name one. And if you can convince me that there’s anyone nearly as capable as you are, I’ll stand aside. Be honest — I’m not asking you to brag or become an egomaniac. Just give me an honest assessment. Is it conceivable that he could appoint anyone with as much commitment to the process of diplomacy, who has as much understanding of international affairs, and who just all in all gives a shit about our military forces? Well? Is it?”
“You’re out of your league, Brad. And way out of line,” she said sharply.
“Am I?” He stood resolute, refusing to back down, and waited for answer. “Because if I am, and there is a great deal I have misunderstood about our working relationship.”
And how had it come to this? First T’ing, now Brad. Was everyone in the world determined to have a showdown at the OK Corral this morning?
Brad had asked the one question that was almost impossible for Sarah Wexler to answer. She had deep streaks of both humility and pride running through her, and his question put them squarely at odds. Yes, she understood her role in the United Nations, understood in a way her predecessors never had. And, if she was forced to honesty, she would have had to say that most of them would not see her role as she saw it. It was something she had worked hard for, spent agonizing hours analyzing diplomacy and the art of it and now, at the culmination of her career, was able to bring every skill to bear on an increasingly precarious world.
At the same time, she was constitutionally incapable of admitting her own uniqueness. It went too hard against her grain to hold herself out as important, to claim to the world that indeed she was irreplaceable.
But a keen intellect such as hers could not long deny the truth of Brad’s position. Yes, if she were replaced, in all probability it would be by someone less capable than she deemed herself. She thought the president would strive for someone he could count on the way he counted on her, but Brad was right about the role politics played as well. And she knew she was distinctly at odds with the rest of the diplomatic community in letting her concern for the American military factor into her decisions. Too often the State Department was foaming at the mouth: Send in the troops, send in the troops, constantly seeming to invalidate the very reason for their own existence. No one from State expressed concern over the American lives that might be lost, over the damage to countless families across the United States. No, when their best efforts failed, they immediately called for firepower, convinced that the failure lay in the intransigence of their opponents rather than in any shortcomings in their own capabilities.
“That missile was headed for Taiwan,” she said slowly. “I’m certain of it.” She let her thoughts roam over the probable scenarios, the massive loss of life, the consequences for the Taiwanese people of a return to the control of mainland China. Horrors raced before her eyes, countless atrocities and deprivation. As much as she admired — yes, and even liked — T’ing, she knew what his government was capable of. “And the AWACS and the ship were in international waters. There was no legal justification for attacking them.”
Finally, she transferred her gaze to Brad’s face. He was still waiting, and she saw that he must have an answer. Had to, for his own understanding and peace of mind.
“I will agree to certain additional precautions,” she said slowly. “But not to making this an armed camp. Within what you have in mind, is there a way to accomplish that?”
She saw him immediately relax. He nodded, and said, “I know what you want and I know what I want. Let me give it some thought — I’ll find a compromise that I think you can live with, okay?”
She leaned back in her chair, suddenly weary beyond measure. “I want to see the details before you implement it.”
Brad nodded. He hesitated for moment, and said, “I meant what I said, Sarah. Right now, at this point in time, you are irreplaceable. And if I overstep my bounds occasionally, it’s because I think I have a deeper understanding of that than you do.”
She waved him off. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s been a long morning, and it promises to be a long week. But let me say this — one of the things I cherish about you is your bluntness. Now go on, get out of here before I change my mind.”
SEVENTEEN
Coyote was in a killing rage. The loss of the AWACS and the defenseless
But Coyote knew what the Chinese intended to do as surely as if he was sitting in on the Chinese staff meetings — and until they made the first move, there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. Not actively — but he could get ready for them.
