Lethal Trajectories - Michael Conley [79]
They sat quietly for a spell, contemplating their challenges—so similar, and yet so different. It was like being back at Stanford, debating what world leaders should and shouldn’t do—but they were now in a position to take their ideas beyond the debates-over-beer stage. It was all so surreal, and yet it was reality.
“Peng, you can chalk up what I’m about to say as the product of too much to drink, but do you think there is even a remote chance we could get your boss and Clayton to sit down for a discussion like this one?”
Stunned by the suggestion, Wang pondered it before answering. He remembered Lin Cheng’s desire to improve relations with the West, but this might be pushing the envelope of his intent.
“I don’t know, Jack. I honestly don’t know. But we should at least think about the proposition. I have grave fears over what each of our countries might feel compelled to do if the Saudi oil embargo lasts for any length of time.”
“I agree. I’m probably speaking out of turn, as Clayton’s not even president yet, and I’m not sure how willing he’d be to take on the forces that would oppose it.”
“Here’s a thought for you, Jack. Lin Cheng will arrive in New York late tonight for the Chunxiao meetings at the United Nations. My guess is that he’ll be around for a few days and will have a fairly light weekend. Do you think there would be any way for all of us to meet quietly somewhere to kick around ideas? I say this not knowing whether Lin Cheng would be interested, and I certainly realize you are in the same boat.”
They talked for another hour about the possibilities and logistics of an informal secret summit. The more they talked the more plausible the idea sounded.
“I know one thing, Peng. If this Saudi oil crisis brings our two nations to the brink of war or worse, as it well might, we could never forgive ourselves—nor expect forgiveness—if we failed to at least bounce it off our bosses. What do you think?”
“I agree. I will discuss it with Lin Cheng when I meet with him tomorrow morning. Is it fair to say you will do the same with Clayton or Burkmeister?”
“It’s a deal!” said Jack.
They gave each other a long, firm handshake, and Jack left for the private jet waiting at the Teterboro Airport to return him to Washington. He was scheduled for an eight o’clock breakfast meeting with Clayton and would drop this interesting piece of news on him. Stranger things have happened, he mused.
30
Naval Observatory, Washington, DC
28 September 2017
Jack McCarty was operating on pure adrenaline. He was actually a little early for his meeting at the vice-presidential residence, but that would give him a few minutes to play with his two nieces, Melissa and Amy. He wondered how they would adjust to life in the White House and hoped they wouldn’t be hounded by the media like other presidential families. But then, why would they be any different? He was delighted to see Maggie open the front door and wave at him as his limo pulled up the driveway.
“Hi, Jack, she cheerfully shouted, dressed in a navy blue pinstripe suit, “C’mon in and have a hot cup of coffee. Clayton will be down in a few minutes.”
“How are you holding up, Maggie?” he replied as they hugged each other and walked through the front door.
“Life has changed already. The kids just left for school with an added Secret Service detail, and already everything we do seems to be under more scrutiny. Even my closest friends are treating me more deferentially, and I don’t even think they know they’re doing it. The media has called for private interviews, and events I attend—like the one I’m off to today—are more widely attended. How about you, have you noticed any changes since everything happened?”
“It’s hard to avoid,” Jack said, mentally recalling some of his recent activities. “Even my closest partners and business associates at IEE treat me more like an alien power from another planet than their boss. We discussed transition details for company leadership the other day, and