The Bear and the Dragon - Tom Clancy [167]
"It is my pleasure, and my honor, to visit your ancient country again," the American diplomat said, showing proper respect and subservience, the Chinese leader thought.
"It is always a pleasure to welcome a friend," Xu went on, as hed been briefed to do. Rutledge had been to China before in his official capacity, but never before as a delegation leader. He was known to the Chinese Foreign Ministry as a diplomat whod climbed his way up the ladder of his bureaucracy, much as they did in their own—a mere technician, but a high-ranking one. The Politburo chief raised his glass. "I drink to successful and cordial negotiations."
Rutledge smiled and hoisted his glass as well. "As do I, sir."
The cameras got it. The news media people were circulating around, too. The cameramen were doing mainly what they called "locator" shots, like any amateur would do with his less expensive mini-cam. They showed the room at an artificial distance, so that the viewers could see the colors, with a few close-ups of the furniture on which no one was supposed to sit, with somewhat closer shots of the major participants drinking their drinks and looking pleasant to one another—this was called "B-roll," intended to show viewers what it was like to be at a large, formal, and not overly pleasant cocktail party. The real news coverage for the event would be by people like Barry Wise and the other talking heads, who would tell the viewer what the visuals could not.
Then the coverage would shift back to CNNs Washington studio, down the hill from Union Station, where other talking heads would discuss what had been leaked or not leaked to them, then discuss what they in their personal sagacious wisdom thought the proper course for the United States of America ought to be. President Ryan would see all this over breakfast, as he read the papers and the government-produced Early Bird clipping service. Over breakfast, Jack Ryan would make his own terse comments to be noted by his wife, who might discuss it over lunch with her colleagues at Johns Hopkins, who might discuss it with their spouses, from whom it would go no further. In this way, the Presidents thoughts often remained a mystery.
The party broke up at the predetermined hour, and the Americans headed back to the embassy in their official cars.
"So, what can you tell us off the record?" Barry asked Rutledge, in the sanctity of the stretch Lincolns backseat.
"Not much, really," the Assistant Secretary of State for Policy replied. "Well listen to what they have to say, and theyll listen to what we have to say, and itll go from there."
"They want MFN. Will they get it?"
"Thats not for me to decide, Barry, and you know that." Rutledge was too tired and jet-lagged for intelligent conversation at the moment. He didnt trust himself to speak under these circumstances, and figured Wise knew that. The reporter was leaning on him for just that reason.
"So, what are you going to talk about?"
"Obviously, wed like the Chinese to open their markets more, and also to take a closer look at some issues we have, like patent and copyright violations that American business has complained about."
"The Dell Computer issue?"
Rutledge nodded. "Yes, thats one." Then he yawned.
"Excuse me. The long flight. you know how it is."
"I was on the same airplane," Barry Wise pointed out.
"Well, maybe youre just better at this than I am," Rutledge offered. "Can we postpone this discussion a day or so?"
"If you say so," the CNN reporter agreed. He didnt much like this preppy asshole, but he was a source of information, and Wise was in the information business. The ride was a brief one in any case. The official delegation hopped out at the embassy, and the embassy cars took the newsies back to their hotels.
The embassy had sleeping accommodations for the entire official party, mainly to ensure that anything they said wouldnt be recorded by the MSS bugs in every hotel room in the city. This was not to say that the accommodations were palatial, though Rutledge had a comfortable room. Here protocol failed Mark Gant, but he