The Bear and the Dragon - Tom Clancy [176]
"Mr. Foreign Minister," Rutledge started off, when it was next his turn, "the government of the Republic of China is one elected in free and fair elections by the people who live in that country. In Americas eyes, that makes the government of the Republic of China legitimate"—he didnt say that the government of the Peoples Republic was, therefore, illegitimate, but the thought hung in the room like a dark cloud—"and that makes the government in question worthy of international recognition, as you may have noticed has been the case in the last year.
"It is the policy of our government to recognize such governments. We will not change policies based upon firm principles to suit the wishes of other countries which do not share those principles. We can talk until you run out of cigarettes, but my governments position in this case is set in stone. So, you can recognize this fact and allow the meeting to move on to productive areas, or you can beat this dead horse until nothing is left of it. The choice is yours, of course, but is it not better to be productive than not?"
"America cannot dictate to the Peoples Republic that which concerns us. You claim to have your principles, and surely we have our own, and one of ours is the importance of our countrys territorial integrity."
For Mark Gant, the hard part was keeping an impassive face. He had to pretend that this all made sense and was important, when hed much prefer to set up his computer to review stock prices, or for that matter read a paperback book under the rim of the table. But he couldnt do that. He had to pretend that this was all interesting, which, if successfully done, could get him nominated for the next Academy Award ceremonies for Best Actor in a Supporting Role: "For keeping awake during the most boring contest since the Iowa grass-growing championships, the winner is … " He concentrated on not shifting in his seat, but that just made his ass tired, and these seats hadnt been designed to fit his ass. Maybe one of those skinny Chinese ones, but not that of a Chicago-raised professional who liked having a beer and a corned-beef sandwich for lunch at least once a week and didnt work out enough. His ass required a broader and softer seat for comfort, but he didnt have one. He tried to find something interesting. He decided that Foreign Minister Shen had terrible skin, as though his face had once been on fire and a friend had tried to extinguish the flames with an ice pick. Gant tried to conjure up the image of that supposed event without smiling. Then came the fact that Shen was smoking so much, lighting his smokes from cheap paper matches instead of a proper lighter. Perhaps he was one of those people who set things down and forgot where they were, which would also explain why he used cheap throwaway pens instead of something in keeping with his rank and status. So, this important son of a bitch had suffered from terminal acne as a kid and was a butterfingers … ? It was something worthy of an inward smile as the minister droned on in passable English. That engendered a new thought. He had access to an earphone for simultaneous translation … could he get one tuned to a local station? They had to have a radio station in Beijing that played music of some sort or other, didnt they?
When Rutledges turn came, it was almost as bad. The stated American position was as repetitive as the Chinese one, perhaps more reasonable but no less boring. Gant imagined that lawyers talking over a divorce settlement probably went through bullshit like this. Like diplomats, they were paid by the hour and not by the product. Diplomats and lawyers. What a pair, Gant thought. He was unable even to look at his watch. The American delegation had to present a united front of solid stone,