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"Not a nice thing to say about a man, Ming," Nomuri chided.

"I would never say it about you and your jade sausage, shin gan," she said, turning for a kiss.

"Do they argue often there? In the Politburo, I mean?"

"There are frequent disagreements, but this is the first time in months that the matter has not been resolved to Fang's satisfaction. They are usually collegial, but this is a disagreement over ideology. Those can be violent—at least in intellectual terms." Obviously, the Politburo members were too old to do much more than smack an enemy over the head with their canes.

"And this one?"

"Minister Qian says the country may soon be out of money. The other ministers say that is nonsense. Qian says we must accommodate the Western countries. Zhang and the others like him say we cannot show weakness after all they—especially the Americans—have done to us lately."

"Don't they see that killing that Italian priest was a bad thing?"

"They see it as an unfortunate accident, and besides, he was breaking our laws."

Jesus, Nomuri thought, they really do think they're god-kings, don't they? "Bao bei, that is a mistake on their part."

"You think so?"

"I have been to America, remember? I lived there for a time. Americans are very solicitous to their clergy, and they place a high value on religion. Spitting on it angers them greatly."

"You think Qian is right, then?" she asked. "You think America will deny us money for this foolish action?"

"I think it is possible, yes. Very possible, Ming."

"Minister Fang thinks we should take a more moderate course, to accommodate the Americans somewhat, but he did not say so at the meeting."

"Oh? Why?"

"He does not wish to depart too greatly from the path of the other ministers. You say that in Japan people fear not being elected. Here, well, the Politburo elects its own, and it can expel those who no longer fit in. Fang does not wish to lose his own status, obviously, and to make sure that doesn't happen, he takes a cautious line."

"This is hard for me to understand, Ming. How do they select their members? How do the 'princes' choose the new 'prince'?"

"Oh, there are party members who have distinguished themselves ideologically, or sometimes from work in the field. Minister Qian, for example, used to be chief of railroad construction, and was promoted for that reason, but mainly they are picked for political reasons."

"And Fang?"

"My minister is an old comrade. His father was one of Mao's faithful lieutenants, and Fang has always been politically reliable, but in recent years he has taken note of the new industries and seen how well they function, and he admires some of the people who operate them. He even has some into his office from time to time for tea and talk."

So, the old pervert is a progressive here? Nomuri wondered. Well, the bar for that was pretty low in China. You didn't have to jump real high, but that put him in advance of the ones who dug a trench under it, didn't it?

"Ah, so the people have no voice at all, do they?"

Ming laughed at that. "Only at party meetings, and there you guard your voice."

"Are you a member?"

"Oh, yes. I go to meetings once a month. I sit in the back. I nod when others nod, and applaud when they applaud, and I pretend to listen. Others probably listen better. It is not a small thing to be a party member, but my membership is because of my job at the ministry. I am here because they needed my language and computer skills—and besides, the ministers like to have young women under them," she added.

"You're never on top of him, eh?"

"He prefers the ordinary position, but it is hard on his arms." Ming giggled.

Ryan was glad to see that he was brushing enough. The dentist told him to floss, as he always did, and Ryan nodded, as he always did, and he'd never bought floss in his life and wasn't going to start now. But at least he'd undergone nothing more invasive than a couple of X rays, for which, of course, he'd gotten the leather apron. On the whole, it had