tc.thebearandthedragon-第15部分

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n　here；　long　enough　yet　to　see　the　cold　fury　the　move　had　generated；　but　the　aftershocks　were　significant　enough；　and　he'd　heard　echoes　of　it　since　his　arrival　in　Beijing。　The　questions　directed　at　himself　were　sometimes　so　direct　and　so　demanding　of　an　explanation　that　he'd　momentarily　wondered　if　his　cover　might　have　been　blown；　and　his　interlocutors　had　known　that　he　was　a　CIA　〃illegal〃　field　officer　in　the　capital　of　the　People's　Republic　of　China；　entirely　without　a　diplomatic　cover。　But　it　hadn't　been　that。　It　was　just　a　continuing　echo　of　pure　political　rage。　Paradoxically；　the　Chinese　government　was　itself　trying　to　shove　that　rage　aside　because　they；　too；　had　to　do　business　with　the　United　States　of　America；　now　their　number…one　trading　partner；　and　the　source　of　vast　amounts　of　surplus　cash；　which　their　government　needed　to　do　the　things　which　Nomuri　was　tasked　to　find　out　about。　And　so；　here　he　was；　in　the　outer　office　of　one　of　the　nation's　senior　officials。
　〃Good　day；〃　he　said；　with　a　bow　and　a　smile　to　the　secretary。　She　worked　for　a　senior　minister　named　Fang　Gan；　he　knew；　whose　office　was　close　by。　She　was　surprisingly　well　dressed　for　a　semi…ordinary　worker；　in　a　nation　where　fashion　statements　were　limited　to　the　color　of　the　buttons　one　wore　on　the　Mao　jacket　that　was　as　much　a　part　of　the　uniform　of　civilian　government　workers　as　was　the　gray…green　wool　of　the　soldiers　of　the　People's　Liberation　Army。
　〃Good　day；〃　the　young　lady　said　in　reply。　〃Are　you　Nomuri？〃
　〃Yes；　and　you　are。。。？〃
　〃Lian　Ming；〃　the　secretary　replied。
　An　interesting　name；　Chester　thought。　〃Lian〃　in　Mandarin　meant　〃graceful　willow。〃　She　was　short；　like　most　Chinese　women；　with　a　square…ish　face　and　dark　eyes。　Her　least　attractive　feature　was　her　hair；　short　and　cut　in　a　manner　that　harkened　back　to　the　worst　of　the　1950s　in　America；　and　then　only　for　children　in　Appalachian　trailer　parks。　For　all　that；　it　was　a　classically　Chinese　face　in　its　ethnicity；　and　one　much　favored　in　this　tradition…bound　nation。　The　look　in　her　eyes；　at　least；　suggested　intelligence　and　education。
　〃You　are　here　to　discuss　puters　and　printers；〃　she　said　neutrally；　having　absorbed　some　of　her　boss's　sense　of　importance　and　centrality　of　place　in　the　universe。
　〃Yes；　I　am。　I　think　you　will　find　our　new　pin…matrix　printer　particularly　appealing。〃
　〃And　why　is　that？〃　Ming　asked。
　〃Do　you　speak　English？〃　Nomuri　asked　in　that　language。
　〃Certainly；〃　Ming　replied；　in　the　same。
　〃Then　it　bees　simple　to　explain。　If　you　transliterate　Mandarin　into　English；　the　spelling；　I　mean；　then　the　printer　transposes　into　Mandarin　ideographs　automatically；　like　this；〃　he　explained；　pulling　a　sheet　of　paper　from　his　plastic　folder　and　handing　it　to　the　secretary。　〃We　are　also　working　on　a　laser…printer　system　which　will　be　even　smoother　in　its　appearance。〃
　〃Ah；〃　the　secretary　observed。　The　quality　of　the　characters　was　superb；　easily　the　equal　of　the　monstrous　typewriting　machine　that　secretaries　had　to　use　for　official　documents　…　or　else　have　them　hand…printed　and　then　further　processed　on　copying　machines；　mainly　Canons；　also　of　Japanese　manufacture。　The　process　was　time…consuming；　tedious；　and　much　hated　by　the　secretarial　staff。　〃And　what　of　inflection　variations？〃
　Not　a　bad　question；　Nomuri　noted。　The　Chinese　language　was　highly　dependent　on　inflection。　The　tone　with　which　a　word　was　delivered　determined　its　actual　meaning　from　as　many　as　four　distinct　options；　and　it　was　also　a　determining　factor　in　which　ideograph　it　designated　in　turn。
　〃Do　the　characters　appear　on　the　puter　screen　in　that　way　as　well？〃　the　secretary　asked。
　〃They　can；　with　just　a　click　of　the　mouse；〃　Nomuri　assured　her。　〃There　may　be　a　'software'　problem；　insofar　as　you　have　to　think　simultaneously　in　two　languages；〃　he　warned　her　with　a　smile。
　Ming　laughed。　〃Oh；　we　always　do　that　here。〃
　Her　teeth　would　have　benefited　from　a　good　orthodontist；　Nomuri　thought；　but　there　weren't　many　of　them　in　Beijing；　along　with　the　other　bourgeois　medical　specialties；　like　reconstructive　surgery。　For　all　that；　he'd　gotten　her　to　laugh；　and　that　was　something。。
　〃Would　you　like　to　see　me　demonstrate　our　new　capabilities？〃　the　CIA　field　officer　asked。
　〃Sure；　why　not？〃　She　appeared　a　little　disappointed　that　he　wasn't　able　to　do　so　right　here　and　now。
　〃Excellent；　but　I　will　need　you　to　authorize　my　bringing　the　hardware　into　the　building。　Your　security　people；　you　see。〃
　How　did　I　forget　that？　he　saw　her　ask　herself；　blinking　rather　hard　in　a　mild　self…rebuke。　Better　to　set　the　hook　all　the　way。
　〃Do　you　have　the　authority　for　that；　or　must　you　consult　someone　more　senior？〃　The　most　vulnerable　point　in　any　munist　bureaucrat　was　their　sense　of　importance…of…place。
　A　knowing　smile：　〃Oh；　yes；　I　can　authorize　that　on　my　own　authority。〃
　A　smile　of　his　own：　〃Excellent。　I　can　be　here　with　my　equipment　at；　say；　ten　in　the　morning。〃
　〃Good；　the　main　entrance。　They　will　be　awaiting　you。〃
　〃Thank　you；　rade　Ming；〃　Nomuri　said　with　his　best　officious　（short）　bow　to　the　young　secretary　…　and；　probably；　mistress　to　her　minister；　the　field　officer　thought。　This　one　had　possibilities；　but　he'd　have　to　be　careful　with　her　both　for　himself　and　for　her；　he　thought　to　himself　while　waiting　for　the　elevator。　That's　why　Langley　paid　him　so　much；　not　counting　the　princely　salary　from　Nippon　Electric　pany　that　was　his　to　keep。　He　needed　it　to　survive　here。　The　price　of　living　was　bad　enough　for　a　Chinese。　For　a　foreigner；　it　was　worse；　because　for　foreigners　everything　was　…　had　to　be　…　special。　The　apartments　were　special　…　and　almost　certainly　bugged。　The　food　he　bought　in　a　special　shop　was　more　expensive　…　and　Nomuri　didn't　object　to　that；　since　it　was　also　almost　certainly　healthier。
　China　was　what　Nomuri　called　a　thirty…foot　country。　Everything　looked　okay；　even　impressive；　until　you　got　within　thirty　feet　of　it。　Then　you　saw　that　the　parts　didn't　fit　terribly　well。　He'd　found　it　could　be　especially　troublesome　getting　into　an　elevator；　of　all　things。　Dressed　as　he　was　in　Western…made　clothing　（the　Chinese　thought　of　Japan　as　a　Western　country；　which　would　have　amused　a　lot　of　people；　both　in　Japan　and　the　West）；　he　was　immediately　spotted　as　a　qwai　…　a　foreign　devil　…　even　before　people　saw　his　face。　When　that　happened；　the　looks　changed；　sometimes　to　mere　curiosity；　sometimes　to　outright　hostility；　because　the　Chinese　weren't　like　the　Japanese；　they　weren't　trained　as　thoroughly　to　conceal　their　feelings；　or　maybe　they　just　didn't　give　a　damn；　the　CIA　officer　thought　behind　his　own　blanked…out　poker　face。　He'd　learned　the　practice　from　his　time　in　Tokyo；　and　learned　it　well；　which　explained　both　why　he　had　a　good　job　with　NEC　and　why　he'd　never　been　burned　in　the　field。
　The　elevator　ran　smoothly　enough；　but　somehow　it　just　didn't　feel　right。　Maybe　it　was；　again；　because　the　pieces　didn't　quite　seem　to　fit　together。　Nomuri　hadn't　had　that　feeling　in　Japan。　For　all　their　faults；　the　Japanese　were　petent　engineers。　The　same　was　doubtless　true　of　Taiwan；　but　Taiwan；　like　Japan；　had　a　capitalist　system　which　rewarded　performance　by　giving　it　business　and　profits　and　fortable　salaries　for　the　workers　who　turned　out　good　work。　The　PRC　was　still　learning　how　to　do　that。　They　exported　a　lot；　but　to　this　point　the　things　exported　were　either　fairly　simple　in　design　（like　tennis　shoes）；　or　were　manufactured　mostly　in　strict　accordance　to　standards　established　elsewhere　and　then　slavishly　copied　here　in　China　（like　electronic　gadgets）。　This　was　already　changing；　of　course。　The　Chinese　people　were　as　clever　as　any；　and　even　munism　could　keep　them　down　only　so　long。　Yet　the　industrialists　who　were　beginning　to　innovate　and　offer　the　world　genuinely　new　products　were　treated　by　their　government　masters　as。。。　well；　as　unusually　productive　peasants　at　best。　That　was　not　a　happy　thought　for　the　useful　men　who　occasionally　wondered　over　drinks　why　it　was　that　they；　the　ones　who　brought　wealth　into　their　nation；　were　treated　as。。。　unusually　productive　peasants；　by　the　ones　who　deemed　themselves　the　masters　of　their　country　and　their　culture。　Nomuri　walked　outside；　toward　his　parked　automobile；　wondering　how　long　that　could　last。
　This　whole　political　and　economic　policy　was　schizophrenic；　Nomuri　knew。　Sooner　or　later；　the　industrialists　would　rise　up　and　demand　that　they　be　given　a　voice　in　the　political　operation　of　their　country。　Perhaps　…　doubtless　…　such　whispers　had　happened　already。　If　so；　word　had　gotten　back　to　the　whisperers　that　the　tallest　tree　is　quickly　cut　for　lumber；　and　the　well　with　the　sweetest　water　is　first　to　be　drunk　dry；　and　he　who　shouts　too　loudly　is　first　to　be　silenced。　So；　maybe　the　Chinese　industrial　leaders　were　just　biding　their　time　and　looking　around　the　rooms　where　they　gathered；　wondering　which　of　their　number　would　be　the　first　to　take　the　risk；　and　maybe　he　would　be　rewarded　with　fame　and　honor　and　later　memories　of　heroism　…　or　maybe；　more　likely；　his　family　would　be　billed　for　the　7。62x39　cartridge　needed　to　send　him　into　the　next　life；　which　Buddha　had　promised　but　which　the　government　contemptuously　denied。
　
　
　So；　they　haven't　made　it　public　yet。　That's　a　little　odd；〃　Ryan　thought。　〃It　is；〃　Ben　Goodley　agreed　with　a　nod。
　〃Any　idea　why　they're　sitting　on　the　news？〃
　〃No；　sir。。。　unless　somebody　is　hoping　to　cash　in　on　it　somehow；　but　exactly　how。。。〃　CARDSHARP　shrugged。
　〃Buy　stock　in　Atlantic　Richfield？　Some　mine…machine　builder　…〃
　〃Or　just　buy　options　in　some　land　in　eastern　Siberia；〃　George　Winston　suggested。　〃Not　that　such　a　thing　is　ever　done　by　the　honorable　servants　of　the　people。〃　The　President　laughed　hard　enough　that　he　had　to　set　his　coffee　down。
　〃Certainly　not　in　this　administration；〃　POTUS　pointed　out。　One　of　the　benefits　the　media　had　with　Ryan's　team　was　that　so　many　of　them　were　plutocrats　of　one　magnitude　or　another；　not　〃working〃　men。　It　was　as　if　the　media　thought　that　money　just　appeared　in　the　hands　of　some　fortunate　souls　by　way　of　miracle。。。　or　some　unspoken　and　undiscovered　criminal　activity。　But　never　by　work。　It　was　the　oddest　of　political　prejudices　that　wealth　didn't　e　from　work；　but　rather　from　something　else；　a　something　n