Power and Empire

“True enough,” Ryan said, sensing Zhao wanted to say more, and giving him time to do so. Silence, he’d learned, was often the least used and most needed ingredient in good statesmanship.

Zhao folded his hands in his lap. “The container ship Orion—”

Ryan’s cell phone began to hum in the pocket of his coat. At least he’d remembered to put the damn thing on vibrate. He ignored it, and it stopped. Then it buzzed again a second later. Stopped. And buzzed a third time. Ryan closed his eyes. His kids were grown — all of them old enough to know the importance of what he did — the delicate nature of his meetings. Damn it. That was the point. Of course, they knew. None of them would use the family code to bypass normal protocols if it weren’t important.

Ryan reached into his pocket and held up the offending cell phone. “I apologize, Mr. President,” he said, scanning the message.

It was from Jack.

Ryan kept his face passive, motioning Montgomery over with a slight flick of his hand. Colonel Huang came off the wall a half-step at the movement, but a look from Zhao kept him in place.

Ryan said, “Gary, I’m going to show you something, and you have to promise to hear me out before you do anything.”

Everyone in the room was surprised to hear the President speak to his security agent so informally.

“Mr. President—”

“This is crucial,” Ryan said.

“Yes, sir,” Montgomery said, sounding extremely unconvinced.

Ryan read the text, whispering in the event anyone in the anteroom happened to be listening. Both agents immediately put themselves between their protectees and the double doors, pistols in hand, making themselves as large a target as possible.

“New additions to your detail?” Ryan asked.

“Mr. President,” Montgomery interrupted. “I need you to step into the bathroom.”

There was no way out but the double doors.

Colonel Huang nodded. “Such a move would be prudent, Zhao Zhuxi.”

The two presidents complied with their experts.

Once they were in the small washroom, Zhao said, “Three new officers were transferred to my team.”

Colonel Huang said something in Chinese, presumably a curse. “Long Yun is outside now.”

“And the other two new ones?” Montgomery asked.

“Downstairs,” Huang said. “But Long Yun is extremely fast and accurate with his sidearm. I do not care for him, but honestly, he would be a very dangerous opponent.”

“Okay,” Ryan said. “Members of my intelligence community believe your foreign minister may be in the process of launching a coup against you, or an assassination attempt against me. In either instance, unless you are personally involved, we will both be killed.”

“I assure you—”

Huang interrupted his boss, ready to protect his person and his reputation. “Long Yun is from Foreign Minister Li’s protective detail.”

“I believe you,” Ryan said. “There is evidence to implicate you in this — far too much evidence, in fact. Piles of it. Too easy to find. I disagree with you and your government on most things, President Zhao, but I would imagine a stupid man would not rise to your office. You are many things, but inept is not one of them.”

Zhao pushed back his glasses but said nothing.

“Someone,” Ryan said, “has been attempting to convince me that you are a very bad man.”

“They want you to invoke your Ryan Doctrine,” Zhao mused, saying the words as if they tasted bad. “To punish me personally for actions against your nation.”

“Precisely,” Ryan said.

Montgomery spoke next. In any other circumstance of threat to the principal, protocol would be to sound off, cover, and evacuate immediately. So far, he’d done none of the above. “Mr. President—”

Ryan raised his hand, cutting him off. “We’re good for a moment, Gary. The attack won’t happen until we walk outside. Here’s what I propose…”

Colonel Huang was seething by the time President Ryan finished explaining his plan. He could not leave the paramount leader in the care of the Americans. That was insane.

“I’d go,” the burly Secret Service agent said. “But your guy would sense a trap and start shooting as soon as I went through the door by myself.”

“Perhaps we could summon the agent I do trust,” Zhao offered. “Isolating Long Yun among your Secret Service agents.”

“There is no lock on those double doors,” Ryan pointed out. “If Long smells a rat—”

Montgomery was already briefing his three agents outside via their earpieces. They were surely having a difficult time controlling their emotions. Huang knew he would have to move quickly. Reinforcements would flood the room at any moment, and more than a few innocents would die in the ensuing gun battle.

The two Secret Service agents — one woman and one man — regarded Colonel Huang warily as he slipped through the double doors and nodded to Major Ts’ai, the only agent he trusted completely, asking for a break. Colonel Long stepped forward to volunteer, but the female American agent casually body-blocked him.