Ultimatum (40 page)

“You don’t want to say anymore?” said Benton.

“Not gratuitously, Mr. President. Friendship involves trust. Trust isn’t a thing I take lightly.”

Benton watched him.

“How can I put this, Mr. President?” Knight cleared his throat. “Any American businessman living in China for any length of time is almost certain to be approached by various agencies of our government. This complicates things enormously, as you can understand. I’ve always avoided entanglements. I’m sure the briefing you must have seen about me mentions this.”

“President Wen knows this, I presume? That you avoid entanglements.”

“I presume he does. I also presume he knows I’m here now, or will very soon.”

“But you didn’t tell him?”

“No, sir. I don’t feel obliged to tell him about my activities, nor does he expect me to. As I said, we count each other as friends.”

“And you don’t think this is an entanglement, as you put it?”

“Not yet.” Knight cleared his throat. “I didn’t feel it was my place to refuse, sir. I’m an American citizen. It would be an act of unconscionable pride to refuse a request to speak to one’s president.”

The president gazed at F. William Knight. The other man was detached, controlled. He was a proud man, with a strong sense of honor. An act of unconscionable pride to refuse to speak to one’s president, he had said. But possibly not to refuse to carry out one’s president’s request.

“Tell me something,” said Joe Benton. “I’m curious. You’ve lived in China for...”

“Forty years, give or take.”

“You care about China?”

“Of course. I’ve seen the country progress on every front. In my opinion it still has an enormous way to go, but if you compare the China of today to the China I found when I first went there in 1991, it’s just not the same place. “

“And you’re proud of that. Proud of the contribution you’ve made.”

“I think I have made a contribution. If I have, yes, I’m proud of it.”

“So if it came to choosing between the United States and China, what would you do?”

Knight looked at the president, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Say it was a choice, Mr. Knight. I’m curious. How do you deal with something like that?”

The president waited. The security assessment on F. William Knight had been in the briefing Benton had been given, as Knight himself realized. The president knew that Knight had repelled so many advances from the CIA that the Agency had stopped trying. He also knew there was no evidence that Knight had ever worked in any covert way for the other side. It really must be very easy, thought Benton, to find oneself entangled, living the life F. William Knight had lived, with contacts reaching to the very top of the Chinese regime. To have avoided even the suggestion of such an entanglement over a period stretching forty years must have required exceptional, scrupulous care.

“That’s a hypothetical question, Mr. President, and a very difficult one,” said the banker at last. “Everything I’ve done to help China…” Knight cleared his throat. “I’ve always felt that a vibrant, prosperous China is a good thing for the United States. I’ve never felt there’s been a conflict.”

“I don’t think anyone in this room would say there has been,” replied the president. He paused, as if to give a chance for Olsen or Ball to dissent. “But what if there was, Mr. Knight? Sometimes circumstances can lead to that. You wouldn’t be the first citizen with divided loyalties.”

“Well...” Knight cleared his throat. “As I said, I haven’t felt circumstances have lead to that until now.”

“I’m not saying they have now either, by the way. On the contrary. I was just interested, that’s all.”

Knight nodded.

“Let’s hope we never get to that point, huh?”

“Let’s hope so, Mr. President.”

The president smiled. He wasn’t warming to F. William Knight. He found him cold, passionless. But if everything Ball and Olsen had said about the banker was correct, Knight had access to Wen. The only person outside Wen’s closest circle in the party, perhaps, who could get thirty minutes with him alone. That far outweighed the question of whether he was likable or not. And he was trustworthy, the president could see that. Knight would certainly deliver a message, if he first agreed to do it.

“Mr. Knight, let me ask you straight out,” said Benton. “If I asked you to deliver a message directly to President Wen on my behalf, would you be prepared to do it?”

“Why me, sir?”

The president smiled. “That’s a fair question. We have, as you know, a vast hierarchy of people all dedicated to making contact with their Chinese counterparts. Yet, the funny thing is, it’s very difficult to be sure that one is getting to President Wen himself. Almost impossible.” The president paused. “As it is to me, I guess.”

“Surely you’ll be meeting President Wen,” said Knight. “You’ll be able to give him your message then.”

“I would like to do it much sooner than that, Mr. Knight. Tomorrow, if I could. And much less publicly.”

Knight cleared his throat. But he didn’t reply.

“You’re not comfortable with what I’m asking, Mr Knight?”

Knight didn’t reply to that. “May I ask, Mr. President, have any attempts already been made to deliver this message to President Wen?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure the message didn’t get through?”

“No, Mr. Knight, we’re not sure of that. In fact we think the message did get through. What we don’t know is what form it got through in.”

“Have you reason to believe it was distorted in some way?”

“Mr. Knight, the issue we’re talking about is of such gravity that I can’t afford to take even the slightest chance that some kind of miscommunication has taken place. I need to be one hundred percent sure the message I am giving reaches President Wen in precisely the form I’m sending it. The whole message and nothing but the message. I’m sure you can understand the importance of that.”

F. William Knight nodded.

“Let me assure you, Mr. Knight, in case that’s what’s worrying you, this is not something that pits the United States against China. On the contrary, this is very much a matter that is to our mutual benefit, one that’s in the interest of the entire world.”

Knight was silent.

“This is something that will hopefully mean that people like yourself, Mr. Knight, don’t have to make that terrible choice we were talking about. Between one country and the other.” Benton paused. Knight was gazing at the rug, a frown on his face. “You still don’t look comfortable, Mr. Knight.”

Knight shook his head. “I. . .” He cleared his throat. “I’ve always tried to avoid being caught in the middle. That happens to people in China all the time. That’s how you lose your credibility.”

It occurred to Joe Benton that the gaunt, silver-haired banker might really be about to turn him down. He glanced at Ball.

“Bill,” said Alan Ball. “You’ve got forty years of credibility behind you. We both know that’s not going to disappear overnight.”

Knight shook his head, still staring at the rug. “I realize this must be important,” he murmured. He cleared his throat.

Joe Benton wondered once again whether the other man was ill. He was agonizing over the decision, Benton could see that. He was really torn.

“Bill,” said Alan Ball, “what’s the point of all that credibility if you never get to use it? It’s like money in the bank. At some point you’ve got to take it out and spend a little.”

Knight looked at Alan Ball.

“Now’s the time, Bill. If there ever was a time, trust me, this is it.”

F. William Knight was silent for a moment. Then he turned to Benton and nodded. “All right, Mr. President. I’ll do it.”

Joe Benton leaned forward. “Now, you know, before we go any further, you have to be a hundred percent clear you’re prepared to do it. You can still say no, Mr. Knight. I want you to be clear. You’re making a commitment.”

“I realize that, sir.”

“Your commitment is to take my message quickly and secretly to President Wen—and only to President Wen—and to deliver it exactly as you’re given it, and to bring back to me exactly his answer, whether written or verbal. Nothing more and nothing less. I need you to make that commitment before we go any further. If you need to think about it a little more, tell me.”

“I don’t need to think about it any more.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Benton stood up. He put out his hand. “I thank you, sir. Your country is in your debt.”

Knight stood up and shook the president’s hand.

“How soon do you think you can talk to President Wen?” asked Benton.

“Within a few days, I would imagine. Is that soon enough?”

“It is. Secretary Olsen and Dr. Ball will brief you. You’ll be given a packet to deliver.”

~ * ~

Saturday, May 14

Family Residence, The White House

“You looked distracted tonight,” said Heather.

“Did I?” The president, taking off a sock, looked up at her.

He had been guest of honor at a dinner for the Young Democratic Achiever award. There had been some truly extraordinary stories of courage and determination, and he hoped he hadn’t given any sense that he didn’t value them.

“You didn’t like my speech?”

“Your speech was fine. It was the way you wandered off during the conversation.”

“Maybe it was the conversation.”

It was the stories of the young achievers that were inspiring. Unfortunately, the young achievers were seated with families and friends, all brought in for the event, and the presidential couple were seated with Mai Jackson, chair of the Democratic Party, his wife and a bunch of party apparatchiks.

Heather laughed. “I’ve seen you survive worse than that, Joe Benton.”

“Well, maybe that’s true. Being president requires a fine ability to tolerate banal conversation. They ought to put that in a warning somewhere.”

Heather folded her arms. “So what is it?”

Joe sighed. “Well, let’s see. Could be the fact that Senator Edwards has said he’s going to withhold support for the Teacher Support Bill unless we award one of our new integrated viral research grants to the University of Arkansas, which has rather a dubious claim to it, given that the University of Arkansas hasn’t exactly undertaken the world’s greatest viral research in the past. Or it could be that the military is already attacking us over our alleged plans to reduce funding for the self-propelled battle tank, which, by the way, haven’t even officially been presented to me yet, let alone reduced. Or it could be the fact that the Polish president, who was meant to be in Boston next week—and no, don’t ask, I have no idea why he’s going there on some kind of semiprivate visit—but the Polish president has now taken exception to some remark made by Congressman Batty and has decided he might cancel unless Congressman Batty retracts the comment, which normally I wouldn’t worry too much about, if not for the fact that Senator Wojciek, who’s also a little shaky on the Teacher Support Bill, has decided that she absolutely has to host President Koslowski at some dinner she’s organized, and she doesn’t think she’s going to look too good if we can’t lean on Congressman Batty, who, by the way, is exactly as his name suggests, and has built his entire career on his legendary ability— self-proclaimed, I should add
—not
to be leaned on.” The president paused, looking at Heather expectantly. “Should I go on?”