| Shouldn’t it be over? Shouldn’t we have heard? Not even a word about my father?” “I don’t know, Mr. President. Colonel Smith knows the time frame.” Klein could sense the president’s nodding. “Yes, of course he does.” “He’ll do his best. No one’s best is better.” Again the affirmative nodding somewhere in the White House, as if the president were sure it would all work out, although a large part of him feared it would not. “I have to get the manifest, and then I have to get a copy to Niu Jianxing in Beijing. But now it’s too late, isn’t it? There’s no time to get even a copy to China and hope that’s enough to convince the hardliners. They’d laugh at a fax, or at a copy sent over the Internet. They could be too easily counterfeited. Or at least, if we’re right and there’s someone inside Zhongnanhai who wants war, there’s no way he’d have to believe anything short of the actual manifest.” “Jon will think of something,” Klein said reassuringly. But he had no idea what that could be. Neither did the president. “In an hour, maybe less, I’ll tell Brose to give the order. We’re going to have to board the Empress. I don’t see any way around it, dammit. You did your best. Everyone did their best. All we can do now is hope and pray the Chinese back off, but I don’t see that happening.” “No, sir. Neither do I.” The silence was |
useless here.” The microwaves sounded, announcing the food was ready. He brought the steaming platters and bowls and sat down again. “They want you ready to lead, if they ever get free. I assume you’re not the only one sent away to be educated.” “Of course not. There have been several dozen of us over the years, including my sister.” “Does the world know about you Uighers? What about the United Nations?” Asgar heaped stewed mutton cubes, onions, peppers, ginger slices, carrots, turnips, and tomatoes onto his plate, and Jon did, too. From the large bowl they took handfuls of a thick fried rice dish with more carrots and onions. As Asgar ate, he dipped the cubes of mutton into the dark liquid in the smaller bowl and accompanied it with one of the crisp pancakes, held like a slice of bread. Jon imitated him and found the food spicy and delicious. “The U. N.?” Asgar said between mouthfuls. “Of course, they know about us. But we have no standing, while China has an embarrassment of it. We want our land for growing crops and grazing our animals. China wants it because it’s rich. Oil. Gas. Minerals. You like the mutton?” “It’s delicious. What do you call the crisp flat fried bread?” “Nang.” “And the rice?” Asgar chuckled. He laughed a lot for someone who spoke so bitterly. “It’s called ‘ eaten with the hands.’ He shrugged. “It’s always been the same for all the peoples of Central Asia. We rode |
