Lethal Trajectories (54 page)

“It makes perfect sense, Clayton. Indeed, it reflects one of the great differences in our two countries. China has a top-down leadership structure that can identify and act on trends faster than yours. We’re not encumbered by regulatory ordinances, litigation, public opinion, and so forth in the way that you are, and that helps us move faster when necessary. America, on the other hand, is more grassroots-oriented. Your ability to make long-term decisions at the national level is hampered by the conflicting interests of your local constituencies. But in a crisis that everyone can understand, the American people are extraordinarily capable of doing whatever is necessary. So yes, Clayton, it does make sense to me.”

Clayton wished he understood China as well as Lin Cheng seemed to understand America.

“If you ever get tired of your job and want to come to America to teach government policy,” Clayton kidded, comfortable in their relationship, “I’ll make sure you get a full professorship somewhere.”

Lin Cheng laughed and replied, “Thanks, Clayton, but I’m having a hard enough time understanding my own country.”

They continued their walk beneath a cloudless sky, the clean air just as therapeutic as the postmortem on the brutal crisis they had weathered together.

“Did you have a hard time convincing your Politburo to support the joint Energy and Environmental Protocol we’ll be presenting to the UN?”

“We had some long and interesting discussions. The
energy
part of the plan was actually less of a challenge than the
environmental
part.” Lin Cheng paused to think; Clayton knew better than to interrupt his train of thought.

“Let me start with the energy part first. We’re proposing a global oil plan that takes into account the decreasing supply of oil and pegs consumption of that oil to global depletion rates. I explained that it’s a lot like the rationing plan that we used to good effect during the embargo. With Saudi oil supply now re-entering the world oil markets—though at nowhere near the production levels of the past, thanks to the way Mustafa ruined some of the fields—there’ll be more oil on the market than during the embargo. While that’s good, our two countries might have a more serious problem because we’ve used up our strategic petroleum reserves, and the long-term problem will still be with us.”

Clayton nodded, “I couldn’t agree more; this oil problem isn’t going to go away just because the embargo ended. How did they react to the formula we’ve worked out?”

“The formula didn’t bother them as much as the monitoring of compliance. Will it be difficult? Yes, but at least the oil supply chains are predictable again. It will allow us time to systematically replace oil-based fuel systems and usages with alternative energies. But again, the challenge will be in monitoring compliance.”

“I’d agree, Cheng. The world better get used to the idea of seeing a steady reduction of oil supply of at least 3 to 5 percent or more a year, and there’s unlikely to be any sharp improvements in the global economy until we can put in place new energy models not dependent on oil. It’s going to take years.”

The thought was sobering, as they continued their walk in silence.

“What about the
environment
part, Cheng? You said that was more challenging, and I’m interested in what you meant by that.”

“My challenge was not in convincing them of climate-change, because you can’t live in China and
not
believe it is happening. The droughts, desertification, Himalayan water challenges, and the quality of the air make it all so apparent. My challenge was to get them to believe a joint effort with the United States, the second-greatest world polluter, was in our best interests. They understand we’re generating over half of the world’s greenhouse gas between us and little can be done globally without cooperation, but they are concerned with what appears to them an inequity in the system.”

“What’s the inequity? The same formula applies to all,” Clayton asked, puzzled.

“I understand that, but try to see their logic, Clayton. The United States and other Western powers all polluted mightily to build their industrial base with no questions asked. Now, suddenly, when things are going well for China, India, and other developing nations, we are asked to curtail our emissions and, perhaps, stifle growth. To the Politburo, there’s a clear double standard: it was okay for the Western industrial nations to build their economies without regard to polluting the atmosphere, but it’s not okay for China, India, and others to do the same.”

“And how do
you
feel about it?”

“We both agree that we’ll need to shoot for aggregated carbon equivalent targets of 500 to 525 parts per million by 2050, and we both know how difficult that’s going to be—particularly with the negative feedback loops activated in the planetary climate. We still need to finalize the carbon reduction formula, but pegging it to a combination of GDP and per-capita base emission reductions is a good middle-ground solution. Peng and Jack are back at the Lodge talking about this now, and we’re close.”

They reached the end of Clayton’s favorite trail, looked around, and then turned around. The bright sun was energizing, and they were in no hurry to get back.

“How is it all playing out with your people, Clayton?”

“Our situations are not all that dissimilar. It took a long time, but most Americans would now agree that oil and climate-change issues are for real. The Saudis made believers out of them on oil, and they are now correlating the destructive weather patterns, Southwestern droughts, Midwestern flooding, and rising sea levels with climate-change. They now seem to appreciate that the atmosphere knows no boundaries on climate-change. It’s a global challenge requiring a global effort. We’ve demonstrated that our two countries can work together on common goals, and Americans now believe this is the only way we’ll get through our energy and climate challenges. They know it’ll be a challenge to convince other nations to join in, and, like your Politburo, they’re standing vigilant to see that the United States does not get gamed in the process.”

“Indeed, your perfect storm metaphor looks more real every day, Clayton. I sometimes wonder if we haven’t passed the point of no return, and then I remind myself we have to keep trying.”

Clayton nodded thoughtfully, and they picked up the pace of their walk.

“To change the subject, Cheng, how do you read the situation in the Middle East?”

Lin Cheng paused before answering. “I think the Saudi operationand aftermath went better than we had any right to expect. China is comfortable with the leadership and reforms of King Khalid, and we endorse his plan to get more of the nation’s oil money back into the hands of the Saudi people. This will go a long way toward addressing the societal issues facing the last two regimes. And of course we are gratified to see oil once again flowing out of Saudi Arabia and other Gulf countries—although Saudi oil supply is not yet half of what it once was. With the price of oil now hovering around three hundred dollars per barrel and trending downward, perhaps we can start to recharge the global economy.”

“We share your belief, and I think it will soon be possible to start a partial withdrawal of forces from the region. We’re deeply concerned, however, with some of the moves Iran has made in the Strait of Hormuz. Their actions are destabilizing in a region where we need stability.” Clayton was eager to hear what Lin Cheng would say about the issue, which was vital to the United States. It was a small hope, but….

Cheng thought for a moment before answering. “Perhaps we can help. We are in no mood for even a threat of disruption in oil supply in that region, and we do have some influence with Iran. Perhaps we can get them to back off a little. That’s about the best I can promise for now, Clayton, but you have my word I’ll see what I can do.”

“That’s good enough for me. Your word is as good as gold as far as I’m concerned.” Clayton felt relief knowing that China could get to Iran in ways the United States never could.
This détente thing really works,
he thought.

“What’s the current situation with Israel?” Lin asked with concern.
Ah,
Clayton thought,
a favor for a favor, as is only fair with allies.

“Israel is still catching its breath. They were about as close to an all-out nuclear confrontation as a country can get—not a few of their leaders thought it was imminent. They’ve been surrounded by hostile neighbors since their inception in 1948, but nothing has ever before equaled the magnitude of this crisis. They truly are exhausted, and I suspect they will be receptive to any worthwhile peace settlements that might be offered. They deeply appreciated, by the way, China’s willingness to not break off diplomatic relationships, and they want to improve their relationship with you.”

Lin Cheng smiled, probably realizing, Clayton thought, the value of better relations with Israel and the treasure trove of new technologies and markets they could provide.

Nearing the end of the path, and knowing they would soon meet Jack and Wang Peng for a working lunch at the Lodge, Clayton just had to ask Lin Cheng a question he had been pondering for weeks.

“What have you learned from all this, Cheng?”

“I could write a book on it, Clayton. There are so many things I’ve learned and gained—one of them being the friendship that I now have with you and your brother. It’s something I value quite highly.” Clayton, deeply touched by Lin Cheng’s sincerity and humility, could only nod at his remark. But a thought echoed through his head:
He’s a classy guy.

“I guess above all,” Lin continued, “I’ve learned deep in my gut how small this planet is and how mutually interdependent we are. If one nation suffers, we all do in some way. In this new age, future solutions will have to be collaboratively thought out and developed to seek optimal results for
all
nations. Our days of thinking only in zero-sum frameworks of winners and losers are
passé.
Whether or not this is true, that’s the way I feel—how about you, Clayton?”

“My take on it pretty well dovetails with yours. We’ve been so busy battling our hot and cold wars over the years, and we have so little to show for it. Speaking only for myself, I’m saddened to think of how far along we could’ve been on building a clean, renewable energy infrastructure in our country and holding down deficits if the money spent on mega-military establishments to protect our access to oil had instead been deployed toward these projects.”

It was a moment that only these two human beings would ever fully understand. They stopped and faced each other, each visibly moved by what the other had said, and then shook hands solemnly as if to say, “I agree”—a gesture worth more than all the peace treaties in the world.

“W
ell screw you too, and the big white horse you rode in on,” Wellington screamed at one of his largest
former
sponsors before slamming his phone down.
This is a fitting end to my worst week in this business,
he thought. His guts were still churning as he contemplated the meeting he would have in a few minutes with visiting network executives from Atlanta.

Just then, his receptionist, Amanda, poked her head through the door and announced, “Mr. Crane, your visitors are here.”

“For heaven’s sake, Amanda, you know what to do,” he responded. “Get them seated in the conference room, and tell them I’ll be with them in about five minutes.”

He quickly downed another double vodka in preparation for his battle with the network executives.
These back-office bums are no match for me,
he thought as he psyched himself into an attack mode. The best defense was a good offense, and he was prepared. The vodka was having its desired effect, and, as he looked in the mirror, he liked what he saw. Like a volcano, he erupted into the conference room of the waiting attendees.

“I’m not going to mince words with any of you,” he said, as he stormed into the room without even a preemptory greeting. “My ratings are down, and you’d better get out your checkbook and beef up my advertising budget.”

“And a good afternoon to you, too, Wellington,” replied Myron “Manny” O’Neil, a former Marine colonel turned marketing executive. “Actually, you’re right about one thing: your ratings are down, but it has nothing to do with your advertising budget.”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Crane bellowed belligerently, not totally sure he could browbeat Manny like he did the rest of humanity.

“The nosedive in your ratings isn’t because of your advertising budget. It’s because of you and your program. You’re losing your audience, Wellington; your market share is dropping like a rock.”

“That’s preposterous, Manny, and if you don’t change your attitude fast, I’m out of here,” Wellington responded, thinking,
I sure could use a drink.

“Well, first of all,” Manny replied softly, “you’re under contract with us, in case you’ve forgotten, so if you choose to walk, you’ll never work anywhere in the United States again—at least not in the media business. Second, you had better start rethinking your own attitude or your days are numbered.”

“What’s the matter with you, Manny? I’m still getting fifteen million listeners a day, and that’s almost unequalled in our business.”

“That’s true, Wellington, but you’ve dropped from twenty to fifteen million listeners almost overnight, and our surveys show it’s a runaway trend line pointing south.”

“But I …” Crane was silenced by Manny’s gesture of finger to mouth. For the first time since his interview with Clayton McCarty on Fitzwater’s show months ago, he felt intimidated.

“From our viewpoint,” Manny said in a steely voice, “your grassroots support is dwindling. You’ll always hold on to your five million or so die-hard fans, but we can’t command the same kind of advertising revenue with this reduction in listeners. Furthermore, you’ve lost five major sponsors and several local stations have dropped your show. Here, Wellington—” Manny’s voice rose as he shoved the letters across the table—“take a look at these letters from sponsors and affiliated stations if you don’t believe me.”