Ultimatum (49 page)

“Pete,” said Benton. “Give me your sense. What do you think?”

“I think this is it,” said Lisle. “I think this is as good as it gets. But whether that’s good enough, that’s something I don’t know. Mr. President, I’m here. I’m in it. You’ve got to take that into account.” Pete Lisle knew that after a time, in any intense negotiation, the negotiators become invested in the process. They have a stake in reaching a result. They develop a relationship with their counterparts on the other side. They get weary and just want to get it finished. All of that can lead them to recommend agreements they ought to walk away from, or give too much to the other side in order to get a deal done. As an experienced mediator in other people’s disputes, he had seen it happen. It was always a mistake to persist with a deal under those circumstances. If you wouldn’t be able to sell the deal to your base, or if it wasn’t sufficient to deliver the minimum it had to deliver, you were better off to walk away no matter how much blood, sweat and tears had gone into the negotiation. Any agreement you did make would soon be repudiated by your own supporters, and the betrayal felt by the other side would make it that much harder to start again.

“Oliver?” said the president.

“I don’t think we’re going to get anything more.”

Joe Benton considered the numbers he had written on the pad. They were worse than he had hoped for. But according to the models, the numbers on the Chinese side didn’t look too pretty either. Everyone was going to take pain. There was no way around it.

He looked out the window at the field behind the house. The sky was blue, piercing blue. Outside, it was over a hundred degrees.

“Let’s assume this is the best we can get,” he said. “Do we take it? What does everyone else think? Alan?”

“It’s not as if I’ve had any time to think about it,” muttered Ball resentfully. The first he knew of the details of the deal were on this call.

“What’s your feeling?” asked Benton, ignoring Ball’s insinuation.

“If we do this, and we bring it into Kyoto, will the others follow?”

“We have no choice but to make sure they do.” The figures were based on the assumption that cuts would be achieved globally. “Personally, by going out in front like this along with China, I think this is the best way to make that happen. Alan, do you have any other objection?”

There was silence for a moment.

“No,” said Ball.

“Larry?”

Larry Olsen was on Cape Cod. He was amazed that there seemed to be a genuine deal on the table, one in which China took real pain. He had never believed it would get to this point. “I’m still not happy with where we are on verification.”

“It’s not optimal,” said Lisle. “At this stage it’s a statement of principles. We agreed we’ll have a working party that will come up with an agreed procedure within six months.”

“You think they’ll stick to that? They won’t use that later to renegotiate?”

“I think they’re committed to the numbers we’ve agreed on. Whatever happens on verification, we’re not going to reopen those. And we start implementation even if we don’t have verification finalized. That’s critical.”

“Yeah, well, there goes verification,” said Olsen.

“I don’t think so, Mr. Secretary. We’ve agreed penalties. Until we have verification, if one side shows the other is noncompliant in
anything,
that’s sufficient for the full penalties to kick in. After that, it’s up to the guilty party to prove it’s compliant again. That argues that both sides should want verification.”

“Is it definite they won’t reopen the numbers?” asked John Eales.

“We agreed that anything we agreed on is a firm commitment. We’ve agreed on the numbers.”

“Maybe you can still try to harden the verification principles,” said Olsen.

Lisle was extremely reluctant to do that. “Mr. Secretary, what we have now is a package. I don’t think we can unpick one part of it without them unpicking something else.”

“Larry,” said the president, “I’m happy to have verification principles at this stage and go with the working party on procedure. Is there anything else?”

Olsen was silent for a moment. “No.”

“Then I’m going to put you down as a yes. Ben, what about you?”

“I’m in,” said Hoffman.

“Jackie? I take it you’re okay?”

“I haven’t seen the spreadsheet, but as I said, a half point isn’t a deal breaker.”

“John? What’s your position?”

“I’m go.”

“Are there any other thoughts?”

Benton listened. There was silence on the line. Nothing. It was his decision now. He looked at the numbers he had written on the page as Lisle had been talking. To him, they weren’t just numbers. He couldn’t see them, probably didn’t know any of them and never would, but as a result of this final tweaking he would probably be putting an extra few hundred thousand people out of their jobs, their families into hardship. More suffering to add to the suffering of the he-didn’t-know-how-many people who were going to be hurt by the economic contraction and the Relocation that were coming. They were people to him, not numbers.

But if he didn’t do the deal, how many more would he be condemning, and to what greater misery? And if he said no, how did he know that he would ever get a better agreement? Or any agreement at all?

Diplomacy was about getting the best result in conditions of mutual uncertainty. Larry Olsen had said that to him, or something like it. At that moment Joe Benton was reminded of it.

And he had a deal. He actually had a deal. In his study in Wickenberg, Joe Benton smiled. Suddenly it was real. He glanced at the date on his screen. August 18. His mind was working. August 28. If Lisle could get it finalized and Olsen could get out to Oslo to initial it, he could announce it on the anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I have a dream” speech. That was rich with resonance. What greater dream could a president have than to make the planet healthy and fit for future generations? Already, phrases and sentences were forming in Joe Benton’s mind.

“Mr. Lisle, Dr. Wu,” he said. “I thank you for your work. Let’s do it.”

~ * ~

Tuesday, August 23

Eidsvoll, outside Oslo, Norway

Larry Olsen was expecting Premier Zhai or Foreign Minister Chou. But when the door opened, it was Ding Jiahui who walked in.

The arrangement was that a senior government official from each side would sign the preliminary agreement in Oslo. The two presidents would then simultaneously announce the deal in public at an agreed time, and later meet at a summit to sign the final agreement.

Olsen shook Ding’s hand.

“I’m glad to see you again, Minister,” he said.

Ding responded in Mandarin, even though his English was flawless. He had brought his own interpreter with him. He was immaculately dressed, as always. Larry Olsen, as always, was wearing a much-used and crumpled suit.

Lin introduced himself and Gao. Olsen introduced Pete Lisle and Oliver Wu to Ding. Ding said something to Wu in Mandarin. Wu said yes, he had been in Beijing with Olsen back in April.

“Much has happened in the four months since then,” said Ding.

“Much,” said Wu.

They sat. Lisle produced two copies of the memorandum, each with an English and Mandarin version that had previously been agreed and initialed by the four negotiators. Lisle handed one copy to Ding and the other to Olsen.

“I take it you have President Wen’s authority to sign on behalf of the government of the People’s Republic,” said Olsen

The interpreter murmured needlessly in Ding’s ear. Ding nodded.

“I have President Benton’s authority.” Olsen smiled. “You’d better look this over to make sure we haven’t tried to pull a fast one.”

Ding began to scan the pages. First the Mandarin version, then he turned to the English.

“Once we do this, we just need to figure out when President Benton and President Wen announce it,” said Olsen. “President Benton’s keen to announce it in a speech he’s making Sunday. I think you guys already know that.”

Ding nodded absently, still scanning. It was taking a while, as if he was actually following the text.

Olsen glanced at Pete Lisle. Lisle shrugged.

At length Ding was finished. He looked up.

“We okay?” asked Olsen.

Ding smiled pleasantly and said something. The interpreter spoke. “There is no recognition here of the historical responsibility of the United States.”

“The United States isn’t admitting any,” said Olsen.

“There must be recognition of the historical responsibility.” Ding gazed at Olsen as the interpreter translated.

Olsen glanced at Lisle. Lisle shook his head slightly but emphatically.

“Minister Ding,” said Olsen, “this is the agreement. Mr. Lisle, this is the text that was agreed, correct?”

“It is, Mr. Secretary.”

“Mr. Lin?”

Lin glanced at Ding.

“Well, I think you’ll find that Mr. Lin and Mr. Gao’s initials are on this draft.”

Ding pushed the paper back across the table toward Olsen. “There must be recognition of the historical responsibility.” Ding paused. “Five percent of the world’s population, twenty-five percent of its emissions. For so many years. There must be a recognition of this.”

“Why didn’t your people say this before?”

There was no answer from the other side of the table. Ding continued to gaze at Olsen. Gao watched stony-faced, as if it had nothing to do with him. Lin avoided Pete Lisle’s eyes. Lisle wondered whether he had known this was going to happen.

“Minister Ding, can you give us a moment?” said Olsen.

“Certainly,” replied Ding.

Olsen got up, taking his copy of the memorandum. Lisle and Wu went with him into the corridor outside the room. A man from the Norwegian foreign ministry was waiting there in case they needed anything. Olsen smiled at him briefly, and they went further along the corridor.

“What the fuck is he doing?” hissed Olsen.

Lisle shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“What does he want?”

“I don’t know,” whispered Lisle. “Historical responsibility. I don’t know what he wants.”

“He knows we’re not negotiating here, right? He knows this is a done deal?”

“They know.”

Olsen looked at Wu.

“No question,” said Wu.

Olsen shook his head in disgust. “What the fuck do they want?”

“Sounds like some kind of admission that it’s our fault.”

“The United States isn’t admitting that! Can you imagine what that might mean? Who knows where that might lead?”

“It s crazy.”

“I’m going to tell him to go! We’re not here to negotiate. He wants to negotiate, we’re finished!” Olsen paused, fuming. He glanced along the corridor at the Norwegian official for an instant, and then looked back at Lisle. “What do you think? Could we do some kind of preamble? Not admitting anything.”

Lisle shrugged. “We can probably find a form of words—”