Free The Case Officer by F. W. Rustmann Page A

our embassy tennis courts lately.”
    Huang played tennis the way he
played badminton and ping-pong, sports he had excelled at during his college
years at Beijing University, with chips and spin and touch and intelligent
strategy. Mac, on the other hand, played from the baseline with power and heavy
topspin. Unfortunately for Mac, Huang’s finesse usually prevailed when they
played, frustrating MacMurphy to no end. He knew how to lose gracefully, but
that didn’t make him enjoy losing any the better. In sports as in his work, Mac
was a man who always preferred to win and did his damnedest to see that he did.
    “I, as you would say, cleaned
your Ambassador’s clock yesterday.”
    “That’s not much of an
accomplishment. He plays pitty-pat tennis like you do. You know, like an old
lady.”
    “Whenever you’re ready for
another lesson, just name the date and time.”       “You’re on. I’ll see if I
can fit you in this weekend.”
    “Fit me in? Coward! Are you starting
to backpedal already?”
    Mac replied with an upraised chin
followed by a dismissive wave.
    The two friends, both experienced
in the arcane art of meaningless cocktail party babble, chatted on for several
more minutes. Then the perceptive Huang noticed that Mac’s mind seemed to be
wandering.
    “Something wrong, Mac?  You seem preoccupied.”
    MacMurphy started to speak, then
hesitated. After a moment he said, “Yeah, I…I need to talk to you…”
    “So talk! Tell me what is wrong.
Anything I can help with?”
    MacMurphy knew there was no
delicate way to broach the subject. Huang was too perceptive for games. He
launched into the pitch in a straightforward manner, hoping Huang would
appreciate his honesty and not get too defensive or insulted.
    “My people want to help you. They
figure you’re a good guy with a future in your service, and they think you can
help create an atmosphere of better understanding between our two governments.”
    Huang looked puzzled. This was so
out of the blue, and so out of character for Mac, that at first he didn’t
understand the implicit message. “What are you saying, Mac? You seem ill at
ease, not at all like you.”
    “I’m okay,” Mac hesitated. “It’s
just that…well…it’s important that the U.S. government has friends who can…you
know…advise its leaders about the real intentions of other countries....”
    “You mean China?” said Huang
skeptically. “You need someone to tell you what China’s leaders are thinking
and planning?” He stared directly into Mac’s dark eyes.
    “That’s it…” Mac tried to avoid
Huang’s unwavering gaze. “You know… When countries understand each other
better, there is better communication and less chance that misunderstandings
can occur between them.” MacMurphy was on auto-pilot; he had delivered the same
general spiel many times before. “Better understanding brings better relations,
and both of us want that, don’t we?”
    “Sure we do Mac. Both our
countries are already moving in that direction now that the old guard like Mao
and Chou En-lai are gone…” The full realization began to dawn on him. Belatedly
comprehending Mac’s intent, Huang suddenly stiffened and backed away from
MacMurphy. The smile was gone. “Do you want me to tell you what China’s leaders
are planning? Do you want me to tell you what is said in our classified cable
traffic and pouches from Beijing?”
    MacMurphy started to speak,
dropping his gaze, but Huang held up his hand to cut him off. “I haven’t
finished...”
    “Look, let’s just drop it, okay?
It was a bad idea. Washington wanted me to ask....” Mac’s voice tapered off. He
wasn’t sure where to go with this next. Surely Huang deserved better than this.
    “So you asked.”  Huang’s voice was
flat.
    “Yes, I asked... Now let’s just
drop it and get a refill. Your glass is empty.” Mac tried to divert Huang’s
attention toward the bar.
    “Sure, I need another drink. But
first let me