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Others—such as a neophyte candidate in Russia gaining leverage in a national election—have an immediate and powerful effect on everything from world markets to foreign relations. The fact that Martin, arguably the most powerful man in the world, didn’t understand this frustrated Mason.
    â€œMy point is,” the DCI continued, “is that unless something changes in the next few weeks, Vladimir Bulganin is going to become a player in Russian politics. I’d feel better if we knew more about him.”
    â€œUnderstood,” Martin said. “What do you propose?”
    â€œI want to do some back-channel nudging of the net works—CNN, MSNBC, ABC…. We plant the seed and hopefully their Russian correspondents will start asking some tough questions of Bulganin. If we can get a snowball rolling, it may put some pressure on him.”
    Martin looked to Bousikaris. “Thoughts, Howard?”
    â€œAs long as it can’t come back to bite us.”
    Mason shook his head. “It’s a routine play. Once Bulganin starts talking more, we can start dissecting him, see where it takes us.”
    â€œOkay, get on it. Anything else?”
    â€œToothpick,” said Mason. “Live-fire testing is scheduled for next month; I think it’s time we consider briefing members of the Armed Forces Committee, but we need to choose carefully.”
    â€œToothpick—the Star Wars thing?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Martin turned to Bousikaris. “Let’s put some feelers out. Make sure whoever we brief is fully on board; I don’t want any wafflers when it comes to funding.”
    â€œI’ll handle it.”
    â€œAnything else, Dick?”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    â€œThat’ll be all, then.”
    Once Mason was gone, Martin sighed. “Howard, that man is a naysayer.”
    â€œAs he said, Mr. President, that’s what he’s paid to do.”
    â€œI suppose.”
    â€œWe could replace him.”
    â€œBetter we wait until this Redmond thing dies down.”
    While the appointment of former-senator Tom Redmond to the directorship of the Defense Intelligence Agency had been politically necessary, Bousikaris had argued against making the change so soon after Martin took office. But Redmond had delivered California during the campaign, and that was the kind of favor you didn’t want hanging over your head.
    â€œHow’s the schedule today?” Martin asked.
    â€œOne addition: The ambassador to the People’s Republic of China. He wants a few minutes. In person, in fact.” Almost exclusively, the PRC communicated by formal letter. Bousikaris often joked that the dictionary entry for the word taciturn should simply contain a photo of a Chinese diplomat.
    â€œAny idea what’s on his mind?” Martin asked.
    â€œHis secretary declined to answer.”
    â€œOkay, give him ten minutes before lunch.”
    U.S. Embassy, Beijing, China
    Though he had considered them worthless back then, Roger Brown found himself glad he’d paid attention during those mind-numbing economics courses he’d taken at Notre Dame; they’d given him the ability to look attentive while being bored out of his mind. However gifted they may be at diplomacy, government functionaries rarely made good conversationalists.
    Ah, well, Brown thought. Such is the price of success at the CIA.
    Working under the title of advisor to the secretary for economic affairs, Brown was in fact the embassy’s new CIA station chief. Of course, the title was not designed to fool anyone (the Guoanbu was very good at keeping tabs on embassy personnel), but rather to give him diplomatic immunity should he get caught playing spy. Then again, he thought, the Chinese secret police wasn’t known for its strict adherence to diplomatic rules.
    Tonight was his first official embassy dinner, a meet-and-greet affair for members of China’s Ministry of Agriculture. So far