Made in China

by Reutlinger, Mark

• ISBN13: 9781458203168
• ISBN10: 1458203166
• Format: Hardcover
• Copyright: 2012-04-27
• Publisher: Author Solutions

Summary

By the year 2020, America is outsourcing virtually all its manufacturing, most of it to China. We depend on them for almost everything we buy and sell; without them, our economy would collapse. That dependence threatens to become fatal when economic war is declared on America by a hostile Chinese government and all products "Made in China" suddenly disappear, cut off at their source. Seattle-based systems engineer Jack Conway fi nds himself the point man for America's response to China's embargo. His new position puts him and the woman he loves in extreme danger, as they become the targets of hired hit men in a deadly game of industrial espionage and international intrigue. These ruthless killers will stop at nothing to protect the Chinese agenda. Meanwhile, America faces its greatest challenge since World War II: the revival of the nation's moribund factories and industries. MADE IN CHINA is an informed look at America's reaction to economic embattlement; it is also a love story, as two people discover how far they will go not only to protect their country, but to preserve their relationship and the life they hope to share. As America outsources more and more work to foreign soil, Reutlinger gives us a frightening glimpse into the future toward which we may be headed.

Excerpts

The slender Asian man paused at the top of the stairs, fumbling in his coat pocket for a cigarette. His suit jacket hung on him loosely, his slight build seldom filling out the clothes he bought. Finally he found the packet he was looking for and almost angrily pulled it free. Back home in Beijing, no one was forced to leave the building just to smoke a cigarette, but here in America-- He looked up when he heard the door open behind him. Was he to be joined by another smoker, another victim of America’s obsession with health and “wellness,” a term that was not even to be found in his dog-eared English-Chinese dictionary? He turned to see who was behind him. “Oh. Are you—” And that was as much as he managed to say before he saw what the man with the briefcase had come to do. And once he had seen, it was too late to react. Instinctively he turned his face away just as the heavy metal sap, wielded expertly as a golfer would swing a five iron, collided with his skull. He made no sound as he collapsed like so much loose linen onto the hard surface of the stairway. His body rolled downward in a bumpy, uneven rotation, making two or three revolutions as it struck stair after stair. He came to rest, in a most unnatural-looking position, on the landing below, his legs splayed out like broken spokes of a wheel. Close behind followed a trail of white cigarettes, some still rolling toward him, as if to offer themselves as comfort at this time of need.   And just behind them came the man with the briefcase, which once again concealed his weapon. He stopped and looked down to examine his handiwork, considered himself satisfied, and turned to leave. Then, having a second thought, he bent over, picked up one of the scattered cigarettes, examined it for a moment, and rose. Drawing a lighter from his pocket, he lit the cigarette, an excellent Chinese blend. He gave the little man’s body an extra kick for good measure, and then he continued on his way. *        *        * Jack Conway was not smoking a cigarette, but for the first time since he kicked the habit he felt like he needed one. It was mid-afternoon. Sitting on a hard bar stool in the Blue Moon Tavern, Jack lamented the loss of a job he dearly loved and contemplated his future.     It was May in Seattle. Outside the bright sunshine illuminated a cloudless sky. The glorious weather of Spring, 2020, more than made up for the wet Winter just past. But for Jack, it might as well have still been December.   “Unemployment’s something you never think much about—it’s what happens to other people,” Jack said as the bartender brought his scotch and soda. “Then suddenly it’s your problem too.”  Jack almost never stopped for a drink on his way home from work. Today was different: He was making the trip for the last time. The bartender, a balding veteran of the trade named Marty, could only sympathize. It was not just that sympathy is part of a bartender’s job. No, he knew the feeling well, from personal experience. Over the years, he had been unemployed more than a few times himself. He tried to commiserate. “Yeah, it stinks. But you got a lotta company these days. I see guys like you in here all the time.” Jack doubted it. He was not your average unemployment-line denizen. Although he had never been socially adept, having a fragile ego that had been dented by rejection more than once, as an engineer Jack was the epitome of confidence and success. At age 38, he had never before been out of work, at least not since graduating from university fifteen years earlier. He had majored in industrial engineering at U.C. Berkeley, had done very well, and had been hired immediately upon graduation by Monsanto, one of the country’s industrial giants. Although he had moved around a bit, always looking for a better opportunity and a higher salary, each move had been voluntary and seamless. “I’m sure you’ll get another job real quick,” Marty said, closely examining the hygienic condition of the rag with which he was drying a glass. He hadn’t any reason to think so, but he believed encouragement as well as sympathy was expected of him.  “It’s not so easy these days,” Jack said. He pushed away the rest of his drink and rose to leave. “Jobs are scarce, especially in my line of work. Besides, I was really happy at my company. I’m not likely to find another one like Prestige.” “What kinda company’s that?” Jack didn’t feel much like talking, but he also didn’t feel much like moving on, so he sat back down and answered. “Prestige Industries is a century-old manufacturer of specialized machinery for the garment industry.” “Yeah? Never heard of it. What’d you do there?” “I’m a systems engineer. My job was to evaluate and improve the production process at Prestige to make the process more efficient and cost effective. We had seven plants scattered around the country, and we had some of the best machines in the industry. In fact sometimes we had the only machines. Our motto was “Profit with Prestige.” It was a pretty good sales slogan, maybe because it was true.” “So if it was such a good product, why’d you lose your job? Did ya screw up somehow? Or did the boss give the job to his nephew? I heard of that happenin’.” Marty accompanied this last remark with a knowing wink, which Jack ignored. “Neither one, actually, although in a way I’d rather it was the nephew story. No, I lost my job because the company was sold. To a Chinese conglomerate called NKB. All the American plants are being closed down.” His tone was bitter. Suddenly the bartender, who had been only half listening to his customer’s tale, became both interested and animated. “Shit, the Chinese are takin’ over everything! Same thing happened to my brother-in-law. Used to work for a company down in Tacoma, makin’ builders’ hardware—you know, hinges, door knobs, fancy handles, that kinda stuff. Real nice, too—we got some on our house—got ‘em wholesale, y’know?” Jack nodded.    “So Hank—he’s my brother-in-law—he worked there over ten years. Local company, but turns out it was owned by some big outfit in St. Louis. One day last year the boss tells him he’s through. Just like that. Shuttin’ the place down. Seems they couldn’t compete with the stuff comin’ in from China. Real crap compared to what they’d been makin’, but with the cheap labor…. Shit, who cares whether it works or not these days, ‘long as it’s cheap.” Jack nodded again. “So did some Chinese conglomerate buy your brother-in-law’s company too?” “Hell no, the bastards in St. Louis just closed ‘em down. Now they buy their hardware from China. Put their name on it, sell it as if it were the same stuff Hank’s outfit made. Chinese crap dressed up in a fancy package.” Jack didn’t know whether he felt better or worse for having heard the bartender’s tale: Misery may love company, but it was depressing to realize that his story was being played out in so many other places, so many other industries, across America every day. And its victims covered the labor spectrum: blue collar workers like Hank, white-collar workers like Jack, even executives and CEO’s.   The stampede to outsource overran them all.