In High Places (14 page)

'Checks and balances,' the boy said. 'Only sometimes there are so many checks, nothing gets done.'

Bonar Deitz smiled. 'I won't comment on that. We might upset foreign relations.'

They came to the House of Commons lobby. Bonar Deitz opened one of the heavy double doors and led the way on to the floor of the House. They stopped, the deep silence - almost physically felt - enfolding them. Only a few lights were burning and, beyond their range, the soaring galleries and the chamber's outer edges blurred into darkness.

'When the House is sitting it's a good deal livelier,' Deitz said dryly.

Tm glad I saw it this way,' the boy said softly. 'It's ... it's sort of hallowed.'

Deitz smiled. 'It has very old traditions.' They moved forward and he explained how the Prime Minister and the Leader,. of the Opposition - himself - faced each other daily across the ' floor of the House. 'You see,' he said, 'we think directness has a lot of advantages. With our kind of government the Executive is accountable to Parliament immediately for everything it does.'

The boy looked curiously at his guide. 'If your party had elected more people, sir, then you'd be Prime Minister instead of leading the Opposition.'

Bonar Deitz nodded. 'Yes, I would.'

With unembarrassed frankness the boy asked, 'Do you think you'll ever make it?'

'Now and then,' Deitz said wryly, 'I get to wondering that myself.'

He had intended to take only a few minutes. But he found himself liking the boy and, by the time they had finished talking, much longer had elapsed. Once again, Deitz thought, he had allowed himself to be sidetracked. It happened frequently. He wondered sometimes if that were the real reason he had not been more successful in politics. Others whom he knew -James Howden was one - saw a straight, undeviating line and followed it. Deitz never did, politically or any other way.

He was an hour later than he had expected in reaching the Rideau Club. Hanging up his coat he remembered ruefully that he had promised his wife he would spend most of today at home.

In the lounge upstairs Senator Deveraux, still asleep, was snoring in gentle undulations.

'Senator!' Bonar Deitz said softly. 'Senator!' The old man opened his eyes, taking a moment to focus them. 'Dear me.' He eased upright from the depths of the big chair. 'I appear to have dropped off.'

'I expect you thought you were in the Senate,' Bonar Deitz said. He lowered himself angularly, like a collapsible spindle, into an adjoining seat.

Senator Deveraux chuckled. 'H that were so, you would have wakened me less easily.' Shifting around, he reached into a pocket and produced the newspaper item he had torn out earlier. 'Read this, my boy.'

Deitz adjusted his rimless glasses and read carefully. While he did so the Senator trimmed a new cigar and lit it.

Looking up Deitz said mildly, "'I have two questions. Senator.'

'Ask away, my boy.'

'My first question is - since I am now sixty-two years old, do you conceivably think you could stop calling me "my boy"?'

The Senator chuckled. 'That's half the trouble with you young fellows - you want to become old men before your time. Don't worry; age will creep up soon enough. Now, my boy, what's your second question?'

Bonar Deitz sighed. He knew better than to argue with the older man, who he suspected was baiting him. Instead he lighted a cigarette and asked, 'What about this chap in Vancouver - Henri Duval? Is there something you know?'

Senator Deveraux waved his cigar in a gesture of dismissal. 'I know nothing whatever. Except that the moment I learned of this unfortunate young man and his unheeded plea to enter our country, I said to myself: here is an opportunity for some ordure stirring which will embarrass our opponents.'

Several others had come into the room, greeting Deitz and Senator Deveraux as they passed. The Senator lowered his voice conspiratorially. 'You've heard what occurred at Government House last night? A fight! - among members of the Cabinet.'

Bonar Deitz nodded.

'Under the very nose, mind you, of the duly appointed representative of our gracious sovereign.'

'These things happen,' Deitz said. 'I remember once when our people had a shindig...'

'Please!' Senator Deveraux seemed shocked. 'You're committing a cardinal political sin, my boy. You're trying to be fair.'

'Look,' Bonar Deitz said, 'I promised my wife...'

'I'll be brief.' Manoeuvring the cigar to the left side of his mouth the Senator brought his hands together, checking off points upon his pudgy fingers. 'Point one: we know that our opponents have dissension in their midst, as witness the disgraceful occurrence of last night. Point two: from what my informants tell me, the spark which touched off the explosion concerned immigration and Harvey Warrender - that egghead with the addled yolk. Are you with me so far?'

Bonar Deitz nodded. 'I'm listening.'

'Very well. Point three: in the matter of immigration, the individual cases which have come to public attention lately -what we might call the sentimental cases have been handled with appalling disregard ... appalling from our opponents' point of view, of course, not ours ... appalling disregard of practical politics and the impact of these cases upon the public conscience. Do you agree?'

Again a nod. 'I agree.'

'Splendid!' Senator Deveraux beamed. 'Now we come to point four. It seems equally likely that our inhabile Minister of Immigration will deal with this unfortunate young man, Duval, with the same blundering ineptness as the rest. At any rate, we hope so.'

Bonar Deitz smiled.

'Therefore' - the Senator's voice was still lowered - 'therefore, I say, let us - the Opposition party - espouse this young man's cause. Let us turn this thing into a public issue, striking a blow against the unyielding Howden government. Let us...'

'I get the point,' Bonar Deitz said. 'Let's pick up a few votes too. It's not a bad idea.'

The Leader of the Opposition regarded Senator Deveraux thoughtfully through his glasses. It was true, he told himself, the Senator was becoming senile in some ways, but all the same, when you ignore the tiresome Micawberisms, the old man still possessed a remarkable political astuteness. Aloud Deitz said, 'What I'm more concerned about is this morning's announcement of this meeting in Washington between Howden and the President. They say it's for trade talks but I've a feeling there's something bigger involved. My idea was to demand a fuller explanation of what they plan to discuss.'

'I urge upon you not to do it.' Senator Deveraux shook his head severely. 'It could gain us nothing in public sympathy and you may appear petulant in certain eyes. Why begrudge even Howden the occasional little junket to touch the hem in the White House? It's one of the prerogatives of office. You'll do it yourself someday.'

'If it's really for trade talks,' Bonar Deitz said slowly, 'why at this particular time? There's no urgent issue; nothing new that's in dispute.'

'Exactly!' The Senator's voice held a note of triumph. 'So

what better time - when everything in his own kennel is quiet -- for Howden to make himself a headline or two and get photographed in bigger company. No, my boy, you'll do no good attacking there. Besides, if it's trade they're going to talk about, who cares outside a few importers and exporters?'

'I care,' Bonar Deitz responded, 'and so should everybody.'

'Ah! But what people should do and really do are different things. It's average voters we have to think about, and average voters don't understand international trade and, what's more, don't want to. What they care about is issues they can understand - human issues which stir their emotions; that they can weep for or cheer about; something like this lost and lonely young man, Henri Duval, who so badly needs a friend. Will you be his friend, my boy?'

'Well,' Bonar Deitz said thoughtfully, 'maybe you have something.'

He paused, considering. Old man Deveraux was right about one thing: the Opposition did need a good popular issue with which to clobber the Government, because lately there had been all too few.

There was another thing. Bonar Deitz was acutely aware that recently there had been growing criticism of himself among his own supporters. He was too mild, they said, in his attacks, as Opposition Leader, upon the Government. Well, perhaps his critics were right; he had been mild at times and he supposed it was the result of being able, always, to see the other fellow's point of view. In the cut and thrust of politics such reasonableness could be a handicap.

But a clear-cut human-rights issue - if this turned out to be one; and it looked as if it might - well, that would be different. He could fight hard, hitting the Government in its tender underbelly and perhaps, that way, his own record would be evened out. Even more important, it would be the kind of fight which newspapers and the public could grasp and applaud.

But would it help his own party at the next election? That was the real test, and particularly for himself. He remembered the question which the boy had asked this afternoon: 'Do you think you'll ever make it?' the real answer was that the next campaign would decide one way or the other. Bonar Deitz had led the Opposition through one election which had brought defeat. A sound defeat would spell the end of his own tenure as Leader and his ambition to become Prime Minister.

Would it help to have the kind of fight which the Senator was suggesting? Yes, he decided, it very likely would.

'Thank you. Senator,' Bonar Deitz said. 'I think your suggestion is sound. If it can be done, we'll make this man Duval an issue and there are a lot of other things about immigration we can hit at the same time.'

'Now you're talking.' The Senator beamed.

'There'll have to be some precautions,' Deitz said. He glanced at the others in the lounge, making sure he could not be overheard. 'We must be certain that this fellow in Vancouver is what he purports to be, and of good character. That's clear, isn't it?'

'Naturally, my boy. Naturally.'

'How do you suggest we begin?'

'The first thing is to secure a lawyer for this young man,' Senator Deveraux said. 'I'll take care of that myself in Vancouver tomorrow. After that there'll be legal steps during which, we trust, the Immigration Department will behave with its usual blundering heartlessness. And then ... well, the rest will be up to you.'

The Opposition Leader nodded approval. 'That sounds all right. There's one thing about the lawyer, though.'

'I'll get the right man - someone we can rely on. You may be sure of that.'

'It might be wise if the lawyer isn't one of our own party.' Bonar Deitz spoke slowly, thinking aloud. 'That way, when we come into the picture it won't look too much like a setup. In fact, the lawyer really shouldn't belong to any party.'

'A well-taken point. There is a problem, however, that most of our lawyers support one party or another.'

'Not all lawyers do,' Bonar Deitz said carefully. 'Not all the new ones, for instance. Those just in practice, fresh from law school.'

'Brilliant!' A slow grin spread over Senator Deveraux's face.

'That's it my boy! We will find an innocent.' His grin widened. 'A little lamb whom we shall lead.'

Chapter 4
It was still snowing, though wetly, when Brian Richardson, his scarf wound tightly, overshoes snug, and topcoat collar upturned, left the office on Sparks Street for the short walk to Parliament Hill. The Prime Minister had finally called him and said, 'You'd better come up. There's a lot I want to talk about.' Now, taking long plunging strides through the crowds of Christmas Eve shoppers, Richardson shivered at the cold which seemed intensified by dusk settling greyly over the city.

Richardson disliked winter and Christmas with equal impartiality - the first through a built-in physical craving for warmth, the second because of an agnosticism which he was convinced most others shared but would not admit. He had once told James Howden, 'Christmas is ten times phonier than any politics you ever saw, but nobody dare say so. All they'll tell you is "Christmas is too commercialized". Hell! - the commercial bit is the only part that makes sense.'

Some of the commercial bit impinged on Richardson's consciousness now as he passed store fronts, most lighted garishly, with their inevitable Christmas themes. He grinned at a combination of signs he had noticed earlier. In the window of ah appliance showroom a bright green panel blazoned in neoned misquotation, PEACE ON EARTH GOODWILL TOWARDS MEN. Below, a second sign, equally bright, read: ENJOY IT NOW - PAY LATER.

Aside from a few gifts - including one for Milly Freedeman, which he must buy before this evening -- Brian Richardson was glad there was no part he would have to act out in the Christmas scheme of things. Like James Howden, for instance, who would be obliged to turn out for church tomorrow morning, as he did most Sundays, even though his religious beliefs were about as non-existent as Richardson's own.

Once, years before, when Richardson had worked as an advertising account executive, a major industrial client had underwritten a 'go to church' campaign which Richardson had handled. At one point the client had suggested pointedly that Richardson, too, should follow the advice in his own clever advertising copy and become a church attender. He had gone; the industrial end of the account was too important to take chances with. But he had been secretly relieved when the agency later lost the account and that particular client no longer had to be appeased.

That was one of the reasons he enjoyed his work so greatly nowadays. There were no clients for him to appease, and any appeasement needed was handled by others at Richardson's direction. Nor, because he was out of the public eye, was there any front that had to be maintained; that kind of thing was politicians' business. Far from worrying about appearance, the party director had a duty to remain obscure, and behind the obscurity he could live pretty much as he pleased.

That was one reason he had been less concerned than Milly Freedeman about a possible eavesdropper when they had made their date for tonight, though perhaps, he thought, out of consideration he should be more discreet another time. If there were another time.