In High Places (15 page)

Come to think of it, that was something to consider and perhaps after tonight it would be wise to ring down the curtain on the incident with Milly. Love 'em and leave 'em, he thought. After all, there were always plenty of women whose company - in and out of bed - a well organized male could enjoy.

He liked Milly, of course; she had a personal warmth and depth of character which appealed to him, and she hadn't been bad - though a bit inhibited - the one time they had made love. All the same, if the two of them went on meeting there was always the danger of emotional involvement - not himself, because he intended to avoid that sort of thing for a long time to come. But Milly might be hurt - women were apt to become serious about what men thought of as casual love-making - and it was something he preferred not to happen.

A plain-featured girl in Salvation Army uniform jingled a handbell in his face. Beside her on a stand was a glass jar of coins, mostly pennies and small silver. 'Spare something, sir. It's Christmas cheer for the needy.' The girl's voice was shrill, as if worn thin; her face glowed redly from the cold. Richardson reached into a pocket and his fingers found a bill among loose change. It was ten dollars and on impulse he dropped it into the glass jar.

'God be with you, and bless your family,' the. girl said.

Richardson grinned. Explaining, he thought, would spoil the picture; explaining that there never had been a family, with children, the way he had once pictured in what he thought of now as stickily sentimental moments. Better not to explain that he and his wife Eloise had a working arrangement whereby each went his own way, pursuing his separate interests but preserving the shell of their marriage to the extent that they shared accommodation, had meals together sometimes, and occasionally, if conditions happened to be right, slaked their sexual appetites by the polite use of each other's bodies.

Beyond that there was nothing else, nothing left, not even the once bitter arguments they used to have. He and Eloise never argued nowadays, having accepted the gulf between them as too wide even for their differences to bridge. And lately, as other interests had become dominant - his work for the party principally - the rest had seemed to matter less and less.

Some people might wonder why they bothered retaining their marriage at all, since divorce in Canada (except in two provinces) was relatively easy, entailing merely some mild per-''' jury which the courts went along with. The truth was that both he and Eloise were freer married than they would have been unattached. As things stood now, each of them could have affairs, and did. But if an affair became complicated, the fact of an existing marriage was a convenient 'out'. Moreover, their own experience had convinced them both that a second marriage for either was no more likely to be successful than the first.

He quickened his steps, anxious to be out of the snow and cold. Entering the silent, deserted East Block, he went up by the stairs and into the Prime Minister's office suite.

Milly Freedeman, wearing a coral woollen topcoat and fur-trimmed snow boots with high heels, was peering into a mirror to adjust a white mink cloche hat. 'I've been told to go home.' She glanced around, smiling. 'You can go in; though if it's anything like the Defence Committee you're in for a long session.'

'It can't be too long,' Richardson said. 'I've a later appointment.'

'Perhaps you should cancel it.' Milly had turned. The hat was in place; it was the finest, most practical, and attractive winter head-gear, he thought. Her face was glowing and her large grey-green eyes sparkled.

'Like hell I will,' Richardson said. His eyes, moving over her, were frankly admiring. Then he warned himself of the decision he had made about tonight.

Chapter 5
When he had finished talking, James Howden pushed his chair back tiredly. Opposite, on the visitors' side of the old-fashioned four-legged desk at which a succession of Prime Ministers had worked, Brian Richardson sat silently meditative, his alert mind indexing and absorbing facts he had just been given. Though he had known broadly of the Washington proposals, this was his first detailed briefing. Howden had told him, too, of the Defence Committee's reaction. Now the party director's thoughts, like veins and arteries of a human body, were branching out busily, assessing credits and debits, implications and eventualities, actions and counteractions, all with practised skill. Details would be filled in later; many details. What was needed now was a broad plan of strategy - a plan, Richardson knew, more critically important than any other he had yet devised. For if he failed it would mean defeat for the party and perhaps more than defeat, eclipse.

'There's another thing,' James Howden said. He had risen and was standing by the window, looking down on Parliament Hill. 'Adrian Nesbitson must go.'

'No!' Emphatically Richardson shook his head. 'Later maybe, but not now. If you drop Nesbitson, no matter what reason we give, it'll look like a cabinet split. It's the worst thing that could happen.' 'I was afraid you'd think that,' Howden said. 'The trouble is, he's completely useless. But I suppose we can manage, if we have to.'

'Apart from that, can you keep him in line?' 'I think so.' The Prime Minister massaged his long, curved nose. 'I believe there's something he might want. I can use it to bargain.'

'I'd go easy on the bargaining,' Richardson said doubtfully. 'Don't forget the old boy has a reputation for straightness.'

'I'll remember your advice.' Howden smiled. 'Do you have any more?'

'Yes,' the party director said crisply, 'quite a lot. But first let's talk about a timetable. I agree that for something this big there'll have to be a mandate from the country.' He mused. 'In a lot of ways a fall election would be our best chance.'

'We can't wait that long,' Howden said decisively. 'It'll have to be spring.'

'Exactly when?'

'I'd thought of dissolving Parliament right after the Queen's visit, then the election could be in May.'

Richardson nodded. 'It might work.'

'It has to work.'

'What's your plan after the Washington meeting?'

The Prime Minister considered. 'I think an announcement to the House in, say, three weeks from now.'

The party director grinned. 'That'll be when the fireworks start.'

'Yes, I expect it will.' Howden smiled faintly. 'It will also give the country time to get used to the idea of the Act of Union before the election.'

'It sure will help a lot if we can get the Queen over,' Richardson said. 'That way she'd be here between the announcement and the election.'

'That was my thought, too,' Howden agreed. 'She'll be a symbol of what we're retaining, and should convince people -on both sides of the border - that we've no intention of losing our national identity.'

'I take it there'll be no signing of any agreement until after the election.'

'No. It will have to be understood that the election is the real decision. But we'll do our negotiating beforehand so there will be no time lost afterwards. Time is the thing that matters most.'

'It always does,' Richardson said. He paused, then continued thoughtfully, 'So it's three weeks before the whole thing is out in the open, then fourteen weeks to the election. It isn't long but there could be advantages - getting everything over before any splits become too wide.' His voice became more businesslike. 'All right, here's what I think.'

Howden had returned from the window to his chair. Tilting it back, he placed his finger ups together and prepared to listen.

'Everything,' Brian Richardson said deliberately, ' - and I really mean everything - depends upon a single thing: trust. There must be absolute trust and confidence in one individual -- you. And it must exist right across the country and down through every level. Without that kind of trust we'll lose; with it, we can win.' He paused, thinking deeply, then continued. 'The Act of Union ... by the way, I think we must find another name ... but the kind of union you're proposing isn't outrageous. After all, we've been moving towards it for half a century or more, and in some ways we'd be insane to turn it down. But the Opposition will do their best to make it seem outrageous and I guess you can hardly blame them. For the first time in years they'll have a real live issue to get their teeth into, and Deitz and company will make the most of it. They'll hurl words like "betrayal" and "sellout" and they'll call you Judas.'

'I've been called names before, and I'm here, aren't I?' 'The trick is to stay.' Richardson's expression was unsmiling. 'What must be done is consolidate your image so clearly in the public mind that people will trust you absolutely, and have confidence that whatever you recommend is for their own good.'

'Are we so far removed from that now?'

'Complacency isn't going to help either of us,' Richardson snapped, and the Prime Minister flushed but made no comment. The party director went on, 'Our latest private polls show that the Government - and you - have slipped four per cent in popularity since this time last year, and you personally are weakest in the West. Fortunately it's a minor change, but still a trend. We can change the trend, though, if it's worked at bard - and fast.'

'What's your suggestion?'

'I'll have a long list of them - the day after tomorrow. Mostly, though, it will mean getting out of here' - Richardson waved a hand around the office - 'and moving about the country - speaking engagements, press coverage, television time where we can get it. And it must start soon - immediately you're back from Washington.'

'You're not forgetting that Parliament reconvenes in less than two weeks.'

'I'm not forgetting. Some days you'll have to be two places at once.' Richardson permitted himself a grin. 'I hope you haven't lost that old knack of sleeping in aeroplanes.'

'You envisage, then, that part of this tour should take place before the announcement in the House.'

'Yes. We can arrange it if we work fast. As far as we can, I'd like to condition the country to expect what's coming, and that's where your speeches will be important. I think we should hire some new men to write them - really top people who can make you sound like Churchill, Roosevelt, and Billy Graham rolled together.'

'All right. Is that all?'

'It's all for now,' Richardson said. 'Oh, except for one thing - a nuisance item, I'm afraid, among all this. We've an immigration hassle in Vancouver.'

Irritably Howden said, 'Again!'

'There's a ship's stowaway who hasn't got a country and wants to come in. It looks as if the Press has taken his case up and it ought to be settled quickly.' He related the details which had appeared in the afternoon papers.

Briefly Howden was tempted to brush the matter aside. There were limits, after all, to the number of things a Prime Minister could become involved in personally, and with so much else... Then he was reminded of his intention to have a showdown with Harvey Warrender ... his own awareness that small issues could sometimes become important. But still he hesitated.

'I talked to Harvey Warrender last night.' 'Yes,' Richardson said dryly. 'I heard about it.' 'I want to be fair.' Howden was still debating in his own mind. 'Some of what Harvey said last night made sense -about not letting people into the country.. That particular case you told me about - the woman who was deported. I understand she'd been running a brothel in Hong Kong and she had VD.'

'But the newspapers wouldn't print that, even if we leaked it,' Richardson said irritably. 'All that people see is a mother and baby being thrown out by the big bully of a Government. The Opposition made the most of it in the House, didn't they? You needed overshoes to wade through the tears.'

The Prime Minister smiled.

'That's why we should settle this Vancouver thing pronto,' the party director insisted.

'But surely you wouldn't admit undesirables - like that woman, for instance - as immigrants.'

'Why not?' Richardson argued, 'if it means avoiding bad publicity? It can be done quietly by order in council. After all, there were twelve hundred special admissions last year, mostly to oblige our own MPs. You can be sure there were some maggots among the lot, so what difference do a few more make?'

The figure of twelve hundred surprised Howden. It was not news, of course, that the immigration laws of Canada were frequently bent, and the bending process was a form of patronage accepted by all political parties. But the extent surprised him. He asked, 'Was it really that many?'

'A few more, actually,' Richardson said. He added dryly, 'Fortunately the department lumps twenty to fifty immigrants under each order, and nobody adds the total.'

There was a pause, then the Prime Minister said mildly, 'Harvey and his deputy apparently think we should enforce the Immigration Act.'

'If you weren't the Queen's first minister,' Richardson responded, 'I'd be tempted to reply with a short, succinct word.'

James Howden frowned. Sometimes, he thought, Richardson went a little far.

Oblivious to the disapproval, the party director continued, 'Every government in the past fifty years has used the Immigration Act to help its own party members, so why should we suddenly stop? It doesn't make political sense.'

No, Howden thought, it didn't make sense. He reached for a telephone. 'All right,' he told Richardson, 'we'll do it your way. I'll have Harvey Warrender in now.' He instructed the government operator, 'Get Mr Warrender. He'll probably be at home.' With a hand cupped over the mouthpiece he asked, 'Apart from what we've talked about, is there anything else you think I should tell him?'

Richardson grinned. 'You could try suggesting that he keep both feet on the ground. That way he might not put one in his mouth so often.'

'If I tell Harvey that,' Howden said, 'he'll probably quote Plato at me.'

'In that case you could come back with Menander:
He is raised the higher that he might fall the heavier
.'

The Prime Minister's eyebrows went up. There were things about Brian Richardson which constantly surprised him.

The operator came on the line and Howden listened, then replaced the phone. 'The Warrenders are away for the holiday - at their cottage in the Laurentians, and there isn't a phone.'