In High Places (56 page)

'I hope you'll reconsider,' Howden said, 'think gravely, carefully...'

'I already have. Our policy has been determined! The Opposition Leader smiled, 'You'll forgive me if I save my arguments for debate and the election.' He added, 'You'll call an election, of course.'

'Yes,' Howden said.

Deitz nodded. 'I assumed you would.'

As if by consent, they stood. Howden said awkwardly, 'I suppose I should thank you for this.' He looked at the envelope in his hands.

'I'd rather you didn't. We might both become embarrassed.'

Bonar Deitz held out his hand. 'We shall be combatants, I 'expect, quite soon. There'll be name calling; there always is. I'd like to feel, to some extent, it isn't personal.'

James Howden took the proffered hand. 'No,' he said, 'it won't be personal.' Somehow, he thought, despite the other's frailty, Bonar Deitz had more stature than ever before.

Chapter 4
Hurriedly, the minutes fleeting past, the Prime Minister entered his parliamentary office, a sheaf of papers in his hand.

He had a mood of crisp incisiveness.

Four people were waiting: Richardson and Milly; Margaret Howden, who had just arrived; Elliot Prowse. The executive assistant was looking anxiously at his watch.

'There's time,' Howden snapped; 'but only just.' He asked Margaret, 'Would you wait for me inside, dear?' When she had gone into his inner office, he selected from the papers the teletype Richardson had sent him. It was the report of the Vancouver verdict: the liberation of Henri Duval, the judge's censure of Edgar Kramer. He had read it a moment ago on returning to the floor of the House.

'It's bad,' Richardson began, 'but we can salvage...' 'I'm aware of that,' Howden interrupted. 'It's what I intend.'

He was conscious of a freedom of action he had not possessed before. Despite the tragedy of Harvey Warrender, the personal threat was gone. Warrender's resignation - crudely written, but effective none the less - was in his hand.

He told the party director, 'Issue a press statement this afternoon that Duval will be given a temporary immigrant visa at once. You may quote me as saying that there will be no appeal of the Vancouver judgement or any further attempts to deport him. Also, that on my personal recommendation, the Cabinet will consider an order in council allowing Duval full immigrant status as quickly as possible. You might add something about the Government respecting, as always, the prerogatives of the courts and the rights of individuals. Is all that clear?'

Richardson said approvingly, 'You bet it's clear. Now you're talking.'

'There's something else.' The words came fast, the tone commanding. 'You can't quote me directly on this, but I want it known that this man Kramer is being relieved of his duties and recalled for disciplining. What's more, if you can implant the idea that Kramer has misadvised the Government on this whole Duval business from beginning to end, so much the better.'

'Good,' Richardson said. 'Very good indeed.'

Turning sharply to the executive assistant, the Prime Minister ordered, 'And see that it's done. Call the deputy minister and tell him those are my instructions. You may add that as far as I am concerned I consider Kramer unfit to hold a responsible post again.'

'Yes, sir,' Prowse said.

'You may also tell the deputy that Mr Warrender is indisposed and I shall name an acting minister tomorrow. Remind me.'

'Yes, sir.' Prowse was writing rapidly.

The Prime Minister paused for breath.

'There's this,' Milly interjected. Still monitoring the telephone, she passed him an External Affairs telegram which had come a moment earlier. From the Canadian High Commissioner in London, it began, 'Her Majesty has graciously agreed to accept the invitation...'

The Queen was coming.

It would help, Howden realized; help a great deal. He calculated rapidly, then said. 'I'll announce it in the House tomorrow.' Today would be premature. But coming tomorrow, the day after the Act of Union announcement, there would be an implication of royal approval. And by tomorrow, even though news of the Act of Union would have reached London, Buckingham Palace would not have had time to reconsider...

'There are cabinet resignations,' Milly told him seriously. 'The six that you expected.' She had letters clipped together. He could see Adrian Nesbitson's signature on top.

'I'll take them in the House and table them.' He thought: there was no point in delaying; the situation must be met head on. He informed Milly, 'There's one more resignation, but keep this here.' From the papers in his hand he selected Harvey Warrender's letter, then instructed, 'We'll hold it up for several days.' There was no point in advertising additional disunity; besides, Warrender's resignation was not over the Act of Union. They would wait for a week, then announce reasons of health as the cause. Genuinely, for once, he thought.

An idea occurred to him. He turned to Brian Richardson. 'There's some information I want you to obtain. Within the past few days the Leader of the Opposition has received an unofficial US delegation - two senators and a congressman; they represented others. I want names, dates, places; where they met; who was there; anything else you can get.'

The party director nodded. 'I'll try. It shouldn't be difficult.'

He could use the information in debate, James Howden decided, as a weapon against Bonar Deitz. His own meeting with the President had been publicized; Deitz's meeting could be shown as furtive. Enlarged on skilfully, it could have the odour of conspiracy. People wouldn't like it, and the revelation -coming from himself - would be a telling point. He dismissed a qualm of conscience. Bonar Deitz could afford the luxury of forbearance; as a leader fighting for his political life, the Prime Minister could not.

Elliot Prowse said nervously, 'The time.. .'

Howden nodded. Entering the inner office, he dosed the door behind him.

Margaret was by the window. She turned, smiling. A moment ago, when she had been banished from outside, she had suffered a feeling of exclusion, knowing there were things about to be said for the ears of others but not her own. In a way, she thought, it was the pattern of her life; beyond certain barriers - unlike Milly Freedeman - she had never been allowed to pass. But perhaps it was her own shortcoming - a lack of enthusiasm for politics; and, either way, the time for protest had gone by long ago. She said softly, 'I came to wish you luck, Jamie.'

He came towards her and kissed her upturned face. 'Thank you, my dear. It looks as if we'll need it all.' She asked, 'Is it really bad?'

'There'll be an election soon,' he answered. 'To be honest, there's a strong chance that the party might lose.'

'I know it isn't what you want,' she told him, 'but even if it happens, at least there's still ourselves.'

He nodded slowly. 'Sometimes I think it's that that keeps me going.' He added, 'Though we might not have long; the Russians don't intend it.'

He was conscious of the minutes passing. 'If it should happen that I lose,' he said, 'you know we've very little money.' . Margaret -said gravely, 'Yes, I know.' ."There'll be gifts offered - perhaps large sums. I've decided I shall not accept.' He wondered: would Margaret understand? Understand that near the end of his life - the long upward road, from the orphanage to his country's highest ^office - he could not return to charity again.

Margaret reached out, her hand clasping his. 'It doesn't matter, Jamie.' There was emotion in her voice. 'Oh, I think it's a shame that Prime Ministers should be poor, when you've given-all you have and done so much unselfishly. Perhaps, someday, someone will change it. But for us it doesn't matter.' He had a sense of gratitude and love. How far, he wondered, could generous faith extend? He said, 'There's something else I should have told you years ago.' He held out the old convention programme - its written side uppermost - which Bonar

Deitz had brought him. ^ Margaret read the writing carefully. 'Wherever this came from,' she said, 'I think you should burn it now.' He asked curiously, 'You don't mind?' 'Yes,' she answered, 'I do mind in one way. You could have trusted me, at least.'

'I suppose I was ashamed.'

'Well,' Margaret said, 'I can understand that.'

As he hesitated, she went on, 'If it makes you feel any better, though, I don't believe this changed anything, except for Harvey Warrender. I always felt you were meant to be what you were; to do the things you did.' She handed the paper back, then added softly, 'Everyone does bad as well as good. Burn it, Jamie; you wiped it out long since.'

Crossing to the fireplace, he lit a match and watched the paper flare. He held it by a corner until flames approached his hand. Dropping it, he saw the rest consumed, then ground it into ashes with his heel.

Margaret was fumbling in her handbag. Producing a torn square of newsprint, she told him, 'I saw this in this morning's newspaper. I saved it for you.'

He took it and read: 'For those born under Sagittarius, today is a day of achievement. The tide is turning...' Without finishing, he crumpled the paper into a ball. 'We make our own fortunes,' he said. 'I made mine the day

I married you.'

Chapter 5
At three minutes to four, in the Government lobby, Arthur Lexington was waiting.

The External Affairs Minister said, 'You've cut it fine.' James Howden nodded. 'There were things to be done.' 'I've bad news.' Lexington spoke quickly. 'Immediately after your speech, Nesbitson and the other five are planning to cross the floor of the House.' It was the ultimate blow. A cabinet split, with six resignations, was grave enough. For the same ex-ministers to cross the floor - the utter repudiation of Government and party - had 'connotations of disaster. Once, perhaps, in a generation, a single MP might cross the floor in a moment of high drama. But for a quarter of the Cabinet...

Howden thought grimly: it would focus attention - as nothing else - upon opposition to the Act of Union and to himself.

'They've made an offer,' Lexington said. 'If you'll postpone the announcement, they'll withhold action until we've met again.'

For an instant, Howden hesitated. It would be close, but he could still reach Washington in time. Milly had the open line...

Then he remembered the President's words: There is no time. By reckoning, reason, logic, we've used it all... If we do have time it will be by God's good grace ... I'm praying for the gift of the year ... The very best for the children; their 'children yet to come...

He said decisively, 'There will be no postponement.'

'That's what I thought,' Lexington said quietly. He added, 'I suppose we should go in.'

The House of Commons was packed - not a vacant seat on the floor of the House, and every gallery full. Public, Press, diplomats, distinguished visitors were crammed in every inch of room. There was a stir as the Prime Minister, with Arthur Lexington behind, came in. The back-bench MP on the Government side, who had been speaking earlier, was winding up, his eye upon the clock, his orders from the party whips, explicit.

For the second time since earlier in the afternoon, James Bowden bowed to the Speaker of the House and took his seat. He was conscious of the multitude of eyes upon him. Soon, as press wires hummed and teletypes spewed out their urgent news, it would be the eyes of North America, even of the world.

Above him, in the diplomatic gallery, he could see the Soviet Ambassador, stiffly unsmiling; the US Ambassador, Phillip Angrove; the British High Commissioner; the ambassadors of France, West Germany, Italy, India, Japan, Israel ... a dozen others. Reports would go, by telegraph and courier, to every major capital tonight.

There was a rustle in the Speaker's gallery as Margaret took the front row seat reserved for her. She looked down and, as their eyes met, smiled. Across the centre aisle, Bonar Deitz was attentive, waiting. Hunched behind Deitz was the crippled Arnold Geaney, his bright eyes gleaming. On the Government side, to Howden's right, Adrian Nesbitson stared stiffly ahead, a touch of colour in his cheeks, his shoulders squared.

Respectfully, a page boy placed a note upon the Prime Minister's desk. From Milly Freedeman, it read: "The Joint Session of Congress is assembled, and the President has entered the Capitol. He was delayed by cheering crowds on Pennsylvania Avenue, but will begin his speech on time.'

Delayed by cheering crowds. James Howden felt a surge of envy. The President's strength was firm and growing, his own ebbing away.

And yet... No cause was ever lost until the final hour. If he were going down, he would make a fight until the end. Six cabinet ministers were not the nation, and he would take his case to the people, as he had before. Perhaps, after all, he could survive and win. A sense of force and confidence spread over him. Ten seconds to four. The House of Commons stilled. There were commonplaces here at times: dullness and mediocrity and petty bickerings. But the House could rise, when needed, to a sense of great occasion. It had done so now. This was a moment which history would remember, whatever years for history were left.

In a way, Howden thought, we are a mirror of life itself: our weakness and our smallnesses; and yet, always beyond them, the heights which human beings can attain. Freedom was a height, in whatever form and by whichever measure. If, to sustain the greater part, a little must be lost, it was a sacrifice worth making.

As best he could, he would find words to point the way.

In the Peace Tower above, the quarters chimed. Now, majestically, the great Bourdon Bell announced the hour. The Speaker intoned: 'The Prime Minister.' Deliberately, not knowing what the future held, he rose to address the House.
The End

Unicorn Books 2010