In High Places

Bonar Deitz said quietly, 'There isn't much doubt, I imagine, that Harvey will be certified insane. They don't rush these things, but in this case it seems mostly a formality.'

Howden nodded dully. Out of habit his fingers caressed the curve of his nose.

Deitz went on, 'Whatever is necessary, we'll make it easy for you in the House. I'll pass the word to my people and there need be very little said. The newspapers won't report it, of course.'

No, Howden thought; there were certain decencies the newspapers observed.

A thought occurred to him. He moistened his lips with his tongue.

'When Harvey was… raving… was there anything, especially, he said?'

The Opposition Leader shook his head. 'Mostly it was incoherent: jumbled words; some bits of Latin. I couldn't make them out.'

'And… nothing else?'

'If you're thinking of this,' Bonar Deitz said quietly, 'perhaps you should take it now.' From an inside pocket he produced an envelope. It was addressed Rt Hon James M. How-den. The handwriting, though sprawling and uneven, was recognizable as Harvey Warrender's.

As Howden took the envelope and opened it, his hands were shaking.

There were two enclosures. One was a single sheet of stationery, the writing upon it in the same disordered hand… as if in stress – Harvey Warrender's resignation from the Government. The other was a faded convention programme, on the back the fateful scribbled agreement of nine years earlier.

Bonar Deitz was watching Howden's face. 'The envelope was open on Harvey's desk,' he said. 'I decided to seal it. It seemed better that way.'

Slowly Howden's eyes came up. The muscles of his face were working. There was trembling through his body, like an ague he could not control. He whispered, 'You… saw… what was there?'

Bonar Deitz answered, 'I'd like to say no, but it wouldn't be true.' He hesitated, then continued. 'Yes, I looked. It isn't something I'm proud of, but curiosity, I'm afraid, proved strong.'

Fear, icy fear, struck Howden's heart. Then resignation took its place.

So, in the end, a scrap of paper had destroyed him. He had been brought down by his own ambition, recklessness… a moment of ill-judgement long ago. Giving him the original document was a trick, of course; Bonar Deitz had made a copy; it would be produced and published, as exposes affecting others had been… bribes, indiscreet cheques, furtive agreements… The Press would trumpet; opponents would wallow in self-righteousness; politically he could not survive. With a strange detachment he wondered what came next.

He asked, 'What are you going to do?'

'Nothing.'

Somewhere behind, a door opened and closed. Footsteps came towards them. Bonar Deitz said sharply, 'The Prime Minister and I would like to be alone.' The footsteps retreated; again the door closed.

'Nothing?' Howden said. His voice held unbelief. 'Nothing at all?'

The Opposition Leader said carefully, 'I've done a good deal of thinking since this morning. I suppose I should use the evidence that Harvey left. If some of my own people knew I'd withheld it, they would never forgive me.'

Yes, Howden thought; there were plenty who would rejoice to destroy him, and never mind the means. In his mind a gleam of hope nickered; was there to be a reprieve after all -on Deitz's terms?

Deitz said softly, 'Somehow, though, I can't see myself doing it. I'm not partial to stirring mud; too much of it rubs off.'

But I would have done it to you, Howden thought. Without Hesitation I would have done it to you.

'I might have, though, if it hadn't been for something else. You see, I can beat you in another way.' There was a pause, then, with quiet confidence, Deitz said, 'Parliament and the country will never pass the Act of Union. You will go down to defeat and I shall win.'

'You know?'

'I've known for several days.' For the first time the other smiled. 'Your friend in the White House has his opposition too. There've been some leaks down there. Two senators and a congressman flew up to see me and they represented others who don't like the concept or its terms. The briefing, I may say, was fairly thorough.'

Howden said seriously, 'If we don't unite, it's national suicide for Canada – annihilation.'

'It seems to me it's national suicide if we do.' Calmly Deitz said, 'We've come through wars before. I'd sooner do it again – as an independent nation – and take our chances.'

'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.