Arthur Hailey - In High Places

The Opposition Leader said softly, 'It's strange, isn't it, how little we know about one another until something like this?'

James Howden's mind was in turmoil. It was difficult to know what to think first. He and Harvey Warrender had never been close friends, but for years they had been colleagues…

He asked, 'How has Harvey's wife taken it?'

Bonar Deitz had cleaned his glasses with a tissue. Now he replaced them. He answered, 'Now that it's over she's surprisingly calm. In a way she almost seems relieved. I imagine it wasn't an easy situation to be living with.'

'No,' he answered slowly, 'I don't suppose it was.' Harvey Warrender had not been easy on anyone. He remembered Margaret's words: 'I've sometimes thought Harvey is a little mad.' At the time he had agreed, but never dreamed…

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.

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?'