House of Cards (34 page)

He
noticed
his
secretary's
obvious
anguish.
It
was
the first
time
since
his
resignation
announcement
that
they had
been
able
to
talk.

That
means
in
exactly
six
weeks
and
one
day,
Grahame, you
and
I
will
be
out
of
a
job.
Don't
worry.
You've
been
an excellent
aide
to
me.
I
haven't
always
found
time
as
I should
to
thank
you
properly
in
the
past,
but
I
want
you
to know
I'm
very
grateful.'

The
aide
shuffled
with
embarrassment.

'You
must
start
thinking
about
your
own
future.
I'm certain
that
there
are
several
newly
knighted
gentlemen
in the
City
or
any
other
part
of
industry
who
would
be
happy to
make
you
a
generous
offer.
Think
about
it
for
a
few
days and
let
me
know
what
interests
you.
I
still
have
a
few favours
to
cash
in.'

The
secretary
mumbled
his
thanks,
looking
much relieved,
and
made
to
depart

'By
the
way,
Grahame.
It's
possible
that
the
Party
Chairman
might
seek
to
get
hold
of
me
and
encourage
me
to shorten
the
period
of
the
election
process.
I
shall
not
be available,
and
you
are
to
ensure
he
realises
that
these
are instructions,
not
terms
for
negotiation,
and
they
are
to
be issued
without
fail
by
12.30.'

There
was
a
short
pause.

'Otherwise,
tell
him,
I
shall
be
forced
to
leak
them myself.'

It
is
often
written
that
time
and
tide
wait
for
no
man.
They certainly
did
not
wait
that
day
for
Michael
Samuel.
He
had been
as
openly
astounded
and
as
privately
elated
by Collingridge's
bombshell
as
the
rest
of
his
colleagues.
His natural
enthusiasm
had
quickly
turned
to
the
positive aspect
of
events,
and
the
opportunities
which
they
afforded him.
He
recognised
that
no
one
started
the
race
as favourite,
and
that
he
had
as
good
a
chance
as
any,
if
he played
his
cards
right.

He
had
consulted
the
redoubtable
Lord
Williams,
who agreed
on
his
assessment
of
his
chances.
'Patience, Michael,'
he
had
advised.
'You
will
almost
certainly
be
the youngest
candidate,
and
they
will
try
to
say
you
are
too youthful,
too
inexperienced
and
too
ambitious.
So
don't look
too
much
as
if
you
want
the
job.
Show
a
little restraint,
and
let
them
come
to
you.'

Which
was
to
prove
excellent
advice,
but
entirely irrelevant
to
the
circumstances.
The
media
had
been having
a
busy
day.
No
sooner
had
the
Telegraph
hit
the streets
promoting
Samuel's
name
than
Urquhart
appeared in
front
of
television
cameras
to
confirm
that
he
had
no intention
of
standing,
because
he
felt
it
was
in
the
Party's best
interests
that
the
Chief
Whip
should
be
entirely impartial
in
this
contest.
These
two
events
had
the
instant effect
of
getting
the
media
hunt
firmly
under
way
for
those candidates
who
would
be
standing,
and
promoting
a
wide degree
of
praise
for
Urquhart's
unselfishness
and
loyalty. The
release
later
that
morning
of
the
detailed
timetable
for nomination
and
election
only
added
fuel
to
the
flames. None
of
which
helped
the
front
runner.

By
the
time
the
television
cameras
had
tracked
him down
to
the
Intercontinental
Hotel
off
Hyde
Park,
which he
was
just
about
to
enter
for
an
early
lunch
meeting,
they were
in
no
mood
to
accept
conditional
answers.
He couldn't
say
no,
they
wouldn't
accept
maybe,
and
after some
considerable
harassment
he
was
forced
into
making
a reluctant
announcement
that
he
would
indeed
be
running.

The
one
o'clock
news
offered
a
clear
contrast
between Urquhart,
in
a
dignified
and
elder
party
statesman
role declining
to
run,
and
the
youthful
and
apparently
eager Samuel,
holding
an
impromptu
press
conference
on
the street
and
launching
himself
as
the
first
official
candidate, nearly
a
month
before
the
first
ballot
was
to
be
held.

As
Urquhart
watched
the
proceedings
with
considerable satisfaction,
the
telephone
rang.
A
gruff
voice
which
he recognised
instantly
as
Landless
said
simply,
'Moses parted
the
Red
Sea.
We
shall
see
whether
Michael
can
catch the
tide.'

They
both
laughed
before
the
voice
rang
off.

SATURDAY 30
th
OCTOBER

The
following
Saturday,
Mattie
had
a
clear
day.
She climbed
into
her
BMW,
filled
it
with
petrol,
and
pointed
it in
the
direction
of
Dover.
Having
barged
her
way
through the
shopping
crowds
of
Greenwich,
she
emerged
with
great relief
onto
the
A2,
the
old
Roman
road
which
for
nearly
two thousand
years
had
pointed
the
way
from
London
into
the heart
of
Kent.
It
took
her
past
the
cathedral
town
of Canterbury,
and
a
few
miles
beyond
she
turned
off
at
the picturesque
little
village
of
Barham.
Her
road
map
was not
very
helpful
in
finding
the
even
smaller
village
of Norbington
nearby,
but
with
the
help
of
several
locals
she found
herself
some
while
later
outside
a
large
Victorian house,
bearing
a.
subdued
sign
in
the
shrubbery
which announced,
'
Fellowship Treatment Centre'.