House of Cards (48 page)
She
needed
to
talk,
and
without
wishing
to
question
too deeply
the
conflicting
emotions
which
were
tangling
in
her mind
she
found
herself
waiting
on
a
wooden
platform which
bobbed
in
the
Thames
tide
alongside
Charing
Cross pier.
Just
a
few
minutes
later
she
could
see
the
approach
of the
Telegraph's
private
river
taxi
which
shuttled
employees
between
the
newspaper's
dockland
plant
downstream
and
the
rather
more
central
and
civilised
reaches
of the
capital.
As
she
had
hoped,
Krajewski
was
on
board.
He
said nothing
as
he
found
her
standing
on
the
pier,
but
accepted her
silent
invitation
to
walk.
It
was
a
dry
and
clear
November
night,
so
they
wrapped up
warm
and
without
speaking
strolled
along
the
Embankment,
tracing
the
sharp
curves
of
the
river
bank
and
with
it the
floodlit
vistas
of
the
Festival
Hall
and
the
Houses
of Parliament
beyond,
with
the
tower
of
Big
Ben
looking down
from
high
above.
It
was
some
time
before
he
broke the
silence.
No
questions
about
the
other
night,
he
decided. He
knew
what
was
foremost
in
her
mind.
'So
what
do
you
make
of
it
all?'
She
smiled
shyly
in
gratitude
for
the
lifeline,
for
not demanding
an
explanation
of
her
motives
which
she
would not
-
or
was
it
could
not?
-
give.
It's
extraordinary.
They're
building
him
up
like
a Messiah
on
a
white
charger
galloping
to
the
rescue.
Why did
Grev
do
it?'
‘I
don't
know.
He
just
came
in
late
yesterday,
not
a
word to
anyone,
turned
the
paper
inside
out
and
produced
his front
page
editorial
from
out
of
his
pocket.
No
warning;
no explanation.
Still,
seems
to
have
caused
quite
a
story. Perhaps
he
got
it
right
after
all.'
Mattie
shook
her
head.
It
wasn't
Grev.
He's
not
capable of
making
a
decision
like
that.
It
took
balls
to
position'
-she
almost
used
the
word
'commit'
but
stopped
herself
just in
time
-
'to
position
the
paper
in
that
way,
and
it
could only
have
come
from
one
place:
the
desk
of
our
–
your
beloved
proprietor,
Mr
Landless.
Last
time
he
interfered
he was
dethroning
Collingridge,
now
he's
trying
to
hand
the crown
to
someone
else.'
As
they
traced
their
way
along
the
winding
river
bank, they
kicked
through
the
windswept
piles
of
leaves
and passed
by
the
pale,
massive
bulk
of
the
Ministry
of Defence.
'But
why?
Why
Urquhart?'
'No
idea,'
Mattie
responded.
'Urquhart
is
very
low
profile,
although
he's
been
in
the
House
for
many
years.
He comes
across
as
being
vaguely
aristocratic,
patrician,
old school
tie.
He's
something
of
a
loner,
certainly
not
one
of the
boys,
which
means
he's
got
no
great
fan
club
but
also
no one
hates
him
enough
to
campaign
against
him
as
they are
doing
with
Samuel.
Nobody
knows
what
his
views really
are,
he's
never
had
to
express
them
as
Chief Whip.'
She
turned
to
face
him.
You
know,
he
might
just
slip through
the
middle
as
the
man
the
others
dislike
least. Landless
could
have
picked
a
winner.'
'You
think
hell
stand,
then?'
'Certain
of
it.
He
told
me
way
back
in
June
that
there
was going
to
be
a
leadership
race,
and
he
flatly
refused
then
to rule
himself
out.
He
wants
it
all
right,
and
he'll
stand.'
That
sounds
like
a
great
feature
-
'The
Man
Who
Saw
It Coming''.'
If
only
I
had
a
paper
to
write
it
for,'
she
said
with
a wistful
smile.
He
stopped
and
looked
at
Mattie,
her
fair
hair
glowing
in the
lights
which
bounced
back
from
the
soft
yellow
stone of
the
Houses
of
Parliament
behind
her,
wondering
if
he detected
a
hint
of
regret
in
her
voice.
'Grev
refuses
to
print
your
story
and
then
announces
the paper's
support
for
Urquhart
Defusing
one
bomb
and
then la
unching
another.
Isn't
that
a
bit
of
a
coincidence?'
I've
been
thinking
about
that
all
day,'
she
said.
'The simple
explanations
are
always
the
easiest
to
accept,
and the
simple
fact
is
that
Grev
Preston
is
a
pathetic
excuse
for an
editor
who
is
terrified
of
getting
anything
wrong.
Knowing
that
Landless
was
going
to
throw
Urquhart's
hat
into the
ring,
he
didn't
have
the
nerve
to
upset
his
proprietor's plans
and
I
suspect
he
found
my
story
simply
too
hot
to handle.'