‘F
rankie,
I
invited
you
here
this
evening
to
ask
just
one question.
I
shan't
beat
around
the
bush,
and
I
shall
thank you
to
be
absolutely
blunt
with
me.
Are
you
going
to
stand for
the
leadership?'
He
glared
directly
at
Urquhart,
trying
to in
timidate
him
into
total
frankness.
‘
I
can't
tell
yet.
The
situation
is
very
unclear,
and
I
shall have
to
wait
for
the
dust
to
settle
a
little...'
'OK,
Frankie,
let
me
put
it
this
way.
Do
you
want
it? Because
if
you
do,
old
son,
I
can
be
very
helpful
to
you.'
Urquhart
returned
his
host's
direct
stare,
looking
deep into
the
protruding,
bloodshot
eyes.
‘I
want
it
very,
very
much.'
It
was
the
first
time
he
admitted
to
anyone
other
than himself
his
burning
desire
to
hold
the
reins
of
'Prime Ministerial
power,
yet
with
Landless,
who
wore
his
naked ambition
on
his
sleeve,
he
felt
no
embarrassment
in
the confession.
'That's
good.
Let's
start
from
there.
Let
me
tell
you
what the
Telegraph
will
be
running
tomorrow.
It's
an
analysis piece
by
our
political
correspondent,
Mattie
Storin.
Pretty blonde
girl
with
long
legs
and
big
blue
eyes
-
d'you
know her,
Frankie?'
'Yes,'
mused
Urquhart.
'Only
professionally,
of
course,' he
hastened
to
add
as
he
saw
the
fleshy
lips
of
his
companion
preparing
a
lewd
comment.
'Bright,
too.
I'm
interested
to
discover
how
she
sees
things.'
'Says
it
is
an
open
race
for
the
leadership,
that
Colling
ridge's
resignation
has
come
so
quickly
and
unexpectedly that
no
potential
successor
has
got
his
public
case
prepared very
well.
So
almost
anything
could
happen.'
‘I
believe
she
is
right,'
nodded
Urquhart.
'Which
worries me.
The
whole
election
process
could
be
over
in
less
than three
weeks,
and
it's
the
slick,
flashy
television
performers who
will
gain
the
best
start.
The
tide
is
eveiything
in winning
these
contests;
if
it's
with
you,
it
will
sweep
you home;
flowing
against
you,
then
no
matter
how
good
a swimmer
you
are,
you'll
still
drown
’
'Which
slick,
flashy
television
performers
in
particular?'
Try
Michael
Samuel
’
'Mmmm,
young,
impressive,
principled,
seems
intelligent
—
not
at
all
to
my
liking.
He
wants
to
interfere
in everything,
rebuild
the
world.
Got
too
much
of
a
conscience
for
my
liking,
and
not
enough
experience
in
taking hard,
sound
decisions.'
'So
what
do
we
do?'
asked
Urquhart.
Landless
cupped
the
crystal
goblet
in
his
huge
hands, swirled
the
dark
liquor
and
chuckled
quietly.
'Frankie,
tides
turn.
You
can
be
swimming
strongly
for the
shore
one
minute,
and
the
next
be
swept
out
to sea
..
‘
He
took
a
huge
gulp
of
cognac,
raised
his
finger
to
order another
round,
and
settled
his
bulk
as
comfortably
as
he could
into
his
chair
before
resuming
the
conversation.
'Frankie,
this
afternoon
I
instructed
a
small
and
extremely
confidential
team
at
the
Telegraph
to
start
contacting
as
many
of
the
Government's
Members
of Parliament
as
they
can
get
hold
of
in
the
next
twenty-four hours
to
ask
which
way
they
are
going
to
vote.
In
the
next edition
of
the
Telegraph,
they
will
publish
the
results
-which
I
confidently
predict
will
show
Mr
Samuel
with a
small
but
clear
lead
over
the
rest
of
the
field
’
'What?'
exclaimed
Urquhart
in
horror.
'How
do
you know
this?
The
poll
hasn't
even
been
finished
yet...'
'Frankie,
I
know
what
the
poll
is
going
to
say
because
I am
the
publisher
of
the
bloody
newspaper
’
'You
mean
you've
fixed
it?
But
why
are
you
pushing Samuel?'
'Because
although
the
poll
will
show
a
very
reasonable level
of
support
for
you,
at
the
moment
you
can't
win
the contest.
You're
the
Chief
Whip,
you
don't
have
any
great public
platform
from
which
to
preach,
and
if
it
becomes
a free-for-all
you're
going
to
get
trampled
in
the
rush
’
Urquhart
had
to
acknowledge
the
weakness
of
his position
as
the
faceless
man
of
Government.
'So
we
push
Mr
Samuel,
get
him
off
to
a
roaring
start, which
means
instead
of
a
free-for-all
we
have
a
target
at which
everyone
is
going
to
shoot.
In
a
couple
of
weeks' time,
he's
going
to
be
amazed
at
the
number
of
bad
friends he's
got
within
the
Party,
all
trying
to
do
him
down.
Hell be
on
the
defensive.
Fighting
the
tide.'