House of Cards (42 page)
By
Wednesday
afternoon,
Urquhart
felt
the
situation
had developed
sufficiently
well
for
him
to
issue
a
public
call
for 'a
return
to
the
standards
of
personal
conduct
for
which
our Party
is
renowned
and
without
which
collective
Government
becomes
impossible'.
It
was
echoed
loudly
in
the editorial
columns,
even
as
the
front
pages
were
splashing the
latest
outburst
of
internecine
bickering.
When,
therefore,
on
Friday
afternoon
Mattie
walked
in to
Preston's
office
asking
him
if
he
wanted
a
fresh
angle
on the
contest,
his
response
was
generally
unenthusiastic.
'Christ,
I
shall
be
glad
when
we
can
get
back
to
real
news,' he
blustered.
‘I’
m
not
sure
we
can
afford
to
devote
any more
space
than
we're
already
doing
to
the
back-stabbing.'
This
bit
of
back-stabbing,'
she
said
defiantly,
'is different.'
He
was
still
looking
at
a
mock-up
of
the
following
day's front
page
rather
than
showing
any
interest
in
Mattie,
but she
was
not
deterred.
'The
leadership
election
was
caused
by
Collingridge's resignation,
which
in
turn
was
caused
in
the
end
by
allegations
that
he
or
his
brother
had
been
fiddling
share
deals through
a
Paddington
tobacconist
and
a
Turkish
secondary bank.
I
think
we
can
prove
that
he
was
almost
certainly
set up.'
Preston
at
last
looked
up.
'What
the
hell
are
you
talking about?'
'He
was
framed,
and
I
think
we
can
prove
it.'
Preston
could
find
no
words
to
express
his
astonishment; his
jaw
dropped
so
low
that
with
his
large
glasses
Mattie felt
she
was
talking
to
a
goldfish.
'Here's
what
we
have,
Grev.'
Patiently
she
explained how
she
had
checked
the
computer
file
at
party
headquarters
and
discovered
the
distribution
file
had
been tampered
with.
It
was
deliberately
altered
to
ensure
that
the
false address
in
Paddington
could
be
tied
in
directly
to
Charles Collingridge.
But
anyone
could
have
opened
that
accommodation
address.
I
don't
think
Charles
Collingridge
ever went
anywhere
near
Paddington.
Somebody
else
did
it
in his
name
-
somebody
who
was
trying
to
frame
him!'
Preston
was
listening
intently
now.
‘I
went
to
Paddington
myself
this
morning.
I
opened
up an
accommodation
address
at
the
same
tobacconist
shop
in an
entirely
fictional
name.
I
then
got
a
taxi
to
Seven
Sisters
Road
and
the
Union
Bank
of
Turkey,
where
I
opened
up
an account
in
the
same
fictional
name
-
not
with
£50,000
but with
just
£100.
The
whole
thing
took-less
than
three
hours from
start
to
finish.
So
I
can
now
start
ordering
pornographic
magazines,
paid
for
out
of
the
newbank
account
and delivered
to
the
Paddington
address,
which
could
do
a
lot
of damage
to
the
reputation
of
one
completely
innocent politician
’
‘E
r,
who?'
asked
Preston,
still
having
difficulty
catching up.
She
laughed
and
threw
down
a
bank
book
and
the
tobacconist's
receipt
onto
the
editor's
desk.
He
looked
at
them eagerly.
The
Leader
of
the
Opposition!'
he
shouted
in
alarm. 'What
the
hell
have
you
done?'
'Nothing,'
she
said
with
a
smile
suggesting
victory. 'Except
to
show
that
Charles
Collingridge
was
almost certainly
framed;
that
he
probably
never
went
near
the tobacconist
shop
or
the
Union
Bank
of
Turkey,
and
therefore
that
he
could
not
have
bought
those
shares
’
Preston
was
holding
the
documents
at
arm's
length
as
if they
might
catch
fire.
'Which
means
that
Henry
Collingridge
did
not
tell
his brother
about
Renox
Chemicals...'
Her
inflexion indicated
that
there
was
more.
'And?
And?'
Preston
demanded.
‘He
didn't
have
to
resign.'
Preston
sagged
back
in
his
chair.
The
beads
of
perspiration
had
begun
to
trickle
down
his
brow,
plastering
his hair
to
his
forehead.
He
was
looking
exceedingly
uncomfortable.
He
felt
as
if
he
were
being
torn
in
two.
With
one eye
he
could
see
the
makings
of
a
superb
story,
which, when
promoted
vigorously
by
his
advertising
agency, could
bring
with
it
the
substantial
boost
in
circulation
he was
finding
so
elusive.
Whether
the
story
was
accurate
or not
hardly
bothered
him;
the
lawyers
could
ensure
that
it libelled
no
one
and
it
would
make
a
splendid
read.
With
his
other
eye,
however,
he
could
discern
the
enormous
impact
that
such
a
story
would
make
on
the
leadership
race
itself, th
e
un
controlla
ble
shockwaves
wh
ich
would stretch
out
and
swamp
various
innocent
bystanders-possibly
including
himself.
And
Landless
had
just
told
him on
the
telephone
that
he
had
other
fish
to
fry.
He
brushed back
the
lick
of
hair
which
was
stuck
clammily
above
his glasses,
but
it
did
not
seem
to
help
his
vision.
He
could
not focus
on
which
decision
would
be
the
right
one
to
take,
the one
which
would
be
acceptable
to
Landless.
He
had
been instructed
that
all
major
pieces
affecting
the
leadership race
were
to
be
cleared
with
Landless
before
publication, and
he
had
feared
being
confronted
with
an
unexpected decision
like
this.
He
needed
to
play
for
time.
