When he had finished talking, James Howden pushed his chair back tiredly. Opposite, on the visitors' side of the old-fashioned four-legged desk at which a succession of Prime Ministers had worked, Brian Richardson sat silently meditative, his alert mind indexing and absorbing facts he had just been given. Though he had known broadly of the Washington proposals, this was his first detailed briefing. Howden had told him, too, of the Defence Committee's reaction. Now the party director's thoughts, like veins and arteries of a human body, were branching out busily, assessing credits and debits, implications and eventualities, actions and counteractions, all with practised skill. Details would be filled in later; many details. What was needed now was a broad plan of strategy – a plan, Richardson knew, more critically important than any other he had yet devised. For if he failed it would mean defeat for the party and perhaps more than defeat, eclipse.

'There's another thing,' James Howden said. He had risen and was standing by the window, looking down on Parliament Hill. 'Adrian Nesbitson must go.'

'No!' Emphatically Richardson shook his head. 'Later maybe, but not now. If you drop Nesbitson, no matter what reason we give, it'll look like a cabinet split. It's the worst thing that could happen.' 'I was afraid you'd think that,' Howden said. 'The trouble is, he's completely useless. But I suppose we can manage, if we have to.'

'Apart from that, can you keep him in line?' 'I think so.' The Prime Minister massaged his long, curved nose. 'I believe there's something he might want. I can use it to bargain.'

'I'd go easy on the bargaining,' Richardson said doubtfully. 'Don't forget the old boy has a reputation for straightness.'

'I'll remember your advice.' Howden smiled. 'Do you have any more?'

'Yes,' the party director said crisply, 'quite a lot. But first let's talk about a timetable. I agree that for something this big there'll have to be a mandate from the country.' He mused. 'In a lot of ways a fall election would be our best chance.'

'We can't wait that long,' Howden said decisively. 'It'll have to be spring.'

'Exactly when?'

'I'd thought of dissolving Parliament right after the Queen's visit, then the election could be in May.'

Richardson nodded. 'It might work.'

'It has to work.'

'What's your plan after the Washington meeting?'

The Prime Minister considered. 'I think an announcement to the House in, say, three weeks from now.'

The party director grinned. 'That'll be when the fireworks start.'

'Yes, I expect it will.' Howden smiled faintly. 'It will also give the country time to get used to the idea of the Act of Union before the election.'

'It sure will help a lot if we can get the Queen over,' Richardson said. 'That way she'd be here between the announcement and the election.'

'That was my thought, too,' Howden agreed. 'She'll be a symbol of what we're retaining, and should convince people -on both sides of the border – that we've no intention of losing our national identity.'

'I take it there'll be no signing of any agreement until after the election.'

'No. It will have to be understood that the election is the real decision. But we'll do our negotiating beforehand so there will be no time lost afterwards. Time is the thing that matters most.'

'It always does,' Richardson said. He paused, then continued thoughtfully, 'So it's three weeks before the whole thing is out in the open, then fourteen weeks to the election. It isn't long but there could be advantages – getting everything over before any splits become too wide.' His voice became more businesslike. 'All right, here's what I think.'

Howden had returned from the window to his chair. Tilting it back, he placed his finger ups together and prepared to listen.

'Everything,' Brian Richardson said deliberately, ' – and I really mean everything – depends upon a single thing: trust. There must be absolute trust and confidence in one individual – you. And it must exist right across the country and down through every level. Without that kind of trust we'll lose; with it, we can win.' He paused, thinking deeply, then continued. 'The Act of Union… by the way, I think we must find another name… but the kind of union you're proposing isn't outrageous. After all, we've been moving towards it for half a century or more, and in some ways we'd be insane to turn it down. But the Opposition will do their best to make it seem outrageous and I guess you can hardly blame them. For the first time in years they'll have a real live issue to get their teeth into, and Deitz and company will make the most of it. They'll hurl words like "betrayal" and "sellout" and they'll call you Judas.'

'I've been called names before, and I'm here, aren't I?' 'The trick is to stay.' Richardson's expression was unsmiling. 'What must be done is consolidate your image so clearly in the public mind that people will trust you absolutely, and have confidence that whatever you recommend is for their own good.'

'Are we so far removed from that now?'

'Complacency isn't going to help either of us,' Richardson snapped, and the Prime Minister flushed but made no comment. The party director went on, 'Our latest private polls show that the Government – and you – have slipped four per cent in popularity since this time last year, and you personally are weakest in the West. Fortunately it's a minor change, but still a trend. We can change the trend, though, if it's worked at bard – and fast.'

'What's your suggestion?'

'I'll have a long list of them – the day after tomorrow. Mostly, though, it will mean getting out of here' – Richardson waved a hand around the office – 'and moving about the country – speaking engagements, press coverage, television time where we can get it. And it must start soon – immediately you're back from Washington.'

'You're not forgetting that Parliament reconvenes in less than two weeks.'

'I'm not forgetting. Some days you'll have to be two places at once.' Richardson permitted himself a grin. 'I hope you haven't lost that old knack of sleeping in aeroplanes.'

'You envisage, then, that part of this tour should take place before the announcement in the House.'

'Yes. We can arrange it if we work fast. As far as we can, I'd like to condition the country to expect what's coming, and that's where your speeches will be important. I think we should hire some new men to write them – really top people who can make you sound like Churchill, Roosevelt, and Billy Graham rolled together.'

'All right. Is that all?'

'It's all for now,' Richardson said. 'Oh, except for one thing – a nuisance item, I'm afraid, among all this. We've an immigration hassle in Vancouver.'

Irritably Howden said, 'Again!'

'There's a ship's stowaway who hasn't got a country and wants to come in. It looks as if the Press has taken his case up and it ought to be settled quickly.' He related the details which had appeared in the afternoon papers.

Briefly Howden was tempted to brush the matter aside. There were limits, after all, to the number of things a Prime Minister could become involved in personally, and with so much else… Then he was reminded of his intention to have a showdown with Harvey Warrender… his own awareness that small issues could sometimes become important. But still he hesitated.

'I talked to Harvey Warrender last night.' 'Yes,' Richardson said dryly. 'I heard about it.' 'I want to be fair.' Howden was still debating in his own mind. 'Some of what Harvey said last night made sense -about not letting people into the country… That particular case you told me about – the woman who was deported. I understand she'd been running a brothel in Hong Kong and she had VD.'

'But the newspapers wouldn't print that, even if we leaked it,' Richardson said irritably. 'All that people see is a mother and baby being thrown out by the big bully of a Government. The Opposition made the most of it in the House, didn't they? You needed overshoes to wade through the tears.'