House of Cards (25 page)

He
swallowed
hard;
his
mouth
was
dry
and
increasingly he
was
struggling
with
some
of
the
words.

'However,
this
investigation
will
inevitably
take
some time
to
complete,
and
in
the
meantime
the
spread
of doubts
and
insinuations
is
doing
real
harm
to
the
normal business
of
Government,
and
also
to
my
Party.
While
the time
and
attention
of
the
Government
should
be
devoted to
implementing
the
programme
on
which
we
were
so recently
re-elected,
this
is
not
proving
possible
in
present circumstances.

The
integrity
of
the
office
of
Prime
Minister
has
been brought
into
question,
and
it
is
my
first
duty
to
protect
that office.
Therefore,
to
re-establish
and
preserve
that
unquestioned
integrity,
I
have
today
asked
the
permission
of Her
Majesty
the
Queen
to
relinquish
the
office
of
Prime Minister
as
soon
as
a
successor
can
be
chosen.'

There
was
a
sharp
intake
of
breath
from
somewhere around
the
table,
but
otherwise
there
was
absolute
silence throughout
the
room.
Hearts
had
momentarily
stopped beating.

Collingridge
cleared
his
throat
and
continued.

‘I
have
devoted
my
entire
adult
life
to
the
pursuit
of
my political
ideals,
and
it
goes
against
every
bone
in
my
body to
leave
office
in
this
fashion.
I
am
not
running
away
from the
allegations,
but
rather
ensuring
that
they
may
be cleared
up
as
quickly
and
expeditiously
as
possible,
and striving
to
bring
a
little
peace
back
to
my
family.
I
believe history
will
show
that
I
have
made
the
right
judgement.'

Collingridge
replaced
the
piece
of
paper
in
his
folder. 'Gentlemen,
thank
you,'
he
said
curtly,
and
in
an
instant strode
out
of
the
door
and
was
gone.

Urquhart
sat
at
the
end
of
the
Cabinet
table
transfixed.
As the
murmuring
and
gasps
of
surprise
broke
out
around
him
he
would
not,
could
not,
join
in.
He
gazed
for
a
long
time
at the
Prime
Minister's
empty
chair,
exulting
in
his
own immense
power.

He
had
done
this.
Alone
he
had
destroyed
the
most influential
man
in
the
country,
wielding
might
beyond
the dreams
of
the
petty
men
who
sat
with
him
around
that table.
And
he
knew
he
was
the
only
one
of
them
who
could truly
justify
filling
that
empty
seat.
The
others
were pygmies,
ants.

He
was
seized
by
the
same
exhilarating
perspective which
had
gripped
him
forty
years
earlier
when
as
a
raw military
recruit
he
had
prepared
to
make
his
first
parachute jump
2,500
feet
above
the
fields
of
Lincolnshire.
All
the instruction
in
the
world
could
not
have
prepared
him
for
the
c
hilling
excitement
as
he
sat
in
the
open
hatchway
of
a
twin engine
Islander,
his
feet
dangling
in
the
fierce
slipstream, gazing
down
at
the
green
and
yellow
landscape
far
below.

He
was
attached
to
a
parachute
which
in
turn
was fastened
to
a
static
line
and
this,
so
the
instructors
had
assured
him,
would
guarantee
a
safe
landing.
But
this
was no
matter
of
mere
logic.
It
was
an
act
of
faith,
of
trust
in one's
destiny,
a
willingness
to
accept
the
danger
if
that were
the
only
way
of
finding
the
fulfilment
which
every real
man
sought.
Despite
the
logic
of
the
static
line,
sometimes
even
the
most
courageous
of
men
froze
in
the
open hatchway
as
his
faith
deserted
him
and
his
self-respect
was ripped
away
in
the
slipstream.
Yet
Urquhart
had
felt omnipotent,
God-like,
viewing
His
Kingdom
from
on
high, disdaining
the
logic
and
fears
which
beset
the
ordinary mortals
around
him.

As
he
gazed
now
at
the
empty
chair,
he
knew
there
was no
time
for
doubt.
He
must
have
faith
in
himself
and
his destiny.
He
had
launched
himself
and
was
rushing
through the
air
until
he
reached
that
point
on
the
very
edge
of
discovery
where
he
would
find
what
Destiny
had
decided
for him.
He
gave
an
inner
smile
of
anticipation,
while
contriving
outwardly
to
look
as
shocked
as
those
around
him.

Still
shivering
from
the
excitement,
Urquhart
walked
the few
yards
back
to
the
Chief
Whip's
office
in
Downing Street.
He
locked
himself
in
his
private
room
and
by 10.20
a.m.
he
had
made
two
phone
calls.

Shortly
after
10.30,
Roger
O'Neill
called
a
meeting
of
the entire
press
office
at
party
headquarters.