House of Cards (38 page)
'And
this
information
is
shown
on
all
the
monitors throughout
me
building?'
'Yes.
It's
not
information
we
regard
as
particularly confidential.'
'And
if
you
felt
like
bending
the
rules
a
little
and
wanted to
make
me
a
subscriber
to
your
comprehensive
literature service,
could
you
do
that,
enter
my
details
from
this terminal?'
'Without
making
the
proper
payments
through
the accounts
department,
you
mean?
Why
...
yes.'
Spence
was
beginning
to
follow
her
line
of
enquiry.
'You
think
that
Charles
Collingridge's
details
were falsely
entered
from
a
terminal
within
this
building,
Miss Storin?
Yes,
it
could
be
done.
Look.'
Within
a
few
seconds
the
screen
was
showing
a
comprehensive
literature
subscription
in
the
name
of
'M
Mouse Esq,
99
Disneyland
Miami.'
'But
you
couldn't
get
away
with
backdating
it
to
the beginning
of
the
year
because
...
What
a
stupid
fool
I
am! Of
course!'
he
exploded,
and
started
thrashing
away
at
the keyboard.
If
you
really
know
what
you're
doing,
which very
few
people
in
this
building
do,
you
can
tap
into
the main
frame
subdirectory
...'
His
words
were
almost
drowned
in
the
clattering
of
the keys.
That
gives
access
to
the
more
restricted
financial
data.
So
I
can
check
the
exact
date
when
the
account
was
paid, whether
it
was
paid
by
cheque
or
credit
card,
when
the subscription
was
first
started
...'
The
monitor
screen
started
glowing.
'And
those
financial
details
can
only
be
entered
or altered
by
accounts
department
staff
with
their
security passwords
’
He
sat
back
to
consider
the
details
on
the
screen.
He tapped
a
few
more
characters
into
the
computer,
and
then turned
to
Mattie.
'Miss
Storin.
According
to
this,
Mr
Collingridge
has never
paid
for
the
literature
service,
this
month
or
any month.
His
details
only
appear
on
the
distribution
file,
not the
payment
file.'
'Can
you
tell
me
when
his
name
first
appeared
on
the distribution
file?'
A
few
more
keystrokes.
'Jesus.
Exactly
two
weeks
ago
today.'
'So
someone
in
this
building,
not
the
accounts
staff
or anyone
who
understood
computers
very
well,
two
weeks ago
altered
the
file
to
include
Charles
Collingridge's
name for
the
first
time.'
This
is
terrible,
Miss
Storin
...'
Spence's
face
had
gone white.
'Kevin,
can
you
by
any
chance
tell
me
who
might
have altered
the
file,
or
from
which
terminal
it
was
altered?'
'Sadly,
no.
It
could
have
been
done
from
any
terminal
in this
building.
The
computer
programme
trusts
us
...'
He shook
his
head
as
if
he
had
totally
failed
the
most
crucial test
of
his
life.
‘
Don't
worry,
Kevin.
We're
on
the
trail.
But
I
must
ask you
not
to
utter
a
word
of
this
to
anyone.
I
want
to
catch whoever
did
this,
and
if
he
knows
we're
looking
he
will cover
his
trail.
Will
you
help
me
once
more,
and
keep
quiet until
I
have
something
more
to
go
on?'
'Who
on
earth
would
believe
me,
anyway?'
he murmured.
SUNDAY 7
th
NOVEMBER
The
newspapers
that
weekend
were
irritable.
In
the
convention
of
leadership
elections,
candidates
were
discouraged
from
outright
electioneering
or
making
personal attacks
on
their
rivals;
the
right
leader
was
supposed somehow
still
to
'emerge'
without
any
apparent
effort
on his
part
from
a
process
of
consensus
rather
than
combat.
So all
the
press
had
been
left
with
for
ten
days
was
a
series
of coded
messages
which
failed
to
inspire
the
public
or
ignite the
hoped-for
forest
of
press
headlines.
The
campaign
had not
so
much
run
out
of
steam;
it
had
simply
never
generated
any
effective
heat
So
the
press
took
it
out
on
the
candidates
-
they
had
no alternative.
'A
disappointing
and
uninspiring
campaign
so far,
still
waiting
for
one
of
the
candidates
to
breathe
life back
into
the
Party
and
Government',
pronounced
the
Observer.
Irrelevant
and
irritating',
complained
the
Sunday
Minor.
Not
to
be
outdone,
the
S
un
in
characteristic style
described
it
all
as
'flatulent,
a
passing
breeze
in
the night'.
Far
from
allowing
a
thorough
airing
of
the
issues,
as Urquhart
had
predicted
to
the
Prime
Minister,
the
lengthy campaign
was
suffering
from
a
severe
dose
of
boredom,
as all
along
he
had
secretly
hoped.
