House of Cards (64 page)

In cold blood, Mr Urquhart? Face to face, in cold blood?'

This was like no prey he had ever hunted. Here, face to face, not a thousand impersonal yards away down a rifle sight but staring right back into his eyes! As her words pierced home, the moment was broken. The look of doubt crept into his eyes, and in a single bound his stag and his courage had disappeared. He gave a whimper as the chair dropped from his hands and the awful truth of his own cowardice dawned upon him. He had faced his challenge, a fight to the death, confronted the truth, and had failed. He sank to his knees in the deep snow.

'You can't prove a thing. It's your word against mine,' he whispered.

Mattie said nothing at first, but pressed the rewind button on her recorder. As the tape spun round, she looked down upon Urquhart, who was shivering violently.

‘Y
our final mistake, Mr Urquhart. You thought I switched it off.' She punched yet another button. As she did so, the clearly recorded words of their conversation filled the air, damning him in every syllable, the proof which would condemn him.

As she walked slowly away, leaving him wretched in the snow, the silence in his head was filled with the ghostly, mocking laughter of his father.

The setting sun pierced through the frosty sky. As it did so, it glanced off the snow-covered tower of Big Ben and cascaded into a thousand tiny streams of light, blinding the American tourist who was trying to capture the scene on video.

He was quite clear later in his description of what had happened.

The Parliament buil
ding had suddenly become like a great torch, set alight by the sun. It was really a beautiful sight, as if the whole building were ablaze. And then from way up under Big Ben, something seemed to fall. As if a moth had flown into the heart of an immense candle, and its blackened and charred body was falling all the way to the ground. It's difficult to believe it was a man, one of your politicians. What did you say his name was?'

She was tired, desperately tired, yet she felt an unaccustomed peace. The struggle with her memories was over, the pain purged. She could stop running now.

He sensed the change and could see it reflected in her exhausted but triumphant eyes.
You
know
’
he mused,
‘
I
think you might make a halfway decent journalist after all
’

Johnnie, I think you may just be right,' she said softly. 'Let's go home
’