possible that his delicate conscience could turn him into a whistleblower.'
'I think that's unlikely,' High Ridge said after a moment. 'If he were likely to do something like that, why hasn't he already done it? So far as I'm aware, he hasn't even asked any difficult questions, much less shown any inclination to take his suspicions—if any—public. And even if it turned out that he were so inclined after all, it would effectively be his word against the full weight of Her Majesty's Government.' He shook his head. 'No. I don't see any way he could hurt us under the circumstances.'
'You're probably right . . . for now,' Descroix replied. 'On the other hand, I wasn't thinking about right this minute, or even any time in the next several months or even the next few years. But let's face it, Michael. You and I both know that eventually there's going to be a change of governments.'
'Cromarty hung on to the premiership for the better part of sixty T-years with only three interruptions,' High Ridge pointed out just a bit stiffly.
'And he had the enthusiastic support of the Crown the entire time. A happy state of affairs which,' Descroix observed dryly, 'scarcely obtains in our own case.'
'If the approval of the Crown were critical to the survival of a government, we'd never have been permitted to form one in the first place!' High Ridge shot back.
'Of course we wouldn't have. But that's not really the point, is it? However temperamental the Queen may be, she's also an astute political observer, and she was right. Our differences in priorities and ideology—especially between you and me, on the one hand, and Marisa, on the other—are too fundamental for us to maintain our cohesion indefinitely. And that completely overlooks potential outside forces. Like that idiot Montaigne.' Descroix grimaced. 'I don't think she has a hope in Hell of pulling it off, but it's perfectly clear what she's up to with that dramatic renunciation of her title. And while I think the odds against her are high, I didn't expect her to win her precious little special election, either. So I don't have any desire to stake my own political survival on my faith that she can't do it after all.'
'You think she could effectively challenge Marisa's control of her party leadership, then?' High Ridge asked.
'Probably not as things stand,' Descroix replied. 'But that's my point. You and I both know politics are a dynamic process, not a static one. Things change, and Montaigne's challenge could weaken Marisa enough for someone else higher up in the party hierarchy to challenge her successfully. Or, for that matter, to pull Marisa back towards the Liberals' 'true faith' and away from her coalition with us. Frankly, I think that's what's most likely to bring this Government down in the end, because let's face it, she's never really been comfortable working with us in the first place.'
'It doesn't help any when you snipe at her in Cabinet meetings,' High Ridge said in a painfully neutral tone.
'I know that. It's just that she's so damned sanctimonious and pious that I can't help myself. Come on, Michael! You know that when it comes right down to it, she's at least as willing as you or I—probably
'I suppose so.' High Ridge drank a little more coffee, using the cup to obscure his expression until he was certain he had it back under control. He'd known Descroix's impatience with New Kiev had been growing steadily, but the sheer venom in the Foreign Secretary's biting tone still came as something of a shock. Particularly if it proved to be the first rumbling of the very discord Descroix was warning him against.
'Oh, don't worry,' she told him, almost as if she could read his mind. 'I detest the woman, and I'm quite sure she detests me, right back. But we're both fully aware of how much we need one another right now, and neither of us is likely to do anything stupid.
'In the end, however,' she went on, promptly undermining his momentary sense of relief, 'we're either going to accomplish what made us political bedfellows in the first place, or else Alexander and the Queen are going to manage to take us out of office before we do. In the first case, I think we can take it for granted that there's going to be a certain . . . acrimoniousness to the ultimate dissolution of our partnership. And in the latter case— which, I hasten to add, I consider an unlikely, worst-case scenario—you can bet anything you like that Her Majesty's going to be out for blood. Our blood. Either way, there are going to be plenty of sharp knives waiting to be parked in someone's back, and Reynaud could be one of them.'
'I think you're worrying unduly,' the Prime Minister said after a moment. 'There are always . . . irregularities of one sort or another, but neither side has any interest in making them public when the government changes hands. After all, as you've just pointed out, it will always change hands again at some point. If the incoming government smears its predecessors over every potential little discrepancy, then it invites the same treatment when it's time for it to leave office, in turn, and no one wants that.'
'With all due respect, Michael, we're not talking about 'little discrepancies' in this instance,' Descroix said coolly. 'While I would be the first to argue that our decisions were completely justifiable, they hardly represent unintentional errors or sloppy paperwork. There's not much point in pretending that someone like Alexander couldn't exaggerate them all out of proportion and start some sort of witch hunt. And whatever he might want to do as a realistic and pragmatic politician, the Queen is going to want the biggest, noisiest witch hunt she can possibly arrange in our case. In fact,' Descroix smiled thinly, 'I'm pretty sure she's already stockpiling wood for the barbecue at Mount Royal Palace.'
'It's just a bit late to be developing a case of cold feet, Elaine,' High Ridge told her. 'If you thought we were taking unjustifiable risks, you should have said so at the time.'
'I just finished saying that I felt they were justified,' she said with calm deliberateness. 'I'm simply pointing out that that doesn't mean I'm blind to the potential consequences if they come home to roost later.'
'And just why are you so assiduously pointing it out?' he asked in a tone he realized was beginning to verge rather too closely on querulous for the Prime Minister of Manticore.
'Because Reynaud's attitude towards Clarence crystallized my concerns about them. I've been aware of them from the beginning, but the need to concentrate on day-to-day tactics has tended to push them further down my list of things to worry about. Unfortunately, if we don't start worrying about them now, then we're going to spend a lot more time worrying about them later.'
'Meaning what?'
'Meaning that it's time you and I started making sure our lifeboats don't spring any leaks when the ship finally sinks.' She allowed herself a small, amused smile at his exasperated expression, but she also decided it was time to show some mercy and come to the point at last.
'Eventually, someone's going to ask some very pointed questions, Michael. Elizabeth will see to that, even if no one else wants to. So it's occurred to me that this would be a very good time to begin establishing the documentary evidence to support the answers we're going to want to give.'
'I see,' the Prime Minister said slowly, leaning back in his chair and regarding her speculatively. And, he admitted, respectfully.
'And just how do you suggest we do that?' he asked finally.
'Obviously, we begin by seeing to it that any little . . . financial irregularities lead back to our esteemed Chancellor of the Exchequer and Home Secretary MacIntosh.' She sighed. 'How tragic! To think that such high- minded and selfless servants of the public weal should turn out to have actually been so venal and corrupt as to divert government monies into slush funds and vote-buying schemes. And how truly unfortunate that your own trust in the Liberal Party's well known probity prevented you from realizing in time what they were doing.'
'I see,' he repeated, even more slowly. He'd always known Elaine Descroix was about as safe as an Old Earth cobra, yet even now, a part of him was appalled by her ruthlessness.
'Of course,' she admitted cheerfully, 'it needs to be done carefully, and to be completely honest, I'm not at all sure how to go about doing it properly. A clumsy job, with fingerprints pointing in our direction, would be worse than useless.'
'I can certainly agree with that!'
'Good. Because in that case, I think we should put Georgia to work on it.'
'Are you sure you want to bring her that fully into this?' High Ridge knew his doubtfulness showed, but Descroix only smiled.
'Michael,' she said patiently, 'Georgia already has access to the North Hollow Files. I'm sure there are
