In High Places

'There is also a line some place about the braying of an ass.' Howden snapped back angrily; the other man's classical quotations invariably annoyed him. Now the Prime Minister continued tight-lipped, 'I was about to say that I had decided to take no action beyond a warning. I suggest you don't provoke me into changing my mind.'

Warrender flushed, then shrugged. He murmured softly, 'The rest is silence.'

'The reason, principally, for calling you in is to talk about this latest immigration case in Vancouver. It appears to be the same kind of troublesome situation I insisted we avoid.'

'Aha!' Harvey Warrender's eyes gleamed with aroused interest. 'I've had a full report on that. Prime Minister, and I can tell you all about it.'

'I don't want to be told,' James Howden said impatiently. 'It's your job to run your own department and in any event I've more important things.' His eyes strayed to the open folders on inter-continental defence; he was anxious to get back to them. 'What I want is for the case to be settled out of the newspapers.'

Warrender's eyebrows went up. 'Aren't you being contradictory? In one breath you tell me to run my own department, then in the next to settle a case…'

Howden cut in angrily, 'I'm telling you to follow government policy – my policy: which is to avoid contentious immigration cases, particularly at this time, with an election next year and' – he hesitated – 'other things coming up. We went into all that the other night.' Then bitingly: 'Or perhaps you don't remember.'

'I wasn't all that drunk!' Now the anger was Harvey War-render's. 'I told you then what I thought of our so-called immigration policy, and it still goes. Either we get ourselves some new, honest immigration laws which admit what we're doing, and what every government before us…'

'Admit what?'

James Howden had risen and was standing behind the desk. Looking up at him Harvey Warrender said softly, intensely, 'Admit we have a policy of discrimination; and why not – it's our own country, isn't it? Admit we have a colour bar and race quotas, and we ban Negroes and Orientals, and that's the way it's always been, and why should we change it? Admit we want Anglo-Saxons and we need a pool of unemployed. Let's admit there's a strict quota for Italians and all the rest, and we keep an eye on the Roman Catholic percentage. Let's quit being fakers. Let's write an honest Immigration Act that spells things out the way they are. Let's quit having one face at the United Nations, hobnobbing with the coloureds, and another face at home…'

'Are you insane?' Incredulously, half-whispering, James Howden mouthed the question. His eyes were on Warrender. Of course, he thought, he had been given a clue: what had been said at the Government House reception… but he had assumed the effect of liquor… Then he remembered Margaret's words: I've sometimes thought that Harvey is just a little mad.

Harvey Warrender breathed heavily; his nostrils quivered. *No,' he answered, 'I'm not insane; just tired of damned hypocrisy.'

'Honesty is fine,' Howden said. His anger had dissipated now. 'But that kind is political suicide.'

'How do we know when nobody's tried it? How do we know people wouldn't like to be told what they already know?'

Quietly James Howden asked, 'What's your alternative?'

'You mean if we don't write a new Immigration Act?'

'Yes.'

'Then I'll enforce the one we have right down the line,' Harvey Warrender said firmly. 'I'll enforce it without exception or camouflage or back-door devices to keep unpleasant things out of the press. Maybe that'll show it up for what it is.'

'In that case,' James Howden said evenly, 'I'd like your resignation.'

The two men faced each other. 'Oh no,' Harvey Warrender said softly, 'oh no.'

There was a silence.

'I suggest you be explicit,' James Howden said. 'You've something on your mind?'

'I think you know.'

The Prime Minister's face was set, his eyes unyielding. ' "Explicit" was the word I used.'

'Very well, if that's what you wish.' Harvey Warrender had resumed his seat. Now, conversationally, as if discussing routine business, he said, 'We made an agreement.'

'That was a long time ago.'

'The agreement had no term to it.*

'Nevertheless it's been fulfilled.'

Harvey Warrender shook his head obstinately. 'The agreement had no term.' Fumbling in an inside pocket he pulled out a folded paper and tossed it on the Prime Minister's desk. 'Read for yourself and see.'

Reaching out, Howden felt his hand tremble. If this were the original, the only copy… It was a photostat.

For a moment his control left him. 'You fool!'

'Why?' The other's face was bland.

'You had a photostat…'

'No one knew what was being copied. Besides I stood there all the time, beside the machine.'

'Photostats have negatives.'

'I have the negative,' Warrender said calmly. 'I kept it in case I ever need more copies. The original is safe too.' He gestured. 'Why don't you read it? That's what we were talking about.'

Howden lowered his head and the words came up at him. They were simple, to the point, and in his own handwriting.

1. H. Warrender withdraws from leadership, will support J. Howden.

2. H. Warrender's nephew (H.O'B) to have-TV franchise.

3. H. Warrender in Howden Cabinet – to choose own portfolio (except Ext Affairs or Health). J.H. not to dismiss H.W. except for indiscretion, scandal. In latter event H.W. takes full respon, not involving J.H.

Then there was the date – nine years ago – and the scribbled initials of them both.

Harvey Warrender said quietly, 'You see – just as I said, the agreement has no term.'

'Harvey,' the Prime Minister said slowly, 'is it any good appealing to you? We've been friends…' His mind reeled. One copy, in a single reporter's hands, would be an instrument of execution. There could be no explaining, no manoeuvre, no political survival, only exposure, disgrace… His hands were sweating.

The other man shook his head. Howden was conscious of a wall… unreasoning, impregnable. He tried again. 'There's been the pound of flesh, Harvey; that and more. What now?'

'I'll tell you!' Warrender leaned near the desk, his voice a fierce, intense whisper. 'Let me stay; let me do something worth while to balance out. Maybe if we rewrite our immigration law and do it honestly – spelling out things the way we really do them – maybe then people will stir their consciences and want to change. Maybe the way we do things should be changed; perhaps it's change that's needed in the end. But we can't begin without being honest first.'

Perplexed, Howden shook his head. 'You're not making sense. I don't understand.'

'Then let me try to explain. You talked of a pound of flesh. Do you think I care about that part? Do you think I wouldn't go back and unmake that agreement of ours if it could be done? I tell you there've been nights, and plenty of them, when I've lain awake until the daylight came, loathing myself and the day I made it.'

'Why, Harvey?' Perhaps if they could talk this out it might help… anything might help…

'I sold out, didn't I?' Warrender spoke emotionally now. 'Sold out for a mess of pottage that wasn't worth the price. And I've wished a thousand times since that we could be in that convention hall again and I'd take my chances against you – the way they were.'

Howden said gently, 'I think I'd still have won, Harvey.' Momentarily he felt a deep compassion. Our sins revisit us, he thought – in one form or another, according to ourselves.

'I'm not so sure,' Warrender said slowly. His eyes came up. 'I've never been quite sure, Jim, that I couldn't have been here at this desk instead of you.'