In High Places

'No.' Howden shook his head firmly. 'First, I don't see the situation as impossible and, second, we'll talk of Alaska or nothing.' He was convinced now – there had been an attempt to make him lose control. Of course, even if it had succeeded, the other side might have gained no advantage. But on the other band he might just have tipped his hand on how far he was prepared to compromise if forced. The President was a seasoned, wily negotiator who would never miss a hint like that if given.

The Prime Minister rubbed the tip of his long nose gently. 'I'd like to tell you,' he said, 'of the conditions we have in mind. Foremost, there would be a free election in Alaska, jointly supervised, and with a "yes" or "no" vote.'

The President said, 'You'd never win.' But the deep-pitched voice was a shade less dogmatic than before. Howden had a sense that subtly, in-some undefinable way, dominance of the negotiations had shifted to himself. He recalled Arthur Lexington's words earlier in the morning: 'Put in its crudest terms I'd say we're in a seller's market. The concessions we have to offer, the United States needs, and needs badly.'

'Frankly, I think we would win,' Howden said, 'and we'd go into the campaign intending to. There has always been a good deal of pro-Canadian feeling in Alaska, and lately it's intensified. What's more, whether you know it or not, the bloom has worn off statehood. You haven't done as much for them as they expected, and they're lonely up there. If we took over, we'd create a duplicate centre of government. We'd make Juneau -or maybe Anchorage – a secondary capital of Canada. We'd concentrate on Alaskan development ahead of all other provinces. We'd give Alaskans a sense of no longer being apart.'

'I'm sorry,' the President said flatly. 'I can't accept all that.'

This was the moment, Howden knew, to play his ace. 'Perhaps you will believe more readily,' he announced' quietly, 'if I tell you that the first approach in this matter has come, not from Canada, but from Alaska itself.'

The President stood up. His eyes were riveted on Howden's. He said sharply, 'Please explain yourself.'

'Two months ago,' the Prime Minister declared, 'I was approached in secrecy by a single spokesman for a group of prominent Alaskans. The proposal I have made to you today is the proposal made to me at that time.'

The President moved from behind the desk. His face was close to Howden's. 'The names,' he said. His voice was unbelieving. 'I would have to know the names.'

Arthur Lexington produced a single sheet of paper. Taking it, the Prime Minister passed it to the President. 'These are the names.'

As he read, incredulity spread over the President's face. At the end he passed the list to Admiral Rapoport.

'I will not attempt…' For Once the words came haltingly. 'I will not attempt, I say, to hide from you that these names and information are a considerable shock.'

Howden was silent, waiting.

'Assuming,' the President said slowly, 'just assuming there was a plebiscite, and you lost.'

'As I say, we wouldn't expect to. We'd make the specific terms attractive, just as you've made the Act of Union attractive. And you yourself would urge a "yes" vote on the grounds of North American unity and defence.'

'Would I?' Eyebrows shot up.

'Yes, Tyler,' Howden said firmly; 'that would be a part of our agreement.'

'But even with that, you might lose,' the President persisted. 'The vote might go "no".'

'Obviously, if that happened, we would accept the decision. Canadians believe in self-determination too.'

'In that event, what about the Act of Union?'

'It would be unaffected,' James Howden said. 'With the promise of Alaska – or at least the plebiscite – I can win an election in Canada, and a mandate for the Act of Union. The plebiscite would come afterwards and, whatever the result, there could be no going back on what was already done.'

'Well…' The President glanced at Admiral Rapoport, whose face was inscrutable. Then, half in thought, half aloud:

'It would mean a constitutional convention in the State… If I took it to Congress, I suppose those conditions would make it discussable…'

Howden remarked quietly, 'May I remind you of your own statement about congressional support. I believe your words were: "There isn't any legislation I want that I can't have passed."'

The President slammed a fist into his palm. 'Goddam, Jim! You're adroit at turning a man's own words against him.'

'I should warn you, Mr President,' Arthur Lexington said easily, 'the gentleman has a tape-recorder memory for spoken words. At times, back home, we find it disconcerting.'

'By God, I should think so! Jim, let me ask you a question.'

'Please do.'

'Why is it that you believe you can hold out for what you're demanding? You need the Act of Union and you know it.'

'Yes,' James Howden said, 'I think we do. But frankly I believe you need it more, and, as you said, time is what counts.'

There was a silence in the small room. The President drew a deep breath. Admiral Rapoport shrugged and turned away.

'Supposing, just supposing,' the President said softly, 'that I agreed to your terms, subject of course to congressional approval, how would you plan to make this known?'

'An announcement to the House of Commons eleven days from now.'

Again a pause.

'You understand… I'm only supposing…' The words were reluctant, laboured. 'But if it happened, I would be obliged to make an identical statement before a joint session of Congress. You realize that our two statements would have to be coincided to the second.'

'Yes,' Howden said.

He had succeeded, he knew. In his mouth was (he taste of victory.

Chapter 3

In the private cabin of the Vanguard, Margaret Howden, smartly dressed in a new grey-blue suit, a velour hat perched neatly on her attractive grey hair, had emptied the contents of her handbag on to a small reading table in front of her seat. Sorting crumpled US and Canadian bills – mostly small denominations – she glanced at her husband who was absorbed with the editorial page of a day-old Toronto Daily Star. Fifteen minutes earlier, after a ceremonial farewell by the Vice-President, supported by an honour guard of FS Marines, their special flight had taken off from Washington airport. Now, in mid-morning sunshine, above broken cumulus cloud, they were flying smoothly northward towards Ottawa and home.

'You know,' Howden said, turning pages, 'I've often wondered why we don't let editorial writers take over and run the country. They've a solution for everything. Though, of course,' he mused, 'if they did run the country there's always the problem of who'd write the editorials.'

'Why not you?' Margaret said. She put the bills beside a small pile of silver already counted. 'Perhaps that way you and

I could have more time together and I wouldn't have to go shopping to fill in time on trips. Oh dear! – I'm afraid I've been quite extravagant.'

Howden grinned involuntarily. Putting down the newspaper, he asked, 'How much?'

Margaret checked the money she had counted against a pencilled list with receipts attached. She answered ruefully, 'Almost two hundred dollars.'

He was tempted to protest mildly, then remembered he had not revealed to Margaret their latest financial problem. Well, the money was spent; what was the point in worrying now? Besides, a discussion about their own finances – which always made Margaret anxious – would consume more energy than he was willing to expend at the moment. Instead he said, 'I'm not due for a customs exemption, but you are. So you can take in a hundred dollars' worth, duty-free, but declare the rest and you'll have to pay some tax.'