Read Online The House of Cards Complete Trilogy by Michael Dobbs - Free Book Online Page B

won’t. Will you?” She was being deliberately coquettish. While their previous encounters had been minimal, she remembered the glance he had thrown at her one day as they’d passed in the Central Lobby, the discreet male glint in the eye that had taken in all of her without for a moment appearing to deviate from the direct.
    “Perhaps you had better come in after all—Miss Storin, isn’t it?”
    “Please, call me Mattie.”
    “The sitting room is upstairs,” he said. He made it sound like a small confession. He led the way to a tasteful if very traditionally decorated room, its mustard walls covered in oil paintings of horses and country scenes, the furniture inlaid and elegant. There were tall shelves of books, family photos in frames, a white marble fireplace. The shades were silk, the lighting sparse, the atmosphere intense. He poured himself a large single malt, an old Glenfiddich, and without asking did the same for her before settling into a dark leather armchair. A book with a cracked spine was balanced on the arm, plays by Molière. Mattie sat opposite, nervously perching on the edge of the sofa. She retrieved a small notebook from her shoulder bag but Urquhart waved it away.
    “I’m tired, Miss Storin—Mattie. It’s been a long campaign and I’m not sure I would express myself particularly well. So no notes, if you don’t mind.”
    “Of course. Lobby terms. I can use what you tell me but I can’t attribute it to you in any way. No fingerprints.”
    “Precisely.”
    He put away Molière, she her notebook and settled back on the sofa. She was wearing a white cotton blouse; it was tight. He noticed, but not in a predatory fashion. He seemed to have eyes that absorbed things, penetrated deeper than most. They both knew they were playing a game.
    He took a cigarette from a silver cigarette box, lit it and inhaled deeply, then he began. “What would you say if I told you, Mattie, that the Prime Minister sees this as the best way of getting on with the job? Not letting ministers get confused with new responsibilities? Full steam ahead?”
    “I would say, Mr. Urquhart, that we would scarcely have to go off the record for that!”
    Urquhart chuckled at the young journalist’s bluntness. Drew deep on the nicotine. The combination seemed to satisfy him.
    “I would also say,” Mattie continued, “that in many people’s eyes the election showed the need for some new blood and some new thinking. You lost a lot of seats. Your endorsement by the voters wasn’t exactly gushing, was it?”
    “We have a clear majority and won many more seats than the main opposition party. Not too bad after so many years in office…Wouldn’t you say?”
    “I’m here for your views, not mine.”
    “Indulge me.”
    “But not really full of promise for the next election, is it? More of the same. Steady as she sinks.”
    “I think that’s a little harsh,” Urquhart said, knowing he should be protesting more.
    “I came to one of your election rallies.”
    “Did you, Mattie? I’m flattered.”
    “You spoke about new energy, new ideas, new enterprise. The whole thrust of what you were saying was that there would be change—and some new players.” She paused but Urquhart didn’t seem keen to respond. “Your own election address—I have it here…” She fished a glossy leaflet from a wad of papers that were stuffed into her shoulder bag. “It speaks about ‘the exciting challenges ahead.’ All this is about as exciting as last week’s newspapers. And I’m doing too much of the talking.”
    He smiled, sipped. Stayed silent.
    “Let me ask you bluntly, Mr. Urquhart. Do you really think this is the best the Prime Minister could do?”
    Urquhart didn’t answer directly but raised his glass slowly once more to his lips, staring at her across the crystal rim.
    “Do you think Henry Collingridge is the best this country can do?” she persisted, more softly.
    “Mattie, how on earth do you expect me to reply to a