In High Places by Arthur Hailey Page B

unusually solemn. Glancing to left and right in turn, he said evenly, 'In my opinion, international tension at the moment is more serious and dangerous than at any other time since 1939.'
    The calm, precise words had honed an edge of tension. Lucien Perrault said softly, 'Are things really that bad?'
    'Yes,' Lexington responded, 'I'm convinced they are. I agree it's difficult to accept, because we've been poised on a needle point so long that we're used to crises as a daily habit. But eventually there comes a point beyond crisis. I think we're close to it now.' '
    Stuart Cawston said lugubriously, 'Things must have been easier fifty years ago. At least the threats of war were spaced at decent intervals.'
    'Yes.' There was tiredness in Lexington's voice. 'I suppose they were.'
    'Then a new war...' It was Perrault's question. He left it unfinished.
    'My own opinion,' Arthur Lexington said, 'is that despite the present situation we shall not have war for a year. It could be longer. As a precaution, however, I have warned my ambassadors to be ready to burn their papers.'
    'That's for the old kind of war,' Cawston said. 'With all your diplomatic doodads.' He produced a tobacco pouch and a pipe, which he began to fill.
    Lexington shrugged. He gave a faint smile. 'Perhaps.'
    For a calculated interval James Howden had relaxed his dominance of the group. Now, as if gathering reins, he resumed it.
    'My own views,' the Prime Minister said firmly, 'are identical with those of Arthur. So identical, that I have ordered immediate partial occupancy of the government's emergency Quarters. Your own departments will receive secret memoranda on the subject within the next few days.' At the audible gasp which followed, Howden added severely, 'Better too much too early than too little too late.'
    Without waiting for comment he continued, 'What I have to say next is new, but we must remind ourselves of our own position when a third world war begins.'
    He surveyed the others through the haze of smoke which was beginning to fill the room. 'In the state of affairs today, Canada can neither wage war - at least, as an independent country - nor can we remain neutral. We have not the capacity for the first, nor the geography for the second. I offer this, not as opinion, but as a fact of life.'
    The eyes around the table were fixed steadfastly upon his own. So far, he observed, there had been no gesture of dissension. But that could come later. 'Our own defences,' Howden said, 'have been, and are, of a token nature only. And it is no secret that the United States budget for Canadian defence, though not high as defence budgets go, is greater by far than the total of our own.'
    Adrian Nesbitson spoke for the first time. 'But it isn't philanthropy,' the old man said gruffly. 'The Americans will defend Canada because they've got to, to defend themselves. We're under no compulsion to be grateful.'
    'There is never any compulsion about gratitude,' James Howden responded sharply. 'Though I will admit at times to thanking Providence that honourable friends, not enemies, adjoin our borders.'
    'Hear, hear!' It was Lucien Perrault, his teeth clamped on a cigar pointed jauntily upwards. Now he put down the cigar and clapped his paw of a hand on the shoulders of Adrian Nesbitson next to him. 'Never mind, old friend, I will be grateful for the two of us.'
    The interjection, and its source, had surprised Howden. Traditionally he had assumed that the greatest opposition to his own immediate plans would come from French Canada, whose spokesman was Lucien Perrault: French Canada, with its ancient fear of encroachment; its deep-rooted, historic mistrust of alien influence and ties. Could he have misjudged? Perhaps not; it was early yet to tell. But for the first time he wondered.
    'Let me remind you of some facts.' Once again, Howden's voice was firm and commanding. 'We are all familiar with the possible effects of a nuclear war. After such a war, survival will depend on