God's Country

Part Thirty-Two

'Energy, like the biblical grain of the mustard-seed, will remove mountains."

Hosea Ballou

No one had slept at all at the London campaign headquarters. In the boardroom, reduced to crumpled shirtsleeves, the senior members of the Christian Democratic Party frantically read the latest and absolutely final amendments to the manifesto. It had been a long night of little revisions and additions but although they were tired everyone was still feeling positive. No one had argued outside putting across their case and they felt united towards the common goal of electoral success. David Harrington appreciated the passion of Charles Buckingham and the quiet professionalism of Peter Munroe, more than convinced that they had the right men at the helm, and young Alistair Forbes, despite his reputation, seemed to cut through the detail like a hot knife through butter, focussing on the weakness of any argument and challenging everything and everyone until each word was justifiable. Harrington had been a little concerned about their latest recruit after he had his team at HCR look into him, but Charles Buckingham was adamant that the party needed someone like Forbes. He had the ability to think like the enemy and to find out things that no one else could, as well as being very driven to succeed.

Having met the man and seen him work, Harrington was impressed thus far. He rubbed his tired eyes, tossing his copy of the draft document back on the table. Peter Munroe was still scribbling notes and Charles was concentrating on the executive summary which would be the only thing most journalists ever read. Forbes was on his phone again. Sitting back in his chair, Harrington thought that he finally understood their young Director of Communications who had joined the cause as soon as a large salary increase was waved under his nose. Forbes was a snake oil salesman with a spine, a brain and very sharp teeth and elbows. David had been rather like that himself once, and he was not concerned about Alistair's obvious lack of commitment to the doctrine. He was the sort who would work for the highest bidder, or for a perfect addition to his curriculum vitae, but he was proving his worth to the party. He was a professional minder, focussed on managing the public image. David Harrington had been in business long enough to understand that such people were necessary. Someone had to keep an eye on the press and deal with the inevitable issues when they arose, and someone had to ignore the passion and concentrate on the delivery of the message. Forbes did not have to believe to do that, but whether the likes of Michael Winstanley liked it or not it still had to be done if they wanted to win.

Peter Munroe was an entirely different case. He was competent, intelligent and as cautious as any accountant, good on the details and clearly devoted to his old friend and leader. But Munroe was not a hired hand delivering expertise. If he wanted to stay on the team David Harrington knew that Peter would have to show the commitment Michael expected of his closest aides. It was another case of the election coming too soon of course. Everything was rather half-baked, however hard they worked at it, and some things would go before the people half-cooked and underdone. They were still finalising the manifesto whilst trying to sort out their candidates, get official registrations completed and pay all the fees needed to get names on ballot papers, whilst even at the very top of the tree some people were not openly and unequivocally committed to the doctrine.

"Yes, two hundred copies for the gentlemen of the press...bound? Yes of course I want them fucking bound you moron...it is only fifty pages." Forbes used his free hand to struggle with the door as he shouted into his phone, before stepping out onto the roof terrace. It was his smoking area, and he was soon pulling his almost empty packet of Marlboro out of his pocket. "Come on man, it is only two hundred copies...after that you will have a reasonable amount of time to deliver. I'll email you the PDF in a few minutes, but you cannot miss this fucking deadline...this press conference has to work like clockwork and I'll be wearing your balls as earrings if you let me down..."