McKenna raised his head from his work as a knock sounded at his door.
"Come in," he called, tossing down his pen and leaning back in his chair.
It was after hours and his secretary had gone home hours ago. McKenna had
preferred to stay in the West Block and work; his wife was out of town and
Sussex Drive was too quiet without her.
"The Conservatives are starting to run a set of ads in the Maritimes next week," Cohen announced without preamble, crossing the room to lower himself unceremoniously into one of McKenna's spare chairs.
McKenna nodded solemnly. "They waited until the Alliance vote had worked itself out of the news cycle," he noted. "I guess Anderson thought that it was his turn to have people talking about him."
Cohen rolled his eyes. "Everyone seems to want a piece of pre-election publicity." Then he grinned suddenly, the smile lighting up his face. "They all seem to think there's going to be an election soon; the papers have started predicting a January election date."
"The papers have been predicting elections almost since the day I took over from DuRocher," McKenna scoffed. "Until the American trip was pushed back, they were all sure that there'd be an election before the year was out. And I'm positive that they'll keep making predictions right up until the time that I actually call the election."
"Well, if you predict snow for long enough..."
"Eventually Mother Nature will prove you right," McKenna finished.
"Are there any plans for us to roll out an ad campaign of our own?" Cohen inquired. "We seem to be the only party that isn't trying for TV time and our numbers out west have dropped a bit."
"We don't have to try for TV time," McKenna reminded him. "We're the government. When this Qumari situation finally comes to completion, we can publicize that. After all, everyone else was out campaigning while we were busy making sure that the world didn't fall apart beneath our feet."
"Don't forget that you're meeting with Bartlet in December. Chats with the Americans always seem to go over well as long as we're not making any big concessions to them."
McKenna sighed. "Well, if we keep going with the pre-election set-up that the party brass has approved, anything we arrange with Bartlet could be wiped out by the end of March."
"You think that's likely to happen?" Cohen questioned. "I've seen the polls. In most places, we're staying pretty steady in spite of the hot air from everyone else. We'll take a dip after this Conservative ad campaign, but we'll get bumps in our numbers after we show the country some real action."
"It doesn't matter whether something's likely to happen or not," McKenna responded. "I was never supposed to be the prime minister. Seidel led the polls for most of our leadership race, but I'm the one who's sitting here right now."
"By the grace of God," Cohen muttered beneath his breath.
"I know," McKenna answered, standing and moving to look out one of his windows. He looked out across the grounds of the Parliament buildings, imagining how things could have turned out very differently. "Heaven help us if Seidel ever makes it to this office," he added, turning to face Cohen again.
"Well, considering he's got a good twenty years on you, barring an unforeseen retirements on your part, I don't think we've got too much to worry about," Cohen told McKenna.
McKenna nodded seriously, not answering Cohen one way or the other. The two men waited in comfortable silence for a few moments, one staring out the window and the other looking at the interior of the office.
"What do you think would happen if..." McKenna started pensively. "I mean, it's not like we have a line of succession that's set in stone. Hell, we really don't have a line of succession at all."
"We haven't needed one," Cohen replied with a shrug. "We've only ever had one prime minister die in office, and that was of natural causes. The worst thing that's happened to a sitting prime minister is having a cream pie shoved in his face. Canadians are really into the whole political assassination thing."
"Thomas D'Arcy McGee," McKenna answered slowly. "But still, what if..."
"It's old fogies like me who are supposed to be thinking these morbid thoughts," Cohen broke in. "You're too young to be worrying about those sorts of things."
"I'm the prime minister, Eric," McKenna reminded him solemnly. "I have to think about these things, especially with people like Seidel waiting in the wings. I know that my family will be taken care of, but, as prime minister, I've got to worry about he country."
Cohen sighed. "Well, I don't know the exact protocol, but I would image that Monaghan would be asked to form a government provided we hadn't lost a no-confidence vote. Then the brass would throw together a convention to elect another leader. She'd likely come out on top, but there's always the chance that she'd be the shortest serving PM in our history."
"If she did win the leadership, she'd probably dissolve the government immediately," McKenna mused. "She probably wouldn't bide her time. She'd want a mandate of her own."
"She's not a power at any price sort of girl," Cohen agreed.
"That's one of the reasons that I picked her as my deputy," McKenna confided. "I know she'll do the honourable thing, even if it's stupid politically." He shook his head indulgently. "That girl has absolutely no political sense. It's amazing that she managed to make it this far. She doesn't play camp favourite; I'm amazed that DuRocher even noticed her from the backbenches."
"He knew her grandfather," Cohen revealed.
"She was a patronage appointment?" McKenna questioned incredulously.
Cohen shrugged. "Marc never really told any of us why he pulled her up so fast. She skipped right over secretary of state and parliamentary secretary to jump right into the Cabinet, and that doesn't happen very often."
"I picked a patronage appointment for my deputy," McKenna repeated in disbelief. "I told her flat out that it was a merit appointment and she knew all the tie that she got to that position because of her family. I can't believe that she never told me." His disbelief was rapidly turning into outrage.
"I don't necessarily know that it was patronage. Marc just happened to mention in passing one night that he had known her grandfather for years. I think that they might have met during his stint with the UN back in the 70s."
"Still," McKenna retorted, "I can't believe that she wouldn't say something like that. I thought that she was an actual honest politician."
"David," Cohen told McKenna warningly, "I have no doubt that she is honest. She might be a patronage appointment, but she was a junior minister. She worked her way up on her own."
"How could she get so far without using connection?" McKenna wondered. "We've agreed that she has no political sense." His sense of betrayal was still evident in his voice.
"I don't think she has no political sense," Cohen asserted. "I just think that she doesn't have the keen sense of when to cut a throat that Seidel does. I don't think that she has the acute ability to cut a deal that you've got. She doesn't have the..."
"Then what the hell does she have?" McKenna exploded. "Because she sure as hell doesn't have any of the skills that one usually associates with a politician!" "This is obviously the wrong time to have this conversation," Cohen retorted, standing to go.
"Sit down," McKenna ordered. "And answer my question."
"I'm in Cabinet by order of the Crown. I'm in my seat at the service of the Canadian people. Please explain to me where this conversation fits in," Cohen replied, continuing toward the door.
McKenna took a couple of deep breaths, trying to reign in his temper. "I'm just trying to find out a little more about the woman that I appointed as my deputy."
"Why don't you ask her," Cohen suggested, leaving the office and closing the door behind him.
"The Conservatives are starting to run a set of ads in the Maritimes next week," Cohen announced without preamble, crossing the room to lower himself unceremoniously into one of McKenna's spare chairs.
McKenna nodded solemnly. "They waited until the Alliance vote had worked itself out of the news cycle," he noted. "I guess Anderson thought that it was his turn to have people talking about him."
Cohen rolled his eyes. "Everyone seems to want a piece of pre-election publicity." Then he grinned suddenly, the smile lighting up his face. "They all seem to think there's going to be an election soon; the papers have started predicting a January election date."
"The papers have been predicting elections almost since the day I took over from DuRocher," McKenna scoffed. "Until the American trip was pushed back, they were all sure that there'd be an election before the year was out. And I'm positive that they'll keep making predictions right up until the time that I actually call the election."
"Well, if you predict snow for long enough..."
"Eventually Mother Nature will prove you right," McKenna finished.
"Are there any plans for us to roll out an ad campaign of our own?" Cohen inquired. "We seem to be the only party that isn't trying for TV time and our numbers out west have dropped a bit."
"We don't have to try for TV time," McKenna reminded him. "We're the government. When this Qumari situation finally comes to completion, we can publicize that. After all, everyone else was out campaigning while we were busy making sure that the world didn't fall apart beneath our feet."
"Don't forget that you're meeting with Bartlet in December. Chats with the Americans always seem to go over well as long as we're not making any big concessions to them."
McKenna sighed. "Well, if we keep going with the pre-election set-up that the party brass has approved, anything we arrange with Bartlet could be wiped out by the end of March."
"You think that's likely to happen?" Cohen questioned. "I've seen the polls. In most places, we're staying pretty steady in spite of the hot air from everyone else. We'll take a dip after this Conservative ad campaign, but we'll get bumps in our numbers after we show the country some real action."
"It doesn't matter whether something's likely to happen or not," McKenna responded. "I was never supposed to be the prime minister. Seidel led the polls for most of our leadership race, but I'm the one who's sitting here right now."
"By the grace of God," Cohen muttered beneath his breath.
"I know," McKenna answered, standing and moving to look out one of his windows. He looked out across the grounds of the Parliament buildings, imagining how things could have turned out very differently. "Heaven help us if Seidel ever makes it to this office," he added, turning to face Cohen again.
"Well, considering he's got a good twenty years on you, barring an unforeseen retirements on your part, I don't think we've got too much to worry about," Cohen told McKenna.
McKenna nodded seriously, not answering Cohen one way or the other. The two men waited in comfortable silence for a few moments, one staring out the window and the other looking at the interior of the office.
"What do you think would happen if..." McKenna started pensively. "I mean, it's not like we have a line of succession that's set in stone. Hell, we really don't have a line of succession at all."
"We haven't needed one," Cohen replied with a shrug. "We've only ever had one prime minister die in office, and that was of natural causes. The worst thing that's happened to a sitting prime minister is having a cream pie shoved in his face. Canadians are really into the whole political assassination thing."
"Thomas D'Arcy McGee," McKenna answered slowly. "But still, what if..."
"It's old fogies like me who are supposed to be thinking these morbid thoughts," Cohen broke in. "You're too young to be worrying about those sorts of things."
"I'm the prime minister, Eric," McKenna reminded him solemnly. "I have to think about these things, especially with people like Seidel waiting in the wings. I know that my family will be taken care of, but, as prime minister, I've got to worry about he country."
Cohen sighed. "Well, I don't know the exact protocol, but I would image that Monaghan would be asked to form a government provided we hadn't lost a no-confidence vote. Then the brass would throw together a convention to elect another leader. She'd likely come out on top, but there's always the chance that she'd be the shortest serving PM in our history."
"If she did win the leadership, she'd probably dissolve the government immediately," McKenna mused. "She probably wouldn't bide her time. She'd want a mandate of her own."
"She's not a power at any price sort of girl," Cohen agreed.
"That's one of the reasons that I picked her as my deputy," McKenna confided. "I know she'll do the honourable thing, even if it's stupid politically." He shook his head indulgently. "That girl has absolutely no political sense. It's amazing that she managed to make it this far. She doesn't play camp favourite; I'm amazed that DuRocher even noticed her from the backbenches."
"He knew her grandfather," Cohen revealed.
"She was a patronage appointment?" McKenna questioned incredulously.
Cohen shrugged. "Marc never really told any of us why he pulled her up so fast. She skipped right over secretary of state and parliamentary secretary to jump right into the Cabinet, and that doesn't happen very often."
"I picked a patronage appointment for my deputy," McKenna repeated in disbelief. "I told her flat out that it was a merit appointment and she knew all the tie that she got to that position because of her family. I can't believe that she never told me." His disbelief was rapidly turning into outrage.
"I don't necessarily know that it was patronage. Marc just happened to mention in passing one night that he had known her grandfather for years. I think that they might have met during his stint with the UN back in the 70s."
"Still," McKenna retorted, "I can't believe that she wouldn't say something like that. I thought that she was an actual honest politician."
"David," Cohen told McKenna warningly, "I have no doubt that she is honest. She might be a patronage appointment, but she was a junior minister. She worked her way up on her own."
"How could she get so far without using connection?" McKenna wondered. "We've agreed that she has no political sense." His sense of betrayal was still evident in his voice.
"I don't think she has no political sense," Cohen asserted. "I just think that she doesn't have the keen sense of when to cut a throat that Seidel does. I don't think that she has the acute ability to cut a deal that you've got. She doesn't have the..."
"Then what the hell does she have?" McKenna exploded. "Because she sure as hell doesn't have any of the skills that one usually associates with a politician!" "This is obviously the wrong time to have this conversation," Cohen retorted, standing to go.
"Sit down," McKenna ordered. "And answer my question."
"I'm in Cabinet by order of the Crown. I'm in my seat at the service of the Canadian people. Please explain to me where this conversation fits in," Cohen replied, continuing toward the door.
McKenna took a couple of deep breaths, trying to reign in his temper. "I'm just trying to find out a little more about the woman that I appointed as my deputy."
"Why don't you ask her," Cohen suggested, leaving the office and closing the door behind him.