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  At the Commons the next morning he and every other SDP and Liberal member had to run the gauntlet of journalists and photographers on the way to a closely guarded committee room on the third floor. The Whip had deliberately selected one of the less accessible rooms and had asked the Serjeant-at-Arms to be certain the recording machines were disconnected.

  Andrew opened the meeting by congratulating his colleagues on their election to the House of Commons. “But it is important to remember,” he continued, “that the nation will never forgive us if we are irresponsible with our new power. We cannot afford to say we will support one party, then change our minds after only a few weeks, causing another general election. We must be seen to be responsible. Or you can be sure that when the next election comes every one of us will forfeit our seats.”

  He went on to describe in detail how both the major party leaders had accepted the general direction in which he felt the new Government should be moving. He reported that they had both accepted that two members of the Alliance should have seats in the Cabinet. Both had also agreed to back a motion in the Commons for a referendum on proportional representation. For three hours the SDP/Liberal members gave their views, but by the end of that time Andrew was still unable to steer them to a consensus and had to call for a ballot. Andrew did not vote himself and left the SDP Liberal and Chief Whips to count the votes and announce the result.

  Twenty-three votes each was the decision of his members.

  The Chief Whip informed the parliamentary party that they would have to allow their elected leader to make the final decision. He, after all, was the biggest single reason they had been returned to the House in such relatively large numbers. After twenty-seven years in the Commons he must have the clearest view of which man and which party was most capable of governing the country.

  When the Chief Whip sat down, the word “Agreed” came over clearly from the lips of the members sitting round the long table, and the meeting broke up.

  Andrew returned to Pelham Crescent and told Louise which man he had decided to support. She seemed surprised. Later that night he left for a quiet dinner at the Atheneum with the sovereign’s private secretary. The equerry returned to Buckingham Palace a little after eleven o’clock and briefed the monarch on the salient points of their discussion.

  “Mr. Fraser,” the private secretary said, “is not in favor of another quick election and has made it quite clear which party the Social Democrats are willing to support in the Commons.”

  The monarch nodded thoughtfully, thanked his private secretary, and retired to bed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  KING CHARLES III made the final decision.

  As Big Ben struck ten o’clock on that Saturday morning, a private secretary to the Royal household phoned the Right Honorable Simon Kerslake and asked if he would be kind enough to attend His Majesty at the palace.

  Simon stepped out of the Conservative party headquarters on the corner of Smith Square and into the clear morning sunlight to be greeted by crowds of well-wishers, television cameras, and journalists. He only smiled and waved as this was not the occasion to make a statement. He slipped quickly through the police cordon and into the back of his black Rover. Motorcycle outriders guided the chauffeur-driven car through the dense crowds slowly past Transport House. Simon wondered what would be going through Raymond Gould’s mind at that moment as he considered the decision Andrew Fraser must have made.

  The chauffeur drove on to Millbank past the House of Commons, round Parliament Square, and left into Birdcage Walk before reaching the Mall.

  Scotland Yard had been briefed as to which party leader had been called to see the King and the car never stopped once on its journey to the palace.

  The chauffeur then swung into the Mall and Buckingham Palace loomed in front of Simon’s eyes. At every junction a policeman held up the traffic and then saluted. Suddenly it was all worthwhile: Simon went back over the years and then considered the future. His first thoughts were of Elizabeth and the children. How he wished they could be with him now. He recalled his selection at Coventry, the loss ol his seat, and the continual rejections before Pucklebridge. The financial crisis, the resignation letter that Archie Millburn had promised to return the day he became Prime Minister. The Irish Charter, Broadsword, and his final battle with Charles Seymour.

  The Rover reached the end of the Mall and circled the statue of Queen Victoria before arriving at the vast wrought-iron gates outside Buckingham Palace. A sentry in the scarlet uniform of the Grenadier Guards presented arms. The huge crowds that had been waiting round the gates from the early hours craned their necks in an effort to see who had been chosen to lead them. Simon smiled and waved. In response some of them waved back and cheered more loudly while others looked sulky and downcast.

  The Rover continued on its way past the sentry and across the courtyard through the archway and into the quadrangle before coming to a halt on the gravel by a side entrance. Simon stepped out of the car to be met by the King’s private secretary. The silent equerry led Simon up a semicircular staircase, past the Alan Ramsey portrait of George III, and down a long corridor before entering the audience chamber. He bowed and left Simon alone with his new sovereign.

  Simon could feel his pulse quicken as he took three paces forward, bowed, and waited for the King to speak.

  The forty-three-year-old monarch showed no sign of nervousness in carrying out his first official duty, despite its unusual delicacy.

  “Mr. Kerslake,” he began, “I wanted to see you first as I thought it would be courteous to explain to you in detail why I shall be inviting Mr. Raymond Gould to be my first Prime Minister.”

  TITLES BY JEFFREY ARCHER

  NOVELS

  A Prisoner of Birth

  False Impressions

  Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less

  Shall We Tell the President?

  Kane & Abel

  The Prodigal Daughter

  First Among Equals

  A Matter of Honor

  As the Crow Flies

  Honor Among Thieves

  The Fourth Estate

  The Eleventh Commandment

  Sons of Fortune

  SHORT STORIES

  A Quiver Full of Arrows

  A Twist in the Tale

  Twelve Red Herrings

  To Cut a Long Story Short

  The Collected Short Stories

  Cat 0’ Nine Tales

  PLAYS

  Beyond Reasonable Doubt

  Exclusive

  The Accused

  SCREENPLAY

  Mallory: Walking Off the Map

  PRISON DIARIES

  Volume One: Hell

  Volume Two: Purgatory

  Volume Three: Heaven

  PRAISE FOR JEFFREY ARCHER AND HIS NOVELS

  “Archer is a master entertainer.”

  —Time

  “There isn’t a better storyteller alive.”

  —Larry King

  “Archer is one of the most captivating storytellers writing today. His novels are dramatic, fast moving, totally entertaining—and almost impossible to put down.”

  —Pittsburgh Press

  “Cunning plots, silken style … Archer plays a cat-and-mouse game with the reader.”

  —The New York Times

  “A storyteller in the class of Alexandre Dumas … Unsurpassed skill … making the reader wonder intensely what will happen next.”

  —The Washington Post

  FIRST AMONG EQUALS

  “This engrossing, well-spun tale of ambition and will-to-power is a pick-hit in the summer sweepstakes. Archer received his usual high marks for readability and gives his novel a pleasing sense of substance.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “All the elements that make for a great commercial fiction: ambition, lust, greed, duplicity … a whale of a tale.”

  —Newsday

  “Top-flight entertainment.”

  —United Press Internationa