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    Jack Macdonald didn’t usually go to the foyer before Question Period, but he needed to get his recorder in front of some Newfoundland MPs for his Ramia story, and they might try to dodge him on the way out of the House. He was leaning against the entrance to the chamber when Simms came in, her hips rocking from side to side, heels clicking on the marble floor, red hair bobbing. He watched her with a slow-burning lust, a voice in the back of his head panting and growling like a dog.
    He smiled at her, but she ignored him until she had stationed herself in front of the doors, checked her hair and makeup and talked to the control room in Toronto. Then she looked around, noticed Jack and frowned. She took two steps over to him.
    “Hi,” she said. “You’re going to be in our shot there, so if you don’t mind just moving to the other side that would be great.”
    She gave him a smile that lasted about a second and turned away without waiting for a response.
    The voice in the back of his head didn’t like that: What the fuck? This is the foyer of the fucking House of Commons. I’ll stand wherever the fuck I want to stand. But Jack obeyed her. He stepped behind her cameraman and watched as she began her standup, straining to hear what she was saying.
    “Jim, we can report at this hour that Prime Minister Bruce Stevens is stepping down. Sources have told NTV that he informed his cabinet earlier today that he will stay in office until the end of the year, launching a leadership race to choose his successor – the next leader of the Conservative party, and prime minister of Canada. Mr. Stevens is planning to announce his decision at a news conference this afternoon.
    “The prime minister has led the party through three elections, forming three consecutive minorities. I’m told he had promised his wife that he would not fight another election, and he believes that this is the right time for a change. We’re told he wants a three-month leadership campaign, so the new leader can take over in March.”
    She paused and listened to the host in Toronto, nodding her head at the camera.
    “That’s right, Jim,” she said. “This news is sure to send shockwaves throughout Parliament Hill. Everybody will be wondering who will be the next leader, and you can bet the potential candidates are already planning their moves very carefully.”
    She again nodded and listened to the host.
    “Well, Jim, it’s early yet to guess who might run, but the two names we hear most often are Public Safety Minister Greg Mowat, from Swift Current, Saskatchewan and Justice Minister Jim Donahoe, from Lunenburg, Nova Scotia. We’re hoping to catch them as they come into the chamber now.”
    MPs were starting to arrive at the Centre Block, none of them aware that the news of Stevens’s decision had leaked. Simms’s first victim was Emily Wong, the minister for national revenue.
    “Ms. Wong,” said Simms. “What’s your reaction to the prime minister’s announcement today?”
    “No comment,” said Wong. “I think I’d better leave that to the prime minister.”
    Simms turned to the camera. “There we have what appears to be confirmation of the news that Prime Minister Stevens has told his cabinet colleagues that he is planning to step down.” She glanced to the side, “Oh, and here’s Jim Donahoe.”
    With a chiselled jaw, aquiline nose, piercing blue eyes and greying blond hair, the justice minister had the air of an aging soap opera star, and he usually approached the cameras with the ease and comfort of a veteran performer, but he frowned in discomfort when Simms stepped in front of him and the hot light hit his face.
    “Mr. Donahoe,” she said. “Will you be a candidate to succeed Mr. Stevens?”
    The smile on his handsome face soured. “It’s far too early for that kind of decision,” he said. “I have had some calls, asking me to run, but I haven’t had even a moment to consider it, and would have to talk to