Джеффри Арчер - The Prodigal Daughter

At nine o’clock, the chairman looked down into the body of the hall and called upon Alabama to cast its vote. Florentyna sat staring at the screen like a prisoner about to face trial by jury — wanting to know the verdict even before she had heard the evidence. The perspiring chairman of the Alabama delegation picked up his microphone and shouted, ‘The great state of Alabama, the heart of the South, casts 28 votes for Vice President Parkin and 17 votes for Senator Kane.’ Although everyone had known how Alabama was going to vote since March 11, over four months before, this didn’t stop Parkin posters from being waved frantically, and it was another twelve minutes before the chairman was able to call on Alaska.

‘Alaska, the forty-ninth state to join the Union, casts 7 of its votes for Senator Kane, the forty-second President of the United States, 3 for Pete Parkin and one for Senator Bradley.’ It was the turn of Florentyna’s followers to unloose a prolonged uproar in support of their candidate, but Parkin led the field for the first half hour until California declared 214 for Senator Kane, 92 for Parkin.

‘God bless Bella,’ said Florentyna, but had to watch the Vice President go back into the lead with the help of Florida, Georgia and Idaho. When they reached the state of Illinois the convention nearly came to a halt. Mrs. Kalamich, who had welcomed Florentyna that first night in Chicago nearly twenty years before, had been chosen as vice-chairman of the Illinois Democratic Party in the convention year to deliver the verdict of her delegates.

‘Mr. Chairman, this is the greatest moment of my life’ — Florentyna smiled as Mrs. Kalamich continued — ‘to say to you that the great state of Illinois is proud to cast every one of its 179 votes for its favorite daughter and the first woman President of the United States, Senator Florentyna Kane.’ The Kane supporters went berserk as she took the lead for the second time, but Florentyna knew her rival would create the same effect when the moment came for Texas to declare its allegiance, and in fact Parkin went ahead for a second time with 1,440 delegates to Florentyna’s 1,371 after his home state had given its verdict. Bill Bradley had picked up 97 delegates along the way and now looked certain to gather enough votes to preclude an outright winner on the first round.

As the chairman pressed forward with each state — Utah, Vermont, Virginia — the network computers were already flashing up on the screen that there would be no winner on the first ballot, but it was ten forty-seven before Tom Brokaw pronounced the first round verdict: 1,522 for Senator Kane, 1,480 for Vice President Parkin, 189 for Senator Bradley and 140 for favorite sons.

The chairman told the delegates that Senator Bradley would now address them. Another eleven minutes passed before he could speak. Florentyna had talked to him on the phone every day of the convention and steadfastly avoided asking him to join her ticket as Vice President, because she felt such an offer would smack of bribery rather than a conscientious choice of him because she felt he was the right man to succeed her. Although Ralph Brooks was the favorite for the post in the Parkin camp, Florentyna couldn’t help wondering if Pete Parkin had already offered Bradley the chance to join him.

At last the senior senator from New Jersey was able to address the convention. ‘My fellow members of the Democratic Party,’ he began. ‘I thank you for the support you have given me during this election year, but the time has come for me to withdraw from this Presidential race and release my delegates to vote the way their conscience guides them.’ The hall fell almost silent. Bradley spoke for several minutes about the sort of person he wanted to see in the White House but did not openly support either candidate. He closed with the words: ‘I pray you will select the right person to lead our country’ and was cheered for several minutes after he had returned to his seat.

By this time, most people in Suite 2400 of the Baron had no nails left; only Florentyna remained outwardly calm, although Edward noticed that her fist was clenched. He quickly returned to work on the green section of his master printout, which showed only the Bradley delegates, but there wasn’t much he could do while they were all on the floor except phone the chairman of each state committee and keep them working. The phones came ringing back; it seemed that the Bradley delegates were also split down the middle. Some of them would even continue to vote for Bradley in the second round in case the convention became deadlocked and had to turn to him in the end.

The second roll call vote started at eleven twenty-one with Alabama, Alaska and Arizona showing no changes. The balloting dragged on from state to state until the Wyoming decision was recorded at twelve twenty-three. At the end of the second round, the convention was still undecided, with the only important change being that Pete Parkin had taken a slight lead — 1,629 to 1,604 — while 98 delegates had remained uncommitted or faithful to Senator Bradley.

At twelve thirty-seven the chairman said, ‘Enough is enough. We’ll start the roll call again tomorrow evening at seven o’clock.’

‘Why not first thing tomorrow morning?’ asked one of Florentyna’s sleepless young aides as he was leaving the arena.

‘As the Boss pointed out,’ said Janet, ‘elections are now run for the benefit of the networks, and tomorrow morning just isn’t prime time.’

‘Are the networks going to be responsible for which candidate we choose?’ the aide asked.

They both laughed. The sleepless aide repeated the same comment twenty-four hours later — when neither of them laughed.

The exhausted delegates slumped off to their rooms, aware that on a third ballot most states freed their delegates from their original pledges, which meant that they could now vote any way they pleased. Edward and his team didn’t know where to start, but they picked up the printouts and went through each delegate from Alabama to Wyoming for a third time that night, hoping they would have a plan for every state by eight o’clock the next morning.

Florentyna hardly slept that night, and at ten past six she walked back into the living room of her suite in a robe to find Edward still poring over the lists.

‘I’ll need you at eight,’ he said, not looking up at her.

‘Good morning,’ she said, and kissed him on the forehead.

‘Good morning.’

Florentyna stretched and yawned. ‘What happens at eight?’

‘We speak to thirty Bradley and undeclared delegates an hour all through the day. I want you to have spoken to at least two hundred and fifty by five this afternoon. We’ll have all six phones manned every minute of that time so that there will never be less than two people waiting to speak to you.’

‘Won’t eight be a little early?’ asked Florentyna.

‘No,’ said Edward. ‘Because of the time zone difference, the East Coast delegates will wake early as usual and I won’t bother the West Coast delegates until after lunch.’

Florentyna returned to her room realizing yet again how much thought Edward had put into her whole campaign and she remembered Richard saying how lucky she was to have two men who adored her.

At eight o’clock, she started work with a large glass of orange juice by her side. As the morning proceeded, the team became more convinced that the first roll call that evening would give the majority to their candidate. The feeling in that room was turning to one of victory. At ten-forty Bill Bradley rang to say that if his delegates caused a deadlock again he was going to recommend that they vote for Florentyna.

At eleven twenty-seven Edward passed Florentyna the phone again. This time it wasn’t a well-wisher.