Jeffrey Archer - Sons of Fortune

‘Then you win either way. If he does accept, you’ll wipe the floor with him. If he doesn’t, we can play the “he flunked it” card.’

‘So how would you set up such a challenge?’

‘Send him a letter, a copy of which I’ll post on the bulletin board.’

‘But you’re not allowed to post notices without the principal’s permission.’

‘By the time they take it down, most people will have read it, and those that haven’t will want to know what it said.’

‘And by then I’ll have been disqualified.’

‘Not while the principal thinks Elliot might win.’

‘I lost my first campaign,’ said Senator Gates, when he heard Fletcher’s news, ‘so let’s be sure that you don’t make the same mistakes. For a start, who’s your campaign manager?’

‘Jimmy, of course.’

‘Never “of course”; only select someone who you are convinced can do the job, even if you’re not close friends.’

‘I’m convinced he can do the job,’ said Fletcher.

‘Good. Now, Jimmy, you will be of no value to the candidate’ — it was the first time Fletcher thought of himself as the candidate — ‘unless you’re always open and frank with Fletcher, however unpleasant it might be.’ Jimmy nodded. ‘Who’s your main rival?’

‘Steve Rodgers.’

‘What do we know about him?’

‘A nice enough guy, but not a lot between his ears,’ said Jimmy.

‘Except a good-looking face,’ said Fletcher.

‘And several touchdowns last season, if I remember correctly,’ added the senator. ‘So now we know who the enemy is, let’s start working on our friends. First, you must pick an inner circle — six, eight at most. They only need two qualities, energy and loyalty — if they’ve got brains as well, that’s a bonus. How long is the campaign?’

‘Just over a week. School reassembles at nine o’clock on Monday, and the vote takes place on the Tuesday morning of the following week.’

‘Don’t think week,’ said the senator, ‘think hours, 192 of them, because every hour will count.’

Jimmy began making notes.

‘So who’s allowed to vote?’ was the senator’s next question.

‘Every student.’

‘Then make sure you spend as much time with the boys in the lower grades as with your contemporaries. They’ll be flattered that you’re taking so much interest in them. And, Jimmy, get your hands on an up-to-date list of the voters, so that you can be certain to make contact with every one of them before election day. And don’t forget, new boys will vote for the last person who speaks to them.’

‘There are 380 students,’ said Jimmy, unfolding a large sheet of paper on the floor, ‘I’ve marked the ones we already know in red, everyone I feel confident will support Fletcher in blue, new boys in yellow and left the rest blank.’

‘And if you’re in any doubt,’ said the senator, ‘leave them blank, and don’t forget younger brothers.’

‘Younger brothers?’ said Fletcher.

‘I’ve marked them in green,’ said Jimmy. ‘Every younger brother of one of our supporters who is in a lower grade will be appointed a rep. Their only job will be signing up support in their class and reporting back to their brothers.’

Fletcher looked on with admiration. ‘I’m not sure it shouldn’t be you who’s running for president,’ he said. ‘You’re a natural.’

‘No, I’m a natural campaign manager,’ said Jimmy, ‘it’s you who should be president.’

Although the senator agreed with his son’s assessment, he didn’t offer an opinion.

It was six thirty on the first day of term when Nat and Tom stood alone in the parking lot. The first vehicle to come through the gates was the principal’s.

‘Good morning, Cartwright,’ he barked, as he climbed out of his car, ‘from your excess of enthusiasm at this early hour, am I to assume that you’re running for president?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Excellent, and who is your main rival?’

‘Ralph Elliot.’

The principal frowned. ‘Then it will be a fiercely fought competition, because Elliot won’t roll over easily.’

‘True,’ admitted Tom, as the principal disappeared towards his study, leaving the two of them to greet the second car. The occupant turned out to be a terrified new boy, who ran away when Nat approached him, and worse, the third car was full of Elliot supporters, who quickly fanned across the car park, obviously having already been through a dress rehearsal.

‘Damn,’ said Tom, ‘our first team meeting isn’t scheduled until the ten o’clock break. Elliot obviously briefed his team during the vacation.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Nat, ‘just grab our people as they get out of their cars, and put them to work immediately.’

By the time the last car had disgorged its occupants, Nat had answered nearly a hundred questions and shaken hands with over three hundred boys, but only one fact became clear. Elliot was happy to promise them anything in exchange for their vote.

‘Shouldn’t we be letting everyone know what a sleaze-bag Elliot really is?’

‘What do you have in mind?’ Nat asked.

‘How he cajoles new boys into parting with their allowances?’

‘There’s never been any proof.’

‘Just endless complaints.’

‘If there’re that many, they’ll know where to put their cross, won’t they?’ said Nat. ‘In any case, that’s not the sort of campaign I want to run,’ he added. ‘I’d prefer to assume the voters can make up their own minds which one of us can be trusted.’

‘That’s an original idea,’ said Tom.

‘Well, at least the principal is making it clear that he doesn’t want Elliot to be president,’ said Nat.

‘I don’t think we should tell anyone that,’ said Tom, ‘It may well swing a few more votes to Elliot.’

‘How do you think it’s going?’ asked Fletcher as they walked around the lake.

‘Can’t be sure,’ Jimmy replied. ‘A lot of the upper-mids are telling both camps that they’ll be supporting their candidate, simply because they want to be seen backing the winner. Just be thankful that the vote isn’t on Saturday evening,’ Jimmy added.

‘Why?’ asked Fletcher.

‘Because we play Kent on Saturday afternoon, and if Steve Rodgers scores the winning touchdown, we can kiss goodbye to any chance of you becoming president. It’s just a pity it’s a home game. If you’d been born a year earlier or a year later, it would have been an away match, and the impact would have been negligible. But as it is, every voter will be in the stadium watching the encounter, so pray we lose, or at least that Rodgers has a bad game.’

By two o’clock on Saturday, Fletcher was seated in the stand, prepared for four quarters which would make up the longest hour of his life. But even he couldn’t have predicted the outcome.

‘Damn, how did he manage to pull that off?’ growled Nat.

‘Bribery and corruption would be my bet,’ said Tom. ‘Elliot has always been a useful player, but never good enough to make the school team.’

‘Do you think they’ll risk putting him in the game?’

‘Why not? St George’s often field a weak side, so they could leave him out there for a few minutes once they’re confident it won’t affect the result. Then Elliot will spend the rest of the game running up and down the side lines, waving at the voters, while all we can do is stare down at him from the bleachers.’

‘Then let’s make sure all our workers are in position outside the stadium a few minutes before the game ends, and don’t let anyone see our new hand-held placards until Saturday afternoon. That way Elliot won’t have time to come up with his own.’

‘You’re learning fast,’ said Tom.