Jeffrey Archer - Sons of Fortune

‘There’s not much we can do except pass on our observations to Chester Davies. After all, he is the chief elections officer.’

‘OK, Joe, why don’t you do that, and we’ll wait to see what he has to say.’

Joe left them to make his submission to the dean of students. They watched as the expression on the elderly academic’s face became grimmer and grimmer. Once Joe had made his point, the dean immediately called for Elliot’s chief of staff, who did nothing more than shrug his shoulders and point out that every ballot was valid.

Nat watched apprehensively as Mr Davies questioned both men, and saw Joe nod his agreement, before they broke away to join their respective teams.

‘The dean is calling an immediate meeting of the elections committee in his office, and he will report back after they’ve discussed the matter, which should be in about thirty minutes.’

Su Ling took Nat’s hand. ‘Mr Davies is a good and just man,’ she said, ‘he’ll come to the right conclusion.’

‘He may well come to the right conclusion,’ said Nat, ‘but in the end he can only follow the election rules whatever his personal reservations.’

‘I agree,’ said a voice from behind them. Nat swung round to see Elliot grinning at him. ‘They won’t have to look in the rule book to discover that the person with the most votes is the winner,’ Elliot added with disdain.

‘Unless they come across something about one person, one vote,’ said Nat.

‘Are you accusing me of cheating?’ Elliot snapped back, as a group of his supporters drifted over and stood behind him.

‘Well, let’s put it this way. If you win this election, you can apply for a job in Chicago as a teller in Cook County, because Mayor Daly has nothing to teach you.’

Elliot took a step forward and raised his fist just as the dean reentered the room, a single sheet of paper in his hand. He made his way back up onto the stage.

‘You just escaped a hiding,’ whispered Elliot.

‘And I suspect you’re just about to get one,’ replied Nat, as they both turned to face the stage.

The chattering in the hall died down as Mr Davies adjusted the height of the microphone and faced those who had hung around to hear the result. He read slowly from a prepared script.

‘In the election for president of the student senate, it has been brought to my attention that two ballot boxes were discovered some time after the count had been concluded. When they were opened, the outcome of those votes varied considerably from all the other boxes. Therefore as delegated officials, we were left with no choice but to refer to the rule book on elections. Search as we might, we were unable to find any mention of missing boxes, or what action to take should there be a disproportionate ratio of votes found in any one box.’

‘Because no one has ever cheated in the past,’ shouted Joe from the back of the hall.

‘And no one did this time,’ came back the immediate reply, ‘you’re just bad losers.’

‘How many more boxes have you got hidden away just in case...?’

‘We don’t need any more.’

‘Quiet,’ said the dean. ‘These outbursts do not reflect well on either side.’ He waited for silence before he continued to read from his script. ‘We are, however, mindful of our responsibility as officers, and have come to the conclusion that the result of the election must stand.’ Elliot’s supporters leapt in the air and cheered.

Elliot turned to Nat and said, ‘I think you’ll find it’s you who just got the hiding.’

‘It’s not over yet,’ said Nat, his eyes still fixed on Mr Davies.

It was some time before the dean could continue, as few present realized that he had not yet completed his statement.

‘As there have been several irregularities in this election, one of which in our opinion remains unresolved, I have therefore decided that under rule 7B of the Student Senate Charter, the defeated candidate should be given the opportunity to appeal. Should he do so, the committee will be faced with three choices.’ He opened the rule book and read: ‘a) to confirm the original result, b) to reverse the original result, or c) to call for a new election, which would be held during the first week of the following term. We therefore propose to give Mr Cartwright twenty-four hours to appeal.’

‘We won’t need twenty-four hours,’ called out Joe. ‘We appeal.’

‘I shall need that in writing from the candidate,’ said the Dean.

Tom glanced across at Nat, who was looking down at Su Ling.

‘Do you remember what we agreed if I didn’t win?’

Nat turned and watched Su Ling walk slowly towards him and recalled the day they had first met. He had chased her down a hill, and when she turned on that occasion, she’d taken his breath away.

‘Do you have any idea how lucky you are?’ whispered Tom.

‘Could you please concentrate on your job. Now, where’s the ring?’

‘The ring, what ring?’ Nat turned and stared at his best man. ‘Hell, I knew there was something I was meant to bring with me,’ Tom whispered frantically. ‘Can you hold things up for a moment while I go back to the house and look for it?’

‘Do you want me to strangle you?’ said Nat, grinning.

‘Yes please,’ said Tom, gazing at Su Ling as she advanced towards them. ‘Let her be my last memory of this world.’

Nat turned his attention to his bride, and she gave him that smile that he remembered when she’d stood at the entrance to the café on their first date. She stepped up and took her place beside him, head slightly bowed as they waited for the priest to begin the service. Nat thought about the decision they had made the day after the election, and knew he would never regret it. Why should he hold up Su Ling’s career on the off-chance of winning the presidency? The idea of rerunning the ballot during the first week of the following term, and having to ask Su Ling to hang around for another year if he failed, left him in no doubt what he should do. The priest turned to the congregation. ‘Dearly beloved...’

When Su Ling had explained to Professor Mullden that she was getting married, and her future husband was at the University of Connecticut, they immediately offered him the chance to complete his undergraduate degree at Harvard. They already knew of Nat’s record in Vietnam and his success on the cross-country team, but it was his grades that tipped the balance. They remained puzzled as to why he hadn’t taken up his place at Yale because it was clear to the admissions office that they would not be carrying Su Ling’s husband.

‘Do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?’

Nat wanted to shout ‘I do.’ ‘I do,’ he said quietly.

‘Do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?’

‘I do,’ said Su Ling, head bowed.

‘You may kiss the bride,’ said the priest.

‘I think that means me,’ said Tom, taking a pace forward. Nat took Su Ling in his arms and kissed her as he lifted his left leg sharply and kicked Tom in the shins.

‘So that’s what I get for all the sacrifices I’ve made over the years? Well, at least it’s my turn now.’ Nat swung round and took Tom in his arms and hugged him, while the congregation burst out laughing.

Tom was right, thought Nat. He hadn’t even remonstrated with him when he refused to appeal to the elections committee, although Nat knew Tom believed he would have been victorious in a re-run contest. And the following morning Mr Russell had phoned and offered Nat the use of their home for the reception. How could he ever begin to repay them?

‘Be warned,’ said Tom, ‘Dad will expect you to join him at the bank as a trainee once you’ve graduated from Harvard Business School.’