Jeffrey Archer - Sons of Fortune

‘What happens next?’ asked Fletcher, aware that Jimmy was attending his fourth count.

‘Arthur Cooke will add up all the ballots and announce how many people have voted, and calculate what percentage that is of the electorate.’ Fletcher glanced up at the clock — it was just after eleven, and in the background, he could see Jimmy Carter on the big screen, chatting to his brother Billy. The early polls suggested that the Democrats were returning to the White House for the first time in eight years. Would he be going to the Senate for the first time?

Fletcher turned his attention back to Mr Cooke, who appeared to be in no hurry as he went about his official business. His pace did not reflect the heartbeat of either candidate. Once he had gathered up all the sheets, he went into a huddle with his officials, and transferred his findings on to a calculator, his only concession to the 1970s. This was followed by the pressing of buttons, nods and mutters, before two numbers were written neatly on to a separate piece of paper. He then walked across the floor and up on to the stage at a stately pace. He tapped the microphone, which was enough to bring silence, as the crowd was impatient to hear his words.

‘God damn it,’ said Harry, ‘it’s been over an hour already. Why doesn’t Arthur get on with it?’

‘Calm down,’ said Martha, ‘and try to remember that you’re no longer the candidate.’

‘The number of people who cast votes in the election for the Senate is 42,429, which is a turnout of 52.9 per cent.’ Mr Cooke left the stage without another word, and returned to the centre of the horseshoe. His team then proceeded to check the piles of one hundreds, but it was another forty-two minutes before the chief executive climbed back on to the stage. This time he didn’t need to tap the microphone. ‘I have to inform you,’ he said, ‘that there are seventy-seven disputed ballots, and I will now invite the two candidates to join me in the centre of the room so that they can decide which ones should be considered valid.’

Harry ran for the first time that day and grabbed Fletcher before he joined Mr Cooke in the horseshoe. ‘That means that whichever one of you is in the lead, it must be by less than seventy-seven votes, otherwise Cooke wouldn’t be bothering to go through this whole rigmarole of seeking your opinions.’ Fletcher nodded his agreement. ‘So you must select someone to check over those crucial votes for you.’

‘That’s not a difficult choice,’ Fletcher replied. ‘I select you.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Harry, ‘because that will put Mrs Hunter on her guard, and for this little exercise you’ll need someone who she won’t feel threatened by.’

‘Then how about Jimmy?’

‘Good idea, because she’s bound to think that she can get the better of him.’

‘Not a hope,’ said Jimmy as he appeared by Fletcher’s side.

‘I may need you to,’ said Harry mysteriously.

‘Why?’ asked Jimmy.

‘It’s just a hunch,’ replied Harry, ‘no more, but once it comes to deciding those few precious votes, Mr Cooke will be the man to watch, not Barbara Hunter.’

‘But he won’t try anything on with four of us standing over him,’ said Jimmy, ‘not to mention all those staring down from the gallery.’

‘And he wouldn’t dream of doing so,’ said Harry. ‘He’s one of the most punctilious officials I’ve ever dealt with, but he detests Mrs Hunter.’

‘For any particular reason?’ asked Fletcher.

‘She’s been on the phone to him every day since this campaign began, demanding statistics on everything from housing to hospitals, even legal opinions on planning permits, so my bet is he’ll not relish the idea of her becoming a member of the Senate. He’s got quite enough to be worrying about without the likes of Barbara Hunter taking up every spare moment of his time.’

‘But, as you said, there’s nothing he can do.’

‘Nothing that’s illegal,’ said Harry. ‘But should there be any disagreement over a vote, he will be asked to arbitrate, so whatever he recommends, just say “Yes, Mr Cooke”, even if you think at the time it favours Mrs Hunter.’

‘I think I understand,’ said Fletcher.

‘I’m damned if I do,’ said Jimmy.

Su Ling checked the dining-room table. When the front doorbell rang, she didn’t bother to call up for Nat, because she knew he was rereading The Cat in the Hat. ‘Read it again, Dad,’ Luke always demanded when they reached the last page. Su Ling opened the door to find Tom clutching a bunch of parrot tulips. She gave him a big hug, as if nothing had happened since they last met.

‘Will you marry me?’ asked Tom.

‘If you can cook, read The Cat in the Hat, answer the door and set the table all at the same time I’ll give serious consideration to your proposal.’ Su Ling took the flowers. ‘Thank you, Tom,’ she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. ‘They’ll look beautiful on the dining table.’ Su Ling smiled, ‘I’m so sorry about Julia Kirkbridge, or whatever her real name was.’

‘Never mention that woman to me again,’ said Tom. ‘In future, our dinners will just be the three of us, a ménage à trois ; sadly without the ménage .’

‘Not tonight,’ said Su ling. ‘Didn’t Nat tell you? He’s invited a business colleague to join us. I assumed you knew all about it and I as usual, was the only person he informed at the last minute.’

‘He didn’t mention anything about it to me,’ said Tom as the doorbell rang.

‘I’ll get it,’ said Nat, as he came bounding down the stairs.

‘Now, promise me you won’t talk shop all evening, because I want to hear all about your trip to London...’

‘How nice to see you again,’ said Nat.

‘It was just a short break,’ said Tom.

‘Let me take your coat,’ said Nat.

‘Yes, but did you manage to see any theatre?’

‘... yes, I saw Judi...’ began Tom as Nat ushered his guest into the living room.

‘Let me first introduce you to my wife, Su Ling. Darling, this is Julia Kirkbridge, who, as I’m sure you know, is our partner in the Cedar Wood project.’

‘How nice to meet you, Mrs Cartwright.’

Su Ling recovered more quickly than Tom. ‘Please call me Su Ling.’

‘Thank you, and you must call me Julia.’

‘Julia, this is my chairman, Tom Russell, who I know has been looking forward to meeting you.’

‘Good evening, Mr Russell. After all Nat has told me about you, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you too.’ Tom shook her hand, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

‘A glass of champagne I think, to celebrate the signing of the contract.’

‘The contract?’ mumbled Tom.

‘What a nice idea,’ said Julia. Nat opened the bottle and poured three glasses, while Su Ling disappeared into the kitchen. Tom continued to stare at the second Mrs Kirkbridge as Nat handed them both a glass of champagne.

‘To the Cedar Wood project,’ said Nat, raising his glass.

Tom just managed to get out the words, ‘The Cedar Wood project.’

Su Ling reappeared, smiled at her husband, and said, ‘Perhaps you’d like to bring our guests in for dinner?’

‘Now, I think it’s only fair, Julia, that I should explain to my wife and Tom that you and I have no secrets.’

Julia smiled. ‘None that I can think of, Nat, especially after signing a confidentiality agreement concerning the details of the Cedar Wood transaction.’

‘Yes, and I think it should stay that way,’ said Nat, smiling across at her, as Su Ling placed the first course on the table.

‘Mrs Kirkbridge,’ said Tom, not touching his lobster bisque.

‘Please call me Julia; after all we have known each other for some time.’