Jeffrey Archer - Sons of Fortune

‘Now we come to the final group of sixteen,’ said Mr Cooke. ‘Here the voter did not use a cross to indicate his or her preference.’ The sixteen votes had been placed in a separate pile, and the top one had a tick in the box opposite the name ‘Hunter’.

‘That is clearly a vote for me,’ insisted the Republican candidate.

‘I have a tendency to agree with you,’ said Mr Cooke. ‘The voter appears to have made his wishes quite clear; however I will need Mr Davenport to accept that judgement before I can proceed.’

Fletcher looked outside the horseshoe and caught Harry’s eye. He gave a slight nod. ‘I agree that it is clearly a vote for Mrs Hunter,’ he said. Applause once again broke out in the gallery from the pro-Hunter supporters. Mr Cooke removed the top ballot paper to reveal that the one underneath also had a tick in the box opposite ‘Hunter’.

‘Now that we’ve agreed on the principle,’ said Mrs Hunter, ‘that must also count as my vote.’

‘I have no quarrel with that,’ said Fletcher.

‘Then those two votes go to Mrs Hunter,’ said Mr Cooke, who removed the second voting slip to reveal a tick by Fletcher’s name on the one underneath. Both candidates nodded.

‘Two-one in favour of Hunter,’ said Mr Cooke before he removed that vote, to show the next had a tick in the ‘Hunter’ box.

‘Three-one,’ she said, unable to hide a smirk.

Fletcher began to wonder if Harry might have miscalculated. Mr Cooke removed the next ballot paper to reveal a tick by Fletcher’s name.

‘Three-two,’ Jimmy said as the chief executive began to remove the votes from the pile more quickly. As each one showed a clear tick, neither candidate was able to object. The crowd in the gallery began to chant — three-all, four-three — in Fletcher’s favour — five-three, six-three, seven-three, eight-three, eight-four, nine-four, ten-four, eleven-four, ending on twelve-four in Fletcher’s favour.

Mrs Hunter couldn’t hide her anger as Mr Cooke, looking up at the gallery, proclaimed, ‘And that completes the checking of spoilt ballot papers, making an overall position of fourteen for Mr Davenport and six for Mrs Hunter.’ He then turned back to the candidates and said, ‘May I thank you both for your magnanimous approach to the whole proceedings.’

Harry allowed himself a smile as he joined in the renewed applause that followed Mr Cooke’s statement. Fletcher quickly left the horseshoe and rejoined his father-in-law on the outside.

‘If you win by fewer than eight votes my boy, we’ll know who to thank, because now there’s nothing Mrs Hunter can do about it.’

‘How long before we find out the result?’ asked Fletcher.

‘The vote? Only a few minutes,’ said Harry, ‘but the result, I suspect, won’t be sorted out for several hours.’

Mr Cooke studied the figures on his calculator, and then transferred them on to a slip of paper, which all four of his officials dutifully signed. He returned to the stage for a third time. ‘Both sides having agreed on the disputed ballots, I can now inform you that the result of the election to the Senate for Hartford County is: Mr Fletcher Davenport 21,218, Mrs Barbara Hunter, 21, 211.’ Harry smiled.

Mr Cooke made no attempt to speak during the uproar that followed, but once he had regained the attention of the floor, he announced, ‘There will be a recount,’ even before Mrs Hunter could demand one.

Harry and Jimmy circled the room, uttering only one word to each of their observers. Concentrate. Fifty minutes later, it was found that three of the piles only had ninety-nine votes, while another four had one hundred and one. Mr Cooke checked all seven offending piles for a third time, before returning to the stage.

‘I declare the result of the election to the Senate for Hartford County to be as follows: Mr Davenport 21,217, Mrs Hunter 21,213.’

Mr Cooke had to wait for some time before he could be heard above the noise. ‘Mrs Hunter has once again called for a recount.’ This time some boos mingled with the cheers, as the gallery settled down to watch the counters begin the entire process again. Mr Cooke was punctilious in making sure that each pile was checked and double-checked, and if there was any doubt he went over it again himself. He didn’t walk back on to the stage until a few minutes after one in the morning, when he asked both candidates to join him.

He tapped the microphone to be sure it was still working. ‘I declare the result of the election to the Senate for Hartford County, to be Mr Fletcher Davenport 21,216, Mrs Barbara Hunter 21,214.’ The cheers and boos were even louder this time, and it was several minutes before order could be restored. Mrs Hunter leant forward and suggested to Mr Cooke in a stage whisper that as it was past one, the council workers should be allowed to go home, and a further recount should take place in the morning.

He listened politely to her protestations, before returning to the microphone. However, he had clearly anticipated every eventuality. ‘I have with me,’ he said, ‘the official election handbook.’ He held it up for all to see as a priest might the Bible. ‘And I refer to a ruling on page ninety-one. I will read out the relevant passage.’ The hall fell silent as they waited for Mr Cooke’s deliberations. ‘In an election for the Senate, if any one candidate should win the count three times in a row, by however small a majority, he or she will be declared the winner. I therefore declare Mr...’ But the rest of his words were drowned by Fletcher’s cheering supporters.

Harry Gates turned round and shook Fletcher by the hand. He could hardly make out the former senator’s words above the uproar.

Fletcher thought he heard Harry say, ‘May I be the first to congratulate you, senator.’

Nat was on the train back from New York when he read the short piece in the New York Times. He had attended a board meeting of Kirkbridge & Co, where he was able to report that the first stage of building on the Cedar Wood site had been completed. The next phase was to lease the seventy-three shops, which ranged in size from a thousand to twelve thousand square feet. Many of the successful retailers currently on the Robinson’s site had already shown an interest, and Kirkbridge & Co were preparing a brochure and application form for several hundred potential customers. Nat had also booked a full-page ad in the Hartford Courant and agreed to be interviewed about the project for the weekly property section.

Mr George Turner, the council’s new chief executive, had nothing but praise for the enterprise, and in his annual report, singled out Mrs Kirkbridge’s contribution as project coordinator. Earlier in the year, Mr Turner had visited Russell’s Rank, but not before Ray Jackson had been promoted to manager of their Newington branch.

Tom’s progress was somewhat slower as it had taken him seven months before he plucked up the courage to invite Julia out for dinner. It took her seven seconds to accept.

Within weeks Tom was on the 4.49 p.m. train to New York every Friday afternoon, returning to Hartford on the Monday morning. Su Ling kept asking for progress reports, but Nat seemed unusually ill-informed.

‘Perhaps we’ll find out more on Friday,’ he said, reminding her that Julia was down for the weekend, and they had both accepted an invitation to join them for dinner.

Nat reread the short piece in the New York Times, which didn’t go into any detail, and left the impression that there was a lot more behind the story. William Alexander of Alexander Dupont & Bell, has announced his resignation as senior partner of the firm founded by his grandfather. Mr Alexander’s only comment was that for some time he had been planning to take early retirement.