Sons of Fortune (28 page)

“Like
what?”

“If
I could work that out, I’d be Nixon’s chief of staff.”

“How
do I look?” asked Annie, propped up on the front seat of the car, clutching her
seatbelt.

“You
look fantastic, honey,” said Fletcher, not even glancing across at her.

“No
I don’t, I look awful, and it’s going to be such an important occasion.”

“It’s
probably only one of his get-togethers for a dozen or so students.”

“I
doubt it,” said Annie. “It was a hand-written invitation, and even I couldn’t
miss the words, “do try to make it, there’s someone I want you to meet.”“

“Well
we’re about to find out who that is,” said Fletcher as he parked his old Ford
behind a limousine surrounded by a dozen Secret Service agents.

“Who
can that possibly be?” whispered Annie as he helped her from the car.

“I’ve
no idea, but...”

“How
nice to see you, Fletcher,” said the professor, who was standing at the front
door.

“Good
of you to come,” he added. It would have been damn stupid of me not to,
Fletcher wanted to reply. “And you too, Mrs. Davenport, of course I remember
you well, because for a couple of weeks I sat just two rows behind you in
court.”

Annie
smiled. “I was a little slimmer then.”

“But
no more beautiful,” said Abrahams. “May I ask when the baby is due?”

“In
ten weeks, sir.”

“Please
call me Karl,” said the professor.

“It
makes me feel so much younger when an undergraduate from Vassar calls me by my
first name.

A
privilege I might add, that I shall not be extending to your husband for at
least another year.”

He
winked as he put an arm around Annie’s shoulder. “Come on in, because there’s
someone I want you both to meet.”

Fletcher
and Annie followed the professor into the living room, where they found a dozen
guests already deep in conversation. It looked as if they were the last to
arrive.

“Mr.
Vice-President, I should like to introduce Annie Cartwright.”

“Good
evening, Mr. Vice-President.”

“Hi,
Annie,” said Spiro Agnew thrusting out his hand, “I’m told you’ve married a
very bright guy.”

Karl
whispered loudly, “Try not to forget,
Annie, that
politicians have a tendency to exaggerate, because they are always hoping for
your vote.”

“I
know, Karl, my father is a politician.”

“Is
that right?” said Agnew.

“No,
left, sir,” she replied with a smile, “he’s the majority leader in the
Connecticut state senate.”

“Are
there no Republicans among us this evening?”

“And
this, Mr. Vice-President, is Annie’s husband, Fletcher Davenport.”

“Hi,
Fletcher, is your father also a Democrat?”

“No,
sir, he’s a card-carrying Republican.”

“Great,
so at least we’ve got two votes wrapped up in your household.”

“No
sir, my mother wouldn’t allow you across the threshold.”

The
vice-president burst out laughing. “I don’t know what that does for your
reputation, Karl.”

“I
shall continue to remain neutral, Spiro, as I have no politics. However, may I
leave Annie with you, sir, as there’s someone else I want Fletcher to meet.”

Fletcher
was puzzled as he had assumed it was the vice-president to whom the professor
must have been referring in his letter, but he dutifully followed his host to
join a group of men standing by a blazing fire on the far side of the room.

“Bill,
this is Fletcher Davenport, Fletcher, this is Bill Alexander of Alexander...”

“
dis
.
Dupont
and Bell,” completed
Fletcher as he shook hands with the senior partner of one of New York’s most
prestigious law firms.

“I’ve
been keen to make your acquaintance for some time, Fletcher,” said Bill
Alexander. “You have managed something I failed to achieve in thirty years.”

“And
what was that, sir?”

“Getting
Karl to appear as second chair in one of my cases- how did you manage it?”

Both
men waited to hear his reply. “I didn’t have a lot of choice, sir. He forced
himself on me in a most unprofessional manner, but then you must realize he was
desperate. No one has offered him any real work since 1938.” Both men laughed.

“But
I’m bound to ask if he was worth his fee, which must have been handsome,
remembering you kept that woman out of jail?”

“It
certainly was,” said Abrahams, before his young guest could reply. He placed a
hand on the bookshelf behind Bill Alexander and removed a hardback copy of The
Trials of Clarence Darrow.

Mr.
Alexander studied the book. “I have one myself, of course,” said Alexander.

“And
so did I,” said Abrahams. Fletcher looked disappointed.
“But
not a signed first edition with a dust jacket in perfect condition.
They
are indeed a collector’s item.”

Fletcher
thought about his mother, and her invaluable advice: “Try to choose something
he’ll treasure, it doesn’t have to cost a lot of money.”

Nat
went around the circle of eight men and six women who made up his team, asking
each of them to give a brief biography for the rest of the group.

He
then allocated their particular responsibilities in the run-up to the election.

Nat
could only admire Su Ling’s commitment, because following Tom’s offstage
advice,
she had selected a remarkable cross-section of
students, most of whom had obviously wanted Nat to stand for some time.

“OK,
let’s start with updates,” said Nat.

Joe
Stein rose from his place. “Because the candidate has made it clear that no
single contribution can exceed one dollar, I have increased the number in the
fund-raising team so we can approach as many of the students as possible. That
group currently meets once a week, usually on a Monday. It would be helpful if
the candidate was able to address them some time.”

“Would
next Monday suit you?” asked Nat.

“Fine
by me,” said Joe. “To date, we’ve raised $307, most of which was collected
after your speech at Russell Hall. Because the room was so packed many of them
were convinced that they were backing the winner.”

“Thanks,
Joe,” said Nat. “Next: what’s the opposition up to? Tim?”

“My
name’s Tim
Ulrich,
and my job is to cover the
opposition’s campaign, and make sure we know what they’re up to the whole time.
We have at least two people taking notes whenever Elliot opens his mouth. He’s
made so many promises during the past few days, that if he tried to keep them
all, the university would be bankrupt by this time next year.”

“Now how about groups.
Ray?”

“Groups fall into three categories, ethnic,
religious and club, so I have three deputy leaders to cover each one.
There is of course a considerable amount of overlapping, for example, Italians
and Catholics.”

“Sex?”
suggested someone.

“No,”
said Ray, “we found sex to be universal, and therefore couldn’t group it, but
opera, food, fashion are examples of where the overlapping came for
Italians-but we’re on top of it.

Mario’s
even offering free coffee to those customers who promise to vote Cartwright.”

“Be
careful. Elliot will pick that up as an election expense,” said Joe. “Don’t
let’s lose on a technicality.”

“Agreed,”
said Nat. “Sports?”

Jack
Roberts, the basketball captain, didn’t need to introduce himself. “Track and
field is well covered by Nat’s personal involvement, especially after his
victory in the final cross-country meet against Cornell.

I’m
covering the baseball team as well as basketball. Elliot already has football
sewn up, but the surprise is women’s lacrosse-that club has over three hundred
members.”

“I’ve
got a girlfriend on the second team,” said Tim.

“I
thought you were homosexual?” said Chris. Some of them laughed.

“Who
is covering the gay vote?” asked Nat.

No
one spoke. “If anyone admits to being openly gay, find a place for them on the
team, and no more snide remarks.”

Chris
nodded his agreement.
“Sorry, Nat.”

“Finally, polls and statistics, Su Ling.”

“My
name is Su Ling. There are 9,628 students registered- 5,517 men, 4,111 women.

A
very amateur poll conducted on campus last Saturday morning showed Elliot had
611 votes and Nat 541, but don’t forget Elliot’s had a head start on us,
because he’s been campaigning for over a year, and his posters are already
displayed everywhere. Ours will be up by Friday.”

“And torn down by Saturday.”

“Then
we replace them immediately,” said Joe, “without resorting to the same tactics.
Sorry, Su Ling.”

“No,
that’s fine. Every member of the team must be sure to speak to at least twenty
voters a day,”

Su
Ling said. “With sixty days still to go, we must try to canvas every student
several times before
election day
. Now this exercise
should not be done casually,” she continued. “On the wall behind you, you will
find a board with the name of every student in alphabetical order. On the table
below you will see seventeen crayons. I have allocated a color for each member
of the team. Every evening, you will place a tick by the voters that you have
spoken to. This is just another way of finding out who
are
the talkers
and who are the workers.”

“But
you said there were seventeen crayons on the table,” said Joe, “
when
there are only fourteen members of the team?”

“Correct,
but there’s also one black, one yellow and one red crayon. If the person has
said they will be voting for Elliot, you cross him or her out in black, if
you’re unsure, give them a yellow tick, but if you’re confident they will be
voting for Nat, then use red. Each evening I’ll enter any new data on my
computer, and hand you all printouts first thing the following morning. Any
questions?” asked Su Ling.

“Will
you marry me?” asked Chris.

Everyone
burst out laughing. “Yes, I will,” said Su Ling. She paused. “And remember not
to believe everything you’re told, because Elliot has already asked me, and I
said yes to him as well.”

“What
about me?” said
Nat.

Su
Ling smiled. “Don’t forget, I gave you your answer in writing.”

“Goodnight,
sir, and thank you for a memorable
evening.”

“Goodnight,
Fletcher. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“We
certainly did,” said Annie. “It was fascinating to meet the vice-president. I’ll
be able to tease my father for weeks,” she added, as Fletcher helped her into
the car.

Before
he had pulled the door closed on his side, Fletcher said, “Annie, you were
fantastic.”

“I
was only trying to survive,” said Annie.

“I
hadn’t expected Karl to place me between the vice-president and Mr. Alexander
during dinner. I even wondered if it was a mistake.”

“The
professor doesn’t make that sort of mistake,” said Fletcher. “I suspect that
Bill Alexander requested it.”

“But
why would he do that?” asked Annie.

“Because
he’s the senior partner of an old-fashioned, traditional firm, so he’ll figure
that he can learn a great deal about me if he gets to know my wife; if you’re
invited to join Alexander
Dupont
and Bell, it’s
nothing short of marriage.”

“Then
let’s hope I didn’t hold up a proposal.”

“Far from it.
What
you did was to make sure I reach the courting stage. Don’t imagine that it was
coincidental that Mrs. Alexander came and sat next to you when coffee was being
served in the drawing room.”

Annie
gave out a slight moan, and Fletcher looked anxiously across. “Oh, my God,” she
said, “the contractions have begun.”

“But
you’ve still got another ten weeks,” said Fletcher. “Just relax and I’ll have
you back home and tucked up in no time.”

Annie
groaned again, a little louder. “Don’t bother with going home,” she said, “get
me to a hospital.”

Speeding
across Westville, Fletcher checked the names on the street corners and tried to
work out which would be the best route to Yale-New Haven Hospital, when he
spotted a taxi stand on the far side of the road. He swung the car sharply
across and pulled up alongside the front cab. He wound down the window, and
shouted, “My wife’s gone into labor, which is the quickest route to Yale-New
Haven?”

“Follow
me,” shouted the cab driver and shot off in front of them.