Sons of Fortune

“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.

Fletcher tried to keep up with the taxi as he nipped in and out of the traffic, with a palm pressed down on the horn, while flashing his lights, as he took a route Fletcher didn’t even know existed. Annie clutched her stomach, as the groans became louder and louder.

“Don’t worry, my darling, we’re nearly there,” he said, as he jumped another red light to make sure he didn’t lose contact with the cab.

When the two cars finally reached the hospital, Fletcher was surprised to see a doctor and nurse standing next to a gurney by an open door, obviously expecting them. As the cab driver jumped out, he gave the nurse a thumbs-up sign, and Fletcher guessed that he must have asked his dispatcher to call ahead; he hoped he had enough money on him to pay the fare, not to mention a large tip for the man’s initiative.

Fletcher jumped out of the car, and ran around to help Annie, but the cab driver beat him to it. They took an elbow each and helped to lift her out of the cab and gently onto the gurney. The nurse began to unbutton Annie’s dress even before she was wheeled through the open door. Fletcher removed his wallet, turned to the taxi driver and said, “Thank you, you couldn’t have been more helpful. How much do I owe you?”

“Not a cent, it’s on me,” the taxi driver replied.

“But…” began Fletcher

“If I told my wife I’d charged you, she’d kill me. Good luck,” he shouted and without another word walked back to his cab.