The Fourth Estate

“I wish to propose a nominee for the position of director of the Summers Foundation.”

Townsend kept his eye on Lloyd Summers, who had turned white. He was staring at Andrew Fraser and dabbing his forehead with a red silk handkerchief.

“But we already have an excellent director in Mr. Summers,” said the chairman. “Or are you merely wishing to confirm his position? If that is so, I can assure you that Mr. Armstrong intends…”

“No, sir. I propose that Mr. Summers be replaced by Ms. Angela Humphries, the current deputy chairman.”

The chairman bent down and tried to ascertain from the company secretary if the motion was in order. Tom Spencer stood up in his place and began checking to make sure that all his recruits were safely in front of the red rope. Townsend could see that every seat had been taken, and several late arrivals had to be content with standing at the side or sitting in the aisles.

Having been told by the company secretary that the motion was in order, the chairman asked, “Do I have a seconder?” To his surprise, several hands shot up. Adams selected a woman in the fifth row. “May I have your name, please, for the record?”

“Mrs. Roscoe,” she said.

The company secretary turned to another page in the little red book, which he passed up to the chairman.

“It is my duty to inform you that a ballot will now take place under rule 7B, which allows any shareholders present to cast their votes,” he read directly from the red book. “Ballot papers will be distributed, as directed by the statutes, and you may place a cross in one of the boxes provided, indicating whether you are for or against the motion to replace Mr. Lloyd Summers as director of the Summers Foundation with Ms. Angela Humphries.” He paused and looked up. “I feel it appropriate at this juncture to let you know that it is your board’s intention to vote as one against this motion, as we believe that the trust has been well served by its present director, Mr. Summers, and that he should be allowed to continue in that position.” Summers looked nervously toward Adams, but seemed to be reassured when he saw the board members nodding in support of their chairman.

Attendants began moving up and down the aisles, handing out voting slips. Armstrong placed his cross in the square marked “AGAINST.” Townsend placed his in the square marked “FOR,” and dropped the slip into the tin box provided.

As the voting continued, some people in the room began to stand and stretch. Lloyd Summers remained silently slumped in his chair, occasionally mopping his forehead with his red silk handkerchief. Angela Humphries didn’t once look in his direction.

Russell advised his client to remain cool and use the time to go over his acceptance speech. He was confident that, after the board’s clear lead, the motion would be heavily defeated.

“But shouldn’t you have a word with Ms. Humphries, just in case it isn’t?” whispered Armstrong.

“I think that would be most unwise in the circumstances,” said Russell, “especially in view of who she is sitting next to.”

Armstrong glanced in their direction, and scowled. Surely Townsend couldn’t have …

While the counting was taking place somewhere behind the stage, Lloyd Summers could be seen angrily trying to ask his deputy a question. She glanced in his direction and smiled sweetly.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Cornelius Adams as he rose again from his place. “Can I now ask you to return to your seats, as the counting has been completed.” Those who had been chatting in the gangways went back to their places and waited for the result of the ballot to be declared. The chairman was passed a folded slip of paper by the company secretary. He opened it and, like a good judge, gave no clue from his expression as to the verdict.

“Those voting for the motion, 317,” he declared in senatorial tones.

Townsend took a deep breath. “Is it enough?” he asked Tom, trying to calculate how many people were sitting in front of the red rope.

“We’re about to find out,” said Tom calmly.

“Those voting against, 286. I therefore declare the motion carried by thirty-one votes.” He paused. “And Ms. Angela Humphries to be the new director of the foundation.”

A gasp went up around the room, followed by uproar, as it seemed that everyone in the audience had a view to express.

“Closer than I’d expected,” shouted Townsend.

“But you won, and that’s all that matters,” Tom replied.

“I haven’t won yet,” said Townsend, his eyes now firmly fixed on Angela.

People were now looking round the room trying to discover where Ms. Humphries was seated, though not many of them had any idea what she looked like. One person remained standing in his place.

On the stage, the chairman was having a further consultation with the secretary, who was once again reading directly to him from the little red book. He eventually nodded, turned back to the audience and banged his gavel.

Looking directly down at Fraser, the chairman waited for the gathering to return to some semblance of order before asking, “Is it your intention to propose another motion, Mr. Fraser?” He did not attempt to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

“No, sir, it is not. But I do wish to know who the newly elected director will be supporting with the foundation’s 5 percent shareholding in the company, as that will affect the identity of the next chairman of the board.”

For a second time everybody in the room began chattering or looking around the room, searching for the new director. Mr. Fraser sat down, and Angela rose from her place, as if she was on the other end of the seesaw.