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 hisyoung 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 atleast 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 wouldbe 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.

"Thank you," Fletcher repeated before he dashed into the hospital. He quickly caught up with his wifeand took her hand. "It's going to be just fine, honey," he assured her.

The orderly asked Annie a series of questions, all of which received a monosyllabic yes in reply.

His inquiries complete, he rang through to the operating room to alert Dr. Redpath and the waiting team that they were less than a minute away. The slow, vast elevator lurched to a halt on the fifth floor. Annie was wheeled quickly down the corridor, Fletcher trotting by her side, clinging to her outstretched hand. He could see two nurses in the distance holding open double doors so that the gurney would never lose its momentum.

Annie continued to hold on to Fletcher's hand as she was lifted onto the operating table. Three more people came bursting into the room, their faces hidden behind masks. The first checked the instruments laid out on the table, the second prepared an oxygen mask, while the third tried to ask Annie more questions; although she was now screaming with pain. Fletcher never let go of his wife's hand, until an older man came through the door. He pulled on a pair of surgical gloves and said, "Are we all ready?" even before he'd had a chance to check the patient.

"Yes, Dr. Redpath," replied the nurse.

"Good," he said and turning to Fletcher added, "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave, Mr. Davenport. We'll call for you just as soon as the baby has been delivered."

Fletcher kissed his wife on the forehead. "I'm so proud of you," he whispered.

Nat woke AT five on the day of the election, only to discover that Su Ling was already in the shower.

He checked the schedule on the bedside table. Full team meeting at seven, followed by an hour and a half outside the dining hall to meet and greet voters as they went in and out of breakfast.

"Come and join me," shouted Su Ling, "we haven't any time to waste." She was right, because they arrived at the team meeting only moments before the clock on the bell tower struck seven times. Every other member of the team was already present, and Tom,who had come over from Yale for the day, was passing on the experience of his own recent election. Su Ling and Nat took the two empty seats on each side of their unofficial chief of staff, who continued the briefing as if they weren't there.

"No one stops, even to draw breath, until one minute past six when the last vote will have been cast.

Now I suggest that the candidate and Su Ling are outside the dining hall between seven thirty and eight thirty while the rest of you go into breakfast."

"We're expected to go on eating that garbage for an hour?" said Joe.

"No, I don't want you to eat anything, Joe, I need you moving from table to table, never two of you at the same table, and remember that Elliot's team will probably be carrying out exactly the same exercise, so don't waste any time asking for their vote. OK, let's go."

Fourteen people ran out of the room and across the lawn, distant appearing through the swing doors and into the dining hall, leaving Nat and Su Ling to hang around near the entrance.

"Hi, I'm Nat Cartwright, and I'm running for student president, and I hope you'll be able to support me in today's election."

Two sleepy-eyed students said, "Fine, man, you've already wrapped up the gay vote."

"Hi, I'm Nat Cartwright, and I'm running for student president, and I hope you'll be able to support me ..."

"Yes, I know who you are, but how can you possibly understand what it's like to survive on a student loan, when you earn an extra four hundred dollars a month?" came back the sharp reply.

"Hi, I'm Nat Cartwright, I'm running for student president and. ."

"I won't be voting for either of you," said another student, as he pushed through the swing doors.

"Hi, I'm Nat Cartwright, and I'm running for ...""Sorry, just visiting from another campus, so I don't have a vote."

"Hi, I'm Nat Cartwright and I'm ..."

"Good luck, but I'm only voting for you because of your girlfriend, I think she's terrific."

"Hi, I'm Nat Cartwright..."

"And I'm a member of Ralph Elliot's team, and we're going to kick your butt."

"Hi, I'm Nat..."

Nine hours later, Nat could only wonder how many times he had delivered that line, and how many hands he'd shaken. All he knew for certain was that he had lost his voice and was sure his fingers would fall off. At one minute past six, he turned to Tom and said, "Hi, I'm Nat Cartwright and ..."

"Forget it," said Tom with a laugh, "I'm the president of Yale, and all I know is if it wasn't for Ralph Elliot you'd have my job."

"What have you planned for me now," asked Nat, "because my schedule ends at six, so I don't have a clue what to do next."

"Typical of every candidate," said Tom, "but I thought the three of us could have a relaxed dinner at Mario's."

"What about the rest of the team?" asked Su Ling.

"Joe, Chris, Sue and Tim are acting as observers at the count over in the Commons, while the others are getting a well-earned rest. As the count begins at seven and should take at least a couple of hours, I've suggested that everybody be there by eight thirty."

"Sounds good to me," said Nat. "I could eat a horse."

Mario guided the three of them to their table in the corner, and kept addressing Nat as Mr.

President. As the three of them sipped their drinks and tried to relax, Mario reappeared with a large bowl of spaghetti which he covered in a bolognese sauce, before sprinkling parmesan cheese all over it. However many times Nat stuck his fork in the heap of pasta, it never seemed to diminish. Tom noticed that his friend was becoming more and more nervous and eatingless and less.