"I don't know about the Good Book," said Tom, "but we feel the same way, Dad. So where do you want us to start?"

"Of course I'm aware that the bank has fallen behind its rivals during the past few years, perhaps because as a family firm we've put greater emphasis on customer relations than on the bottom line.

Something your father would approve of, Nat, which is perhaps why he's had an account with us for over thirty years." Nat nodded his agreement.

"You'll also be aware that there have been one or two approaches from other banks with a view to taking us over, but that isn't how I wanted to end my career withRussell's- just ending up as an anonymous branch of some vast corporation.

So I'll tell you what I have in mind. I want both of you to spend your first six months taking the bank apart from top to bottom. I'll give you carte blanche to ask any questions, open any doors, read any files, study any accounts. At the end of those six months, you will report back what needs to be done.

And don't give a moment's thought to trying to placate my feelings, because I know that if Russell's is to survive into the next century, it will need a complete overhaul. So what's your first question?"

"Can I have the front-door keys?" asked Nat.

"Why?" asked Mr. Russell.

"Because ten o'clock is a little too late for the staff of a progressive bank to be opening."

As Tom drove them back to New York, he and Nat set about dividing their responsibilities.

"Dad was touched that you turned down Chase to join us," said Tom.i "You made exactly the same sacrifice when you left the Bank of America."

"Yes, but the old man has always assumed that I'd take over from him once he reached his sixty-fifth birthday, and I was just about to warn him that I wasn't willing to do so."

"Why not?" inquired Nat.

"I don't have the vision or ideas that are required to rescue the bank, but you do."

"Rescue?" said Nat.

"Yes, don't let's kid ourselves. You've studied the balance sheet, so you know only too well that we're just about clearing enough to allow my parents to maintain their standard of living. But the profits haven't risen for some years; the truth is that the bank needs your particular skills more than it requires an efficient packhorse like me. So it's important to settle one thing before it ever becomes an issue-in banking terms I intendto report to you as chief executive."

"But it will still be necessary for you to become chairman once your father retires."

"Why?" asked Tom. "When you'll obviously be making all the strategic decisions?"

"Because the bank bears your name, and that still matters in a town like Hartford. It's equally important that the customers never find out what the chief executive is up to behind the scenes."

"I'll go along with that on one condition," said Tom, "that all salaries, bonuses and any other financial considerations are allocated on an equal basis."

"That's very generous of you," said Nat.

"No, it's not," said Tom. "Shrewd perhaps, but not generous, because fifty percent of you will bring in a far higher return than one hundred percent of me."

"Don't forget that I've just lost Morgan's a fortune," said Nat.

"And no doubt learned from the experience."

"Just as we did when we were up against Ralph Elliot."

"Now there's a name from the past. Any idea what he's up to?" asked Tom as he turned onto Route 95.

"The last thing I heard was that after Stanford he'd become a hot-shot lawyer in New York."

"I wouldn't want to be one of his clients," said Tom.

"Or go up against him for that matter," said Nat.

"Well, at least that's something we don't have to worry about."

Nat looked out of the grimy window as they traveled through Queens. "Don't be too sure, Tom, because if anything were to go wrong, he'll want to represent the other side."

They sat in a circle around his bed, chatting about anything and everything except what was on their minds.

The one exception was Lucy, who remained firmly in the middle of the bed and treated Grandpa as if he wasa rocking horse. Joanna's children were more restrained.

Fletcher couldn't believe how quickly Harry Junior was growing.

"Now before I get too tired," said Harry, "I need to have a private word with Fletcher."

Martha shepherded the family out of the room, clearly aware of what her husband wanted to discuss with his son-in-law.

"I'll see you back at the house later," said Annie, as she dragged a reluctant Lucy away.

"And then we should be starting back for Ridgewood," Fletcher reminded her.

"I can't afford to be late for work tomorrow." Annie nodded as she closed the door.

Fletcher drew up a chair and sat by the senator's side. He didn't bother with any small talk, as his father-in-law was looking tired.

"I've given a great deal of thought to what I'm about to say," said the senator, "and the only other person I've discussed it with is Martha, and she is in complete agreement with me. And like so many things over the past thirty years, I can't be sure if it wasn't her idea in the first place." Fletcher smiled. How like Annie, he thought, as he waited for the senator to continue. "I've promised Martha that I won't run for reelection." The senator paused. "I see you're not putting up any protest, so I must assume that you agree with my wife and daughter on this subject."

"Annie would prefer you to live to an old age, rather than die making a speech in the Senate Chamber, however important," said Fletcher, "and I agree with her."

"I know they're right, Fletcher, but by God I'll miss it."

"And they will miss you, sir, as you can see from the flowers and cards already in this room. By this time tomorrow, they'll have filled every other room on this floor and be spilling out onto the pavement." The senator ignored the compliment, clearly not wishing to be diverted from his course."When Jimmy was born, I had the crazy notion that one day he would take my place, perhaps even go on to Washington and represent the state. But it wasn't long before I realized that was never going to be a possibility. I couldn't be more proud of him, but he just isn't cut out for public office."

"He made a damn fine job of getting me elected as president," said Fletcher, "Twice."

"He did indeed," said Harry, "but Jimmy should always be in the engine room, because he isn't destined to be the driver." He paused again. "But then some twelve years ago I met a young man at the Hotchkiss-Taft football game, who I knew couldn't wait to be the driver. A meeting, incidentally, that I shall never forget."

"Nor me, sir," said Fletcher.

"As the years passed, watched that boy grow into a fine young man, and I'm proud he's now my son-in-law and father of my granddaughter. And before I grow too maudlin, Fletcher, I think I ought to come to the point in case one of us falls asleep."

Fletcher laughed.

"Pretty soon I shall have to let it be known that I will not be running for reelection to the Senate." He raised his head and looked directly at Fletcher.

"I would, at the same time, like to say how proud I am to announce that my son-in-law, Fletcher Davenport, has agreed to run in my place."

it didn't take six months for Nat to discover why Russell's Bank had failed to increase its profits in over a decade. Almost every modern banking tenet had been ignored. Russell's still lived in an age of written ledgers, personalized accounts and a sincerely held belief that the computer was more likely to make mistakes than a human being, and was therefore a waste of the bank's time and money.

Nat was in and out of Mr. Russell's office three or four times a day, only to find that something they had agreed on in the morning had been reversed by the afternoon. This usually occurred whenever a longstanding member of the staff was seen leaving the same office anhour later with a smile on his or her face. It was often left for Tom to pick up the pieces; in fact, if he hadn't been there to explain to his father why the changes were necessary, there might never have been a six-month report to present.

Nat would come home most nights exhausted and sometimes infuriated. He warned Su Ling there was likely to be a showdown when his report was finally presented. And he wasn't altogether sure that he would still be the bank's vice-president if the chairman was unable to stomach almost all of the changes he was recommending. Su Ling didn't complain, although she had just about managed to get the three of them settled in their new house, sell the apartment in New York, find a nursery school for Luke, and prepare to take up her new appointment as professor of statistics at UC-ONN in the fall. The idea of moving back to New York didn't appeal to her.

In between, she had advised Nat on which computers would be most cost-effective for the bank, supervised their installation and also given night classes to those members of the staff who appreciated there was more to learn than how to press the ON button. But Nat's biggest problem was the bank's chronic overstaffing. He had already pointed out to the chairman that Russell's currently employed seventy-one staff and that Bennett's, the only other independent bank in town, offered the same services with only thirty-nine employees. Nat wrote a separate report on the financial implications of overstaffing, suggesting an early retirement program that, although it would cut into their profits for the next three years, would be highly beneficial in the long term.

This was the sticking point on which Nat was unwilling to budge. Because, as he explained to Tom over dinner with Su Ling, if they waited for another couple of years until Mr. Russell retired, they would all be joining the ranks of the unemployed.

Once Mr. Russell had read Nat's report, he scheduled a Friday evening at sixo'clock for the showdown. When Nat and Tom walked into the chairman's office they found him at his desk writing a letter. He looked up as they entered the room.

"I'm sorry to say that I'm unable to go along with your recommendations," said Mr. Russell even before his two vice-presidents had sat down, "because I do not wish to fire employees, some of whom I have known and worked withforthe past thirty years." Nat tried to smile as he thought about being sacked twice in six months, and wondered if Jason at Chase might still have an opening for him. "So I have come to the conclusion," continued the chairman, "that if this is going to work," he placed his hands on the report, as if blessing it, "the one person who will have to go is me." He scribbled his signature on the bottom of the letter he had been writing, and handed his resignation over to his son.

Bill Russell left the office at 6:12 that evening, and never entered the building again.

"What are your qualifications to run for public office?"

Fletcher looked down from his place on the stage at the small group of journalists seated in front of him. Harry smiled. It was one of the seventeen questions and answers they had prepared the previous evening.

"I don't have a great deal of experience,"

admitted Fletcher, he hoped disarmingly, "but I was born, brought up and educated in Connecticut before going to New York to join one of the most prestigious law firms in the country. I've come home to put those skills to work for the people of Hartford."

"Don't you feel that twenty-six is a bit young to be telling us how we should be running our lives?"

asked a young lady seated in the second row.

"Same age as I was," said Harry, "and your father never complained." One or two of the older hacks smiled, but the young woman wasn't quite so easily put off.

"But you had just returned from a world war, Senator, with three years' experience as an officer at the front, so may I ask, Mr. Davenport, didyou burn your draft card during the height of the Vietnam War?"

"No, I did not," said Fletcher, "I was not drafted, but had I been, I would have served willingly."

"Can you prove that?" the journalist snapped back.

"No," said Fletcher, "but if you were to read my speech at the Yale freshman debate, you would be left in no doubt of my feelings on this subject."

"If you are elected," asked another member of the press, "will your father-in-law be pulling the strings?"

Harry glanced across and saw that the question had annoyed Fletcher. "Calm down," he whispered. "He's only doing his job. Stick to the answer we agreed on."

"If I am fortunate enough to be elected," said Fletcher, "it would be foolish of me not to take advantage of Senator Gates's wealth of experience, and I will stop listening to him only when I consider he has nothing left to teach me."

"What do you feel about the Kendrick Amendment to the finance bill currently being debated in the house?" The ball came swinging in from left field, and it certainly wasn't one of the seventeen questions they had prepared for.

That's a bit rough isn't it, Robin?" said the senator. "After all, Fletcher is ..."

"In so far as the clause affects senior citizens, I believe it discriminates against those who have already retired and are on fixed incomes.

Most of us will have to retire at some time, and the only thing I remember Confucius saying was that a civilized society was one that educated its young and took care of its old. If I am elected, when Senator Kendrick's amendment to the bill comes before the Senate, I will vote against it. Bad laws can be drafted in a legislative session, but then take years to repeal, and I will only ever vote for a bill that I believe can be realistically administered."

Harry sat back in his chair. "Next question,"he said.

"In your CV, Mr. Davenport, which I must say was most impressive, you claim you resigned from Alexander Dupont and Bell in order to run in this election."

"That is correct," said Fletcher.

"Did a colleague of yours, a Mr. Logan Fitzgerald, also resign around that time?"

"Yes, he did."

"Is there any connection between his resignation and yours?"

"None whatsoever," said Fletcher firmly.

"What are you getting at?" asked Harry.

"Just a call from our New York office which they asked me to follow up," replied the journalist.

"Anonymous, no doubt," said Harry.

"I'm not at liberty to reveal my sources," the journalist replied, trying hard not to smirk.

"Just in case your New York office didn't tell you who that informant was, I'll let you know his name just as soon as this press conference is over,"

snapped Fletcher.

"Well, I think that just about wraps it up," said Harry, before anyone could ask a supplementary question.

"Thank you all for joining us. You'll get a regular shot at the candidate in his weekly campaign press conferences-which is more than I ever gave you."

"That was awful," said Fletcher as they walked off the stage. "I must learn to control my temper."

"You did just fine, my boy," said Harry, "and by the time I've finished with the bastards, the only thing they will remember about this morning was your answer on the Kendrick Amendment to the finance bill. And frankly, the press are the least of our problems."

Harry paused ominously. "The real battle will begin when we discover who the Republican candidate is."

"what do you know about her?" asked Fletcher as they walked down the street together.

There wasn't a lot Harry didn't know aboutBarbara Hunter, as she had been his opponent for the past two elections, and a perpetual thorn in his flesh during the intervening years.

"She's forty-eight, born in Hartford, daughter of a farmer, educated in the local school system, and then at the University of Connecticut, married to a successful advertising executive, with three children, all living in the state, and she's currently a member of the State Congress."

"Any bad news?" asked Fletcher.

"Yes, she doesn't drink and is a vegetarian, so you'll be visiting every bar and butcher in the constituency. And like anyone who has spent a lifetime in local politics, she's made her fair share of enemies on the way, and as she barely won the Republican nomination this time around, you can be sure that several party activists didn't want her in the first place. But more important, she lost the last two elections, so we paint her as a loser."