Shall we tell the president краткое содержание

Обновлено: 05.07.2024

Master storyteller Jeffrey Archer keeps the pace sizzling in this final installment in the Kane and Abel trilogy, Shall We Tell the President?, a daring political thriller where treason and betrayal threaten to topple an American dynasty.

After years of great sacrifice and deep personal tragedy, Florentyna Kane has finally become the first woman president in America. But on the very day that she is sworn into office, powerful forces are already in motion to take her life.

The FBI investigates thousands of false threats every year. This time, a reliable source has tipped them off about an assassination attempt. One hour later, the informant and all but one of the investigating agents are dead. The lone survivor: FBI Special Agent Mark Andrews. Now, only he knows when the killers will strike. But how can he alone unravel a ruthless conspiracy—in less than one week? The race to save the first woman president begins now.

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Shall We Tell the President?: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

At the end of The Prodigal Daughter Florentyna Kane is elected President — the first woman President of the United States. At 7.30 one evening the FBI learn of a plot to kill her — the 1572nd threat of the year. An hour late five people know all the details — by 9.30 four of them are dead. FBI agent Mark Andrews alone knows when. He also knows that a senator is involved. He has six days to learn where — and how. Six days to prevent certain death of the President.

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The President sat down; in a single motion, the entire audience rose to its feet.

The sixteen-minute speech had been interrupted by applause on ten occasions. But as the nation’s Chief Executive turned from the microphone, now assured that the crowd was with her, her eyes were no longer on the cheering mass. She scanned the dignitaries on the platform for the one person she wanted to see. She walked over to her husband, kissed him on the cheek, and then took his arm before they were accompanied from the platform by the briskly efficient usher.

H. Stuart Knight hated things that didn’t run on schedule, and today nothing had been on time. Everybody was going to be at least thirty minutes late for the lunch.

Seventy-six guests stood as the President entered the room. These were the men and women who now controlled the Democratic party. The Northern establishment who had decided to back the lady were now present, with the exception of those who had supported Senator Ralph Brooks.

Some of those at the luncheon were already members of her cabinet, and everyone present had played some part in returning her to the White House.

The President had neither the opportunity nor the inclination to eat her lunch; everyone wanted to talk to her at once. The menu had been specially made up of her favorite dishes, starting with lobster bisque and going on to roast beef. Finally, the chef’s pièce de résistance was produced, an iced chocolate cake, in the form of the White House. Edward watched his wife ignore the neat wedge of the Oval Office placed in front of her. “That’s why she never needs to slim,” commented Marian Edelman, who was the surprise appointment as Attorney General. Marian had been telling Edward about the importance of children’s rights. Edward tried to listen; perhaps another day.

By the time the last wing of the White House had been demolished and the last hand pumped, the President and her party were forty-five minutes late for the Inaugural Parade. When they did arrive at the reviewing stand in front of the White House, the most relieved to see them, among the crowd of two hundred thousand, was the Presidential Guard of Honor, who had been standing at attention for just over an hour. Once the President had taken her seat the parade began. The State contingent in the military unit marched past, and the United States Marine Band played everything from Sousa to “God Bless America.” Floats from each state, some, like that of Illinois, commemorating events from Florentyna’s Polish background, added color and a lighter touch to what for her was not only a serious occasion but a solemn one.

She still felt this was the only nation on earth that could entrust its highest office to the daughter of an immigrant.

When the three-hour-long parade was finally over and the last float had disappeared down the avenue, Janet Brown, Florentyna Kane’s Chief of Staff, leaned over and asked the President what she would like to do between now and the first Inaugural Ball.

“Sign all those cabinet appointments, the letters to the Heads of State, and clear my desk for tomorrow,” was the immediate reply. “That should take care of the first four years.”

The President returned directly into the White House. As she walked through the South Portico, the Marine band struck up “Hail to the Chief.” The President had taken off her coat even before she reached the Oval Office. She sat herself firmly behind the imposing oak and leather desk. She paused for a moment, looking around the room. Everything was as she wanted it; behind her there was the picture of Richard and William playing touch football. In front of her, a paperweight with the quotation from George Bernard Shaw which Annabel quoted so often: “Some men see things as they are and say, why; I dream things that never were and say, why not.” On Florentyna’s left was the Presidential flag, on her right the flag of the United States. Dominating the middle of the desk was a replica of the Baron Hotel, Warsaw, made out of papier mâché by William when he was fourteen. Coal was burning in the fireplace. A portrait of Abraham Lincoln stared down at the newly sworn-in President while outside the bay windows, the green lawns swept in an unbroken stretch to the Washington Monument. The President smiled. She was back at home.

Florentyna Kane reached for a pile of official papers and glanced over the names of those who would serve in her cabinet; there were over thirty appointments to be made. The President signed each one with a flourish. The final one was Janet Brown as Chief of Staff. The President ordered that they be sent down to the Congress immediately. Her press secretary picked up the pieces of paper that would dictate the next four years in the history of America and said, “Thank you, Madam President,” and then added, “What would you like to tackle next?”

“Always start with the biggest problem is what Lincoln advised, so let’s go over the draft legislation for the Gun Control bill.”

The President’s press secretary shuddered, for she knew only too well that the battle in the House over the next two years was likely to be every bit as vicious and hard-fought as the Civil War Lincoln had faced. So many people still regarded the possession of arms as their inalienable birthright. She only prayed that it all would not end the same way, as a House Divided.

3 March (two years later)

Nick Stames wanted to go home. He had been at work since seven that morning and it was already 5:45 P.M. He couldn’t remember if he had eaten lunch; his wife, Norma, had been grumbling again that he never got home in time for dinner, or, if he did, it was so late that her dinner was no longer worth eating. Come to think of it, when did he last find time to finish a meal? Norma stayed in bed when he left for the office at 6:30 A.M. Now that the children were away at school, her only real task was to cook dinner for him. He couldn’t win; if he had been a failure, she would have complained about that, too, and he was, goddamn it, by anybody’s standards, a success; the youngest special agent in charge of a Field Office in the FBI and you don’t get a job like that at the age of forty-one by being at home on time for dinner every night. In any case, Nick loved the job. It was his mistress; at least his wife could be thankful for that.

Nick Stames had been head of the Washington Field Office for nine years. The third largest Field Office in America, although it covered the smallest territory — only sixty-one square miles of Washington, D.C. — it had twenty-two squads; twelve criminal, ten security. Hell, he was policing the capital of the world. Of course, he must be expected to be late sometimes. Still, tonight he intended to make a special effort. When he had the time to do so, he adored his wife. He was going to be home on time this evening. He picked up his internal phone and called his Criminal Coordinator, Grant Nanna.

“I didn’t know you had one.”

Nick Stames put the phone down, and pushed his hand through his long dark hair. He would have made a better movie criminal than FBI agent, since everything about him was dark — dark eyes, dark skin, dark hair, even a dark suit and dark shoes, but the last two were true of any special agent. On his lapel he wore a pin depicting the flags of the United States and of Greece.

Once, a few years ago, he had been offered promotion and a chance to cross the street to the Bureau Headquarters and join the Director as one of his thirteen assistants. Being an assistant chained to a desk wasn’t his style, so he stayed put. The move would have taken him from a slum to a palace; the Washington Field Office is housed on floors four, five, and eight of the Old Post Office Building on Pennsylvania Avenue, and the rooms are a little like railroad coaches. They would have been condemned as slums if they had been sited in the ghetto.

Сказать президенту? - роман английского писателя Джеффри Арчера 1977 года . Пересмотренное издание вышло в 1986 году.

В первом издании, заговор с целью убить президента Соединенных Штатов , Эдвард Кеннеди , является сорваны Федерального бюро расследований агент Марк Эндрюс работает с главой ФБР. История любви усложняет сюжет. В книгу включены подробные сведения об официальном Вашингтоне , для которых автор перечисляет источники.

СОДЕРЖАНИЕ

Сюжет

Грек Анджело Казефикас входит в больницу с огнестрельным ранением в ногу и требует разговора с ФБР. Ник Стамос, глава вашингтонского полевого офиса, поручает агентам Марку Эндрюсу и Барри Калверту взять его показания, и они узнают о заговоре против жизни президента Флорентины Кейн с участием неназванного сенатора США. Стамос и Калверт вскоре убиты, как и Касефикс в больнице, в результате чего в живых остался только Эндрюс, знающий о заговоре.

Эндрюс сообщает все, что он знает, директору ФБР Горацио Тайсону и становится его непосредственным подчиненным в течение 7 дней до запланированного убийства. Исследуя ряд сенаторов США, которые потенциально могли присутствовать на обеде, когда Касефикс подслушал заговор, Эндрюс начинает сужать круг подозреваемых. Параллельно с расследованием он начинает романтические отношения с Элизабет Декстер, дочерью потенциального заговорщика сенатора Генри Декстера. Когда Эндрюс приближается к раскрытию правды, он попадает в поле зрения пяти заговорщиков, которые решают убить его, взорвав заминированный автомобиль в день запланированного убийства. Сузив список подозреваемого сенатора США до двух человек - Роберта Харрисона и Генри Декстера - Эндрюс избегает покушения на свою жизнь по совпадению, когда Элизабет приходит в его квартиру и предлагает подвезти его. Когда момент воспоминания показывает Эндрюсу, что Элизабет обедала со своим отцом в день расстрела Касефикса, он понимает, что единственный возможный заговорщик - Харрисон. Заговор сорван, и трое из пяти заговорщиков схвачены, но не раньше, чем один из них стреляет в Харрисона из снайперской винтовки.

Эндрюс ранен при попытке защитить Харрисона от огня, но выживает, в то время как Харрисон погибает. Президент Кейн лично поздравляет его с проявлением храбрости, ничего не зная о заговоре или причастности Харрисона. Эндрюс восстанавливает свои временами холодные отношения с Элизабет и принимает предложение Тайсона о новой работе.

Подозреваемые сенаторы

В романе некоторые сенаторы Соединенных Штатов , как настоящие, так и вымышленные демократы и республиканцы , подозреваются в участии в заговоре с целью убийства президента, многие из них просто потому, что находились в Вашингтоне в определенное время.

Jeffrey Archer

Shall We Tell The President (lit)

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