Jeffrey Archer - Shall We Tell the President?

12:26 P.M.

“I, Florentyna Kane, do solemnly swear...”

“I, Florentyna Kane, do solemnly swear...”

“...that I will faithfully execute the office of the President of the United States...”

“...that I will faithfully execute the office of the President of the United States...”

“...and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States. So help me God.”

“...and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States. So help me God.”

Her hand still resting on the Douay Bible, the forty-third President smiled at the First Gentleman. It was the end of one struggle and the beginning of another. Florentyna Kane knew about struggles. Her first struggle had been to be elected to Congress, then the Senate and finally four years later when she had become the first woman Vice President of the United States. After a fierce primary campaign, she had only narrowly managed to defeat Senator Ralph Brooks on the fifth ballot at the Democratic National Convention in June. In November she survived an even fiercer battle with the Republican candidate, a former congressman from New York. Florentyna Kane was elected President by 105,000 votes, a mere one percent, the smallest margin in American history, smaller even than the 118,000 that John F. Kennedy had gained over Richard Nixon back in 1960.

While the applause died down, the President waited for the twenty-one-gun salute to come to an end. Florentyna Kane cleared her throat and faced fifty thousand attentive citizens on the Capitol Plaza and two hundred million more somewhere out there beyond the television transmitters. There was no need today for the blankets and heavy coats which normally accompanied these occasions. The weather was unusually mild for late January, and the crowded grassy area facing the east front of the Capitol, although soggy, was no longer white from the Christmas snow.

“Vice President Bradley, Mr. Chief Justice, President Carter, President Reagan, Reverend clergy, fellow citizens.”

The First Gentleman looked on, smiling occasionally to himself as he recognized some of the words and phrases he had contributed to his wife’s speech.

Their day had begun at about 6:30 A.M. Neither had slept very well after the splendid pre-Inaugural concert given in their honor the previous evening. Florentyna Kane had gone over her presidential address for the final time, underlining the salient words in red, making only minor changes.

When she rose that morning, Florentyna wasted no time in selecting a blue dress from her wardrobe. She pinned on the tiny brooch her first husband, Richard, had given her just before he had died.

Every time Florentyna wore that brooch she remembered him; how he had been unable to catch the plane that day because of a strike by maintenance workers but still hired a car to be sure he could be by Florentyna’s side when she addressed the Harvard commencement.

Richard never did hear that speech, the one Newsweek described as a launching pad for the Presidency — because by the time she had reached the hospital he was dead.

She snapped back into the real world of which she was the most powerful leader on earth. But still without enough power to bring Richard back. Florentyna checked herself in the mirror. She felt confident. After all, she had already been President for nearly two years since the unexpected death of President Parkin. Historians would be surprised to discover that she had learned of the President’s death while trying to sink a four-foot putt against her oldest friend and future husband, Edward Winchester.

They had both stopped their match when the helicopters had circled overhead. When one of them had landed a Marines captain had jumped out and run toward her, saluted and said, “Madam President, the President is dead.” Now the American people had confirmed that they were willing to continue living with a woman in the White House. For the first time in its history, the United States had elected a woman to the most coveted position in its political life in her own right. She glanced out of the bedroom window at the broad placid expanse of the Potomac River, glinting in the early-morning sunlight.

She left the bedroom and went straight to the private dining room where her husband Edward was chatting to her children William and Annabel. Florentyna kissed all three of them before they sat down to breakfast.

They laughed about the past and talked about the future but when the clock struck eight the President left them to go to the Oval Office. Her Chief of Staff, Janet Brown, was sitting outside in the corridor waiting for her.

“Good morning, Madam President.”

“Good morning, Janet. Everything under control?” She smiled at her.

“I think so, Madam.”

“Good. Why don’t you run my day as usual? Don’t worry about me, I’ll just follow your instructions. What do you want me to do first?”

“There are 842 telegrams and 2,412 letters but they will have to wait, except for the Heads of State. I’ll have replies ready for them by twelve o’clock.”

“Date them today, they’ll like that, and I’ll sign every one of them as soon as they are ready.”

“Yes, Madam. I also have your schedule. You start the official day with coffee at eleven with the former Presidents Reagan and Carter, then you will be driven to the Inauguration. After the Inauguration, you’ll attend a luncheon at the Senate before reviewing the Inaugural Parade in front of the White House.”

Janet Brown passed her a sheaf of three-by-five index cards, stapled together, as she had done for fifteen years since she joined her staff when Florentyna had first been elected to Congress. They summarized the President’s hour-by-hour schedule; there was rather less on them than usual. Florentyna glanced over the cards, and thanked her Chief of Staff. Edward Winchester appeared at the door. He smiled as he always did, with a mixture of love and admiration, when she turned toward him. She had never once regretted her almost impulsive decision to marry him after the eighteenth hole on that extraordinary day she was told of President Parkin’s death, and she felt for certain that Richard would have approved.

“I’ll be working on my papers until eleven,” she told him. He nodded and left to prepare himself for the day ahead.

A crowd of well-wishers was already gathering outside the White House.

“I wish it would rain,” confided H. Stuart Knight, the head of the Secret Service, to his aide; it was also one of the most important days of his life. “I know the vast majority of people are harmless, but these occasions give me the jitters.”

The crowd numbered about one hundred and fifty; fifty of them belonged to Mr. Knight. The advance car that always goes five minutes ahead of a President was already meticulously checking the route to the White House; Secret Service men were watching small gatherings of people along the way, some waving flags; they were there to witness the Inauguration, and would one day tell their grandchildren how they had seen Florentyna Kane being inaugurated as President of the United States.

At 10:59 the butler opened the front door and the crowds began to cheer.

The President and her husband waved to the smiling eyes and only sensed by experience and professional instinct that fifty people were not looking toward them.

Two black limousines came to a noiseless stop at the North Entrance of the White House at 11:00 A.M. The Marine Honor Guard stood at attention and saluted the two ex-Presidents and their wives as they were greeted by President Kane on the Portico, a privilege normally accorded only to visiting Heads of State. The President herself guided them through to the library for coffee with Edward, William and Annabel.