Shall We Tell the President? by Jeffrey Archer Read Free Book Online Page A

Aspirin. He was doing the crossword
from The Washington Star. He had finished three clues; it was going to be a long night. Barry caught up with Nick Stames as he stepped into the blue Ford.
    â€œYes, boss, he’s working away.”
    They looked at each other, a night of headaches. Barry got in the driver’s seat, slid it back as far as it would go, and adjusted the seat belt. They moved quietly up Constitution Avenue, then past the White House on to the E Street Expressway, and on toward Memorial Bridge.
    â€œIf Casefikis is on to something, we’ve got one hell of a week ahead of us,” said Nick Stames. “Did he seem sure of the date for the assassination attempt?”
    â€œWhen I questioned him a second time about the details, he repeated 10 March, in Washington.”
    â€œHum-uh, seven days, not very long. Wonder what the Director will make of it,” said Stames.
    â€œHand it over to the Secret Police, if he’s got any sense,” Barry said.
    â€œAh, let’s forget it for the moment. Let’s concentrate on warmed-over moussaka and deal with tomorrow when tomorrow comes.”
    The car came to a halt at a traffic light, just beyond the White House, where a bearded, long-haired, dirty youth, who had been picketing the home of the President, stood with a large poster advising the world: BEWARE! THE END IS NIGH. Stames glanced at it and nodded to Barry.
    â€œThat’s all we need tonight.”

    They passed under Virginia Avenue on the Expressway and sped across Memorial Bridge. A black 3.5 Lincoln passed them at about seventy miles an hour.
    â€œBet the Met pick him up,” said Stames.
    â€œProbably late for Dulles Airport,” replied Barry.
    The traffic was light, the rush-hour well behind them and when they turned on to George Washington Parkway they managed to stay in top gear. The Parkway, which follows the Potomac along the wooded Virginia shore, was dark and winding. Barry’s reflexes were as fast as any man’s in the service and Stames, although older, saw exactly what happened at the same time. A Buick, large and black, started to overtake them on their left. Calvert glanced toward it and when he looked forward again an instant later, another car, a black Lincoln, had swung in front of them on the wrong side of the highway. He thought he heard a rifle shot. Barry wrenched the wheel toward the center of the road but it didn’t respond. Both cars hit him at once, but he still managed to take one of them with him down the rocky slope. They gathered speed until they hit the surface of the river with a thud. Nick thought as he struggled in vain to open the door that the sinking seemed grotesquely slow, but inevitable.
    The black Buick continued down the highway as if nothing had happened; past a car skidding to a halt, carrying a young couple, two terrified witnesses to the accident. They leaped out of their car and ran to the edge of the slope. There was nothing they could do but watch helplessly for the few seconds it took the blue Ford sedan and the Lincoln to sink out of sight.

    â€œJee-sus, did you see what happened ahead?” said the young man.
    â€œNot really. I just saw the two cars go over the top. What do we do now, Jim?”
    â€œGet the police fast.”
    Man and wife ran back to their car.

Thursday evening
    3 March
    8:15 P.M.
    â€œHello, Liz.”
    There was a moment’s pause at the other end of the phone.
    â€œHello, G-man. Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?”
    â€œOnly wishful thinking. Listen, Elizabeth, I’ve had to come back to the hospital and keep an eye on your Mr. Casefikis until the police arrive. It’s just possible that he could be in some danger, so we’re having to put a guard on him which means I’m bound to be late for our date. Do you mind waiting?”
    â€œNo, I won’t starve. I always have lunch with my father on Thursdays, and he’s a big