Chapters (71)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- Family Tree
- Prologue
- Harry and Emma Clifton: 1970–1971
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Giles Barrington: 1971
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Lady Virginia Fenwick: 1971
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Sebastian Clifton: 1971
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Lady Virginia Fenwick: 1972
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Maisie Clifton: 1972
- Chapter 25
- Emma Clifton: 1972–1975
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Sebastian Clifton: 1975
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Hakim Bishara: 1975
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Giles Barrington: 1976–1977
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Harry and Emma Clifton: 1978
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Epilogue: 1978
- About the Author
- Also by Jeffrey Archer
- Newsletter Sign-up
“Certainly not. I’d authorized over a million pounds of public money to be spent building that car park, and I didn’t expect the general public to use it for free parking whenever they wanted to go shopping. So I decided to charge the same rate as the nearest municipal car park, with concessions for hospital staff and patients, so it would only be used by the people it had been originally intended for. Result: uproar, protest marches, burning effigies! This, despite a terminally ill patient having to be driven around in circles for over an hour because her husband was unable to find a space. And if that wasn’t enough, when I bumped into the paper’s editor and explained why it was necessary, all he said was, of course you’re right, Emma, but a good campaign always sells newspapers.”
Mr. Sullivan laughed. “On balance, I think I’ll stick to being the American ambassador in Rome.”
“Grandma,” said a youthful voice behind her. “A little memory of today.” Jessica handed her a drawing of Emma making a point to the ambassador.
“Jessica, it’s wonderful. I’ll definitely show it to the editor of my local paper, and explain why I was wagging my finger.”
* * *
“How’s Giles enjoying the Lords?” asked Harry.
“He isn’t,” said Karin. “He’d rather be back in the Commons.”
“But he’s a member of the Cabinet.”
“And he’s not sure he will be for much longer. Now the Tories have elected Margaret Thatcher as their leader, Giles feels they will have a good chance of winning the next election. And I confess I could vote for her,” whispered Karin, before she quickly added, “What’s the latest on your campaign to have Anatoly Babakov released from prison?”
“Not a lot of progress, I’m afraid. The Russians won’t even let us know if he’s still alive.”
“And how’s Mrs. Babakova bearing up?”
“She’s moved to New York and is renting a small apartment on the Lower West Side. I visit her whenever I’m in the States. Yelena remains an eternal optimist and continues to believe that they’re just about to release Anatoly. I haven’t the heart to tell her it isn’t going to happen in the foreseeable future, if ever.”
“Let me give the problem some thought,” said Karin. “After spending so many years behind the Iron Curtain, I might be able to come up with something that would irritate the Russians enough to reconsider their position.”
“You might also mention my lack of progress to your father. After all, he hates the communists every bit as much as you do,” said Harry, carefully observing how Karin reacted. But she gave nothing away.