Jeffrey Archer - The Prodigal Daughter

THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER[154-011-3.0]

By: JEFFREY ARCHER

Category: fiction politicsSynopsis:

Florentyna is the scion of afamily with a financial empire and political aspirations. The book traces herlife from childhood to the presidency of the United States.

CORONET BOOKS

Hodder and Stoughton To Peter, Joy, Alison, Clare andSimon

The publishers wish to thankApril Music Limited for their kind permission to quote lyrics from Jesse byJanis Ian.

Copyright 1982 by Jeffrey Archer

First published in Great Britain,1982 by Hodder and Stoughton Ltd

Coronet edition 1983

ISB NO 340329629

The characters and situationsin this book are entirely imagined and bear no relation to any real her son oractual happening This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not,by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwisecirculated without the publishers prior consent in any form of binding(it, cover other than that in which this is published and without a similarcondition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

PRINTED IN CANADA

Prologue

PRESIDENT OF THE UNITEDSTATES, she replied. I can thinkof more rewarding ways of bankrupting myself, said her father as heremoved the half-moon spectacles from the end of his nose and peered at hisdaughter over the top of his newspaper. Dont he frivolous, Papa. President Roosevelt proved to usthat there can be no greater calling than public service.

The only thing Roosevelt proved .... began her father. Then he stoppedand pretended to return to his paper, realizing that his daughter wouldconsider the remark flippant.

The girl continued as if onlytoo aware of what was going through her fathers mind. I realize it wouldbe pointless for me to pursue such an ambition without your support. My sexwill be enough of a liability without adding the disadvantage of a Polishbackground. The newspaper barrier between father and daughter wasabruptly removed.

Dont ever speakdisloyally of the Poles, he said. History has proved us to be anhonorable race who never go back on our word. My father was a baron-Yes, I know. So was my grandfather, but hes not around now tohelp me become President.

Mores thepity, he said, sighing, as he would undoubtedly have made a greatleader of our people.

Then why shouldnthis granddaughter?

No reason at all,he said as he stared into the steel gray eyes of his only child.

Well then, Papa, willyou help me? I cant hope to succeed without your financialbacking.

Her father hesitated beforereplying, placing the glasses back on his nose and slowly folding his copy ofthe Chicago Tribune. Illmake a deal with you, my dear-after all, thats what politics is about.If the result of the New Hampshire primary turns out to be satisfactory,Ill back you to the hilt. If not, you must drop the whole idea.

Whats yourdefinition of satisfactory? came back the immediate reply.

Again the man hesitated,weighing his words, If you win the primary or capture over thirtypercent of the vote, Ill go all the way to the convention floor with you,even if it means I end up destitute. The girl relaxed for the first timeduring the conversation. Thank you, Papa. I couldnt have askedfor more.

No, you certainlycouldnt, he replied. Now, can I get back to figuring outjust how the Cubs could possibly have lost the seventh game of the series tothe Tigers?

They were undoubtedlythe weaker team, as the nine -three score indicates.

Young lady, you mayimagine you know a thing or two about politics, but I can assure you, you knowabsolutely nothing about baseball, the man said as his wife entered theroom. He turned his heavy frame toward her. Our daughter wants to runfor President of the United States. What do you think about that?

The girl looked up at her,eagerly waiting for a reply.

Ill tell you whatI think, said the mother. A think its well past her bedtime and Iblame you for keeping her up so late. Yes, I supposeyoure right, Zaphia. He sighed. Off you go to bed, littleone.

She came to her fathersside, kissed him on the cheek and whispered, Thank you, Papa.

The mans eyes followedhis eleven-year-old daughter as she left the room, and he noticed that thefingers of her right hand were clenched, making a small, tight fist, somethingshe always did when she was angry or determined. He suspected she was both onthis occasion, but he realized that it would be pointless to try to explain tohis wife that their only child was no ordinary mortal. He had long agoabandoned any attempt to involve his wife in his own ambitions and was at leastthankful that she was incapable of dampening their daughters.

He returned to the Chicago Cubsand their loss of the series Prologue

3 and had to admit that hisdaughters judgment might even be right on that subject.

Florentyna Rosnovski neverreferred to the conversation again for twenty-two years, but when she did, sheassumed that her father would keep his end of the bargain. After all, thePolish are an honorable race who never go back on their word.

THE PAST

1934-1968 IT HAD NOT BEEN ANEASY BIRTH, but then for Abel and Zaphia Rosnov ski nothing had ever been easy,and in their own ways they had both become philosophical about that. Abel hadwanted a son, an heir who would one day be chairman of the Baron Group. By thetime the boy would be ready to take over, Abel was confident, his own namewould stand alongside. those of Ritz and Statler, and by then the Barons wouldbe the largest hotel group in the world. Abel had paced up and down thecolorless corridor of St. Lukes General Hospital waiting for the firstcry, his slight limp becoming more pronounced as each hour passed. Occasionallyhe twisted the silver band that encircled his wrist and stared at the name soneatly engraved on it.

Abel had never doubted, evenfor a moment, that his firstborn would be a boy. He turned and retraced hissteps once again, to see Dr. Dodek heading toward him.

Congratulations, Mr.Rosnovski, he called.

Thank you, saidAbel eagerly.

You have a beautifulgirl, the doctor said as he reached him. Thank you, repeated Abel quietly, trying not to show hisdisappointment.

He then followed theobstetrician into a little room at the other end of the corridor. Through anobservation window, Abel was faced with a row of wrinkled faces. The doctorpointed to the fathers firstborn. Unlike the others, her little fingers were curled into a tightfist. Abel had read somewhere that achild was not expected to do that for at least three weeks. He smiled, proudly.

Mother and daughter remained atSt. Lukes for another six days and Abel visited them every morning,leaving his hotel only when the last breakfast had been served, and everyafternoon after the last lunch guest had left the dining room. Telegrams,flowers and the recent fashion of greeting cards surrounded Zaphiasiron-framed bed, reassuring evidence that other people too rejoiced in thebirth. On the seventh day mother and unnamed child-Abel had considered sixboys names before the birth-returned home.

On the anniversary of thesecond week of their daughters birth they named her Florentyna, afterAbels sister. Once the infant had been installed in the newly decoratednursery at the top of the house, Abel would spend hours simply staring down athis daughter, watching her sleep and wake, knowing that he must work evenharder than he had in the past to ensure the childs future. He wasdetermined that Florentyna would be given a better start in life than he hadhad. Not for her the dirt and deprivation of his childhood or the humiliationof arriving on the Eastern Seaboard of America as an immigrant with little morethan a few valueless Russian rubles sewn into the jacket of an only suit.

He would ensure that Florentynawas given the formal education he had lacked, not that he had a lot to complainabout. Franklin 1). Roosevelt lived inthe White House, and Abels little group of hotels looked as if they weregoing to survive the Depression. America had been good to this immigrant.