Absolute Power

( 126 )

Overview

Can the President of the United States get away with murder? The fictional answer to this question has set the literary world on fire and transformed David Baldacci into a household name and overnight success. Going beyond the classic works of John Grisham and Robert Ludlum, Absolute Power combines the highest levels of political intrigue with big-money law, cutting-edge forensics, and the riveting search for a truth hidden within the power of the Oval Office.

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Overview

Can the President of the United States get away with murder? The fictional answer to this question has set the literary world on fire and transformed David Baldacci into a household name and overnight success. Going beyond the classic works of John Grisham and Robert Ludlum, Absolute Power combines the highest levels of political intrigue with big-money law, cutting-edge forensics, and the riveting search for a truth hidden within the power of the Oval Office.

Set in Washington, D.C., this fascinating thriller of unparalleled suspense dares to explore an unthinkable abuse of power and criminal conspiracy--a vicious murder involving the president, his mistress, and a coverup orchestrated by his zealously loyal chief of staff and the Secret Service. Unbeknownst to the president and his lackeys, one unlikely witness saw everything. Soon to be a major motion picture starring Clint Eastwood and Gene Hackman.

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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Casting the president of the United States as a crazed villain isn't a new idea-Fletcher Knebel worked it 30 years ago, in Night of Camp David-but in this sizzler of a first novel, Baldacci, a D.C. attorney, proves that the premise still has long legs. The action begins when a grizzled professional cat burglar gets trapped inside the bedroom closet of one of the world's richest men, only to witness, through a one-way mirror, two Secret Service agents kill the billionaire's trampy young wife as she tries to fight off the drunken sexual advances of the nation's chief executive. Running for his life, but not before he picks up a bloodstained letter opener that puts the president at the scene of the crime, the burglar becomes the target of a clandestine manhunt orchestrated by leading members of the executive branch. Meanwhile, Jack Graham, once a public defender and now a high-powered corporate attorney, gets drawn into the case because the on-the-lam burglar just happens to be the father of his former finance, a crusading Virginia prosecutor. Embroidering the narrative through assorted plot whorls are the hero's broken romance; his conflict over selling out for financial success; the prosecutor's confused love-hate for her burglar father; the relentless investigation by a northern Virginia career cop; the dilemma of government agents trapped in a moral catch-22; the amoral ambitions of a sexy White House Chief of Staff; and the old burglar's determination to bring down the ruthless president. Meanwhile, lurking at the novel's center like a venomous spider is the sociopathic president. Baldacci doesn't peer too deeply into his characters' souls, and his prose is merely functional-in both respects, he's much closer to Grisham than to, say, Forsyth; but he's also a first-rate storyteller who grabs readers by their lapels right away and won't let go until they've finished his enthralling yarn. Major ad/promo; BOMC alternate; film rights sold to Castle Rock; simultaneous Time Warner AudioBook. (Jan.)
Library Journal
Expect to see lots of this first-time novelist: with foreign rights sold, a media blitz planned, a BOMC selection offered, and a film in the making, Absolute Power is already catching fire. Baldacci's page-turning thriller features a philandering U.S. president whose actions provoke a murder and subsequent cover-up. A complicating factor is that someone witnessed the crime. Another twist concerns a female chief of staff who is as ambitious as her boss. The novel's hero, Jack Graham, is a Washington attorney on the way up. Although crass and cold-blooded President Alan Richmond is a distasteful character, this will surely be a popular book. Baldacci combines all the needed elements: power, money, sex, intrigue, thwarted love, a few heroes, and more than a few villains. For all popular collections. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 9/15/95.]-Rebecca S. Kelm, Northern Kentucky Univ. Lib., Highland Heights
Gilbert Taylor
This entry in the Washington murder mystery sweepstakes has plenty of commercial potential, yet, on the literary side of the ledger, Baldacci's first novel could stand some polishing in plot and story structure. Here's the premise: the wick-dipping president gets into a drunken knife fight with his mistress; the Secret Service rescues him but kills her; and scandal will erupt unless all witnesses are eliminated. Quite a few are, lending the story its high-velocity pace, which is its chief attraction. The chase takes off from the swanky hunt-country mansion where the killing occurred; there aging but wily burglar Luther Whitney, on site for his last heist, inadvertently witnesses the death of the presidential mistress through a handy one-way mirror. When the coast clears, Whitney leaves the scene with a letter opener covered with presidential DNA, which the cover-uppers naturally are anxious to recover. The murderers' efforts eventually lead to hero lawyer Jack Graham, a rising yupster conflicted by women and career. A finishing action chase through the Washington Metro portends the probable climax scene in the movie slated to be made from this material; such celluloid prominence plus BMOC selection ensures demand for a tale that is all action and no message.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780446566568
  • Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
  • Publication date: 1/1/2010
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Pages: 704
  • Sales rank: 73,656
  • Product dimensions: 4.20 (w) x 7.50 (h) x 1.40 (d)

Meet the Author

David  Baldacci
David Baldacci lives with his family in Virginia. He and his wife have founded the Wish You Well Foundation, a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting literacy efforts across America. He invites you to visit him at www.david-baldacci.com and his foundation at www.wishyouwellfoundation.org.

Biography

David Baldacci's authoritative legal thrillers operate on the irresistible notion that a sinister undercurrent threads through the country's most powerful institutions.

While his stories hinge on the complex machinations behind the presidency, the FBI, the Supreme Court and other spheres of influence, Baldacci (a former Washington, D.C.-based attorney) finds his way into a mystery through the eyes of the innocents. Semi-innocents, at least: small players who often don't realize they're players at all end up hunting down answers, and their hunt becomes the reader's.

According to Baldacci, reading John Irving's The World According to Garp convinced him that he wanted to be a novelist. Absolute Power -- in which a thief finds himself accidentally connected to a murder involving the president and the ensuing coverup -- was hardly Irvingesque; but it did begin Baldacci's friendly relationship with the bestseller lists, which has continued over his writing career.

Baldacci's style is brief and plot-driven, but he's not afraid to linger on macabre and vivid details, such as a rosary clenched in a plane crash victim's hand, or hard-learned lessons from a sniper's life (pack your food so you can find it at night, by touch). These small but memorable -- indeed, almost cinematic -- details give his books another layer that distinguishes them from the average potboiler.

Although the author has occasionally departed from his usual fare (examples include the tenderhearted coming-of-age tale Wish You Well and the holiday-themed adventure The Christmas Train), it is high-octane thrillers that are his true stock in trade. Whether it's a taut stand-alone or a new installment in his Camel Club series, readers know when they crack the spine of a new Baldacci book, they're in for an action-packed page-turner.

.

Good To Know

Baldacci was a trial lawyer and a corporate lawyer for nine years in Washington, D.C.

He worked his way through college as a Pinkerton security guard and by washing and detailing 18-wheel trucks.

Baldacci writes under his own name except when published in Italy, where he uses a pseudonym because it is the homeland of his ancestors.

Bill Clinton selected The Simple Truth as his favorite novel of 1998, according to Baldacci's web site.

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    1. Hometown:
      Northern Virginia
    1. Date of Birth:
      August 5, 1960
    2. Place of Birth:
      Richmond, VIrginia
    1. Education:
      B.A. in Political Science, Virginia Commonwealth University, 1982; J.D., University of Virginia, 1986
    2. Website:

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

He gripped the steering wheel loosely as the car, its lights out, drifted slowly to a stop. A few last scraps of gravel kicked out of the tire treads and then silence enveloped him. He took a moment to adjust to the surroundings and then pulled out a pair of worn but still effective night-vision binoculars. The house slowly came into focus. He shifted easily, confidently in his seat. A duffel bag lay on the front seat beside him. The car's interior was faded but clean.The car was also stolen. And from a very unlikely source.

A pair of miniature palm trees hung from the rearview mirror. He smiled grimly as he looked at them. Soon he might be going to the land of palms. Quiet, blue, see-through water, powdery salmon-colored sunsets and late mornings. He had to get out. It was time. For all the occasions he had said that to himself, this time he felt sure.

Sixty-six years old, Luther Whitney was eligible to collect Social Security, and was a card-carrying member of AARP. At that age most men had settled down into second careers as grandfathers, part-time raisers of their children's children, when weary joints were eased down into familiar recliners and arteries finished closing up with the clutter of a lifetime.

Luther had had only one career his entire life. It involved breaking and entering into other people's homes and places of business, usually in the nighttime, as now, and taking away as much of their property as he could feasibly carry.

Though clearly on the wrong side of the law, Luther had never fired a gun or hurled a knife in anger or fear, except for his part in a largely confusing war fought where South and North Korea were joined at the hip. And the only punches he had ever thrown were in bars, and those only in self-defense as the suds made men braver than they should have been.

Luther only had one criterion in choosing his targets: he took only from those who could well afford to lose it. He considered himself no different from the armies of people who routinely coddled the wealthy, constantly persuading them to buy things they did not need.

A good many of his sixty-odd years had been spent in assorted medium- and then maximum-security correctional facilities along the East Coast. Like blocks of granite around his neck, three prior felony convictions stood to his credit in three different states. Years had been carved out of his life. Important years. But he could do nothing to change that now.

He had refined his skills to where he had high hopes that a fourth conviction would never materialize. There was absolutely nothing mysterious about the ramifications of another bust: he would be looking at the full twenty years. And at his age, twenty years was a death penalty. They might as well fry him, which was the way the Commonwealth of Virginia used to handle its particularly bad people. The citizens of this vastly historic state were by and large a God-fearing people, and religion premised upon the notion of equal retribution consistently demanded the ultimate payback. The commonwealth succeeded in disposing of more death row criminals than all but two states, and the leaders, Texas and Florida, shared the moral sentiments of their Southern sister. But not for simple burglary; even the good Virginians had their limits.

Yet with all that at risk he couldn't take his eyes off the homeñmansion, of course, one would be compelled to call it. It had engrossed him for several months now. Tonight that fascination would end.

Middleton, Virginia. A forty-five-minute drive west on a slingshot path from Washington, D.C. Home to vast estates, obligatory Jaguars, and horses whose price tags could feed the residents of an entire inner-city apartment building for a year. Homes in this area sprawled across enough earth with enough splendor to qualify for their own appellation. The irony of his target's name, the Coppers, was not lost upon him.

The adrenaline rush that accompanied each job was absolutely unique. He imagined it was somewhat like how the batter felt as he nonchalantly trotted the bases, taking all the time in the world, after newly bruised leather had landed somewhere in the street. The crowd on its feet, fifty thousand pairs of eyes on one human being, all the air in the world seemingly sucked into one space, and then suddenly displaced by the arc of one man's glorious swing of the wood.

Luther took a long sweep of the area with his still sharp eyes. An occasional firefly winked back at him. Otherwise he was alone. He listened for a moment to the rise and fall of the cicadas and then that chorus faded into the background, so omnipresent was it to every person who had lived long in the area.

He pulled the car further down the blacktop road and backed onto a short dirt road that ended in a mass of thick trees. His iron-gray hair was covered with a black ski hat. His leathery face was smeared black with camouflage cream; calm, green eyes hovered above a cinder block jaw. The flesh carried on his spare frame was as tight as ever. He looked like the Army Ranger he had once been. Luther got out of the car.

Crouching behind a tree, Luther surveyed his target. The Coppers, like many country estates that were not true working farms or stables, had a huge and ornate wrought iron gate set on twin brick columns but had no fencing. The grounds were accessible directly from the road or the nearby woods. Luther entered from the woods.

It took Luther two minutes to reach the edge of the cornfield adjacent to the house. The owner obviously had no need for home-grown vegetables but had apparently taken the country squire role to heart. Luther wasn't complaining, since it afforded him a hidden path almost to the front door.

He waited a few moments and then disappeared into the embracing thickness of the corn stalks.

The ground was mostly clear of debris and his tennis shoes made no sound, which was important, for any noise carried easily here. He kept his eyes straight ahead; his feet, after much practice, carefully picked their way through the slender rows, compensating for the slight unevenness of the ground. The night air was cool after the debilitating heat of another stagnant summer, but not nearly cool enough for breath to be transformed into the tiny clouds that could be seen from a distance by restless or insomniac eyes.

Luther had timed this operation several times over the past month, always stopping at the edge of the field before stepping into the front grounds and past no-man's-land. In his head, every detail had been worked and reworked hundreds of times until a precise script of movement, waiting, followed by more movement was firmly entrenched in his mind.

He crouched down at the edge of the front grounds and took one more long look around; no need to rush. No dogs to worry about, which was good. A human, no matter how young and fleet, simply could not outrun a dog. But it was the noise they made that stopped men like Luther cold. There was also no perimeter security system, probably because of the innumerable false alarms that would be caused by the large populations of deer, squirrel and raccoon roaming over the area. However, Luther would shortly be faced with a highly sophisticated defense package that he would have thirty-three seconds to disarmñand that included the ten seconds it would take him to remove the control panel.

The private security patrol had passed through the area thirty minutes earlier. The cop clones were supposed to vary their routines, making sweeps through their surveillance sectors every hour. But after a month of observations, Luther had easily discerned a pattern. He had at least three hours before another pass would be made. He wouldn't need nearly that long.

The grounds were pitch black, and thick shrubs, the lifeblood of the burglary class, clung to the brick entryway like a caterpillar nest to a tree branch. He checked each window of the house: all black, all silent. He had watched the caravan carrying the home's occupants parade out two days ago to points south, and carefully took inventory of all owners and personnel. The nearest estate was a good two miles away.

He took a deep breath. He had planned everything out, but in this business, the simple fact was that you could never account for everything.

He loosened the grips on his backpack and then glided out from the field in long, smooth strides across the lawn, and in ten seconds was facing the thick, solid-wood front door with reinforced steel framing together with a locking system that was rated at the top of the charts for holding force. None of which concerned Luther in the least.

He slipped a facsimile front-door key out of his jacket pocket and inserted it into the keyhole without, however, turning it.

He listened for another few seconds. Then he slipped off his backpack and changed his shoes so there would be no traces of mud. He readied his battery-operated screwdriver, which could reveal the circuitry he needed to fool ten times faster than he could by hand.

The next piece of equipment he carefully pulled from his backpack weighed exactly six ounces, was slightly bigger than a pocket calculator and other than his daughter was the best investment he had ever made in his life. Nicknamed "Wit" by its owner, the tiny device had assisted Luther in his last three jobs without a hitch.

The five digits comprising this home's security code had already been supplied to Luther and programmed into his computer. Their proper sequence was still a mystery to him, but that obstacle would have to be eradicated by his tiny metal, wire and microchip companion if he wanted to avoid the ear-piercing shriek that would instantly emit from the four sound cannons planted at each corner of the ten-thousand-square-foot fortress he was invading. Then would follow the police call dialed by the nameless computer he would battle in a few moments. The home also had pressure-sensitive windows and floor plates, in addition to tamperproof door magnets. All of which would mean nothing if Wit could tear the correct code sequence from the alarm system's grasp.

He eyed the key in the door and with a practiced motion hooked Wit to his harness belt so that it hung easily against his side. The key turned effortlessly in the lock and Luther prepared to block out the next sound that he would hear, the low beep of the security system that warned of impending doom for the intruder if the correct answer was not fed into it in the allotted time and not a millisecond later.

He replaced his black leather gloves with a pair of more nimble plastic ones that had a second layer of padding on the fingertips and palms. It was not his practice to leave any evidence behind. Luther took one deep breath, then opened the portal. The shrill beep of the security system met him instantly. He quickly moved into the enormous foyer and confronted the alarm panel.

The automatic screwdriver whirled noiselessly; the six metal pieces dropped into Luther's hands and then were deposited in a carrier on his belt. Slender wires attached to Wit flashed against the sliver of moonlight seeping through the window beside the door, and then Luther, probing momentarily like a surgeon through a patient's chest cavity, found the correct spot, clipped the strands into place and then flipped on the power source to his companion.

From across the foyer, a slash of crimson stared down at him. The infrared detector had already locked on Luther's thermal offset. As the seconds ticked down, it patiently waited for the security system's "brain" to pronounce the intruder friend or foe.

Faster than the eye could follow, the numbers flashed across Wit's digital screen in neon amber; the allotted time blinked down in a small box at the top-right-hand corner of the same screen.

Five seconds elapsed and then the numbers 5, 13, 9, 3 and 11 appeared on Wit's tiny glass face and locked.

The beep stopped on cue as the security system was disarmed, the red light flashed off and was replaced with the friendly green, and Luther was in business. He removed the wires, screwed the plate back on and repacked his equipment, then carefully locked the front door.

The master bedroom was on the third floor, which could be reached by an elevator down the main first-floor hallway to the right, but Luther chose the stairs instead. The less dependent he was on anything he did not have complete control over the better. Getting stuck in an elevator for several weeks was not part of his battle plan.

He looked at the detector in the corner of the ceiling as its rectangular mouth smiled at him, its surveillance arc asleep for now. Then he headed up the staircase.

The master bedroom door was not locked. In a few seconds he had his low-power, nonglare work lamp set up and took a moment to look around. The green glow from a second control panel mounted next to the bedroom door broke the darkness.

The house itself had been built within the last five years; Luther had checked the records at the courthouse and had even managed to gain access to a set of blueprints of the place from the planning commissioner's office, it being large enough to require special blessing from the local government as though they would ever actually deny the rich their wishes.

There were no surprises in the building plans. It was a big, solid house more than worth the multimillion-dollar price tag that had been paid in cash by its owner.

Indeed, Luther had visited this home once before, in broad daylight, with people everywhere. He had been in this very room and he had seen what he needed to see. And that was why he was here tonight.

Six-inch crown molding peered down at him as he knelt next to the gigantic, canopied bed. Next to the bed was a nightstand. On it were a small silver clock, the newest romance novel of the day and an antique silver-plated letter opener with a thick leather handle.

Everything about the place was big and expensive. There were three walk-in closets in the room, each about the size of Luther's living room. Two were occupied by women's clothes and shoes and purses and every other female accoutrement one could rationally or irrationally spend money on. Luther glanced at the framed prints on the nightstand and wryly observed the twenty-something "little woman" next to the seventy-something husband.

There were many types of lotteries in the world and not all of them state-run.

Several of the photos showed off the lady of the house's proportions to almost maximum degree, and his quick examination of the closet revealed that her dressing pleasures leaned to the downright sleazy.

He looked up at the full-length mirror, studying the ornate carvings around its edges. He next surveyed the sides. It was a heavy, nifty bit of work, built right into the wall, or so it seemed, but Luther knew that hinges were carefully hidden into the slight recess six inches from the top and bottom.

Luther looked back at the mirror. He had the distinct advantage of having seen a target like this full-length model a couple of years ago although he hadn't planned to crack it. But you didn't ignore a second golden egg just because you had the first in hand, and that second golden egg had been worth about fifty thou'. The prize on the other side of this private looking glass he figured would be about ten times that.

Using brute force and the aid of a crowbar he could overcome the locking system built into the mirror's carvings but that would take precious time. And, more than that, it would leave behind obvious signs of the place having been violated. And although the house was supposed to be empty for the next several weeks, one never knew. When he left the Coppers there would be no obvious evidence he had ever been there. Even upon their return the owners might not check the vault for some time. In any event, he did not have to take the hard route.

He walked quickly over to the large-screen TV located against one wall of the vast chamber. The area was set up as a sitting room with matching chintz-covered chairs and a large coffee table. Luther looked at the three remotes lying there. One to work the TV, one for the VCR and one that would cut his night's work by ninety percent. Each had a brand name on it, each looked pretty much like the other, but a quick experiment showed that two worked their appropriate apparatus and one did not.

He walked back across the room, pointed the control at the mirror and pushed the lone red button located at the bottom of the hardware. Ordinarily that action meant the VCR was recording. Tonight, in this room, it meant the bank was opening for business for its one fortunate customer.

Luther watched the door swing open easily, silently on the now-revealed no-maintenance hinges. From long habit, he replaced the control exactly where it had been, pulled a collapsible duffel bag out of his backpack and entered the vault.

As his light swept through the darkness he was surprised to see an upholstered chair sitting in the middle of the room, which looked to be about six feet by six feet. On the chair's arm rested an identical remote, obviously a safeguard against being locked in by accident. Then his eyes took in the shelves down each side.

The cash, bundled neatly, went in first, then the contents of the slender boxes that were definitely not costume jewelry. Luther counted about two hundred thousand dollars' worth of negotiable bonds and other securities, and two small boxes of antique coins and another of stamps, including one of an inverted figure that made Luther swallow hard. He ignored the blank checks and the boxes full of legal documents, which were worthless to him. His quick assessment ended at almost two million dollars, probably more.

He took one more look around, taking care not to miss any stray nook. The walls were thickñhe figured they had to be fireproof, or as fireproof as man could make something. The place wasn't hermetically sealed; the air was fresh, not stale. Somebody could stay in here for days.

The limo moved quickly down the road followed by the van, each driver expert enough to accomplish this feat without the benefit of headlights.

Inside the spacious back seat of the limo were a man and two women, one of whom was close to being drunk and who was doing her best to undress the man and herself right there, despite the gentle defensive efforts of her victim.

The other woman sat across from them tight-lipped, ostensibly trying to ignore the ridiculous spectacle, which included girlish giggling and much panting, but in reality she closely observed every detail of the pair's efforts. Her focus was on a large book that sat open in her lap where appointments and notes battled each other for space and the attention of the male sitting across from her, who took the opportunity of his companion wrenching off her spike heels to pour himself another drink. His capacity for alcohol was enormous. He could drink twice the amount he had already consumed tonight and there would be no outward signs, no slurring of speech or impeded motor functionsñwhich would have been deadly for a man in his position.

She had to admire him, his obsessions, his truly raw edges, while at the same time his being able to project an image to the world that cried out purity and strength, normalcy but, at the same time, greatness. Every woman in America was in love with him, enamored with his classic good looks, immense self-assurance and also what he represented, for all of them. And he returned that universal admiration with a passion, however misplaced, that astonished her.

Unfortunately, that passion had never pointed itself in her direction despite her subtle messages, the touches that lingered a shade too long; how she maneuvered to see him first thing in the morning when she looked her best, the sexual references used in their strategy sessions. But until that time cameñand it would come, she kept telling herselfñshe would be patient.

She looked out the window. This was taking too long; it threw everything else off. Her mouth curled up in displeasure.

HHH Luther heard the vehicles enter the front drive. He flitted to a window and followed the mini-caravan as it went around back, where it would be hidden from view from the front drive. He counted four people alighting from the limo, one from the van. His mind scrolled swiftly through possible identities. Too small a party for it to be the owners of the house. Too many for it to be someone simply checking on the place. He could not make out any faces. For one ironic instant Luther debated whether the home was destined to be burgled twice on the same night. But that was too enormous a coincidence. In this business, like a lot of others, you played the percentages. Besides, criminals did not march up to their targets wearing clothing more suitable for a night on the town.

He thought quickly as noises filtered up to him, presumably from outside the rear of the house. It took him a second to realize that his retreat was cut off and to calculate what his plan of action would be.

Grabbing his bag, he raced to the alarm panel next to the bedroom door and activated the home's security system, silently thanking his memory for numbers. Then Luther slipped across to the vault and entered it, carefully closing the door behind him. He pushed himself as far back into the little room as he could. Now he had to wait.

He cursed his misfortune; everything had been going so smoothly. Then he shook his head clear, forced himself to breathe regularly. It was like flying. The longer you did it, the greater your chance of something bad happening. He would just have to hope that the house's most recent arrivals would have no need to make a deposit in the private bank he was now occupying.

A burst of laughter and then the drum of voices filtered up to him, together with the loud beep from the alarm system, which sounded like a jet plane screeching directly over his head. Apparently there was slight confusion about the security code. A bead of sweat appeared on Luther's forehead as he envisioned the alarm exploding and the police wanting to examine every inch of the house just in case, starting with his little roost.

He wondered how he would react as he listened to the mirrored door being opened, a light blazing in, without the slightest possibility of missing him. The strange faces peering in, the drawn guns, the reading of his rights. He almost laughed. Trapped like a fucking rat, nowhere to go. He hadn't had a cigarette in almost thirty years, but now he desperately craved a smoke. He put his bag down quietly and slowly let his legs out straight so they wouldn't go to sleep.

Heavy steps on the oak plank staircase. Whoever they were they didn't care who knew they were there. Luther counted four, possibly five. They turned left and headed his way.

The door to the bedroom opened with a slight squeak. Luther searched his mind. Everything had been picked up or put back in its place. He'd only touched the remote, and he had replaced it right in line with the slight dust pattern. Now Luther could only hear three voices, a man and two women. One of the females sounded drunk, the other was all business. Then Ms. Business disappeared, the door closed but wasn't locked, and Ms. Drunk and the man were alone. Where were the others? Where had Ms. Business gone? The giggles continued. Footsteps came closer to the mirror. Luther scrunched down in the corner as far as he could, hoping that the chair would shield him from view but knowing that it couldn't possibly.

Then a burst of light hit him right in the eyes and he almost gasped at the suddenness of his little world going from inky black to broad daylight. He blinked rapidly to adjust to the new level of brightness, his pupils going from almost full dilation to pinpoints in seconds. But there were no screams, no faces, no guns.

Finally, after a full minute had passed, Luther peered around the corner of the chair and received another shock. The vault door seemed to have disappeared; he was staring right into the goddamned room. He almost fell backward but caught himself. Luther suddenly understood what the chair was for.

He recognized both of the people in the room. The woman he had seen tonight already, in the photos: the little wife with the hooker taste in clothes.

The man he knew for an altogether different reason; he certainly wasn't the master of this house. Luther slowly shook his head in amazement and let out his breath. His hands shook and a queasiness crept over him. He fought back the grip of nausea and stared into the bedroom.

The vault door also served as a one-way mirror. With the light on outside and darkness in his little space, it was as though he were watching a giant TV screen.

Then he saw it and a fist of breath kicked out of his lungs: the diamond necklace on the woman's neck. Two hundred thou to his practiced eye, maybe more. And just the sort of bauble one would routinely put away in a home vault before retiring for the evening. Then his lungs relaxed as he watched her take the piece off and casually drop it on the floor.

His fear receded enough to where he rose and inched over to the chair and slowly eased himself into it. So the old man sat here and watched his little woman get her brains screwed out by a procession of men. From the looks of her, Luther figured that some members of that procession included young guys making minimum wage or hanging on to freedom by the width of a green card. But her gentleman caller tonight was in an altogether different class.

He looked around, his ears focused for any sound of the other inhabitants of the house. But what could he really do? In over thirty years of active larceny, he had never encountered anything like this, so he decided to do the only thing he could. With only an inch of glass separating him from absolute destruction, he settled down quietly into the deep leather and waited.

Copyright © 1996 by Columbus Rose, Ltd"

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 126 Customer Reviews
  • Posted March 28, 2012

    Surprise Ending if you've seen the movie! Great book!

    I hesitated to purchase the book because I saw the movie several years ago. Like most books turned into movies, the movie doesnt' do the book justice but the movie changed the story ending significantly. If you haven't read this book it's worth it! I thoroughly enjoyed it.

    7 out of 7 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 29, 2013

    Hard book to put down!

    Hard book to put down!

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 13, 2013

    Didn't finish

    I usually love this author, however, this book is different than his usual style. I decided to stop because of language and sexual content. Very disappointed.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 3, 2013

    Surpringly good

    Not my usualcupof tea but i enjoyed emmencely

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted November 23, 2011

    Highly recommend

    Very good book. I could not put it down. Without a doubt, the best book I have read in a number of years. I would recommend this book to my friends.

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted October 7, 2011

    Suspense on every page! Could NOT put it down..

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted March 26, 2010

    more from this reviewer

    Fantastic reader!

    I've been a fan of David Baldacci's political thrillers for a while now, but realized I had never read Absolute Power - the one that started his string of bestsellers. (17!)

    Luther Whitney is a master burglar. For the last twenty years, he's tried to keep his nose clean. But he pulls one last job for an old friend. He breaks in without incident, but is suddenly forced to hide when the owner and some others come home. He is stunned when the unthinkable happens - even more unbelievable is the perpetrator - the President of the United States.

    Luther turns to lawyer Jack Graham - the ex boyfriend of his estranged daughter.

    What a great premise for a story! And Baldacci does it masterfully. The plotting is tight and the action non stop. I enjoyed discovering Baldacci's 'beginning.' He has made the secret service/White House thriller genre his own.

    But the reader in this case was fantastic. Scott Brick is an award winning audio book narrator. His voice is rich and resonant, conveying the suspense of this novel, keeping me on the edge of my chair. His voice conveys so much, from the malevolence of the bad guys to the uncertainty of a bewildered daughter.

    There was a bonus short story included on the last disc (17!) of this set. I didn't realize that this book had been made into a movie starring Clint Eastwood and Gene Hackman in 1997.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted February 25, 2010

    Absolute Power is Fantastic

    David Baldacci rivets you to the chair! It is nearly impossible to set the book down once started. Characters have life-like attributes, no fairytale prefection or super strength endurance, just real people caught up into an incredible adventure. The storyline is a swift current that whips you down the course, periodically snagging and tossing you into a whirlpool! Just when you think you know what will happen, the course changes and a new surprise twist is revealed. I really enjoy ready Baldacci's novels, it is a guaranteed roller coaster ride!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 30, 2003

    WOW!!!

    WOW!!! is the only explation i can give u for this book, it is just absolutely amazing and so intresting to read. The author did a great job planing every detail, he did it so carefully and so perfectly so that everything added up. Also the fact that he never failed to suprise you not for one minute through out the entire book made it even better. One of the things i enjoyed in this book was the way who the autor showed us the different points of view, such as the view of a lawyer,detective, and the bad guys. The Dramatic Irony was also very powerfull in the book and the way the author played with it was just amazing. Another one of my faviorte things about this book was the ending, i was just in shock i think for a moment there i actually thought that President would get a way with murder i mean the more i thought about the more the question 'why not' came to mind. This book is ment for readers who enjoy criminal fiction and dont mind following up with a lot of facts, if your not that type of person your probably not gonna injoy this book. It Is just absolutly wonderfull and i highly recomend it.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 15, 2003

    A highly engaging thriller

    One of the best suspense-laden novels I¿ve ever read, 'Absolute Power' will make the slowest of readers tear through its pages with reckless abandon. The story begins in a lavish Virginia suburb, where a career burglar named Luther Whitney has been casing a particular house for weeks on end. The night he finally makes his move on the house, everything goes perfectly, until some unexpected visitors arrive. One of them is the President of the United States, and when he murders his mistress, Luther witnesses everything. From that moment on, he finds himself immersed in a web of cover-ups, lies, and murder that rise to the highest echelons of government. This is one of those rare thrillers that will truly keep you riveted to your seat as you wonder whether or not your favorite character will be seen, caught, or who knows what! Definitely give this book a read. You won¿t be disappointed... >>>> Britt Gillette, Author of 'Conquest of Paradise'

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 29, 2002

    Absolute Power is more than just "a good read."

    Baldacci's first novel is a well-crafted suspense thriller featuring a superb plot, a protagonist who is both real and likeable, and secondary characters that come alive. As with most good novelists, Baldacci writes a strong beginning. Elderly burglar Luther Whitney, while engaged in his criminal occupation, is caught in the web of a poweful spider as he sets out to burglarize a home but instead becomes a reluctant witness to a brutal murder in which Alan Richmond, President of the U.S. is involved. Too late, the reader will realize he's hooked, and there's no way out for him but to read on to the exciting finish. Protagonist Jack Graham, a young, hard-working lawyer and former lover of Whitney's beautiful daughter, Kate, is inexorably drawn into this web by his desire to help them, and if possible, rekindle the relationship he once enjoyed with Kate. Seth Frank, chief homicide detective for the rural Virginia county in which the murder occurs, is propelled by his sense of duty as he attempts to piece together clues that will unravel the mystery and reveal what really happened to the wife of Walter Sullivan, wealthy friend of the President. But, it's through the character of President Richmond and those around him that we are shown what this novel is really about. Richmond and his staff are moral relativists. They do not believe in any objective standards, nor do they believe that truth exists. This is a dangerous combination in anyone, but particulalrly so when present in politicians and others in positions of power and authority; it can easily lead to a belief that one is above the law. Richomnd is a man corrupted by the power of his office, who mistakenly feels that the most important person in the world is himself. He also thinks that moral standards are for the bourgoise, not him, that he is above the law, and therefore, can do anything he pleases. Attributes such as these, combined with a ruthless pragmatism, lead him to the ultimate vices; betrayal of his best friend, and worse. Gloria Russell, Richmond's top assistant, driven by lust for Richmond and an unbridled quest for shared power, orchestrates a cover-up to protect Richmond. She tries to conceal his wrongdoing and help him retain power, using a piece of commandeered evidence to accomplish that and to obtain her personal goal. Secret Service Agent Bill Burton, victim of a misdirected sense of loyalty, does the expedient thing again and again in the service of his boss, until finally he understands that he has destroyed his own integrity and self-respect, and a life without these is a life not worth living. Lord Acton is often quoted as saying, "Power tends to corrupt. Absolute power tends to corrupt absolutely." It's from this famous quote that Baldacci's title is drawn. But what Acton may not have understood is that power, no matter how absolute, will only corrupt if its possessor is devoid of sound moral values. Freed from the healthy restraining influence of high moral standards, a person can and will exercise power badly. The result is usually the creation of strife and turmoil in his own life and in the lives of those around him. This is an adult novel for adult readers. It's more than just "a good read." It's an intense, fascinating, absorbing novel. I heartily recommend it.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 10, 2014

    Emilee

    Walks in

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 10, 2014

    Magnolia

    I'll bite. But I don't want to retype my bio. It's at ron res one.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 15, 2014

    Alex to Shawn

    (BRUCE IS TRYING TO KILL ME AT 'rpaj' RES 1!!) she lies on the ground limp.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 13, 2014

    Shawn

    Gtg. See yah!

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 10, 2014

    SCHOOL FOR THE SUPERVERLY GIFTED

    Welcome students to School for the Supers. Here you will be trained to battle villians... or become one. Bios here. At the gym one by one, you will be classed by your powers as phydical or mental. Then your classes will begin. Bios should include your name, age, how you got your power, a back story, your powers, appearamce, and personality. You will be judged by how well you display your powers at res four. Then comes the seperation. Mentals will have classes res 5- 12. Physicals will have 13-20. Good luck.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 9, 2014

    Kristy

    Yea i think that means for me to go.... sighs sadly and starts to walk away

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 9, 2014

    Alyssa

    I dont like my name... i just thought if i could use her name for a bit...no one would find out...and i feel like sh.it for what i did

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 9, 2014

    Zach

    Sighs. "I...just....err..i..!!!!" I muttered. I go to res 5.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 5, 2013

    Excellent read!

    I really enjoyed Absolute Power by David Baldacci. The plot was engaging and there were a lot of twists and turns. Highly recommended.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 126 Customer Reviews

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