The Eleventh Commandment [NOOK Book]

Overview



ELEVENTH COMMANDMENT

Jeffrey Archer

Connor Fitzgerald has an impressive resume. Military hero. Devoted family man. Servant of his country—as an assassin. Just as he’s about to put his twenty-eight-year career at the CIA behind him, he comes up against the most dangerous enemy he’s ever faced: His own boss, Helen Dexter.

As Director of the CIA, Dexter has always been the one to hold the strings. But when...

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The Eleventh Commandment

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Overview



ELEVENTH COMMANDMENT

Jeffrey Archer

Connor Fitzgerald has an impressive resume. Military hero. Devoted family man. Servant of his country—as an assassin. Just as he’s about to put his twenty-eight-year career at the CIA behind him, he comes up against the most dangerous enemy he’s ever faced: His own boss, Helen Dexter.

As Director of the CIA, Dexter has always been the one to hold the strings. But when her status is threatened by a greater power, her only hope for survival is to destroy Fitzgerald. Meanwhile, the country braces itself as tensions with a new Russian leader reach the boiling point…and it’s up to Fitzgerald to pull off his most daring mission yet: To save the world. Even if that means risking everything—including his own life—in the process.

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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
Jeffrey Archer's The Eleventh Commandment is a thrilling, tightly woven spy adventure that involves Connor Fitzgerald, the CIA's No. 1 assassin; the female director of the CIA, who wants Fitzgerald dead due to some incriminating knowledge he has about her; and a ruthless Russian president, who is determined to launch a military strike against the U.S.
Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
From the first line, former British M.P. Archer (The Fourth Estate, etc.) navigates a nonstop, rocketing ride. Middle-aged Connor Fitzgerald is a happily married man, decorated veteran and devoted father; he's also aN "NOC," a "non-official cover officer" for the CIA specializing in assassinations. The killing of a Colombian drug lord leaves Connor out of sync with the Democratic president's policy, so the director of the CIA, a woman, sets Connor up to take the fall in a fake assassination of the leading candidate for the Russian presidency, an unreconstructed Stalinist. Connor (aided by an ex-CIA deputy director whose life he once saved) gets out of a St. Petersburg jail and falls into the hands of the Russian Mafia. Wheels spin within wheels until the slam-bang climax during the new Russian president's visit to Washington. Some plot details, including the final twist, are a tad hokey, and Connor keeps his much-touted charisma under wraps, yet Archer sweeps us along (and even finds time to write himself into the plot as London's mayor, a position he's seeking in real life). The only boo-boo here is Archer's unwitting revivification of flamboyant Redskins owner and Northern Virginia tycoon Jack Kent Cooke (though he was a character). In any case, readers won't mind the occasional giddiness: this isn't Tolstoy, it's fun.
Kirkus Reviews
"This was the real world," CIA assassin Connor Fitzgerald reminds himself as he escapes from his latest messy job without a single "Rambo-type helicopter" for help. Fortunately, he couldn't be more wrong: He's got both feet firmly planted in Archerland Deluxe. After getting out of Colombia just in time for what would be the opening credits if this were a James Bond movie, beloved hit-man Connor, a decorated Vietnam vet and devoted family man who's only a wink and a smile from reassignment to a cushy desk job, gets the bad news: His hard-nosed boss, CIA director Helen Dexter, gives him a choice between heading the agency office in Cleveland (Cleveland!) and taking early retirement. Seems that Connor knows secrets that would help the exasperated President bury Dexter deep, and Dexter, rabidly opposed to a CIA-gutting arms reduction bill the Chief Executive's negotiating (and, at any rate, not one to go gently into that good night), has arranged a spectacular bit of treachery to make sure Connor never gets a chance to spill the beans. He's sent packing off to Moscow for one last job—to eliminate Victor Zerimski, the warmongering Communist candidate for the Russian presidency. It's just like Connor's other jobs, except for two differences: It hasn't been authorized by the White House (despite a tricky bit of techno-wizardry that fools Connor into thinking it has), and it's not supposed to be successful. Instead, Dexter's minions will tip the Russians off just in time to send Connor on a one-way ticket to St. Petersburg's fearsome Crucifix prison. Once Connor's locked away, the verdict and sentence are a foregone conclusion, and no one's escaped from Crucifix sincebest-selling Archer (Twelve Red Herrings, 1994, etc.) was a gleam in his ancestors' eyes. There's much, much more—roping in the Russian Mafia, the Washington Redskins, a dozen double-crosses, and two returns from the grave—all of it the most rousing moonshine.
From the Publisher

Praise for international bestselling author

JEFFREY ARCHER

“One of the top ten storytellers in the world.” —Los Angeles Times

“There isn’t a better storyteller alive.” —Larry King

“Archer plots with skill, and keeps you turning the pages.” —The Boston Globe

“Cunning plots, silken style…. Archer plays a cat-and-mouse game with the reader.” —The New York Times

“Archer is a master entertainer.” —Time

“A storyteller in the class of Alexandre Dumas…unsurpassed skill.” —Washington Post

And his novels and short story collections

ONLY TIME WILL TELL

“Archer delivers another page-turning, heart-stopping saga, with delightful twists, and a surprise ending… readers will surely wait for the next with bated breath.”

Publishers Weekly

“General readers as well as Archer fans will enjoy this unforgettable tale, which abounds with cliff-hangers that propel its intriguing and intricate plot.”

Library Journal (starred review)

“What appears at the outset to be a straightforward coming-of-age tale becomes, by the end, a saga of power, betrayal, and bitter hatred. The novel ends on a deliberately dark note, setting the stage for the sequel…An outstanding effort from a reliable veteran.”

Booklist (starred review)

“By the time you make it to the last page, the drama of Harry Clifton’s young life takes the reader to the edge of the cliff, where they must hang until the next Clifton Chronicle.”
Sunday Telegraph

 

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781466806689
  • Publisher: St. Martin's Press
  • Publication date: 7/2/2013
  • Sold by: Macmillan
  • Format: eBook
  • Edition description: Premium Edition
  • Pages: 464
  • Sales rank: 8,397
  • File size: 773 KB

Meet the Author

Jeffrey Archer


JEFFREY ARCHER was educated at Oxford University. He has served five years in Britain’s House of Commons and fourteen years in the House of Lords. All of his novels and short story collections—including And Thereby Hangs a Tale, A Prisoner of Birth, and Kane & Abel—have been international bestsellers. Archer is married with two sons and lives in London and Cambridge.

Biography

Few contemporary writers can lay claim to as many career highs and lows as Jeffrey Archer -- bestselling novelist, disgraced politician, British peer, convicted perjurer, and former jailbird. And whether you view his misfortunes as bad luck or well-deserved comeuppance depends largely on how you feel about this gregarious, fast-talking force of nature.

Born in London and raised in Somerset, Archer attended Wellington School and worked at a succession of jobs before being hired to teach Physical Education at Dover College. He gained admission to Brasenose College at Oxford, where he distinguished himself as a first-class sprinter and a tireless promoter, famously inveigling the Beatles into supporting a fundraising drive he spearheaded on behalf of the then-obscure charity Oxfam.

After leaving Oxford, Archer continued work as a fundraiser and ran successfully for political office. He was elected to the House of Commons in 1969 but was forced to step down in 1974 when he lost his fortune in a fraudulent investment scheme. He turned to writing in order to stave off bankruptcy. His first novel, Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less, was published in 1976 and became an instant hit. It was followed, in quick succession, by a string of bestsellers, including his most famous novel, Kane and Abel (1979), which was subsequently turned into a blockbuster CBS-TV miniseries.

On the strength of his literary celebrity, Archer revived his political career in 1985, serving as Deputy Chairman of the Conservative Party under Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. The following year he was forced to resign over a scandal involving payment to a London prostitute. (He admitted paying the money, but denied vehemently that it was for sex.) In 1987, he sued a British tabloid for libel and was awarded damages in the amount of 500,000 pounds.

Despite the adverse publicity, Queen Elizabeth (acting on the advice of Prime Minister John Major) awarded Archer a life peerage in 1992. The Conservative Party selected him to run for Mayor of London in the 2000 election, but he withdrew from the race when perjury charges were brought against him in the matter of the 1987 libel trial. In 2001, he was convicted and served half of a four-year prison term. (He turned the experience into three bestselling volumes of memoir!) Since his release, Lord Archer has expressed no interest in returning to public office, choosing instead to concentrate on charity work and on his writing career.

Controversy has dogged Archer most of his adult life. Claims still circulate that he falsified his paperwork to gain entrance to Oxford; and, at various other times, he has been accused of shoplifting, padding expenses, insider trading, misappropriation of funds, and financing a failed coup d'état against a foreign government. Needless to say, all this has kept him squarely in the sights of the British tabloids.

Yet, for all the salacious headlines and in spite of lukewarm reviews, Archer remains one of Britain's most popular novelists. His books will never be classified as great literature, but his writing is workmanlike and he has never lost his flair for storytelling. In addition to his novels, he has also written short stories and plays. Clearly, in "art," as in life, Jeffrey Archer has proved himself an affable survivor.

Good To Know

Archer was once a competitive runner and represented Great Britain in international competition.

Regarding the sex scandal that ultimately landed her husband in prison, Lady Mary Archer, the author's wife of 35 years, told reporters that she was "cross" with her husband but that "we are all human and Jeffrey manages to be more human than most. I believe his virtues and talents are also on a larger scale."

The prison where Archer was transferred for carrying out his perjury sentence in October 2001 is a "low security" jail on the Lincolnshire coast, a facility known for raising high-quality pork. According to one authority, "It is considered to be a cushy little place."

After his "fall from grace," Archer counted former Conservative PMs Margaret Thatcher and John Major among his many loyal supporters.

In the 1980s, Archer and his wife, Mary, purchased the Old Vicarage, Grantchester, a house associated with the poet Rupert Brooke.
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    1. Hometown:
      London and the Old Vicarage, Grantchester
    1. Date of Birth:
      April 15, 1940
    1. Education:
      Attended Brasenose College, Oxford, 1963-66. Received a diploma in sports education from Oxford Institute

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE
 

As he opened the door, the alarm went off.
The sort of mistake you would expect an amateur to make, which was surprising, since Connor Fitzgerald was considered by his peers to be the professional’s professional.
Fitzgerald had anticipated that it would be several minutes before the local policía responded to a burglary in the San Victorina district.
There were still a couple of hours to go before the kickoff of the annual match against Brazil, but half the television sets in Colombia would already be switched on. If Fitzgerald had broken into the pawnshop after the game had started, the policía probably wouldn’t have followed it up until the referee had blown the final whistle. It was well known that the local criminals regarded the match as a ninety-minute parole period. But his plans for that ninety minutes would have the policía chasing their own shadows for days. And it would be weeks, probably months, before anyone worked out the real significance of the break-in that Saturday afternoon.
The alarm was still sounding as Fitzgerald closed the back door and made his way quickly through the small storeroom toward the front of the shop. He ignored the rows of watches on their little stands, emeralds in their cellophane bags, and gold objects of every size and shape displayed behind a fine-mesh grille. All were carefully marked with a name and date, so their impoverished owners could return within six months and reclaim their family heirlooms. Few ever did.
Fitzgerald swept aside the bead curtain that divided the storeroom from the shop, and paused behind the counter. His eyes rested on a battered leather case on a stand in the center of the window. Printed on the lid in faded gold letters were the initials DVR. He remained absolutely still until he was certain that no one was looking in.
When Fitzgerald had sold the handcrafted masterpiece to the shopkeeper earlier that day, he had explained that as he had no intention of returning to Bogotá, it could go on sale immediately. Fitzgerald was not surprised that the piece had already been placed in the window. There wouldn’t be another one like it in Colombia.
He was about to climb over the counter when a young man strolled past the window. Fitzgerald froze, but the man’s attention was wholly occupied by a small radio he was pressing to his left ear. He took about as much notice of Fitzgerald as he would of a dressmaker’s dummy. Once he was out of sight, Fitzgerald straddled the counter and walked to the window. He glanced up and down the road to check for any casual observers, but there were none. With one movement he removed the leather case from its stand and walked quickly back. He leapt over the counter and turned to look out of the window again to reassure himself that no inquisitive eyes had witnessed the burglary.
Fitzgerald swung around, pulled aside the bead curtain and strode on toward the closed door. He checked his watch. The alarm had been blaring away for ninety-eight seconds. He stepped into the alley and listened. Had he heard the whine of a police siren, he would have turned left and disappeared into the maze of streets that ran behind the pawnbroker’s shop. But apart from the alarm, everything remained silent. He turned right and walked casually in the direction of Carrera Septima.
When Connor Fitzgerald reached the pavement he glanced left and then right, wove through the light traffic and, without looking back, crossed to the far side of the street. He disappeared into a crowded restaurant, where a group of noisy fans were seated around a large-screen television.
Nobody gave him a glance. Their only interest was in watching endless replays of the three goals Colombia had scored the previous year. He took a seat at a corner table. Although he couldn’t see the television screen clearly, he had a perfect view across the street. A battered sign with the words J. ESCOBAR. MONTE DE PIEDAD, ESTABLECIDO 1946, flapped in the afternoon breeze above the pawnshop.
Several minutes passed before a police car screeched to a halt outside the shop. Once Fitzgerald had seen the two uniformed officers enter the building, he left his table and walked nonchalantly out of the back door onto another quiet Saturday-afternoon street. He hailed the first empty taxi and said in a broad South African accent, “El Belvedere on the Plaza de Bolívar, por favor.” The driver nodded curtly, as if to make it clear that he had no wish to become involved in a prolonged conversation. As Fitzgerald slumped into the back of the battered yellow cab, he turned up the radio.
Fitzgerald checked his watch again. Seventeen minutes past one. He was running a couple of minutes behind schedule. The speech would have already begun, but as they always lasted for well over forty minutes, he still had more than enough time to carry out his real reason for being in Bogotá. He moved a few inches to his right, so as to be sure the driver could see him clearly in the rearview mirror.
Once the policía began their investigations, Fitzgerald needed everyone who had seen him that day to give roughly the same description: male, Caucasian, fiftyish, a shade over six feet, around 210 pounds, unshaven, dark unruly hair, dressed like a foreigner, with a foreign accent, but not American. He hoped that at least one of them would be able to identify the South African nasal twang. Fitzgerald had always been good at accents. In high school he had regularly been in trouble for mimicking his teachers.
The taxi’s radio continued to pump out the views of expert after expert on the likely outcome of the annual fixture. Fitzgerald mentally switched off from a language he had little interest in mastering, although he had recently added falta, fuera, and gol to his limited vocabulary.
When the little Fiat drew up outside the El Belvedere seventeen minutes later, Fitzgerald handed over a ten-thousand-peso note and had slipped out of the cab before the driver had a chance to thank him for such a generous tip. Not that the taxi drivers of Bogotá are well known for their overuse of the words muchas gracias.
Fitzgerald ran up the hotel steps, past the liveried doorman and through the revolving doors. In the foyer he headed straight for the bank of elevators opposite the check-in desk. He had to wait only a few moments before one of the four elevators returned to the ground floor. When the doors slid open he stepped inside and pressed the button marked 8, and the CLOSE button immediately afterward, giving no one a chance to join him. When the doors opened on the eighth floor, Fitzgerald walked down the thinly carpeted corridor to Room 807. He pushed a plastic card into the slot and waited for the green light to glow before he turned the handle. As soon as the door opened, he placed the FAVOR DE NO MOLESTAR sign on the outside knob, closed the door, and bolted it.
He checked his watch yet again: twenty-four minutes to two. By now he calculated that the police would have left the pawnshop, having concluded that it was a false alarm. They would phone Mr. Escobar at his home in the country to inform him that everything appeared to be in order, and would suggest that when he returned to the city on Monday, he should let them know if anything was missing. But long before then Fitzgerald would have replaced the battered leather case in the window. On Monday morning the only items that Escobar would report stolen would be the several small packets of uncut emeralds that had been removed by the policía on their way out. How long would it be before he discovered the only other thing that was missing? A day? A week? A month? Fitzgerald had already decided he would have to leave the odd clue to help speed up the process.
Fitzgerald took off his jacket, hung it over the nearest chair, and picked up the remote control from a table by the side of the bed. He pressed the On button and sat down on the sofa in front of the television. The face of Ricardo Guzman filled the screen.
Fitzgerald knew that Guzman would be fifty next April, but at six feet one, with a full head of black hair and no weight problem, he could have told the adoring crowd that he had not yet turned forty and they would have believed him. After all, few Colombians expected their politicians to tell the truth about anything, especially their age.
Ricardo Guzman, the favorite in the upcoming presidential election, was the boss of the Cali cartel, which controlled 80 percent of the New York cocaine trade and made over a billion dollars a year. Fitzgerald had not come across this information in any of Colombia’s three national newspapers, perhaps because the supply of most of the country’s newsprint was controlled by Guzman.
“The first action I shall take as your president will be to nationalize any company in which Americans are the majority shareholders.”
The small crowd that surrounded the steps of the Congress building on the Plaza de Bolívar screamed its approval. Ricardo Guzman’s advisers had told him again and again that it would be a waste of time making a speech on the day of the match, but he had ignored them, calculating that millions of television viewers would be clicking through the channels in search of the soccer and would come across him on their screens, if only for a moment. The same people would then be surprised, only an hour later, to see him striding into the packed stadium. Football bored Guzman, but he knew that his entrance moments before the home team was due to take the field would divert the crowd’s attention from Antonio Herrera, the Colombian vice president and his main rival in the election. Herrera would be seated in the VIP box, but Guzman would be in the middle of the crowd behind one of the goals. The image he wished to portray was of a man of the people.
Fitzgerald estimated that there were about six minutes of the speech left. He had already heard Guzman’s words at least a dozen times: in crowded halls, in half-empty bars, on street corners, even in a bus station while the candidate had addressed the local citizens from the back of a bus. He pulled the leather case off the bed and onto his lap.
“Antonio Herrera is not the Liberal candidate,” hissed Guzman, “but the American candidate. He is nothing more than a ventriloquist’s dummy, whose every word is chosen for him by the man who sits in the Oval Office.” The crowd cheered again.
Five minutes, Fitzgerald calculated. He opened the case and stared down at the Remington 700 that had been out of his sight for only a few hours.
“How dare the Americans assume that we will always fall in line with whatever is convenient for them?” Guzman barked. “And simply because of the power of the God-almighty dollar. To hell with the God-almighty dollar!” The crowd cheered even more loudly as the candidate took a dollar bill from his wallet and tore George Washington into shreds.
“I can assure you of one thing,” continued Guzman, scattering the tiny pieces of green paper over the crowd like confetti.
“God isn’t an American,” mouthed Fitzgerald.
“God isn’t an American!” shouted Guzman.
Fitzgerald gently removed the McMillan fiberglass stock from the leather case.
“In two weeks’ time the citizens of Colombia will be given the opportunity to let their views be heard right across the world,” Guzman shouted.
“Four minutes,” murmured Fitzgerald, as he glanced up at the screen and mimicked the smile of the candidate. He took the Hart stainless-steel barrel from its resting place and screwed it firmly into the stock. It fitted like a glove.
“Whenever summits are held around the world, Colombia will once again be sitting at the conference table, not reading about it in the press the following day. Within a year I will have the Americans treating us not as a Third World country, but as their equals.”
The crowd roared as Fitzgerald lifted the Leupold 10-power sniperscope from its place and slid it into the two little grooves on the top of the barrel.
Within a hundred days you will see changes in our country that Herrera wouldn’t have believed possible in a hundred years. Because when I am your president…”
Fitzgerald slowly nestled the stock of the Remington 700 into his shoulder. It felt like an old friend. But then, it should have: Every part had been handcrafted to his exact specifications.
He raised the telescopic sight to the image on the television screen, and lined up the little row of mil dots until they were centered an inch above the heart of the candidate.
“… conquer inflation…”
Three minutes.
“… conquer unemployment…”
Fitzgerald breathed out.
“… and thereby conquer poverty.”
Fitzgerald counted “Three, two, one,” then gently squeezed the trigger. He could barely hear the click above the noise of the crowd.
Fitzgerald lowered the rifle, rose from the sofa, and put the empty leather case down. It would be another ninety seconds before Guzman reached his ritual condemnation of President Lawrence.
He removed one of the hollow-point bullets from its little leather slot inside the lid of the case. He broke the stock and slipped the bullet into its chamber, then snapped the barrel shut with a firm upward movement.
“This will be a last chance for the citizens of Colombia to reverse the disastrous failures of the past,” cried Guzman, his voice rising with every word. “So we must be sure of one thing…”
“One minute,” murmured Fitzgerald. He could repeat word for word the final sixty seconds of a Guzman speech. He turned his attention from the television and walked slowly across the room toward the French windows.
“… that we do not waste this golden opportunity…”
Fitzgerald pulled back the lace curtain that obscured the view of the outside world and stared across the Plaza de Bolívar to the north side of the square, where the presidential candidate was standing on the top step of the Congress building, looking down on the crowd. He was about to deliver his coup de grâce.
Fitzgerald waited patiently. Never leave yourself in the open for longer than is necessary.
“Viva la Colombia!” Guzman cried. “Viva la Colombia!” the mob screamed back in a frenzy, although many of them were no more than paid flunkies strategically placed among the crowd.
“I love my country,” declared the candidate. Thirty seconds of the speech left. Fitzgerald pushed open the French windows, to be greeted by the full volume of the masses repeating Guzman’s every word.
The candidate dropped his voice almost to a whisper: “And let me make one thing clear—my love of my country is my only reason for wishing to serve as your president.”
For a second time Fitzgerald pulled the stock of the Remington 700 slowly up into his shoulder. Every eye was looking at the candidate as he boomed out the words, “Dios guarde a la Colombia!” The noise became deafening as he raised both arms high in the air to acknowledge the roars of his supporters shouting back, “Dios guarde a la Colombia!” Guzman’s hands remained triumphantly in the air for several seconds, as they did at the end of every speech. And, as always, for a few moments he remained absolutely still.
Fitzgerald lined up the tiny mil dots until they were an inch above the candidate’s heart, and breathed out as he tightened the fingers of his left hand around the stock. “Three, two, one,” he murmured under his breath before gently squeezing the trigger.
Guzman was still smiling as the boat-tailed bullet tore into his chest. A second later he slumped to the ground like a stringless puppet, fragments of bone, muscle, and tissue flying in every direction. Blood spurted over those who were standing nearest to him. The last Fitzgerald saw of the candidate was his outstretched arms, as if he were surrendering to an unknown enemy.
Fitzgerald lowered the rifle, broke the stock, and quickly closed the French windows. His assignment was completed.
His only problem now was to make sure he didn’t break the eleventh commandment.

 
Copyright © 1998 by Jeffrey Archer

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Customer Reviews

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 32 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 4, 2005

    Eleventh Commandment: A Novel

    ¿A brilliant thriller, that will greatly shock you, with it¿s cunning deception, betrayal, and lies.¿ This fictional thriller novel is about the ordinary life of a respectful American father, husband, and to-be Father-in-law, named Connor Fitzgerald. He is known, and respected by many. The only twist to his ¿ordinary¿ life is that Connor has secretly been serving the CIA for more than twenty years! However, his boss, Helen Dexter, has held the position of director of the CIA for so many years, by abusing the CIA¿s power. Now, when the new American president is threatening Helen¿s authority over the CIA, Helen will do anything, including sacrificing something, to cover herself up, after committing numerous crimes, while abusing the CIA. Nearby, a crooked, Russian president emerges from the recent Russian election, trying to bring Russia back into its former glory. But when this new president¿s insanity kicks in, Connor must save the world from a nuclear war, while trying to save his family and his very own life. Being a novel written by Jeffery Archer, it is very appealing to many people, because Jeffery Archer is well known for his brilliant thriller novels. Jeffery Archer is known as one of England¿s leading authors and in my opinion, ¿The Eleventh Commandment¿ is another excellent piece of his writing. Personally, I enjoyed ¿The Eleventh Commandment¿ for two reasons in particular. The first is that the magnificent character, and the interesting plot are well developed. The story keeps you on the edge of your seat on every page. In fact, the story is so interesting, that after reading each page, you will be surprised to learn about something that will help you solve the complex puzzle of the evil genius, Helen Dexter¿s plan to corrupt the CIA, and the new Russian president, Victor Zermiski¿s plan of taking over the world. The second reason that I really enjoyed this book is because the ending is very shocking and surprising. In my opinion, it¿s so good, that no one would ever be able to predict what will happen. I really enjoyed reading ¿The Eleventh Commandment¿ because it is a very shocking, surprising and amazing book. I recommend that the book is good for adults and young adults. So in short, ¿The Eleventh Commandment¿ is a book with a great plot, great characters, and an amazing story overall. I would recommend this book to almost anybody, so I suggest that if you enjoy reading action-thriller books that you go and buy this book!

    4 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 3, 2005

    Eleventh Commandment: A Novel

    ¿A brilliant thriller, that will greatly shock you, with it¿s cunning deception, betrayal, and lies.¿ This fictional thriller novel is about the ordinary life of a respectful American father, husband, and to-be Father-in-law, named Connor Fitzgerald. He is known, and respected by many. The only twist to his ¿ordinary¿ life is that Connor has secretly been serving the CIA for more than twenty years! However, his boss, Helen Dexter, has held the position of director of the CIA for so many years, by abusing the CIA¿s power. Now, when the new American president is threatening Helen¿s authority over the CIA, Helen will do anything, including sacrificing something, to cover herself up, after committing numerous crimes, while abusing the CIA. Nearby, a crooked, Russian president emerges from the recent Russian election, trying to bring Russia back into its former glory. But when this new president¿s insanity kicks in, Connor must save the world from a nuclear war, while trying to save his family and his very own life. Being a novel written by Jeffery Archer, it is very appealing to many people, because Jeffery Archer is well known for his brilliant thriller novels. Jeffery Archer is known as one of England¿s leading authors and in my opinion, ¿The Eleventh Commandment¿ is another excellent piece of his writing. Personally, I enjoyed ¿The Eleventh Commandment¿ for two reasons in particular. The first is that the magnificent character, and the interesting plot are well developed. The story keeps you on the edge of your seat on every page. In fact, the story is so interesting, that after reading each page, you will be surprised to learn about something that will help you solve the complex puzzle of the evil genius, Helen Dexter¿s plan to corrupt the CIA, and the new Russian president, Victor Zermiski¿s plan of taking over the world. The second reason that I really enjoyed this book is because the ending is very shocking and surprising. In my opinion, it¿s so good, that no one would ever be able to predict what will happen. I really enjoyed reading ¿The Eleventh Commandment¿ because it is a very shocking, surprising and amazing book. I recommend that the book is good for adults and young adults. So in short, ¿The Eleventh Commandment¿ is a book with a great plot, great characters, and an amazing story overall. I would recommend this book to almost anybody, so I suggest that if you enjoy reading action-thriller books that you go and buy this book!

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 27, 2003

    Top notch!!!

    This is probably on of the best action thrillers you will ever come across.From the very outset Connor Fitzgerald is a very likable guy.And as you keep turning the pages this feeling grows on you.Besides Connor, Helen Dexter and agent Jackson are very well sketched chracters who spice up the book's content.But the the real bombshell is the ending where as usual Archer comes up with a trump that is in one word 'brilliant'. All in all a smashing effort at story telling.And by the way I got pretty bad grades because i was glued to this book during the time that I should have been studying. So to all of you who haven't read this book prepare to leave everything else aside!!!!!!!

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 15, 2001

    Another Great Archer

    Jeffry Archer is one of th easiest novelists to read. The plot of this book may be a little stale, a lone agent avoiding the enemy. Some of whom are are on his own side. Connor Fitzgerald is a CIA hitman who obeys his director without question. Problem is she is not keeping to the rules and has set him up to protect herself from the wrath of the president. As you will gather this very English author has again set his work in the US system.

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 30, 2004

    Not a good book!

    I have to disagree with the other reviewers. I was really looking forward to this book after reading Jeffrey Archer's accolades on the cover, but I was sorely disappointed. I hope this isn't his best work, because it's not good. Sure, the plot is okay, and a couple of twists were unexpected, and yes, it's easy to read. Unfortunately, that's about the best I can say about it. The characters are one-dimensional. Connor Fitzgerald, the 'professional's professional,' fails to see several obvious pitfalls until he falls into them. This is an expert with 30 years of experience? The ex-CIA agent who follows Fitzgerald to Russia enlists the help of a street kid with ties to the Mafia. The kid persistently drives the agent crazy, but when the man's about to die he suddenly wishes he could leave the boy everything in his will. Where did that come from? A small error, sure, but it's just one of many similar flaws. Archer's writing style leaves much to be desired, too. The overuse of hackneyed phrases, like the stock of a rifle 'resting like an old friend against his shoulder,' shows an utter lack of imagination. Why is it that every time he mentions the President's pet piece of legislation he has to call it by it's full (and extremely long) name: The Chemical, Biological, Nuclear, and Conventional Arms Reduction Act? Once you've introduced it, what's wrong with The Arms Reduction Act? Getting paid by the word? Sorry, but this is not good writing.

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 11, 2003

    A Good Cold War Novel

    The opening chapters feature unrelenting action as Connor tracks and kills a Colombian presidential candidate and starts a chain of events that could lead to a new Cold War. But, despite his ruthless background, Connor is not a cold and hollow plot device. He's an American Medal of Honor winner who is committed to his country, but also to his spiritual home, Ireland. Archer even pauses briefly to flesh out Connor's family life and the tensions of living with secrets that his wife and beloved daughter suspect but will never know. This character work pays off as the reader follows Connor through several nations and nearly as many identities. Gradually, Connor is caught in Russia between two power brokers: CIA director Helen Dexter and President Tom Lawrence. Dexter needs her 28-year veteran agent dead or 'disappeared' in a Russian prison. But President Lawrence also needs Connor so he can finally rid himself of Dexter's tacit control of U.S. foreign policy.

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 16, 2004

    OUTSTANDING!!!!!!!!!

    This book had me reading from airport bookstore in Paris all the way back home in Houston...I was reading through it so fast I stopped for a few hours so I'd have something left on my second flight...top shelf story...would make a solid movie!

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 11, 2003

    Outstanding

    This is one of the most captivating novels that I have ever read. It holds your interest. The book is outstanding and fulfills what I want it to...entertainment. Is it real? Who cares...a real fun read.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 20, 2001

    The best 'Hold on to your seat Book' ever!

    The best book I have ever read. Archer's mix of political and personal conflicts was amazing. I recommend everyone to read this book.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 19, 2000

    Real Good!! Writes as good as Churchill.

    Simply the best fiction writer on Universe.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 11, 2000

    Writing has likness to Grisham

    This book was wonderful.It was fairly easy to follow and just left you reading chapter after chapter. I couldn't put it down!I believe that this book is similar to many of Grisham's works.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 30, 2013

    Nope....

    This book had a pretty good premise but never quite took off. Not to mention that the main character barely does anything deemed worthy of being an experienced assassin. The ending is corny at best &, in my opinion, sucks. By the way, who would honestly volunteer their life (their life!) for a plan to work that never sees fruition (I.e. Jackson)? Geez, what a let down this book was for me.

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  • Posted November 25, 2013

    Highly Recommended

    Jeffery Archer has managed to once again make me draw a breathe and not allow me to exhale until I had read the last word! He is one of 4 author's who have the honor of making me hold my breathe during a great read. None of his books have ever disappointed me. The Eleventh Commandment held my concentration and interest throughout each word. My rath hit each person who dared to interrupt my reading session! Lock yourself in a room when you start this and don't come out until it is finished.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 25, 2013

    Barnes and Noble misleads again

    B and N touts the 11th Commandment as a NEW release published in 2013 ITS 15 YEARS OLD This is perfect example of why consumers are switching to Kindle and Amazon or books on Apple devices

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 5, 2013

    Excellent!

    This was my first Jeffrey Archer novel. I know, I'm behind the times. Very good story - I'll start reading more of this author!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 5, 2013

    Intracle plot...

    I enjoyed The Eleventh Commandment by Jeffrey Archer. It had an interesting plot. Lots of action. And a good ending. I recommend this book.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 25, 2013

    Exciting

    From the first page you are completely into this book. I loved it!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 12, 2013

    His Best

    This book leaves me speachless! It is his best since Kane & Abel. Do not pick it up if you plan on sleeping because it is not going to happen. It really is WOW!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 6, 2013

    Good book, you will enjoy it.

    As always Jeffrey Archer is at the top of his game. Great page turner.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 28, 2002

    Hardly A Nail-biter

    This book is good in spurts, but the improbablity is it's ultimate downfall. Especially a cruel plot twist involving his family that is resolved in such a klunky manner, it's laughable. Helen Dexter is not believable under any circumstances nor are the shananigan's she's able to get away with without any whistles going off. Basically lazy writing in a genre that has grown tired ever since the Berlin Wall fell and Clancy started phoning it in.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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