$
Our Reader™ software is required to purchase and download eBooks. Download it here.Click here to purchase this book!
The Henderson Equation: A Washington Newspaper Brought Down a President, Now They're Going to Create One of Their Own
Overview
The people who run the influential newspaper the Washington Chronicle have just exposed and brought down a President through their investigative reports. Flushed with power, they are now attempting to create their own choice for Chief Executive. Clashing relationships within the media and in the political arena reveal the motives, insecurities, and thirst for ascendancy between rival factions fighting for power. With rich emotional characterizations, this story tears the curtain from the spin-doctors and sinister figures that populate the corridors of power in the nation's capital. Anyone who wants deeper insights into the true nature of Washington politics and intrigue will revel in this tense and suspenseful tale set in the cradle of democracy.
Author Information
Customer Reviews
There are no customer reviews available at this time. To add your review, Register or Sign In to your account using our free Reader Library software.
Product Details
-
Published by
Stonehouse Press
-
Publish Date
March 31, 2001
-
Print ISBN
1931304505
-
eBook ISBN
9781590061978
-
Imprint
Stonehouse Press
-
Filesize
877.18 KB
-
Number of Print Pages*
412
* Number of eBook pages may differ. Click here for more information.
Excerpt from The Henderson Equation by Warren Adler
Staring into the vast city room, as it subsided now from the last flurry of deadlines, Nick Gold savored a moment of comparative tranquility. Deskmen and reporters, lifting weary eyes from copy paper, might have assessed his mood as one of self-imposed hypnosis, a kind of daydreaming. News aides turned their eyes away self-consciously, as though fearing their own curious gazes would be an intrusion on the executive editor.
But while Nick's open eyes gazed into the cavernous room, the ninety-one clearly visible desks and typewriters, the clusters of nerve centers through which information had passed from brain to typewriter, from paper pile to paper pile, paragraph by paragraph, through each penciled checkpoint, the image was not registering. The mechanism of his mind was simply idling, lulled by the comforting vibrations of the big presses as they inked the awesome discharge of a Washington day, the distilled essence of a thousand minds.
Cordovan brogues planted at either side of his typewriter table, hands clasped as a cradle for his peppered head, tie loose but still plumb in its buttoned-downed place, Nick kept at bay any irritant wisp of thought that might intrude on his self-imposed tranquility.
His adrenaline would not recharge him until the completed street edition, the freshly inked "practice" sheet, was slapped smartly on his desk by one of the news aides.
The slap of the Chronicle falling on his Lucite desk top, like a slap on the butt, jarred him out of his stupor. His long legs unhitched from over the typewriter and curled under the desk as he opened the first section, smudging the ink with his fingers. He covered the headlines with a single glance, as his short-fused temper was immediately ignited by a single word. He pressed a buzzer and waited for the gruff mumble of Prescott, the copy editor.
"Remove balk, Harry, as in 'Russians Balk,' lower right, beneath the crease."





