Honour Among Thieves Part 39

Mendelssohn unzipped the bag and allowed Scott to remove the screwdrivers, knives, chisels and finally the drill, which he placed on the floor between them. He zipped the bag back up.

At 6.43 the driver pulled off the highway and followed the signs for LaGuardia. No one spoke until the car came to a halt at the kerb opposite the Marine Air terminal entrance.

As Dexter stepped out of the car, three men in tan Burberrys jumped out of a car that had drawn in immediately behind them, and preceded the Deputy Director into the terminal. Another man in a smart charcoal-grey suit, with a raincoat over his arm, held out an envelope as Dexter pa.s.sed him. The Deputy Director took the package like a good relay runner, without breaking his stride, as he continued towards the departure lounge, where three more agents were waiting for him.

Once he had checked in, Dexter Hutchins would have liked to pace up and down as he waited to board the aircraft.

Instead, he stood restlessly one yard away from the Declaration of Independence, surrounded by a circle of agents.

'The shuttle to Was.h.i.+ngton is now boarding at Gate Number 4,' announced a voice over the intercom. Nine men waited until everyone else had boarded the aircraft. When the agentstanding by the gate nodded, Dexter led his team past the ticket collector, down the boarding ramp, and onto the aircraft. They took their seats, 1A-F and 2A-F. 2E was occupied only by the bag, 2D and 2F by two men who weighed five hundred pounds between them.

The pilot welcomed them aboard and warned them there might be a slight delay. Dexter checked his watch: 7.27. He began drumming his fingers on the armrest that divided him from Scott. The flight attendant offered every one of the nine men in the first two rows a copy of USA Today. Only Mendelssohn took up her offer.

At 7.39 the aircraft taxied out onto the runway to prepare for take-off. When it stopped, Dexter asked the flight attendant what was holding diem up.

'The usual early-morning traffic,' she replied. 'The Captain has just told me that we're seventh in the queue, so we should be airborne in about ten to fifteen minutes.'

Dexter continued drumming his fingers on the armrest, while Scott couldn't take his eyes off the bag. Mendelssohn turned another page of his USA Today.

The plane swung round onto the take-off runway at 7.51, its jets revving before it moved slowly forward, then gathered speed. The wheels left the ground at 7.53.

Within moments the flight attendant returned, offering them all breakfast. She didn't get a positive response until she reached row seven. When later she gave the three crew members on the flight deck their usual morning coffee, she asked the Captain why rows three to six were unoccupied, especially as it was Independence Day.

The Captain couldn't think of a reason, and simply said, 'Keep your eye on the pa.s.sengers in rows one and two.' He became even more curious about the nine men at the front of the aircraft when he was cleared for landing as soon as he announced to air traffic control that he was seventy miles away from Was.h.i.+ngton.

He began his descent at 8.33, and was at the gate on schedule for the first time in months. When he had turned the engine off, three men immediately blocked the gangway and remained there until the Deputy Director and his party were well inside the terminal. When Dexter Hutchins emerged into the Delta gate area, one agent played John the Baptist, while three others fell in behind, acting as disciples. The Director had obviously taken seriously that fine line between protection and drawing attention. Dexter spotted four moreagents as he pa.s.sed through the terminal, and suspected there were at least another twenty hidden at strategic points on his route to the car.

As Dexter pa.s.sed under the digital clock, its red numbers clicked to 9:01. The doors slid open and he marched out onto the pavement. Three black limousines were waiting in line with drivers by their doors.

As soon as they saw the Deputy Director, the drivers of the first and third cars jumped behind their wheels and turned on their engines, while the driver of the second car held open the back door to allow Scott and Mendelssohn to climb in. The Deputy Director joined the agent in the front.

The lead car headed out in the direction of the George Was.h.i.+ngton Parkway, and within minutes the convoy was crossing the 14th Street bridge. As the Jefferson Memorial came into sight Dexter checked his watch yet again. It was 9.12. 'Easily enough time,' he remarked. Less than a minute later, they were caught in a traffic jam.

'd.a.m.n!' said Dexter. 'I forgot the streets would be cordoned off for the Independence Day parade.'

When they had moved only another half a mile in the next three minutes, Dexter told his driver they were left with no choice. 'Hit the sirens,' he said.

The driver flashed his lights, turned on his siren at full blast, and watched as the lead car veered into the inside lane and managed a steady forty miles per hour until they came off the freeway.

Dexter was now checking his watch every thirty seconds as the three cars tried to manoeuvre themselves from lane to lane, but some of Was.h.i.+ngton's citizens, unmoved by sirens and flas.h.i.+ng lights, weren't willing to let them through.

The lead car swerved between two police barriers and turned into Const.i.tution Avenue at 9.37, When Dexter saw the floats lining up for the parade, he gave the order to turn the sirens off. The last thing he needed was inquisitive eyes when they finally came to a halt outside the National Archives.

It was Scott who saw them first. He tapped Dexter on the shoulder and pointed ahead of him. A television crew was standing at the head of a long queue outside the front door of the National Archives.

'We'll never get past them,' said Dexter. Turning to Mendelssohn, he asked, 'Are there any alternative routes into the building?''There's a delivery entrance on 7th Street,' replied Mendelssohn.

'How appropriate,' said Dexter Hutchins.

'Drive past the front door and then drop me off on the corner,' said the Conservator. 'I'll cross Const.i.tution and go in by the delivery entrance.'

'Drop you off on the corner?' said Dexter in disbelief.

'If I'm surrounded by agents, everyone will. ..' began Mendelssohn.

'Yes, yes, yes,' said the Deputy Director, trying to think. He picked up the phone and instructed the two other cars to peel off.

'We're going to have to risk it,' said Scott.

'I know,' said Dexter. 'But at least you can go with him.

After all, you've never looked like an agent.' Scott wasn't sure whether he should take the remark as a compliment or not.

As they drove slowly past the National Archives, Dexter looked away from the impatient camera crew.

'How many of them?' he asked.

'About six,' said Scott. 'And I think that must be Shaw with his back to us.'

'Show me exactly where you want the car to stop,' said the Deputy Director, turning to face Mendelssohn.

'Another fifty yards,' came back the reply.

'You take the bag, Scott.'

'But...' began Mendelssohn. When he saw the expression on Dexter Hutchins' face, he didn't bother with a second word.

The car drew into the kerb and stopped. Scott grabbed the bag, jumped out, and held the door open for Mendelssohn.

Eight agents were walking up and down the pavement trying to appear innocent. None of them was looking towards the steps of the National Archives. The two unlikely looking companions quickly crossed Const.i.tution Avenue and began running up 7th Street.

When they reached the delivery entrance, Scott came face to face with an anxious Calder Marshall, who had been pacing back and forth at the bottom of the ramp.

'Thank G.o.d,' was all the Archivist said when he saw Scott and the Conservator running down the ramp. He led them silently into the open freight elevator. They travelled up two floors and then ran along the corridor until they reached the staircase that led down to the vault. Marshall turned tocheck that the two men were still with him before he began running down the steps, something no member of staff had ever seen him do before. Scott chased after the Archivist, followed by Mendelssohn. None of them stopped until they reached a set of ma.s.sive steel doors.

Marshall nodded, and a slightly breathless Conservator leaned forward and pressed a code into a little box beside the door. The steel grid opened slowly to allow the three of them to enter the vault. Once they were inside, the Conservator pressed another b.u.t.ton, and the door slid back into place.

They paused in front of the great concrete block that had been built to house the Declaration of Independence, just as a priest might in front of an altar. Scott checked his watch. It was 9.51.

Mendelssohn pressed the red b.u.t.ton and the familiar clanking and whirling sound began as the concrete blocks parted and the ma.s.sive empty frame came slowly into sight. He touched the b.u.t.ton again when the gla.s.s casing had reached chest height.

The Archivist and the Conservator walked forward while Scott unzipped the bag. The Archivist took two keys from his jacket pocket and pa.s.sed one over to his colleague. They immediately set about unlocking the twelve bolts that were evenly s.p.a.ced around the thick bra.s.s rim. Once they had completed the task they leaned over and heaved across the heavy frame until it came to rest like an open book.

Scott removed the container and pa.s.sed it over to the Archivist. Marshall eased the cap off the top of the cylinder, allowing Mendelssohn to carefully extract its contents.

Scott watched as the Archivist and the Conservator slowly unpeeled the Declaration of Independence, inch by inch, onto the waiting gla.s.s, until the original parchment was finally restored to its rightful place. Scott leaned over and took one last look at the misspelt word before the two men heaved the bra.s.s cover back into place.

'My G.o.d, the British still have a lot to answer for,' was all the Archivist said.

Calder Marshall and the Conservator quickly tightened up the twelve bolts surrounding the frame and took a pace back from the Declaration.

They paused for only a second while Scott checked his watch again. 9.57. He looked up to find Marshall andMendelssohn hugging each other and jumping up and down like children who had been given an unexpected gift-Scott coughed. 'It's 9.58, gentlemen.' The two men immediately reverted to character.

The Archivist walked back over to the concrete block. He paused for a moment and then pressed the red b.u.t.ton. The ma.s.sive frame rose, continuing its slow journey upwards to the gallery to be viewed by the waiting public.

Calder Marshall turned to face Scott. A flicker of a smile showed his relief. He bowed like a j.a.panese warrior to indicate that he felt honour had been satisfied. The Conservator shook hands with Scott and then walked over to the door, punched a code into the little box and watched the grid slide open.

Marshall accompanied Scott out into the corridor, up the staircase and back down in the freight elevator to the delivery entrance.

Thank you, Professor,' he said as they shook hands on the loading dock. Scott loped up the ramp and turned to look back once he had reached the pavement. There was no sign of the Archivist.

He jogged across 7th Street and joined Dexter in the waiting car.

'Any problems, Professor?' asked the Deputy Director.

'No. Not unless you count two decent men who look as if they've aged ten years in the past two months.'

The tenth chime struck on the Old Post Office Tower clock.

The doors of the National Archives swung open and a television crew charged in.

The Deputy Director's car moved out into the centre of Const.i.tution Avenue, where it got caught up between the floats for Tennessee and Texas. A police officer ran across and ordered the driver to pull over into 7th Street.

When the car came to a halt, Dexter wound down his window, smiled at the officer and said, 'I'm the Deputy Director of the CIA.'

'Sure. And I'm Uncle Sam,' the officer replied as he began writing out a ticket.

THE DEPUTY DIRECTOR of the CIA phoned the Director at home to tell him that it was business as usual at the National Archives. He didn't mention the traffic ticket.

The Conservator phoned his wife and tried to explain why he hadn't come home the previous night.

A woman holding a carrier bag with a rope handle contactedthe Iraqi Amba.s.sador to the UN on her mobile phone and let him know that she had killed two birds with one stone. She gave the Amba.s.sador an account number for a bank in the Bahamas.

The Director of the CIA rang the Secretary of State and a.s.sured him that the doc.u.ment was in place. He avoided saying 'back in place'.

Susan Anderson rang Scott to congratulate him on the part he had played in restoring the doc.u.ment to its rightful home.

She also mentioned in pa.s.sing the sad news that she had decided to break off her engagement.

The Iraqi Amba.s.sador to the UN instructed Monsieur Franchard to transfer the sum of nine hundred thousand dollars to the Royal Bank of Canada in the Bahamas and at the same time to close the Al Obaydi account.

The Secretary of State rang the President at the White House to inform him that the press conference scheduled for eleven o'clock that morning had been cancelled.

A reporter on the New York Daily News crime beat filed his first-edition copy from a phone booth in an underground garage on 75th Street. The headline read 'Mafia Slaying in Manhattan'.

Lloyd Adams' phone never stopped ringing, as he was continually being offered parts in everything from endors.e.m.e.nts to a feature film.

The Archivist did not return a call from one of the President's Special a.s.sistants at the White House, inviting him to lunch.

A CNN producer called in to the news desk to let them know that it must all have been a hoax. Yes, he had verified the spelling of 'Brittish', and only Dan Quayle could have thought it had two ts.

Scott phoned Hannah and told her how he wanted to spend Independence Day.

THE END