Honour Among Thieves Part 13

'Get out, you dumb b.i.t.c.h,' he said, and turned back to concentrate on redialling the numbers.

In three silent paces she was behind him. He turned a second time just as she leaned over, took the phone cord in both hands and pulled it round his neck. He raised an arm to protest as she flicked her wrists in one sharp movement. He slumped forward and fell off the bed onto the carpet, just as the voice on the phone said, 'Thank you for using AT & T.'

She realised that she shouldn't have used the phone cord.

Most unprofessional - but n.o.body called her a dumb b.i.t.c.h.

She replaced the phone on the hook and bent down, deftly hoisting the Special a.s.sistant to the President onto her shoulder. She dropped him into the laundry basket. No one would have believed such a frail woman could have lifted such a heavy weight. In truth the only use she had ever made of a degree in physics was to apply the principles of fulcrums, pivots and levers to her chosen profession.

She opened the door and checked the pa.s.sageway. At this hour it was unlikely there'd be many people around. She wheeled the basket down the corridor until she reached the housekeepers' elevator, faced the wall and waited patiently.

When the lift arrived she pressed the b.u.t.ton that would take her to the garage.

When the lift came to a halt on the lower ground floor she wheeled the basket out and over to the back of a Honda Accord, the second-most popular car in America.

Shielded by a pillar, she quickly transferred the Special a.s.sistant from the basket into the boot of the car. She then wheeled the basket back to the lift, took off her baggy black uniform, dropped it into the laundry basket, removed hercarrier bag with the long cord handle and despatched the laundry basket to the twenty-fifth floor.

She straightened up her Laura Ashley dress before climbing into the car and placing her carrier bag under the front seat. She drove out of the car park onto F Street, and had only travelled a short distance before she was stopped by a traffic cop.

She wound the window down.

'Follow the diversion sign,' he said, without even looking at her.

She glanced at the clock on her dashboard. It was 10.07.

AS THE LEAD POLICE CAR moved slowly away from the kerb, the director's tracking dolly began running backwards at the same pace along its rails. The crowds behind the barriers started to cheer and wave. If they had been making a real film the director would have called 'Cut' after twenty seconds because that fool of a coordinating officer was still standing in the middle of the road, hands on hips, oblivious to the fact that he wasn't the star of the movie.

Cavalli didn't notice the officer as he concentrated on the road ahead of him. He phoned through to Andy, who he knew would still be seated on the bench on 7th Street reading the Washington Post.

'Not much action this end, boss. A little activity at the bottom of the ramp, but no one on the street is showing any real interest. Is everything all right your end? You're running late.'

'Yes, I know, but we should be with you in about sixty seconds,' said Cavalli, as the director reached the end of his private railroad track and put one thumb in the air to indicate that the cars could now accelerate to twenty-five miles per hour. Johnny Scasiatore jumped off the dolly and walked slowly back down Pennsylvania Avenue so he could prepare himself for the second take.

Cavalli flicked the phone off and took a deep intake of breath as the motorcade pa.s.sed 9th Street; he stared at the FDR Monument that was set back on a gra.s.s plot in front of the main entrance of the Archives. The first car turned right on 7th Street; a mere half-block remained before they would reach the driveway into the loading dock. The lead motorcycles speeded up and when they were opposite Andy standing on the pavement, they swung right and drove down the ramp.

The rest of the motorcade formed a line directly oppositethe delivery entrance, while the third limousine drove down the ramp to the loading dock.

The counter-a.s.sault team were the first onto the street, and eight of them quickly formed a circle facing outwards around the third car.

After the eight men had stared in every direction for a few seconds, Cavalli jumped out of the second car, ran across to join them and opened the back door of the third car so that Lloyd Adams could get out.

Calder Marshall was waiting on the loading dock, and walked forward to greet the President.

'Nice to meet you, Mr Marshall,' said the actor, thrusting out his hand. 'I've been looking forward to this occasion for some time.'

'As, indeed, have we, Mr President. May I on behalf of my staff welcome you to the National Archives of the United States. Will you please follow me.'

Lloyd Adams and his entourage dutifully followed Marshall straight into the spartan freight elevator. As one of the Secret Service agents kept his finger on the 'open' b.u.t.ton, Cavalli gave the order for the motorcade to return to its starting point. Six motorcycles and the twelve vehicles moved off and began the journey back to rejoin the director and prepare for the second shoot.

The whole exercise of getting the actor into the building and the motorcade started on its return journey had taken less than two minutes, but Cavalli was dismayed to see that a small crowd had already gathered on the far side of the road by the Federal Trade Commission, obviously sensing something important was taking place. He only hoped Andy could deal with the problem.

Cavalli quickly slipped into the elevator, wedging himself behind Adams. Marshall had begun a short history of how the Declaration of Independence had ended up in the National Archives.

'Most people know that John Adams and Thomas Jefferson drafted the Declaration that was approved by Congress on July 4th 1776. Few, however, know that the second and third Presidents died on the same day, July 4th 1826 - fifty years to the day after the official signing.' The elevator doors opened on the ground floor and Marshall stepped out into a marble corridor and led them in the direction of his office.

'The Declaration had a long and turbulent journey, Mr President, before it ended up safely in this building.'When they reached the fifth door on the left, Marshall guided the President and his staff into his office, where coffee awaited them. Two of the Secret Service agents stepped inside while the other six remained in the corridor.

Lloyd Adams sipped his coffee as Marshall ignored his in favour of continuing the history lesson. 'After the signing ceremony, on August 2nd 1776, the Declaration was filed in Philadelphia, but because of the danger of the doc.u.ment being captured by the British, the engrossed parchment was taken to Baltimore in a covered wagon.'

'Fascinating,' said Adams in a soft drawl. 'But had it been captured by the British infantry, copies would still have been in existence, no doubt?'

'Oh certainly, Mr President. Indeed, we have a good example of one in this building executed by William J.

Stone. However, the original remained in Baltimore until 1777, when it was returned to the relative safety of Philadelphia.'

'In another wagon?' asked the President.

'Indeed,' said Marshall, not realising his guest was joking. 'We even know the name of the man who drove it, a Mr Samuel Smith. Then, in 1800, by direction of President Adams, the Declaration was moved to Washington, where it first found a home in the Treasury Department, but between 1800 and 1814 it was moved all over the city, eventually ending up in the old War Office building on 17th Street.'

'And, of course, we were still at war with Britain at that time,' said the actor.

Cavalli admired the way Adams had not only learned his lines, but done his research so thoroughly.

'That is correct, Mr President,' said the Archivist. 'And when the British fleet appeared in Chesapeake Bay, the Secretary of State, James Monroe, ordered that the doc.u.ment be moved once again. Because, as I am sure you know, Mr President, it is the Secretary of State who is responsible for the safety of the parchment, not the President.'

Lloyd Adams did know, but wasn't sure if the President would have, so he decided to play safe. 'Is that right, Mr Marshall? Then perhaps it should be Warren Christopher who is here today to view the Declaration, and not me.'

'The Secretary of State was kind enough to visit us soon after he took office,' Marshall replied.

'But he didn't want the doc.u.ment moved again,' said the actor. Marshall, Cavalli, the Lieutenant and the physiciandutifully laughed before the Archivist continued.

'Monroe, having spotted the British advancing on Washington, despatched the Declaration on a journey up the Potomac to Leesburg, Virginia.'

'August 24th,' said Adams, 'when they razed the White House to the ground.'

'Precisely,' said Marshall. 'You are well informed, sir.'

'To be fair,' said the actor, 'I've been well briefed by my Special a.s.sistant, Rex b.u.t.terworth.'

Marshall showed his recognition of the name, but Cavalli wondered if the actor was being just a little too clever.

'That night,' continued Marshall, 'while the White House was ablaze, thanks to Monroe's foresight the. Declaration was stored safely in Leesburg.'

'So when did they bring the parchment back to Washington?'

asked Adams, who could have told the Archivist the exact date.

'Not for several weeks, sir. On September 17th 1814, to be precise. With the exception of a trip to Philadelphia for the centennial celebrations and its time in Fort Knox during World War II, the Declaration has remained in the capital ever since.'

'But not in this building,' said Adams.

'No, Mr President, you are right again. It has had several other homes before ending up here, the worst being the Patent Office, where it hung opposite a window and was for years exposed to sunlight, causing the parchment irreparable damage.'

Bill O'Reilly stood in the corner, thinking how many hours of work he had had to do and how many copies he had had to destroy during the preparation stage because of that particular piece of stupidity. He cursed all those who had ever worked in the Patent Office.

'How long did it hang there?' asked Adams.

'For thirty-five years,' said Marshall, with a sigh that showed he was every bit as annoyed as Dollar Bill that his predecessors had been so irresponsible. 'In 1877 the Declaration was moved to the State Department library. Not only was smoking common at the time, but there was also an open fireplace in the room. And, I might add, the building was damaged by fire only months after the parchment had been moved.'

'That was a close one,' said Adams.

'After the war was over,' continued Marshall, 'theDeclaration was taken from Fort Knox and brought back to Washington in a Pullman carriage before it was housed in the Library of Congress.'

'I hope it wasn't exposed to the light once again,' said Adams as Cavalli's phone rang.

Cavalli slipped into the corner and listened to the director tell him, 'We're back on the starting line, ready to go whenever you are.'

'I'll call when I need you,' was all Cavalli said. He switched his phone off and returned to listen to the Archivist's disquisition.

'... in a Thermapane case equipped with a filter to screen out damaging ultra-violet light.'

'Fascinating. But when did the doc.u.ment finally reach this building?' asked Adams.

'On December 13 th 1952. It was transported from the Library of Congress to the National Archives in a tank under the armed escort of the US Marine Corps.'

'First a covered wagon, and finally a tank,' said the actor, who noticed that Cavalli kept glancing at his watch.

'Perhaps the time has come for me to see the Declaration in its full glory.'

'Of course, Mr President,' said the Archivist.

Marshall led the way back into the corridor, followed by the actor and his entourage.

'The Declaration can normally be seen by the public in the rotunda on the ground floor, but we shall view it in the vault where it is stored at night.' When they reached the end of the corridor the Archivist led the President down a flight of stairs while Cavalli kept checking over the route that would allow them the swiftest exit if any trouble arose.

He was delighted to find that the Archivist had followed his instructions and kept the corridors clear of any staff.

At the bottom of the steps, they came to a halt outside a vast steel door at which an elderly man in a long white coat stood waiting. His eyes lit up when he saw the actor.

'This is Mr Mendelssohn,' said Marshall. 'Mr Mendelssohn is the Senior Conservator and, I confess, the real expert on anything to do with the parchment. He will be your guide for the next few minutes before we visit the rest of the building.'

The actor stepped forward, and once again thrust out his hand. 'Good to meet you, Mr Mendelssohn.'

The elderly man bowed, shook the actor's hand, and pushedthe steel door open.

'Please follow me, Mr President,' he said in a mid-European accent. Once inside the tiny vault, Cavalli watched his men spread out in a small circle, their eyes checking everything except the President. Bill O'Reilly, Angelo and Debbie also took their places as they had rehea.r.s.ed the previous evening.

Cavalli quickly glanced at Dollar Bill, who looked as if it was he who might be in need of a physician.

Mendelssohn guided the actor towards a ma.s.sive block of concrete that took up a large area of the far wall.

He patted the slab of concrete and explained that the protective sh.e.l.l had been built at a time when the nation's greatest fear had been a nuclear attack.

'The Declaration is covered in five tons of interlocking leaves of metal, embedded in the fifty-five-ton concrete and steel vault you see before you. I can a.s.sure you, Mr President,' Mendelssohn added, 'if Washington was razed to the ground, the Declaration of Independence would still be in one piece.'

'Impressive,' said Adams, 'most impressive.' Cavalli checked his watch; it was 10.24, and they'd already been inside the building for seventeen minutes. Although the limousines were waiting, he had no choice but to allow the Conservator to carry on at his own pace. After all, their hosts were aware of the limitations on the President's time if they were still hoping to show him round the rest of the building.

'The entire system, Mr President,' continued the Conservator enthusiastically, 'is worked electronically. At the press of a b.u.t.ton, the Declaration, which is always exhibited and stored in an upright position, travels up from this level through interlocking doors which open before the doc.u.ment finally comes to rest in a case of solid bronze, protected by ballistically tested gla.s.s and plastic laminate.

Ultra-violet filters in the laminate give the inner layer a slightly greenish hue.' The actor looked lost, but Mr Mendelssohn continued, quite unconcerned. 'We are presently standing some twenty-two feet below the exhibit hall, and as the mechanics can be worked manually, I am able to stop the machinery at any time. With your permission, Mr Marshall.'

The Archivist nodded, and the Conservator touched a b.u.t.ton that neither the actor nor Cavalli had spotted until thatmoment. The five-ton leaves began to slide apart above their heads, and a sudden whirling and clanking sounded as the ma.s.sive bra.s.s frame that housed the parchment began its daily journey towards the ceiling. When the frame had reached desk height, Mr Mendelssohn pressed a second b.u.t.ton, and the whirling sound instantly ceased. He then raised an open palm in the direction of the casing.

Lloyd Adams took a pace forward and stared across at the nation's most important historic doc.u.ment.

'Now, remembering your personal wish, Mr President, we in turn have a small request of you.'

The actor seemed uncertain what his lines were meant to be, and glanced towards Cavalli in the wings.

'And what might that request be?' prompted Cavalli, apprehensive of any change of plan at this late stage.

'Simply,' said Mr Mendelssohn, 'that while the Archivist and I are removing the outer casing of the Declaration, your men will be kind enough to turn and face the wall.'

Cavalli hesitated, aware that the Secret Service would never allow a situation to arise where they could not see the President at all times.

'Let me make it easier for you, Mr Mendelssohn,' said Adams. 'I'll be the first to comply with your request.' The actor turned away from the doc.u.ment, and the rest of the team followed suit.

In the brief s.p.a.ce of time that the team were unable to see what was going on behind them, Cavalli heard twelve distinct clicks and the exaggerated sighs of two men not used to moving heavy weights.

'Thank you, Mr President,' said Calder Marshall. 'I hope that didn't put you to too much inconvenience.'

The thirteen intruders turned round to face the ma.s.sive frame. The bronze casing had been lifted over to leave the impression of an open book.

Lloyd Adams, with Cavalli and Dollar Bill a pace behind, stepped forward to admire the original while Marshall and the Conservator continued to stare at the old parchment.

Suddenly, without warning, the actor reeled back, clutching his throat, and collapsed to the ground. Four of the Secret Service agents immediately surrounded Adams while the other four bundled the Archivist and the Conservator out of the vault and into the corridor before they could utter a word. Tony had to admit Johnny wasright - it had been a bad case of overacting.

Once the door was closed, Cavalli turned to see Dollar Bill already staring at the parchment, his eyes alight with excitement, the Lieutenant by his side.

'Time for us to get to work, Angelo,' said the Irishman.

He stretched his fingers out straight. The Lieutenant removed a pair of thin rubber gloves from the doctor's bag and pulled them over his hands. Dollar Bill wiggled his fingers like a concert pianist about to begin a recital. Once the gloves were in place, Angelo bent down again and lifted a long, thin knife out of the bag, placing the handle firmly in Dollar Bill's right hand.

While these preparations were being carried out, Dollar Bill's eyes had never once left the doc.u.ment. Those who remained in the room were so silent that it felt like a tomb as the forger leaned over towards the parchment and placed the blade of the knife gently under the top right-hand corner. It peeled slowly back, and he transferred the knife to the left-hand corner, and that too came cleanly away.

Dollar Bill pa.s.sed the knife back to Angelo before he began rolling the parchment up slowly and as tightly as he could without harming it.

At the same time, Angelo flicked back the handle of his dress sword and held the long shaft out in front of him.