Honour Among Thieves (29 page)

Dummond
removed his spectacles and turned to glance at his client. He was pleased that
Franchard had picked up the significance of ‘my government’, a phrase he had
recommended Mr Al Obaydi should use as often as possible.

‘White
House?’

‘Yes,
sir.’

‘May
I speak to the President’s scheduler, please?’

‘Can
I ask who’s calling?’

‘Marshall,
Calder Marshall, Archivist of the United States. And before you ask, yes, I do
know her, and yes, she is expecting my call.’

The
line went dead. Marshall wondered if he had been cut off.

‘Patty
Watson speaking.’

‘Patty,
this is Calder Marshall. I’m the...’

‘Archivist
of the United States.’

‘I
don’t believe it.’

‘Oh,
yes, I’m a great fan of yours, Mr Marshall. I’ve even read your book on the
history of the Constitution, the Bill of Rights and the Declaration. How can I
help you? – Are you still there, Mr Marshall?’

‘Yes,
Patty, I am. I only wanted to check on the President’s schedule on the morning
of May 25th this year.’

‘Certainly,
sir. I’ll just be a moment.’

The
Archivist did not have long to wait.

‘Ah
yes, May 25 th. The President spent the morning in the Oval Office with his
speech writers, David Kusnet and Carolyn Curiel. He was preparing the text for
his address on the GATT at the Chicago Council on Foreign Relations. He took a
break to have lunch with Senator Mitchell, the Majority Leader. At three, the
President...’

‘Did
President Clinton remain in the White House the whole morning?’

‘Yes,
sir. He didn’t leave the White House all day. He spent the afternoon with Mrs
Clinton in discussions with her health-policy task unit.’

‘Could
he have slipped out of the building without even you knowing, Patty?’

The
scheduling secretary laughed. ‘That’s not possible, sir. If he had done that,
the Secret Service would have informed me immediately.’

‘Thank
you, Patty.’

‘Glad
to have been of assistance, sir.’

Once
the meeting at Dummond et cie had broken up, Cavalli returned to his hotel room
to wait for Franchard to call and confirm that the sum of forty million dollars
had been deposited in his No. 3 account in Zurich.

As
long as the transaction was closed within the hour, he would still have easily
enough time to catch the 4.45 out of Geneva for Heathrow and make the
early-evening connection to New York.

Cavalli
began to get a little anxious after thirty minutes passed and there had been no
call, and even more so after forty. After fifty, he found himself pacing around
the room, staring out at the fountain, and checking his watch every few
moments.

When
the phone eventually rang, he grabbed it.

‘Mr
Cavalli?’ enquired a voice.

‘Speaking.’

‘Franchard
here. The document has been verified and taken away. It might interest you to
know that Mr Al Obaydi studied one word on the parchment for some time before
he agreed to transfer the money. The agreed sum has been credited to your No. 3
account in Zurich as you specified.’

‘Thank
you, Monsieur Franchard,’ said Cavalli without further comment.

‘My
pleasure, as always, Mr Cavalli. And is there anything else we can do for you
while you’re here?’

‘Yes,’
replied Cavalli. ‘I need to transfer a quarter of a million dollars to a bank
in the Cayman Islands.’

‘The
same name and account as the last three transactions?’ asked the banker.

‘Yes,’
replied Cavalli. ‘And the Zurich account, presently registered in the name of
Mr Al Obaydi: I want to withdraw one hundred thousand dollars from it and...’

Monsieur
Franchard listened carefully to his client’s further instructions.

‘State
Department.’

‘Can
I speak to the Secretary of State?’

‘Just
a moment.’

‘Office
of the Secretary.’

‘This
is Calder Marshall. I’m the Archivist of the United States. It’s vitally
important that I speak with Secretary Christopher.’

‘I’ll
put you through to his executive assistant, sir.’

‘Thank
you,’ said Marshall, and waited for a very short time.

‘This
is Jack Leigh. I’m executive assistant to the Secretary. How may I help you,
sir?’

‘To
start with, Mr Leigh, how many executive assistants does the Secretary of State
have?’

‘Five,
sir, but there is only one senior to me.’

‘Then
I need to speak to the Secretary of State urgently.’

‘Right
now he’s out of the office. Perhaps the Deputy Secretary can help?’

‘No,
Mr Leigh, he cannot help.’

‘Well,
I’ll certainly let Secretary Christopher know you called, sir.’

‘Thank
you, Mr Leigh. And perhaps you’d be kind enough to pass a message on to him?’

‘Of
course, sir.’

‘Would
you let him know that my resignation will be on his desk tomorrow morning by nine
a.m. This call is simply to apologise for the harm it will undoubtedly do to
the President, particularly given the short period of time he has been in
office.’

‘You
haven’t spoken to anyone from the media about this, have you, sir?’ asked the
executive assistant, sounding anxious for the first time.

‘No,
I have not, Mr Leigh, and I shall not do so until noon tomorrow, which should
give the Secretary ample time in which to prepare answers to any questions that
he and the President will undoubtedly be asked by the press when they learn my
reason for resigning.’

‘I’ll
have the Secretary get back to you as quickly as I can, sir.’

‘Thank
you, Mr Leigh.’

‘Glad
to have been of assistance, sir.’

She
flew into the Cayman Islands that morning and took a taxi to Barclays Bank in
Georgetown. She checked her account to find it had been credited with three
payments of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. One on March 9th, another
on April 27th, and a further one on May 30th.

There
was one still to come. But, to be fair, Cavalli might not learn of the death of
T. Hamilton McKenzie until he had returned from Geneva.

‘And
we have another package for you, Miss Webster,’ said the smiling West Indian
behind the counter.

Far
too familiar, she thought. Once again the time had come for her to move her
account to another bank in another country, in another name. She dropped the
package into her carrier bag, threw it over her shoulder and left without a
word.

She
didn’t attempt to open the thick brown envelope until she had called for coffee
at the end of an unhurried meal at a hotel she would never book into. She then
carefully slit open the top of the bulky package with her bread knife, allowing
the contents to spill out onto the table.

The
usual photos, from every angle, plus addresses past and present, and the daily
habits and haunts of the intended victim. Cavalli never left any room for
mistakes.

She
studied the photos of a little fat man sitting on a bar stool. He looked
harmless enough. The contract was always the same. To be carried out within
fourteen days. Payment two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to account
specified.

It
wasn’t Columbus or Washington this time, but San Francisco. She hadn’t been to
the West Coast in years, and she tried to remember if they had a Laura Ashley
store.

‘National
Archives.’

‘Mr
Marshall, please.’

‘Who’s
calling?’

‘Christopher.
Warren Christopher.’

‘And
you’re with which agency?’

‘I
have a feeling he’ll know.’

‘I’ll
put you through, sir.’ The Secretary waited patiently.

‘Calder
Marshall speaking.’

‘Calder,
it’s Warren Christopher.’

‘Good
morning, Mr Secretary.’

‘Good
morning, Calder. I’ve just received your letter of resignation.’

‘Yes,
sir. I thought it was the only course of action I could take in the
circumstances.’

‘Very
commendable, I feel sure, but have you let anyone else into your confidence?’

‘No,
sir. I intended to brief my staff at eleven and hold a press conference at
twelve, as stated in my letter. I hope that doesn’t inconvenience you, sir.’

‘Well,
I wondered if before you did that, you might find the time to have a meeting
with the President and
myself?
’

Marshall
hesitated only because the request had taken him by surprise.

‘Of
course, sir. What time would suit you?’

‘Shall
we say ten o’clock?’

‘Yes,
sir. Where would you like me to come?’

‘The
North Entrance of the White House.’

‘The
North Entrance, of course.’

‘Jack
Leigh, my executive assistant, will meet you in the West Wing reception area
and accompany you to the Oval Office.’

‘The
Oval Office.’

‘And
Calder...’

‘Yes,
Mr Secretary?’

‘Please
do not mention your resignation to anyone until you’ve seen the President.’

‘Until
I’ve seen the President. Of course.’

‘Thank
you, Calder.’

‘Glad
to have been of assistance, sir.’

‘I’d
LIKE TO begin by thanking you all for attending this meeting at such short
notice,’ said the Secretary of State. ‘And, in particular, Scott Bradley, who
has only recently recovered from...’ Christopher hesitated for a moment, ‘... a
near-tragic accident. I know we are all delighted by the speed of his recovery.
I should also like to welcome Colonel Kratz, who is representing the Israeli
Government, and Dexter Hutchins, the Deputy Director of the CIA.

‘Only
two of my staff are with me today: Jack Leigh, my executive assistant, and
Susan Anderson, one of my senior Middle East advisers. The reason for numbers
being limited on this occasion will become all too obvious to you. The issue we
are about to discuss is so sensitive that the fewer people who are aware of it,
the better. To suggest in this instance that silence is golden would be to
underestimate the value of gold.

‘Perhaps,
at this juncture, I could ask the Deputy Director of the CIA to bring us up to
date on the latest situation. Dexter.’

Dexter
Hutchins unlocked his briefcase and removed a file marked ‘For the Director’s
Eyes Only’. He placed the file on the table in front of him and turned its
cover.

‘Two
days ago, Mr Marshall, the Archivist of the United States, reported to the
Secretary of State that the Declaration of Independence had been stolen from
the National Archives; or, to be more accurate, had been switched for a quite
brilliant copy that had not only passed the scrutiny of Mr Marshall, but also
that of the Senior Conservator, Mr Mendelssohn.

‘It
was only when Mr Marshall attempted to re-contact a Mr Rex Butterworth, who had
been temporarily assigned to the White House as a Special Assistant to the
President, that he became worried.’

‘If
I could just interject, Mr Hutchins,’ said Jack Leigh, ‘and point out that
though Mr Butterworth was a former employee of the Commerce Department, should
the press ever get hold of this you can be certain they would only refer to him
as a “Special Assistant to the President”.’ Warren Christopher nodded his
agreement.

‘When
Calder Marshall discovered that Butterworth hadn’t returned after his
vacation,’ continued Dexter Hutchins, ‘and that he had also left without giving
a forwarding address, he naturally became suspicious. Under the circumstances,
he considered it prudent to ask Mr Mendelssohn to check and see if the
Declaration had in any way been tampered with. After putting the parchment
through several preliminary tests – a separate memorandum has been sent to all
of you on this – he came to the conclusion that they were still in possession
of the original document.

‘But
Mr Marshall, a cautious man, remained sceptical, and contacted the President’s
scheduler, Miss Patty Watson – details also enclosed. Following that
conversation, he asked the Conservator to carry out a more rigorous scrutiny.

‘Mr
Mendelssohn spent several hours alone that evening going over the parchment
word by word with a magnifying glass. It was when he came to the sentence, “Nor
have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren”, that the
Conservator realised that the word “British” had been spelt correctly, and not
with two ts as in the original Declaration executed by Timothy Matlock. When
this piece of news was imparted to Mr Marshall, he immediately offered his
resignation to the Secretary of State, a copy of which you all have.’

‘If
I could come in here, Dexter,’ said Secretary Christopher. ‘Just for the
record, the President and I saw Mr Marshall in the Oval Office yesterday. He
could not have been more co-operative. He assured us that he and his colleague,
Mr Mendelssohn, will say and do nothing in the immediate future. He did add,
however, his feeling of disgust at continuing to display a counterfeit copy of
the Declaration to the general public. He made us both, that is to say the
President and myself, agree that should we fail to recover the original
document before its disappearance becomes common knowledge, we would confirm
that his resignation had been dated May 25th 1993 and accepted by myself as
custodian of the Declaration. He wished it to be confirmed in writing that he
had in no way connived to deceive his staff or the nation he served. “I am not
in the habit of being deceitful,” were his final words before leaving the Oval
Office.