Honour Among Thieves (55 page)

Cavalli
swung out of bed and placed his feet on the ground. He still felt sure he could
hear voices.

He
slipped on a dressing gown and walked over to the bedroom door. He opened it
slowly, went out onto the landing and peered over the balustrade. He could see
a light shining from under the door of his father’s study.

Cavalli
moved swiftly down the one flight of stairs and silently across the carpeted
hallway until he came to a halt outside the study. He tried to remember where
the nearest gun was.

He
listened carefully, but could hear no movement coming from inside. Then,
suddenly, a gravelly voice began cursing loudly. Tony flung open the door to
find his father, also in his dressing gown, standing in front of the
Declaration of Independence and holding a magnifying glass in his right hand.
He was studying the word ‘British’.

‘Are
you feeling all right?’ Tony asked his father.

‘You
should have killed Dollar Bill when I told you to,’ was his father’s only
comment.

‘But
why?’ asked Tony.

‘Because
they’ve stolen the Declaration of Independence.’

‘But
you’re standing in front of it,’ said Tony.

‘No
I’m not,’ said his father. ‘Don’t you understand what they’ve done?’

‘No,
I don’t,’ admitted Tony.

‘They’ve
exchanged the original for that worthless copy you put in the National
Archives.’

‘But
the copy on the wall was the other one made by Dollar Bill,’ said Tony. ‘I saw
him present it to you.’

‘No,’
said his father. ‘Mine was the original, not a copy.’

‘I
don’t understand,’ said Tony, now completely baffled. The old man turned and
faced his son for the first time.

‘Nick
Vicente and I switched them when you brought the Declaration back from
Washington.’ Tony stared at his father in disbelief. ‘You didn’t think I’d
allow part of our national heritage to fall into the hands of Saddam Hussein?’

‘But
why didn’t you tell me?’ asked Tony.

‘And
let you go to Geneva knowing you were in possession of a fake, while the deal
still hadn’t been closed? No, it was always part of my plan that you would
believe the original had been sent to Franchard et cie, because if you believed
it, Al Obaydi would believe it.’

Tony
said nothing.

‘And
you certainly wouldn’t have put up such a fight over the loss of fifty million
if you’d known all along that the document you had in Geneva was a
counterfeit.’

‘So
where the hell is the original now?’ asked Tony.

‘Somewhere
in the offices of the Nineteenth Precinct, would be my bet,’ replied his
father. ‘That is, assuming they haven’t already got clean away. And that’s what
I intend to find out right now,’ he added as he walked over to his desk and
picked up the phone book.

The
chairman dialled seven digits and asked to speak to the duty officer. He
checked his watch as he waited to be put through. It was 4.22.

When
the Desk Sergeant came on the line, Cavalli explained who he was, and asked two
questions. He listened carefully to the replies, then put the phone back on the
hook.

Tony
raised an eyebrow.

‘They’re
still locked up in the cells, and the bag’s been placed in a safe. Have we got
anybody on the Nineteenth Precinct payroll?’ asked his father.

‘Yes,
a lieutenant who’s done very little for us lately.’

‘Then
the time has come for him to pay his dues,’ said his father as he began walking
towards the door.

Tony
passed him, taking the stairs three at a time on the way back to his bedroom.
He was dressed within minutes, and walked back down the staircase, expecting to
have to wait some time for his father to reappear, but he was already standing
in the hallway.

His
father unlocked the front door and Tony followed him out onto the pavement,
passing him to look up the street in search of a Yellow Cab. But none chose to
turn right down 75th Street at that time in the morning.

‘We’ll
have to take the car,’ shouted his father, who had already begun to cross the
road in the direction of the all-night garage. ‘We can’t afford to waste
another minute.’ Tony dashed back into the house and removed the car keys from
the drawer of the hall table. He caught up with his father long before he
reached their parking space.

As
Tony fastened his seatbelt, he turned and asked his father, ‘If we do manage to
get the Declaration back, what the hell do you intend to do then?’

‘To
start with, I’m going to kill Dollar Bill myself, so I

can
be certain that he never makes another copy. And then -’ Tony turned the key in
the ignition.

The
explosion that followed woke the entire neighbourhood for the second time that
morning.

The
four men came running down the precinct steps. The smallest of them was
clinging on to a bag. A car whose engine had been turning over for the past
hour swung across the road and came to a halt by their side. One of the men
walked off into the half-light of the morning, still not certain why his
expertise had been required in the first place.

Dexter
Hutchins joined the driver in the front, while Scott and the Conservator
climbed quickly into the back.

‘LaGuardia,’
said Dexter and then thanked the agent for sitting up half the night. Scott
looked between the two front seats as the digital clock changed from 6:11 to
6:12.

The
agent swung on to the outside lane.

‘Don’t
break the speed limit,’ ordered Dexter. ‘We don’t need any more delays at this
stage.’ The agent edged back into the centre lane.

‘What
time’s the next shuttle?’ asked Scott.

‘Delta,
seven-thirty,’ replied the driver. Dexter picked up the phone and punched in
ten numbers. When a voice at the other end said, ‘Yes,’ the Deputy Director
replied, ‘We’re on our way, sir. We should have everything back in place by
ten.’

Dexter
replaced the phone and turned round to assure himself that the silent
Conservator was still with them. He was clutching the bag that was now resting
on his legs.

‘Better
take everything out of the bag other than the cylinder,’ said Dexter.
‘Otherwise we’ll never get past security.’

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 passed 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 Washington 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 agent standing 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
passengers 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 Washington.

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 more agents as he passed
through the terminal, and suspected there were at least another twenty hidden
at strategic points on his route to the car.

As
Dexter passed 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 Washington 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.

‘Damn!’
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 Washington’s citizens,
unmoved by sirens and flashing lights, weren’t willing to let them through.

The
lead car swerved between two police barriers and turned into Constitution
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 Constitution 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.