'Well, that's something you did right,' said Cavalli, as he handed b.u.t.terworth a one-way ticket to Rio de Janeiro and a letter of confirmation that the sum of nine hundred thousand dollars had been deposited in the Banco do Brazil.

'I have to get back to the set,' said Cavalli. 'You stay put for ten minutes and then take a taxi to Dulles airport.

And when you get to Brazil, don't spend all the money on a girl. And Rex, don't even think about coming back. If you do, it won't just be the Feds who are waiting for you at the airport.'

Angelo had somehow managed to get Dollar Bill dressed, but he still stank of Guinness, and he certainly didn't look like the President's personal physician - or anybody else's physician for that matter.

'Sorry, lad. Sorry, lad,' Dollar Bill kept repeating. 'I hope this won't get you into any trouble.'

'It will if you don't sober up in time to play your part and see that the parchment is transferred into the special cylinder. Because if Cavalli ever finds out I wasn't with you last night, you're dead, and more important, so am I.'

'Settle down, lad, and just make me a b.l.o.o.d.y Mary. Two parts tomato juice and one part vodka. I'll be as right as rain in no time, you'll see.' Angelo looked doubtful as the little man's head fell back on the pillow.

As Cavalli closed the door of room 1137, a woman pushing a large laundry basket pa.s.sed him in the corridor. He took the lift to the ground floor and walked straight out of the hotel. The first thing he saw as heleft the Willard and crossed the plaza that divided the hotel from Pennsylvania Avenue was that the morning traffic was backed up for half a mile down 15th Street.

Al and Johnny came running towards him from different directions. 'What's going on?' were Cavalli's first words.

'Normal morning traffic coming in from Virginia, the police a.s.sure us, except we're blocking a lane and a half with our twelve vehicles and six outriders.'

'd.a.m.n, my mistake,' said Cavalli. 'I should have antic.i.p.ated it. So what do you suggest, Al?'

'I send my boys over to Atlantic Garage on 13 th and F until the police get the traffic on the move again, and then bring them back nearer the starting time.'

'It's a h.e.l.l of a risk,' said Johnny. 'That permit only allows me to film for forty-five minutes, and they aren't going to stretch it by a second.'

'But if my cars stay put you might never get started at all,' said Al.

'OK, Al, you get moving, but make sure you're back on the grid by 9.50.' Cavalli checked his watch. 'That's twenty-seven minutes.' Al began running towards the parked cars.

Cavalli turned his attention to the director. 'What time are you bringing the actor out?'

'Nine-fifty-five, or the moment the last car is back in place. He's being made up in that trailer over there,' said Johnny.

Cavalli watched as the sixth limousine pulled away, and was relieved to see the traffic start to flow again.

'And Gino's Secret Service agents, what will happen to them now that the cars have gone?'

'Most of them are hanging around with the extras, but they aren't looking too convincing.'

Cavalli's cellular phone began to ring. 'I have to get back or you won't have a film, real or otherwise,' said Johnny. Cavalli nodded and said 'Yes,' into the mouthpiece as the director rushed away. Something caught Cavalli's eye as he tried to concentrate on the voice on the other end of the line.

'The helicopter is all set to take off at ten o'clock sharp, boss; but it loses its slot at seven minutes past. The traffic cops won't let it go up after that, however much you gave to the Fraternal Order of Police.'

'We're still running to schedule, despite some problems,'said Cavalli, 'so take her up at ten and just hover over the route. Marshall and his staff must be able to see and hear you when we arrive at the Archives. That's all I care about.'

'OK, boss. Understood.'

Cavalli checked his watch again. It was 9.36 and the traffic was now flowing smoothly. He walked over to the officer co-ordinating the shoot for the city's motion picture and television office.

'Don't worry,' said the Lieutenant even before Cavalli had opened his mouth. 'The traffic will be stopped and the detour signs in place by 9.59. We'll have you moving on time, I promise.'

'Thank you, officer,' said Cavalli, and quickly dialled Al Calabrese.

'I think you'd better start getting your boys back...'

'Number one has already left with two outriders. Number two's just about to go; after that, they leave at twenty-second intervals.'

'You should have been an army general,' said Cavalli.

'You can blame the government for that. I just didn't get the right education.'

Suddenly, Pennsylvania Avenue was ablaze with lights.

Cavalli, like everyone else, shielded his eyes and then, just as suddenly, the lights were switched off, making the morning sun appear like a dim lightbulb.

'Good sparks,' Cavalli heard the director shout. 'I could only spot one that didn't function. The seventh on the right.'

Cavalli stood on the pavement and looked towards the corner of 13th Street, where he could see the first of Al's limousines with two outriders edging its way back through the traffic. The sight of the shining black limo made him feel nervous for the first time.

A tall, well-built, bald man wearing dark gla.s.ses, a dark blue suit, white shirt and a red, white and blue striped tie was walking towards him. He stopped by Cavalli's side as the first of the two outriders and the leading police car drew in to the kerb.

'How are you feeling?' asked Cavalli.

'Like all first nights,' said Lloyd Adams. 'I'll be just fine once the curtain goes up.'

'Well, you sure knew your lines word perfect last night.'

'My lines aren't the problem,' said Adams. 'It's Marshall's I'm worried about.''What do you mean?' asked Cavalli.

'He's not been able to attend any of our rehearsals, has he?' replied the actor. 'So he doesn't know his cues.'

The second car drew into line, accompanied by two more outriders, as Al Calabrese came running across the pavement and Lloyd Adams strode off in the direction of the trailer.

'Can you still do it in eleven minutes?' asked Cavalli, looking at his watch.

'As long as Chief Thomas's finest don't foul things up like they do every other morning,' said Al. He headed on towards the cars and immediately began to organise the unfurling of the Presidential flag on the front of the third car before checking on any specks of dirt that might have appeared on the bodywork after one trip round the block.

The staff van drew up in line. Scasiatore immediately swung round on his high stool and, through a megaphone, told the actor, the secretary, the Lieutenant and the physician to be ready to climb into the third and fourth cars.

When the director asked for the Lieutenant and the physician, Cavalli suddenly realised that he hadn't seen Dollar Bill or Angelo all morning. Perhaps they'd been waiting in the trailer.

The fourth limousine drew up as Cavalli's eyes swept the horizon, searching for Angelo.

The klaxon sounded again for several seconds, this time to warn the film crew that they had ten minutes left before shooting. The noise almost prevented Cavalli from hearing his phone ringing.

'It's Andy reporting in, boss. I'm still outside the National Archives. Just to let you know it's no busier than when you checked up an hour ago,'

'At least someone's awake,' said Cavalli.

'There can't be more than twenty or thirty people around at the moment.'

'Glad to hear it. But don't call me again unless something goes wrong.' Cavalli flicked off the phone and tried to remember what it was that had been worrying him before it rang. Eleven vehicles and six outriders were now in place.

One vehicle was still missing. But something else was nagging at the back of Cavalli's mind. He became distracted when an officer standing in the middle of Pennsylvania Avenue began shouting at the top of his voice that he was ready to stop the traffic whenever the director gave the word. Johnny stood up on his chair and pointed frantically to the twelfth car,which remained obstinately stuck in traffic a couple of hundred yards away.

'If you divert the traffic now,' shouted Johnny, 'that one's never going to end up in the motorcade.'

The officer remained in the middle of the road and waved the traffic through as fast as he could in the hope of getting the limousine there quicker, but it didn't make a lot of difference.

'Extras on the street!' shouted Johnny, and several people who Cavalli had supposed were members of the public strolled onto the pavement and began walking up and down professionally.

Johnny stood up on his chair again and this time turned to face the crowd huddled behind the barriers. An aide handed him a megaphone so that he could address them.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' he began. 'This is a short cut for a movie about the President going to the Hill to address a joint session of Congress. I'd be grateful if you could wave, clap and cheer as if it were the real President. Thank you.'

Spontaneous applause broke out, which made Cavalli laugh for the first time that morning. He hadn't noticed that the former Deputy Police Chief had crept up behind him during the director's address. He whispered in his ear, 'This is going to cost you a whole lot of money if you don't pull it off first time.'

Cavalli turned to face the ex-policeman and tried not to show how anxious he felt.

'The hold-up, I mean. If you don't get the shoot done this morning, the authorities aren't going to let you go through this charade again for one h.e.l.l of a time.'

'I don't need to be reminded of that,' snapped Cavalli. He turned his attention back to Johnny, who had climbed down from his chair and was walking over to take his seat on the tracking dolly, ready to move as soon as the twelfth vehicle was in place. Once again, the aide pa.s.sed Johnny the megaphone. 'This is a final check. Check your positions, please. This is a final check. Everyone ready in car one?' There was a sharp honk in reply. 'Car two?' Another honk. 'Car three?' Another sharp honk from the driver of Lloyd Adams' car. Cavalli stared in through the window as the bald actor removed the top of his wig box. 'Car four?' Not a sound came from car four.

'Is everyone in car four who should be in car four?'

barked the director.It was then that Cavalli remembered what had been nagging at him: he still hadn't seen Angelo or Dollar Bill all morning. He should have checked earlier. He hurried towards the director as a naval Lieutenant jumped out of a car which he'd left stranded in the middle of the road. He was six foot tall, with short-cropped hair, wearing a white uniform with a sword swinging by his side and medals for service in Panama and the Gulf on his chest. In his right hand he carried a black box. A policeman began chasing after him while Dollar Bill, carrying a small leather bag, followed a few yards behind at a slower pace. When Cavalli saw what had happened he changed direction and walked calmly out into the middle of the road, and the naval officer came to a halt by his side.

'What the h.e.l.l do you think you're playing at?' barked Cavalli.

'We got held up in the traffic,' said Angelo lamely.

'If this whole operation fails because of you ...'

Angelo turned the colour of his uniform as he thought about what had happened to Bruno Morelli.

'And the sword?' snapped Cavalli.

'A perfect fit.'

'And our physician. Is be fit?'

'He'll be able to do his job, I promise you,' Angelo said, looking over his shoulder.

'Which car are you both in?'

'Number four. Directly behind the President.'

'Then get in, and right now.'

'Sorry, sorry,' Dollar Bill said, as he arrived panting.

'My fault, not Angelo's. Sorry, sorry,' he repeated as the back door of car four was held open for him by the Lieutenant, who was gripping his sword. Once Dollar Bill was safely in, Angelo joined the would-be physician and slammed the door behind him.

The policeman who'd been chasing Angelo took his notebook out as Cavalli turned round looking for Tom Newbolt. Tom was already running across the road.

'Leave him to me,' was all he said.

The second van with surveillance cameras on board screeched to a halt to complete the line. The front window purred down. 'Sorry, boss,' said the driver. 'Some jerk just dumped his car right in front of me.' The clock on the Old Post Office Tower struck ten. At that moment, on a signal from the co-ordinating officer, several policemen walked out into the road. Some held up the traffic coming downPennsylvania Avenue while others placed diversion signs to direct the cars away from where the filming was taking place.

Cavalli turned his attention to the other end of Pennsylvania Avenue, a mere seven hundred yards away. It was still b.u.mper to b.u.mper with slow-moving traffic.

'Come on, come on!' he shouted out loud as he checked his watch and waited impatiently for the all clear.

'Any moment now,' shouted back the officer, who was standing in the middle of the road.

Cavalli looked up to see the blue-and-white police helicopter hovering noisily overhead.

Neither he nor the officer spoke again until a couple of minutes later when they heard a sharp whistle blow- three times from the far end of Pennsylvania Avenue.

Cavalli checked his watch. They'd lost six precious minutes.

'I'll kill Angelo,' he said.'If-'

'All clear!' shouted the co-ordinating officer. He turned to face Cavalli, who gave the director a thumbs-up sign.

'You've still got thirty-nine minutes,' bellowed the officer. 'That should easily be enough time to complete the shoot twice.' But Cavalli didn't hear the last few words as he ran to the second car, pulled open the door and jumped into the seat next to the driver.

And then a nagging thought hit him. Looking out of the side window, Cavalli began to scan the crowd once again.

'Lights!' screamed the director, and Pennsylvania Avenue lit up like Christmas Eve at Macy's.

'OK, everybody, we're going to shoot in sixty seconds.'

The limousines and motorcycles switched on their engines and began revving up. The extras strolled up and down while the police continued to divert commuters away from the scene. The director leaned back over his chair to check the lights and see if the seventh in line was working.

'Thirty seconds.' Johnny looked at the driver of the first car and said through the megaphone, 'Don't forget to take it easy. My tracking dolly can only manage ten miles an hour going backwards. And walkers,' ~ the director checked up and down the pavement - 'please look as if you're walking, not auditioning for Hamlet.'

The director turned his attention to the crowd. "Now, don't let me down behind the barriers. Clap, cheer iand wave, and please remember we're going to do the whole exercise again in about twenty minutes, so stick around if you possibly can.'Fifteen seconds,' said the director as he swung back to face the first car in line. 'Good luck, everybody.'

Tony stared at Scasiatore, willing him to get on with it.

They were now eight minutes late - which with this particular President, he had to admit, added an air of authenticity.

'Ten seconds. Rolling. Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one - action!'

The woman pushing the laundry basket down the corridor ignored the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on Room 1137 and walked straight in.

A rather overweight man, sweating profusely, was seated on the edge of the bed. He was jabbing out some numbers on the phone when he looked round and saw her.