Two minutes later, the phone rang again. It was Colonel Kratz. 'Who were you speaking to a moment ago?'

'Reception were asking me when I would be checking out.'

'I see,' said Kratz. 'Your baggage has been retrieved,'

was all he added.

Hannah replaced the phone and stood up. She felt a shot of adrenalin go through her body as she prepared for her first real test. She picked up her overnight bag and left the room, switching the sign on the door to 'Clean Me Please'.

Once she had reached the foyer, she had to wait only a few minutes before the hotel minibus returned from the airport on its circular journey. She sat alone in the back for the short trip to the departure area, then headed straight for the bookshop as instructed. She began to browse among the hardbacks, struck by how many American and British authors were obviously read by the Lebanese.

'Do you know where I can get some money changed, miss?'

Hannah turned to find a priest smiling at her, who had spoken in Arabic with a slight mid-Atlantic accent. Hannah apologised and replied in Arabic that she didn't know where the currency exchange was, but perhaps the girl at the counter could help him.As she turned back, Hannah became aware of someone else standing by her side. He removed a copy of A Suitable Boy from the shelf and replaced it with a small package. 'Good luck,' he whispered, and was gone even before she had seen his face. Hannah removed the package from the shelf and strolled slowly out of the bookshop. She began to search for the check-in counter for Paris. It turned out to be the one with the longest queue.

When she reached the front, Hannah requested a nonsmoking seat.

The girl behind the counter checked her ticket and then began tapping away on her computer terminal. She looked puzzled. 'Were you unhappy with the seat previously allocated to you, Miss Saib?'

'No, it's just fine,' said Hannah, cursing herself for having made such a simple mistake. 'Sorry to have bothered you.'

'The flight will be boarding at Gate 17 in about fifteen minutes,' the girl added with a smile.

A man pretending to read the Vikram Seth novel he had just purchased watched as the plane took off. Satisfied he had carried out his instructions, he went to the nearest phone booth and rang first Paris and then Colonel Kratz to confirm that 'The bird has flown.'

The man in the priest's collar also watched Miss Saib board her plane, and he too made a phone call. Not to Paris or London, but to Dexter Hutchins in Langley, Virginia.

Cavalli and his father walked back into the room and once again resumed their places at each end of the table. One seat was empty.

'Too bad about Bruno,' said the chairman, licking his lips. 'We'll just have to find someone else to make the sword.'

Cavalli opened one of the six files in front of him. It was marked 'Transport'. He pa.s.sed a copy to Al Calabrese.

'Let's start with the Presidential motorcade, Al. I'm going to need at least four limos, six motorcycle cops, two or three staff cars, two vans with surveillance cameras and a counter-a.s.sault team in a black Chevy Suburban - all of them able to pa.s.s the most eagle eye. I'll also want an additional van that would normally carry the White House media pool - the death-watch. Don't forget, the motorcade will be under far more scrutiny than last week, when we only had to turn on the sirens at the last moment, and then for just a fewseconds. There's bound to be someone in the crowd who either works in government or is a White House junkie. It's often children who spot the most elementary mistakes and then tell their parents.'

Al Calabrese opened his file to find dozens of photographs of the President's motorcade leaving the White House on its way to the Hill. The photographs were accompanied by as many pages of notes.

'How long will it take you to have everything in place?'

asked Cavalli.

'Three weeks, maybe four. I've got a couple of big ones in stock that would pa.s.s muster, and a bulletproof limo that the government often hires when minor heads of state are visiting the capital. I think the last crest we had to paint on the door was Uruguay, and the poor guy never even got to see the President - he ended up just getting twenty-five minutes with Warren Christopher.'

'But now for the hard part, Al. I need six outriders, riding police motorcycles, and all wearing the correct uniform.'

Al paused. 'That could take longer.'

'We haven't got any longer, Al. A month's going to be the outside for all of us.'

'It's not that easy, Tony. I can't exactly put an ad in the Washington Post asking for police -'

'Yes you can, Al. In a moment you'll all see why. Most of you round this table must be wondering why we've been honoured by the presence of Johnny Scasiatore, a man nominated for an Oscar for his direction of The Honest Lawyer.1 What Cavalli didn't add was that since the police had found Johnny in bed with a twelve-year-old girl, the studios hadn't been in touch quite as frequently as in the past.

'I was beginning to wonder myself,' admitted Johnny.

The chief executive smiled. 'The truth is, you're the reason we'll be able to pull this whole plan off. Because you're going to direct the entire operation.'

'You're going to steal the Declaration of Independence and make a movie of it at the same time?' asked Johnny in disbelief. Cavalli waited for the laughter that broke out around the table to die down.

'Not exactly. But everyone in Washington on that day is going to believe that you are making a movie, not of us stealing the Declaration of Independence, but of thePresident visiting Congress. The fact that he drops into the National Archives on the way to the Capitol is something they won't ever need to know.'

'I'm lost already,' said Frank Piemonte, the team's lawyer. 'Can you take it a little slower?'

'Sure, Frank, because this is where you come in. I need a city permit to close down the route between the White House and Congress for one hour on any day I choose in the last week in May. Deal direct with the city's motion picture and television office.'

'What reason do I give?' asked Piemonte.

'That Johnny Scasiatore, the distinguished director, wants to film the President of the United States on his way to the Senate to address a joint session of Congress.' Piemonte looked doubtful. 'Clint Eastwood managed it last year, so there's no reason why you shouldn't.'

'Then you'd better put $250,000 into the Fraternal Order of Police, Lodge No. 1,' suggested Piemonte. 'And the Mayor will probably expect the same amount for her re-election fund.'

'You can bribe any city official you know,' continued Tony, 'and I also want every member of the City Police Force on our books squared for the day - all they have to believe is that we're making a movie about the new President.'

'Do you have any idea what mounting an operation like this is likely to cost?' asked Johnny Scasiatore.

'Looking at the budget of your last film, and the return we made on our investment, I'd say yes,' replied Tony. 'And by the way, Al,' he added, turning his attention back to the old Teamster Union boss, 'sixty cops are due for retirement from the DCPD in April. You can employ as many of them as you need. Tell them it's a crowd scene and pay them double.' Al Calabrese added a note to his file.

'Now, the key to the operation's success,' continued Tony, 'is the half-block from the intersection of 7th Street and Pennsylvania Avenue to the delivery entrance of the National Archives.' He unfolded a large map of Washington and placed it in the centre of the table, then ran his finger along Const.i.tution Avenue. 'Once they leave you, Johnny, it's for real.'

'But how do we get in and out of the Archives?'

'That's not your problem, Johnny. Your contribution ends when the six motorcycles and the Presidential motorcade turn right onto 7th Street. From then on, it's up to Gino.'Until that moment, Gino Sartori, an ex-Marine who ran the best protection racket on the West Side, had not spoken. His lawyer had told him many times: 'Don't speak unless I tell you to.' His lawyer wasn't present, so he hadn't opened his mouth.

'Gino, you're going to supply me with the heavy brigade. I need eight Secret Service agents to act as the counter-a.s.sault team, preferably government-trained and well-educated. I only plan to be in the building for about twenty minutes, but we're going to have to be thinking on our feet for every second of that time. Debbie will continue to act as a secretary and Angelo will be dressed in naval uniform and carrying a small black case. I'll be there as the President's a.s.sistant, along with Dollar Bill as the President's physician.'

His father looked up, frowning. 'You're going to be inside the National Archives building when the doc.u.ment is switched?'

'Yes,' replied Tony firmly. 'I'll be the only person who knows every part of the plan, and I'm sure not watching this one from the sidewalk.'

'A question,' said Gino. 'If, and I only say if, I am abie to supply the twenty or so people you need, tell me this: when we reach the National Archives, are they just going to open the doors, invite us in, and then hand over the Declaration of Independence?'

'Something like that,' replied Cavalli. 'My father taught me that the successful conclusion of any enterprise is always in the preparation. I still have one more surprise for you.'

Once again he had their undivided attention. 'We have our own Special a.s.sistant to the President in the White House. His name is Rex b.u.t.terworth, and he's on temporary a.s.signment from the Department of Commerce for six months. He returns to his old job when the Clinton nominee has completed his contract in Little Rock and joins the President's staff. That's another reason why we have to go in May.' 'Convenient,' said Frank.

'Not particularly,' said Cavalli. 'It turns out that the President has forty-six Special a.s.sistants at any one time, and when Clinton made his interest in commerce clear, b.u.t.terworth volunteered for the job. He's fixed a few overseas contracts for us in the past, but this will be the biggest thing he's done for us yet. For obvious reasons, it will also have to be his last a.s.signment.' 'Can he betrusted?' asked Frank. 'He's been on the payroll for fifteen years, and his third wife is proving rather expensive.' 'Show me one who isn't,' said Al. 'b.u.t.terworth's looking for a big payday to get himself out of trouble, and this is it. And that brings me on to you, Mr Vicente, and your particular expertise as one of the biggest tour operators in Manhattan.'

'That's the legit side of my business,' replied the elderly man who sat on the right of the chairman, as befitted his oldest friend.

'Not for what I have in mind,' promised Tony. 'Once we have the Declaration in our possession, we'll need it kept out of sight for a few days and then smuggled abroad.'

'As long as no one realises it's been removed and I'm told well in advance where you want it delivered, that should be simple.'

'You'll get a week,' said Cavalli.

'I'd prefer two,' said Vicente, raising an eyebrow.

'No, Nick, you get a week,' the chief executive repeated.

'Can you give me a clue what distance it will have to travel?' Vicente asked, turning the pages of the file Tony had pa.s.sed across to him.

'Several thousand miles. And as far as you're concerned it's COD, because if you fail to deliver, none of us gets paid.'

'That figures. But I'll still need to know how it has to be transported. For starters, will I have to keep the Declaration between two sheets of gla.s.s the whole time?'

'I don't know myself yet,' replied Cavalli, 'but I'm hoping you'll be able to roll it up and deposit it in a cylindrical tube of some kind. I'm having one specially made.'

'Does that explain why I've got several sheets of blank paper in my file?' asked Nick.

'Yes,' said Tony. 'Except those sheets aren't paper but parchment, each one of them 29 inches by 24 inches, the exact size of the Declaration of Independence.'

'So now all I've got to hope is that every customs agent and coastguard patrol won't be looking for it.'

'I want you to a.s.sume the whole world will be looking for it,' replied Cavalli. 'You aren't being paid this sort of money for doing a job I could handle with one call to Federal Express.'

'I thought you might say something like that,' said Nick.

'Still, I had the same problem when you wanted the Vermeer ofRussborough stolen, and Irish Customs still haven't worked out how I got the painting out of the country.'

Cavalli smiled. 'So now we all know what's expected of us.

And I think in future we should meet at least twice a week to start with, every Sunday at three o'clock and every Thursday at six, to make sure none of us falls behind schedule. One person out of synch and n.o.body else will be able to move.' Tony looked up and was greeted by nods of agreement.

It always fascinated Cavalli that organised crime needed to be as efficiently run as any public company if it hoped to show a dividend. 'So we'll meet again next Thursday at six?'

All five men nodded and made notes in their diaries.

'Gentlemen, you may now open the second of your two envelopes.' Once again, the five men ripped open their envelopes, and each pulled out a thick wad of thousand-dollar bills.

The lawyer began to count each note.

'Your down-payment,' Tony explained. 'Expenses will be met at the end of every week, receipts whenever possible. And, Johnny,' said Tony, turning to the director, 'this is not Heaven's Gate we're financing.' Scasiatore managed a smile.

'Thank you, gentlemen,' said Tony, rising. 'I look forward to seeing you all next Thursday at six o'clock.'

The five men rose and made their way to the door, each stopping to shake hands with Tony's father before he left.

Tony accompanied them to their cars. When the last one had been driven away, he returned to find his father had moved to the study and was toying with a whisky while staring at the perfect copy of the Declaration that Dollar Bill had intended to destroy.

'CALDER MARSHALL, PLEASE.'

'The Archivist can't be interrupted right now. He's in a meeting. May I ask who's calling?'

'It's Rex b.u.t.terworth, Special a.s.sistant to the President.

Perhaps the Archivist would be kind enough to call me back when he's free. He'll find me at the White House.'

Rex b.u.t.terworth put the phone down without waiting to hear what usually happened once it was known the call had come from the White House: 'Oh, I feel sure I can interrupt him, Mr b.u.t.terworth, can you hold on for a moment?'

But that wasn't what b.u.t.terworth wanted. No, the Special a.s.sistant needed Calder Marshall to phone back himself, because once he had gone through the White House switchboard,Marshall would be hooked. b.u.t.terworth also realised that, as one of forty-six Special a.s.sistants to the President, and in his case only on temporary a.s.signment, the switchboard might not even recognise his name. A quick visit to the little room that housed the White House telephone operators had dealt with that problem.

He drummed his fingers on the desk and gazed down with satisfaction at the file in front of him. One of the President's two schedulers had been able to supply him with the information he needed. The file revealed that the Archivist had invited each of the last three Presidents - Bush, Reagan and Carter - to visit the National Archives, but due to 'pressing commitments' none of them had been able to find the time.

b.u.t.terworth was well aware that the President received, on average, 1,700 requests every week to attend some function or other. The latest letter from Mr Marshall, dated January 22nd 1993, had evoked the reply that although it was not possible for the President to accept his kind invitation at the present time, Mr Clinton hoped to have the opportunity to do so at some date in the future - the standard reply that about 1,699 requests in the weekly postbag were likely to receive.

But on this occasion, Mr Marshall's wish was about to be granted. b.u.t.terworth continued to drum his fingers on the desk as he wondered how long it would take Marshall to return his call. Less than two minutes would have been his guess. He allowed his mind to wander back over the events of the past week.

When Cavalli had first put the idea to him, he had laughed more loudly than any of the six men who had gathered round the table at 75th Street. But after studying the parchment for over an hour and still not being able to identify the mistake, and then later meeting with Lloyd Adams, he began to believe, like the other sceptics, that switching the Declaration might just be possible.

Over the years, b.u.t.terworth had served the Cavalli family well. Meetings had been arranged with politicians at a moment's notice, words were dropped in the ears of trade officials from someone thought to be well placed in Washington, and the odd piece of inside information had been pa.s.sed on, ensuring that b.u.t.terworth's income was commensurate with his own high opinion of his true worth.

As he lay awake that night thinking about the proposition, he also came to the conclusion that Cavalli couldn't take thenext step without him, and more important, his role in the deception would probably be obvious within minutes of the theft being discovered, in which case he could end up spending the rest of his life in Leavenworth. Against that possibility he had to weigh the fact that he was fifty-seven years old, had only three years to go before retirement, and a third wife who was suing him for a divorce he couldn't afford. b.u.t.terworth no longer dreamed of promotion. He was now simply trying to come to terms with the fact that he was probably going to have to spend the rest of his life alone, eking out some sort of existence on a meagre government pension.

Cavalli was also aware of these facts, and the offer of a million dollars - a hundred thousand the day he signed up, a further nine hundred thousand on the day the exchange took place - and a first-cla.s.s ticket to any country on earth, almost convinced b.u.t.terworth that he should agree to Cavalli's proposition.

But it was Maria who tilted the balance in Cavalli's favour.

At a trade conference in Brazil the previous year, b.u.t.terworth had met a local girl who answered most of his questions during the day and the rest of them at night. He'd phoned her the morning after Cavalli's first approach. Maria seemed pleased to hear from him, a pleasure which became more vocal when she learned that he'd be leaving the service and, having come into 'a reasonable inheritance', was thinking of settling down somewhere abroad.

The President's Special a.s.sistant joined the team the following day.

He had spent most of the hundred thousand dollars by the end of the week, clearing his debts and getting up to date with his first two wives' alimony. With only a few thousand left, there was now nothing to do but commit himself wholeheartedly to the plan. He didn't give a moment's thought to changing his mind, because he knew he could never hope to repay the money. He hadn't forgotten that the man he had replaced on Cavalli's payroll had once neglected to repay a far smaller sum after making certain promises. Once had been enough: Cavalli's father had had him buried under the World Trade Center when he'd failed to secure the promised contract for the building. A similar departure did not appeal to b.u.t.terworth.

The phone rang on b.u.t.terworth's desk, as he had predicted,in under two minutes, but he allowed it to continue ringing for some time before he picked it up. His temporary secretary announced that there was a Mr Marshall on the line and asked if he wanted to take the call.

'Yes, thank you, Miss Daniels.'

'Mr b.u.t.terworth?' enquired a voice.

'Speaking.'

'This is Calder Marshall over at the National Archives. I understand you phoned while I was in a meeting. Sorry I wasn't available.'

'No problem, Mr Marshall. It's just that I wondered if it would be possible for you to drop by to the White House.

There's a private matter I'd like to discuss with you.'

'Of course, Mr b.u.t.terworth. What time would be convenient?'