Honour Among Thieves

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