Honour Among Thieves

asked. 'About six,' said Scott. 'And I think that must be Shaw with his back to us.' 'Show me exactly where you want the car to stop,' said the Deputy Director, turning to face Mendelssohn. 'Another fifty yards,' came back the reply. 'You take the bag, Scott.' 'But. . .' began Mendelssohn. When he saw the expression on Dexter Hutchins' face, he didn't bother with a second word. The car drew into the kerb and stopped. Scott grabbed the bag, jumped out, and held the door open for Mendelssohn. Eight agents were walking up and down the pavement trying to appear innocent. None of them was looking towards the steps of the National Archives. The two unlikely looking companions quickly crossed Constitution Avenue and began running up 7th Street. When they reached the delivery entrance, Scott came face to face with an anxious Calder Marshall, who had been pacing back and forth at the bottom of the ramp. 'Thank God,' was all the Archivist said when he saw Scott and the Conservator running down the ramp. He led them silently into the open freight elevator. They travelled up two floors and then ran along the corridor until they reached the staircase that led down to the vault. Marshall turned to check that the two men were still with him before he began running down the steps, something no member of staff had ever seen him do before. Scott chased after the Archivist, followed by Mendelssohn. None of them stopped until they reached a set of massive steel doors. Marshall nodded, and a slightly breathless Conservator leaned forward and pressed a code into a little box beside the door. The steel grid opened slowly to allow the three of them to enter the vault. Once they were inside, the Conservator pressed another button, and the door slid back into place. They paused in front of the great concrete block that had been built to house the Declaration of Independence, just as a priest might in front of an altar. Scott checked his watch. It was 9.51. Mendelssohn pressed the red button and the familiar clanking and whirling sound began as the concrete blocks parted and the massive empty frame came slowly into sight. He touched the button again when the glass casing had reached chest height. The Archivist and the Conservator walked forward while Scott unzipped the bag. The Archivist took two keys from his jacket pocket and passed one over to his colleague. They immediately set about unlocking the twelve bolts that were evenly spaced around the thick brass rim. Once they had completed the task they leaned over and heaved across the heavy frame until it came to rest like an open book. Scott removed the container and passed it over to the Archivist. Marshall eased the cap off the top of the cylinder, allowing Mendelssohn to carefully extract its contents. Scott watched as the Archivist and the Conservator slowly unpeeled the Declaration of Independence, inch by inch, onto the waiting glass, until the original parchment was finally restored to its rightful place. Scott leaned over and took one last look at the misspelt word before the two men heaved the brass cover back into place. 'My God, the British still have a lot to answer for,' was all the Archivist said. Calder Marshall and the Conservator quickly tightened up the twelve bolts surrounding the frame and took a pace back from the Declaration. They paused for only a second while Scott checked his watch again. 9.57. He looked up to find Marshall and Mendelssohn hugging each other and jumping up and down like children who had been given an unexpected gift-Scott coughed. 'It's 9.58, gentlemen.' The two men immediately reverted to character. The Archivist walked back over to the concrete block. He paused for a moment and then pressed the red button. The massive frame rose, continuing its slow journey upwards to the gallery to be viewed by the waiting public. Calder Marshall turned to face Scott. A flicker of a smile showed his relief. He bowed like a Japanese warrior to indicate that he felt honour had been satisfied. The Conservator shook hands with Scott and then walked over to the door, punched a code into the little box and watched the grid slide open. Marshall accompanied Scott out into the corridor, up the staircase and back down in the freight elevator to the delivery entrance. Thank you, Professor,' he said as they shook hands on the loading dock. Scott loped up the ramp and turned to look back once he had reached the pavement. There was no sign of the Archivist. He jogged across 7th