Honour Among Thieves

putting on the spectacles. He leaned over so that his nose was only an inch from the glass as he searched for the one word that had to be spelt correctly if they expected to be paid another cent. His eyes widened in disbelief when he came to the sentence: 'Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren.' The Ambassador's wife returned from Geneva with her husband the following Friday. Hannah and Scott had managed to steal a few hours together that morning. It had been less than three weeks since he had first seen her in the public baths in the boulevard Lannes. Little more than a fortnight since that first hastily arranged meeting at the cafe on the avenue Bugeaud. That was when the lies had begun; small ones to start with, that grew larger until they had spun themselves into an intricate web of deceit. Now Scott longed to tell her the truth, but as each day passed it became more and more impossible. Langley had been delighted with the coded messages, and Dexter had congratulated him on doing such a first-class job. 'As good a junior field officer as I can remember,' Dexter admitted. But Scott had discovered no code to let the Deputy Director know he was falling in love. He had read Hannah's file from cover to cover, but it gave no clue as to her real character. The way she laughed - a smile that could make you smile however sad or angry you were. A mind that was always fascinating and fascinated by what was happening around her. But most of all a warmth and gentleness that made their time apart seem like an eternity. And whenever he was with her, he was suddenly no more mature than his students. Their clandestine meetings had rarely been for more than an hour, perhaps two, but it made each occasion all the more intense. She continued to tell him everything about herself with a frankness and honesty that belied his deceit, while he told her nothing but a string of lies about being a Mossad agent whose front, while he was stationed in Paris, was writing a book, a travel book, which would never be published. That was the trouble with lies - each one created the next in a never-ending spiral. And that was the trouble with trust; she believed his every word. When he returned home that evening, he made a decision he knew Langley would not approve of. As the car edged its way into the outside lane of the George Washington Memorial Parkway bound for the airport the driver checked the rear-view mirror and confirmed no one was following them. Cavalli breathed a deep sigh of relief, though he had two alternative plans worked out if they were caught with the Declaration. He'd realised early on that it would be necessary to get as far away from the scene of the crime as quickly as possible. It had always been a crucial part of the plan that he would hand over the document to Nick Vicente within two hours of its leaving the National Archives. 'So let's get on with it,' said Cavalli, turning his attention to Angelo, who was seated opposite him. Angelo unbuckled the sword that hung from the belt around his waist. The two men then faced each other like Japanese sumo wrestlers, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Angelo placed the sword firmly between his legs, the handle pointing towards his boss. Cavalli leaned over and snapped the top back. Then, with the nail of his right thumb and forefinger, he extracted the thin black plastic cylinder from its casing. Angelo pressed the handle back in place and hitched the sword onto his belt. Cavalli held the twenty-six-inch-long slim plastic cylinder in his hands. 'It must be tempting to have a look,' said Angelo. 'There are more important things to do at the moment,' said Cavalli, placing the cylinder on the seat next to him. He picked up the earphone, pressed a single digit followed by 'Send', and waited for a response. 'Yes?' said a recognisable voice. 'I'm on my way, and I'll have something to export when I arrive.' There was a long silence, and Cavalli wondered if he had lost the connection. 'You've done well,' came back the eventual reply. 'But are you running to schedule?' Cavalli looked out of the window. The exit sign for Route 395 South flashed past. 'I'd say we're about a couple of minutes from the airport. As long as we make our allocated time slot, I still hope to be with you around one o'clock.' 'Good, then I'll have Nick join us so that the contract can be picked up and sent on to our client. We'll expect you around one.' Cavalli replaced the