Honour Among Thieves

the smiling West Indian behind the counter. Far too familiar, she thought. Once again the time had come for her to move her account to another bank in another country, in another name. She dropped the package into her carrier bag, threw it over her shoulder and left without a word. She didn't attempt to open the thick brown envelope until she had called for coffee at the end of an unhurried meal at a hotel she would never book into. She then carefully slit open the top of the bulky package with her bread knife, allowing the contents to spill out onto the table. The usual photos, from every angle, plus addresses past and present, and the daily habits and haunts of the intended victim. Cavalli never left any room for mistakes. She studied the photos of a little fat man sitting on a bar stool. He looked harmless enough. The contract was always the same. To be carried out within fourteen days. Payment two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to account specified. It wasn't Columbus or Washington this time, but San Francisco. She hadn't been to the West Coast in years, and she tried to remember if they had a Laura Ashley store. 'National Archives.' 'Mr Marshall, please.' 'Who's calling?' 'Christopher. Warren Christopher.' 'And you're with which agency?' 'I have a feeling he'll know.' 'I'll put you through, sir.' The Secretary waited patiently. 'Calder Marshall speaking.' 'Calder, it's Warren Christopher.' 'Good morning, Mr Secretary.' 'Good morning, Calder. I've just received your letter of resignation.' 'Yes, sir. I thought it was the only course of action I could take in the circumstances.' 'Very commendable, I feel sure, but have you let anyone else into your confidence?' 'No, sir. I intended to brief my staff at eleven and hold a press conference at twelve, as stated in my letter. I hope that doesn't inconvenience you, sir.' 'Well, I wondered if before you did that, you might find the time to have a meeting with the President and myself?' Marshall hesitated only because the request had taken him by surprise. 'Of course, sir. What time would suit you?' 'Shall we say ten o'clock?' 'Yes, sir. Where would you like me to come?' 'The North Entrance of the White House.' 'The North Entrance, of course.' 'Jack Leigh, my executive assistant, will meet you in the West Wing reception area and accompany you to the Oval Office.' 'The Oval Office.' 'And Calder...' 'Yes, Mr Secretary?' 'Please do not mention your resignation to anyone until you've seen the President.' 'Until I've seen the President. Of course.' 'Thank you, Calder.' 'Glad to have been of assistance, sir.' 'I'd LIKE TO begin by thanking you all for attending this meeting at such short notice,' said the Secretary of State. 'And, in particular, Scott Bradley, who has only recently recovered from . . .' Christopher hesitated for a moment, '. . . a near-tragic accident. I know we are all delighted by the speed of his recovery. I should also like to welcome Colonel Kratz, who is representing the Israeli Government, and Dexter Hutchins, the Deputy Director of the CIA. 'Only two of my staff are with me today: Jack Leigh, my executive assistant, and Susan Anderson, one of my senior Middle East advisers. The reason for numbers being limited on this occasion will become all too obvious to you. The issue we are about to discuss is so sensitive that the fewer people who are aware of it, the better. To suggest in this instance that silence is golden would be to underestimate the value of gold. 'Perhaps, at this juncture, I could ask the Deputy Director of the CIA to bring us up to date on the latest situation. Dexter.' Dexter Hutchins unlocked his briefcase and removed a file marked 'For the Director's Eyes Only'. He placed the file on the table in front of him and turned its cover. 'Two days ago, Mr Marshall, the Archivist of the United States, reported to the Secretary of State that the Declaration of Independence had been stolen from the National Archives; or, to be more accurate, had been switched for a quite brilliant copy that had not only passed the scrutiny of Mr Marshall, but also that of the Senior Conservator, Mr Mendelssohn. 'It was only when Mr Marshall attempted to re-contact a Mr Rex Butterworth, who had been temporarily assigned to the White House as a Special Assistant to the President, that he became worried.' 'If I could just interject, Mr Hutchins,' said Jack Leigh, 'and point out that though Mr Butterworth was a former employee of the Commerce Department, should