Honor Among Thieves

“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 passed 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-assault team in a black Chevy Suburban—all of them able to pass the most eagle eye. I’ll also want an additional van that would normally carry the White House media pool—the deathwatch. 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 few seconds. 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 his 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 pass 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. 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. In a moment you’ll all see why. Most of you around this table must be wondering why we’ve been honored by the presence of Johnny Scasiatore, a man nominated for an Oscar for his direction of The Honest Lawyer.” 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 the President 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 House of Representatives 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 Number 1,” suggested Piemonte. “And the Mayor will probably expect the same amount for her reelection 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 we’re making a movie about the 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 Teamsters 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 center of the table, then ran his finger along Constitution 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-assault 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 assistant, 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 document is switched?”

“Yes,” replied Tony firmly. “I’ll be the only pers