Honor Among Thieves

“The next problem we faced was having to tiptoe around people we’d usually bring in for questioning, for fear that they too might discover our real purpose. However, we have been able to come up with several leads without talking to any members of the public. Following a routine check of permit records at the DCPD, we discovered that a movie was being made in Washington on the same day as the document was stolen. The director of that movie was Johnny Scasiatore, who is currently out on bail facing an indecency charge. Three others involved in the enterprise turn out to have criminal records. And some of those people fit the descriptions Mr. Marshall and Mr. Mendelssohn have given us of the group who arrived at the National Archives posing as the Presidential party. They include a certain Bill O’Reilly, a well-known forger who has spent several years in more than one of our state penitentiaries, and an actor who played the President so convincingly that both Mr. Marshall and Mr. Mendelssohn accepted it was him without question.”

“Surely we can discover who that was,” said Christopher.

“We already have, sir. His name is Lloyd Adams. But we don’t dare bring him in.”

“How did you find him?” asked Leigh. “After all, there are quite a few actors who can manage a passable resemblance to Clinton.”

“Agreed,” said the Deputy Director, “but only one who’s been operated on by America’s leading plastic surgeon within the past few months. We have reason to believe that the ringleaders killed the surgeon and his daughter, which is why his wife reported everything she knew to the local Chief of Police.

“However, the whole operation would never have got off the ground without the inside help of Mr. Rex Butterworth, who was last seen on the morning of May 25th and has since disappeared off the face of the earth. He booked a flight to Brazil, but he never showed. We have agents across the globe searching for him.”

“None of this is of any importance if we are no nearer to finding out where the original Declaration is at this moment, and who took it,” said Christopher.

“That’s the bad news,” replied Dexter. “Our agents spend hours on routine investigations that many American citizens consider a waste of taxpayers’ money. But just now and then, it pays off.”

“We’re all listening,” said Christopher.

“The CIA keeps under surveillance several foreign diplomats who work at the United Nations. Naturally, they would be outraged if any of them could prove what we were up to, and if we ever think they’re onto us we back off immediately. In the case of Iraqis at the UN, we have people shadowing them around the clock. Our problem is that we can’t operate within the UN complex itself, because if we were caught inside that building it would cause an international outcry. So occasionally their representatives are bound to slip our net.

“But we believe it was not a coincidence that Iraq’s Deputy Ambassador to the United Nations, a Mr. Hamid Al Obaydi, was in Washington on the day the Declaration was switched, and took several photographs of the bogus filming that was taking place. The agent who was tracking Al Obaydi at the time also reported that, at ten thirty-seven, after the Declaration had gone back on display in the National Archives, Al Obaydi, waited in line over an hour to view the parchment. But here’s the clincher. He studied the document once, and then he looked at it a second time, with glasses.”

“Perhaps he’s nearsighted,” said Susan.

“Our agent reports that he’s never before or since seen him wearing glasses of any kind,” replied Dexter Hutchins. “Now for the really bad news,” he continued.

“That wasn’t it?” said Christopher.

“No, sir. Al Obaydi flew on to Geneva a week later and was spotted by our local station officer leaving a bank.” Dexter referred to his notes. “Franchard et cie. He was carrying a plastic cylinder, and I quote, ‘a little over two feet in length and about two inches in diameter.’ ”

“Who’s going to tell the President?” said Christopher, putting his hands over his eyes.

“He took this cylinder by car straight to the Palais des Nations, and it hasn’t been seen since.”

“And Barazan Al-Tikriti, Saddam’s half brother, is the Iraqi Ambassador to the United Nations in Geneva,” said Susan.

“Don’t remind me,” said Christopher. “But what I want to know is, why the hell didn’t your man jump Al Obaydi when it was obvious what he was carrying? I would have found a way of keeping the Swiss in line.”

“We would have done so if we’d known what he was carrying, but at that stage we weren’t even aware the Declaration had been stolen, and our surveillance was just routine.”

“So what you’re telling us, Mr. Hutchins, is that the Declaration could well be in Baghdad by now,” said Leigh. “Because if it was sent through the diplomatic pouch, the Swiss wouldn’t have let us get anywhere near it.”

No one spoke for several moments.

“Let’s work on the worst-case scenario,” said the Secretary of State finally. “The Declaration is already in Saddam’s possession. So what’s his next move going to be? Scott, you’re our man of logic. Can you anticipate what he might get up to?”

“No, sir, Saddam’s not a man you can second-guess, especially after his failed attempt in Kuwait on Bush’s life. Although the world accused him of being behind the plot, how did he react? Not with the usual bellicose shouting and screaming about American imperialism but with a reasoned, coherent statement from his Ambassador at the UN denying any involvement. Why? The press tells us it’s because Saddam is hoping Clinton will be more reasonable in the long term than Bush. I don’t believe it. I suspect Saddam realizes that Clinton’s position doesn’t differ greatly from that of his predecessor. I don’t think that’s his reasoning at all. No, I suspect he believes that with the Declaration in his possession, he has a weapon so powerful that he can humiliate the United States, and in particular the new President, as and when he pleases.”

“When and how, Scott? If we knew that…”

“I have two theories on that, sir,” replied Scott.

“Let’s hear them both.”

“Neither is going to make you feel any happier, Mr. Secretary.”

“Nevertheless…”

“First he sets up a press conference, inviting the world’s media to attend. He selects some public place in Baghdad where he is safely surrounded by his own people, and then he tears up, burns, destroys, does whatever he likes to the Declaration. I have a feeling it would make prime-time television.”