Cavalli quickly glanced at Dollar Bill, who looked as if it was he who might be in need of a physician.
Mendelssohn guided the actor towards a massive block of concrete that took up a large area of the far wall.
He patted the slab of concrete and explained that the protective shell had been built at a time when the nation’s greatest fear had been a nuclear attack.
“The Declaration is covered in five tons of interlocking leaves of metal, embedded in the fifty-five-ton concrete steel vault you see before you. I can asssure you, Mr. President,” Mendelssohn added, “if Washington was razed to the ground, the Declaration of Independence would still be in one piece.”
“Impressive,” said Adams, “most impressive.”
Cavalli checked his watch, it was 10:24, and they’d already been inside the building for seventeen minutes. Although the limousines were waiting, he had no choice but to allow the Conservator to carry on at his own pace. After all, their hosts were aware of the limitations on the President’s time if they were still hoping to show him around the rest of the building.
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“The entire system, Mr. President,” continued the Conservator enthusiastically, “is worked electronically. At the press of a button, the Declaration, which is always exhibited and stored in an upright position, travels up from this level through interlocking doors which open before the document finally comes to rest in a case of solid bronze, protected by ballistically tested glass and plastic laminate. Ultraviolet filters in the laminate give the inner layer a slightly greenish hue.” The actor looked lost, but Mr. Mendelssohn continued, quite unconcerned, “We are presently standing some twenty-two feet below the exhibit hall, and as the mechanics can be worked manually, I am able to stop the machinery at any time. With your permission, Mr. Marshall.”
The Archivist nodded, and the Conservator touched a button that neither the actor nor Cavalli had spotted until that moment. The five-ton leaves began to slide apart above their heads, and a sudden whirling and clanking sounded as the massive brass frame that housed the parchment began its daily journey towards the ceiling. When the frame had reached desk height, Mr. Mendelssohn pressed a second button, and the whirling sound instantly ceased. He then raised an open palm in the direction of the casing.
Lloyd Adams took a step forward and stared across at the nation’s most important historic document.
“Now, remembering your personal wish, Mr. President, we in turn have a small request of you.”
The actor seemed uncertain what his lines were meant to be, and glanced towards Cavalli in the wings.
“And what might that request be?” prompted Cavalli, apprehensive of any change of plan at this late stage.
“Simply,” said Mr. Mendelssohn, “that while the Archivist and I are removing the outer casing of the Declaration, your men will be kind enough to turn and face the wall.”
Cavalli hesitated, aware that the Secret Service would never allow a situation to arise where they could not see the President at all times.
“Let me make it easier for you, Mr. Mendelssohn,” said Adams. “I’ll be the first to comply with your request.” The actor turned away from the document, and the rest of the team followed suit.
In the brief space of time that the team was unable to see what was going on behind them, Cavalli heard twelve distinct clicks and the exaggerated sighs of two men not used to moving heavy weights.
“Thank you, Mr. President,” said Calder Marshall. “I hope that didn’t put you to too much inconvenience.”
The thirteen intruders turned around to face the massive frame. The bronze casing had been lifted over to leave the impression of an open book.
Lloyd Adams, with Cavalli and Dollar Bill a pace behind, stepped forward to admire the original while Marshall and the Conservator continued to stare at the old parchment. Suddenly, without warning, the actor reeled back, clutching his throat, and collapsed to the ground. Four of the Secret Service agents immediately surrounded Adams while the other four bundled the Archivist and the Conservator out of the vault and into the corridor before they could utter a word. Tony had to admit Johnny was right—it had been a bad case of overacting.
Once the door was closed, Cavalli turned to see Dollar Bill already staring at the parchment, his eyes alight with excitement, the Lieutenant by his side.
“Time for us to get to work, Angelo,” said the Irishman. He stretched his fingers out straight. The Lieutenant removed a pair of thin rubber gloves from the doctor’s bag and pulled them over his hands. Dollar Bill wiggled his fingers like a concert pianist about to begin a recital. Once the gloves were in place, Angelo bent down again and lifted a long, thin knife out of the bag, placing the handle firmly in Dollar Bill’s right hand.
While these preparations were being carried out, Dollar Bill’s eyes had never once left the document. Those who remained in the room were so silent that it felt like a tomb as the forger leaned over towards the parchment and placed the blade of the knife gently under the top right-hand corner. It peeled slowly back, and he transferred the knife to the left-hand corner, and that too came cleanly away. Dollar Bill passed the knife back to Angelo before he began rolling the parchment up slowly and as tightly as he could without harming it.
At the same time, Angelo flicked back the handle of his dress sword and held the long shaft out in front of him. Cavalli took a step forward and slowly pulled out Dollar Bill’s counterfeit copy from the specially constructed chamber where the sword’s blade would normally have lodged.
Cavalli and Dollar Bill exchanged their prizes and reversed the process. While Cavalli slid the original Declaration inch by inch down the scabbard of the dress sword, Dollar Bill began to unroll his fake carefully onto the backplate of the laminated glass, the moist chemical mixture helping the document to remain in place. The counterfeiter sniffed loudly. The strong smell suggested thymol to his sensitive nose. Dollar Bill gave his copy one more long look, checked the spelling correction and then took a step backwards, reluctantly leaving his masterpiece to the tender care of the National Archives and its concrete prison.
Once he had completed his task Dollar Bill walked quickly over to the side of Lloyd Adams. Debbie had already undone his collar, loosened his tie and applied a little pale foundation to his face. The forger bent down on one knee, took off the rubber gloves and dropped them into a physician’s bag full of makeup as Cavalli dialed a number on his cellular phone.
It was answered even before he heard a ring, but Cavalli could only just make out a faint voice.
“Take two,” said Cavalli firmly, and rang off before pointing at the door. One of the Secret Service agents swung the steel grid wide open and Cavalli watched carefully as Mr. Mendelssohn came charging through the gap and headed straight to the brass encasement, while Marshall, who was pale and quivering, went immediately to the side of the President.
Cavalli was relieved to see a smile come across the lips of the Conservator as he leaned over the fake Declaration. With the help of Angelo, he pulled the brass casing across and gave the manuscript a loving stare before fixing the lid back into place, then quickly tightened the twelve locks around the outside of the casing. He pressed one of the buttons and the whirling and clanking noise began again as the massive brass frame slowly disappeared back into the ground.
Cavalli turned his attention to the actor and watched as two of the Secret Service agents helped him to his feet, while Dollar Bill fastened his physician’s bag.