Mendelssohn unzipped the bag and allowed Scott to remove the screwdrivers, knives, chisels and finally the drill, which he placed on the floor between them. He zipped the bag back up.
At 6:43 the driver pulled off the highway and followed the signs for La Guardia. No one spoke until the car came to a halt at the curb opposite the Marine Air terminal entrance.
As Dexter stepped out of the car, three men in tan Burberrys jumped out of a car that had parked immediately behind them, and preceded the Deputy Director into the terminal. Another man in a smart charcoal-gray suit, with a raincoat over his arm, held out an envelope as Dexter passed him. The Deputy Director took the package like a good relay runner, without breaking his stride, as he continued towards the departure lounge, where three more agents were waiting for him.
Once he had checked in, Dexter Hutchins would have liked to pace up and down as he waited to board the aircraft. Instead he stood restlessly one yard away from the Declaration of Independence, surrounded by a circle of agents.
“The shuttle to Washington is now boarding at Gate Number 4,” announced a voice over the intercom. Nine men waited until everyone else had boarded the aircraft. When the agent standing by the gate nodded, Dexter led his team past the ticket collector, down the boarding ramp and onto the aircraft. They took their seats, 1A-F and 2A-F. Seat 2E was occupied only by the bag, 2D and 2F by two men who weighed five hundred pounds between them.
The pilot welcomed them aboard and warned them there might be a slight delay. Dexter checked his watch: 7:27. He began drumming his fingers on the armrest that divided him from Scott. The flight attendant offered every one of the nine men in the first two rows a copy of USA Today. Only Mendelssohn took up her offer.
At 7:39 the aircraft taxied onto the runway to prepare for takeoff. When it stopped, Dexter asked the flight attendant what was holding them up.
“The usual early-morning traffic,” she replied. “The Captain has just told me that we’re seventh in the line, so we should be airborne in about ten to fifteen minutes.”
Dexter continued drumming his fingers on the armrest, while Scott couldn’t take his eyes off the bag. Mendelssohn turned another page of his USA Today.
The plane swung around onto the take-off runway at 7:51, its jets revving before it moved slowly forward, then gathered speed. The wheels left the ground at 7:53.
Within moments the flight attendant returned, offering them all breakfast. She didn’t get a positive response until she reached row seven. When later she gave the three crew members on the flight deck their usual morning coffee, she asked the Captain why rows three to six were unoccupied, especially as it was Independence Day.
The Captain couldn’t think of a reason, and simply said, “Better keep your eye on the passengers in rows one and two.” He became even more curious about the nine men at the front of the aircraft when he was cleared for landing as soon as he announced to air traffic control that he was seventy miles away from Washington.
He began his descent at 8:33, and was at the gate on schedule for the first time in months. When he had turned the engine off, three men immediately blocked the gangway and remained there until the Deputy Director and his party were well inside the terminal. When Dexter Hutchins emerged into the Delta gate area, one agent played John the Baptist, while three others fell in behind, acting as disciples. The Director had obviously taken seriously that fine line between protection and drawing attention. Dexter spotted four more agents as he passed through the terminal, and suspected there were at least another twenty hidden at strategic points on his route to the car.
As Dexter passed under the digital clock, its red numbers clicked to 9:01. The doors slid open and he marched out onto the sidewalk. Three black limousines were waiting in line with drivers by their doors.
As soon as they saw the Deputy Director, the drivers of the first and third cars jumped behind their wheels and turned on their engines, while the driver of the second car held open the back door to allow Scott and Mendelssohn to climb in. The Deputy Director joined the agent in the front.
The lead car headed out in the direction of the George Washington Parkway, and within minutes the convoy was crossing the 14th Street Bridge. As the Jefferson Memorial came into sight Dexter checked his watch yet again. It was 9:12. “Easily enough time,” he remarked. Less than a minute later, they were caught in a traffic jam.
“Damn!” said Dexter. “I forgot the streets would be cordoned off for the Independence Day parade.”
When they had moved only another half a mile in the next three minutes, Dexter told his driver they were left with no choice. “Hit the sirens,” he said.
The driver flashed his lights, turned on his siren at full blast and watched as the lead car veered into the inside lane and managed a steady forty miles per hour until they came off the highway.
Dexter was now checking his watch every thirty seconds as the three cars tried to maneuver themselves from lane to lane, but some of Washington’s citizens, unmoved by sirens and flashing lights, weren’t willing to let them through.
The lead car swerved between two police barriers and turned into Constitution Avenue at 9:37. When Dexter saw the floats lining up for the parade, he gave the order to turn the sirens off. The last thing he needed was inquisitive eyes when they finally came to a halt outside the National Archives.
It was Scott who saw them first. He tapped Dexter on the shoulder and pointed ahead of him. A television crew was standing in the front of a long line outside the main door of the National Archives.
“We’ll never get past them,” said Dexter. Turning to Mendelssohn, he asked, “Are there any alternative routes into the building?”
“There’s a delivery entrance on 7th Street,” replied Mendelssohn.
“How appropriate,” said Dexter Hutchins.
“Drive past the front door and then drop me off on the corner,” said the Conservator. “I’ll cross Constitution and go in by the side door.”
“Drop you off on the corner?” said Dexter in disbelief.
“If I’m surrounded by agents, everyone will...” began Mendelssohn.
“Yes, yes, yes,” said the Deputy Director, trying to think. He picked up the phone and instructed the two other cars to peel off.
“We’re going to have to risk it,” said Scott.
“I know,” said Dexter. “But at least you can go with him. After all, you’ve never looked like an agent.” Scott wasn’t sure whether he should take the remark as a compliment or not.
As they drove slowly past the National Archives, Dexter looked away from the impatient camera crew.
“How many of them?” he asked.
“About six,” said Scott. “And I think that must be Shaw with his back to us.”
“Show me exactly where you want the car to stop,” said the Deputy Director, turning to face Mendelssohn.
“Another fifty yards,” came back the reply.
“You take the bag, Scott.”
“But...” began Mendelssohn. When he saw the expression on Dexter Hutchins’s face, he didn’t bother with a second word.
The car drew into the curb and stopped. Scott grabbed the bag, jumped out and held the door open for Mendelssohn. Eight agents were walking up and down the sidewalk trying to appear innocent. None of them was looking towards the steps of the National Archives. The two unlikely looking companions quickly crossed Constitution Avenue and began running up 7th Street.
When they reached the delivery entrance, Scott came face to face with an anxious Calder Marshall, who had been pacing back and forth at the bottom of the ramp.
“Thank God,” was all the Archivist said when he saw Scott and the Conservator running down the ramp. He led them silently into the open freight elevator. They traveled up two floors and then ran along the corridor until they reached the staircase that led down to the vault. Marshall turned to check that the two men were still with him before he began running down the steps, something no member of staff had ever seen him do before. Scott chased after the Archivist, followed by Mendelssohn. None of them stopped until they reached a set of massive steel doors.