“Fucking Brewster,” I muttered. We both shook our heads at that one.
The next morning we explained to Big Bob and Harriet that we would be delaying our trip by a day, and they agreed to help. By breakfast time Brewster had called and set up a schedule with reporters and television stations, and both Marilyn and I were to be at headquarters ASAP! Or sooner! We finished breakfast, shaved and/or showered, and were at campaign headquarters by nine. We were greeted by more people than I would have expected, and were cheered as we walked in the door.
I waved to everybody and then was dragged away into my office by Brew. “What’s with all the people out there?” I asked.
“I asked a few people to come in, to help shut down and clean up. Be nice to everybody and thank everybody, and maybe they’ll help us out again in two years, right?”
Understanding dawned on me. “Right, so I make sure I call or speak to all the volunteers. Got it!”
I ended up driving into Baltimore to talk on camera to the various television stations, but I spoke to Fletcher Donaldson of the Sun by telephone. Yes, we were excited by the win. Yes, we had to thank all the people who supported us, with donations and with time. No, I haven’t talked to or heard from Andy Stewart. No, I haven’t heard what he was saying about us (he was damning me left and right, and some of his statements were almost certainly actionable!) I won, and it was all water under the bridge.
Yadda, yadda, yadda! Be polite, don’t say much of substance, thank everybody under the sun. In between interviews, Brewster had a list of names and times for me to call and say thank you, and some I had to promise to meet between now and when I was sworn in.
It was after dinner before Marilyn and I got back to the house. She was as frazzled as I was, but the day wasn’t over. Waiting for us in the driveway was the head of our security detail, Henry Donaldson.
I got out of the car, and said, “Henry, is there a problem?” I glanced at the house, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Henry saw my look, and he simply shook his head, and replied, “No, not yet, but there will be. We need to talk.”
I stopped. “Is there a problem?” I repeated.
“Sorry. No, nothing is wrong with the kids or the house or your family. This is about the future.”
“Okay. Well, come on in. We can talk in the den.” I shrugged at Marilyn, and she gave me a perplexed look in return.
We went inside, to hear everybody clamoring that they saw me on television, and Big Bob indignantly commented about the bile Andy Stewart was still spewing. We laughed at it all. I told Big Bob that we had talked to Brewster McRiley about Stewart, and he was calling him in the morning. Andy got a one day free pass. If he said anything starting tomorrow, we were going to sue his pants off.
I made a round of drinks for everybody, including Henry, and then the three of us headed into the den. Charlie tried to follow us in, but we scooted his butt back out the door. Then we settled into chairs. “Well, what’s up?” I asked. “Everything seems okay.”
“We need to talk about your security situation. Congratulations on winning, but that just complicates things.” I tried to wave him off, but Henry was dead serious. “Mister Buckman, I’ve been doing this long enough to know what I’m talking about. I was on the Detail for President Reagan back at the beginning of his first term, right after the shooting. If you don’t mind me saying it, you’ve been lucky so far.”
I was really tempted to blow him off, but then I remembered something John had once said about listening to the experts you paid for. Henry Donaldson seemed pretty serious. “Okay, so explain that.”
“Sir, you are a billionaire and a politician. One or the other would be bad enough, but the two together? You are an incident just waiting to happen! Combine that with your penchant for rescuing people… what would have happened if it had been a gang and not just one guy at that diner? You run your personal security as if you were inviting disaster.”
“As long as Marilyn and the kids are safe, I can generally handle myself.”
“Sir, I beg to disagree with you. First, while your children and wife are generally safe when they are being tailed around by my crew, you usually dismiss them when you are there. You can’t be both husband and father and security. It won’t work. As for taking care of yourself, you are asking for trouble. All it takes is one insurance fraud crew managing an accident and you could be in huge trouble.”
“Insurance fraud?” asked Marilyn.
He nodded to her. “Imagine this — your husband is out driving home from somewhere when a beat up car full of people pulls up in front of him and slams on the brakes. Your husband rear ends them, and then they sue for all sorts of stuff. If they are really professional, they do it at a location where they have cameras, you know, ‘friends’ who just happened to be nearby. They will sue you for all sorts of medical bills, and then for causing the wreck, and traumatic this-that-and-the-other. It happens all the time.”
I glanced over at my wife, who looked horrified by the thought. “I’ve heard of that happening, but I thought it was just in books or bad television shows,” I said.
“It’s a multibillion dollar a year insurance problem. In your case, the danger is not in the insurance fraud aspect, which does not really affect you, but the publicity and the chance for blackmail.”
“I’ll be damned,” I said, to nobody in particular.
“So, what does this mean for us? What do you want us to do?” asked Marilyn.
“We need to treat security much more comprehensively. Both you and Mister Buckman need to handle security more professionally. There will be some changes, not so much for you and the children, but definitely for Mister Buckman,” he answered.
“What kind of changes?”
“The house is fairly secure, but we need to put a gate across the driveway, and monitor visitors more closely from the station across the road. We are already tailing the school buses to school and keeping an eye on Charlie and the twins. Ma’am, you should be having one of our drivers with you everywhere. We can make it either a man or a woman, but they can’t be following you anymore, they need to be driving you.”
“Good God, it’s sounds like what the President has to do!” she exclaimed.
At that Henry and I looked at each other and smiled. “It’s not even close!” he said. I just laughed and shook my head. Henry continued, “You tailor the response to the likely security threat. In the President’s case, nobody really worries about insurance or blackmail, but everybody worries about kidnapping and assassination. I don’t see assassination as a problem here, although kidnapping is a possibility.”
“Really?”
He shrugged. “Yes and no. All those pictures of the missing children on milk cartons and such — the majority are either runaways or custody disputes. Actual kidnappings are very unlikely; the number is on the order of a few thousand a year or so, depending on how you calculate it. Now, that’s a serious problem, but it’s not many when you figure this is a nation of almost 300 million people. The level of surveillance we have maintained is enough to stop anything but a professional kidnapping for ransom, which is something you only see on bad spy movies or television.”
“It’s different with the President and his family,” I told Marilyn. “That’s where the bad movie scenarios actually kick in, both for kidnapping and murder. The problem is that if somebody is willing to pay the price in bodies, they can always kill or capture their target.”
“So don’t run for President,” I was ordered.
“Congressman was bad enough. I have no idea why anybody would actually want to run for President,” I countered. “So what do you want out of me?” I asked him.