“Don’t get me involved in your legal shenanigans! Bail yourself out!” Marilyn answered, really making her parents worry.
“We need to pack.” I grabbed the luggage from the utility room as Marilyn loaded the dishwasher, and I dragged the luggage into our bedroom. We weren’t going to be gone all that long. Today was Thursday and we would fly home on Monday. Just long enough to work on our tans, engage in repeated mindless sex, and drink a lot of rum, all out of the reach of reporters and Andy Stewart. At least we hoped we would be out of reach of everybody. Henry Donaldson’s talk last night made me wonder.
Packing was simple, at least for me. Some khakis and Hawaiian shirts, a sport coat and a couple of dress shirts for going out to dinner, a pair of socks or two, and not much else. I was wearing khakis and a Hawaiian shirt, and deck shoes without socks. Marilyn packed light, too, at least as light as she ever packs. I think she had two outfits per day, plus spares. No bras or panties, though. I teased her about that and she showed me her bag. Then she sent me out of the bedroom, since she needed to prepare for the trip. “What more do you need to prepare for?” I asked.
“I’m taking a bath and shaving,” she said. “All over!”
I swallowed hard and finished packing my bag and the hanging bag and dragged them out to the living room. About an hour later Marilyn came out of the bedroom wearing a calf-length sundress with a halter top and a row of buttons down the front. She had on some high-heeled sandals. “You should wear a jacket. It’s cold out,” said her mother.
She nodded. “I can leave it in the car at the airport. We’re leaving you the van. We’ll take Carl’s Cadillac to the airport.”
Or not. Promptly at nine, the doorbell rang and we opened it to find a pair of security people standing there with Henry. Out in the driveway I could see a small gray limo idling. “I’d like to introduce Joe Bonnano and Marie Telluride. They’ll be going with you to the Bahamas. In addition to your personal security, they’ll also be examining security at your home there. Joe used to do diplomatic security for the State Department and Marie was in the FBI.”
That seemed impressive enough. Big Bob and Harriet were a bit concerned, though. “Is there a problem? Have there been any threats?” she asked.
Henry responded, saying, “Nothing of the sort. We simply talked it over and we plan to increase security on the Buckmans. Now that the Congressman is in the public eye, there might be some possible problems in the future. We just want to be ready.”
I wasn’t sure how reassuring that was to my in-laws. He was still talking to them as we kissed the kids good-bye and hustled out the door. “Let’s go before they get nervous,” I said.
We were directed to the limo, and tossed our bags in the trunk, alongside two other large suitcases, presumably belonging to Joe and Marie. Joe was a big beefy guy who looked like an Italian Mafia hitman, but I knew the State Department wasn’t hiring thugs, so he had to be pretty smart. Marie had that serious professional look I’ve occasionally seen in businesswomen who decided their career was more important than home life. Both of them looked like they could clean up nice and accompany us anywhere we needed to go.
Twenty minutes later we were at the Westminster airport. It was about 9:30, and there was a G2 sitting on the tarmac. I didn’t see any other planes ready to go. “I hope that’s for us,” I told my wife. “Is this what you worked out with Taylor?”
We immediately got a lesson in security. Rather than just open the door and hop out, Joe told us to wait. He got out of the car, looked around briefly, and then opened the door. On the other side of the car Marie was continuing to scan the area. I knew I would get used to it, but it was a little disconcerting. Joe accompanied us inside, while Marie stayed with the car.
Normally I made the travel arrangements, but this time Marilyn had done it. I had been too busy campaigning, and we had decided that either way, we were going away. Most of all, we had a very limited window to do this. In a week and a half, on Sunday the 18th, both Marilyn and I had to be in Washington for a week of freshman orientation. It was going to be like heading back to college!
We parked at the charter office and headed inside. A fellow standing at the counter looked up at us. I recognized him as a pilot we had used before. “The Buckmans, right?”
“You remembered,” I said.
“It’s not hard to when you’ve been on the news so much lately. Ready to go?”
“I’ve been ready! I need a vacation after all of this!” I replied with a snort.
He laughed at that. “I bet you do. Well, if you have any luggage, let’s get you loaded up.” He came around the counter and followed us out to the limousine. He grabbed the suitcases while I carried the hanging bag. Marilyn took off her jacket and tossed it on her seat, grabbed her purse, and headed towards the plane. Our security detail each grabbed a suitcase. I patted my pants pockets and confirmed I had our passports, and we headed towards the G2. Ten minutes later we were settled in and climbing to altitude.
Once we were level, a chime rang and the pilot came on and announced our remaining flight time and said we had some champagne cooling in the fridge. I smiled over at Marilyn. “You and Taylor have everything planned, I see.”
“I have to admit, this really beats flying coach,” replied my wife. She unbuckled and went forward. A small refrigerator was built into the forward bulkhead, and she retrieved a bottle of champagne and brought it back to me. Then she went forward again and found where the glasses were.
I turned to face our security team. “I don’t know if you’re allowed to partake, but you’re invited, I guess. Or is that verboten? I’ve never really had bodyguards before.”
Joe replied, “No, that would really sort of defeat the whole purpose, wouldn’t it? Don’t mind us, though. Feel free to have a drink.” Marie simply smiled.
“Uh…” I glanced over at Marilyn. I guessed another round in the Mile High Club was out. I pointed at the seats in front of ours, which were facing rearward. “Come on up here, we need to know how this works.” I turned back to face the front of the plane, and they unbuckled and came forward. Joe sat down in front of me and Marie sat in front of Marilyn.
I stripped off the foil and wire cage, and then carefully popped the cork, making sure to hold it away from me in case it got fizzy. I handed Marilyn her flute and then set the bottle into the holder. “Okay, teach me about what we have to do. How does this work?” I asked. It felt very weird drinking in front of them.
“How much experience have you had with bodyguards?” asked Marie. It was practically the first thing she had said so far. She was a very quiet type.
I glanced at my wife a moment before answering. “Some, but not much. Back in 1983 Marilyn was being stalked, and we brought a team in to drive her around and eventually take her out of the state, but that all ended when my brother was stopped.”
“When you killed him, correct?”
“Correct. Since then, we went a lot lower profile. The kids and Marilyn would get a tail whenever they were out, but when I was with them, I handled things. When I travel I usually get a driver when I’m away, but nothing else.”
“Mister Donaldson explained why that’s no longer really sufficient?”
Both Marilyn and I nodded. “We want to keep it low profile with the kids, as long as we can,” I responded.
Marilyn added, “We don’t want them being driven around in armored cars.”
That earned a smile from both of them. “We can handle that. The biggest change will be the Congressman, here,” said Joe. He turned to face me. “Here’s a few ground rules. Don’t leave a setting until somebody has had a chance to look around and wave you forward. We can do that very discreetly. Don’t just jump out of the car and run in somewhere. We’ll open the door for you to let you out, and then open the door of the building and look in first.”