ALL IN: Race for the White House (31 page)

“Senator, you don’t understand how difficult you’re making this.”
 

“Well get used to it, Bob,” I let him down hard. I could see he was questioning ever wanting this assignment. After a few moments of complete silence, I made Bob an offer.

“Bob, think about this for a second, if I’m happy with you, when I’m president you’ll stay with us,” I told him I would stick to an itinerary on the condition he breaks protocol every once in a while so Sarah and I could have some fun. I added that he tell me everything about the operation. He said that no one is to know all the details. Even the agents in the field were only given orders on a ‘need to know’ basis. I asked him if he could live with himself if he passed up the opportunity I was offering. He told me he wanted to see it my way. That he had been watching the campaign, sympathized with our cause, and truly hoped that I would go all the way.
 

“Then, Bob, take the leap, join us. We’ll both get what we want, join our team. It will be you and me working together, and I assure you—anything we share will stay between us.”

Somehow, I inspired his confidence. I could almost smell the wood burning as his brain weighed the offer.

He countered, “I suppose you
could
break away from the group occasionally, but I’d have to have at least one agent within sight of you, to be certain he’d be able to call for assistance if he saw something wrong. Your wife won’t even know we’re there. As to the operation, I’ll tell you what I can, but know that what you see is only the tip of the iceberg.”
 

The Secret Service had closed the flight path for all planes in the vicinity of Portland. The door to the cockpit was ajar and I could hear the tower giving Pilot Ben the okay to land. Runway 1 - 9 would take us out over the Fore River landing east to west. Following the landing, we were ordered to proceed to the far end of the airport.
 

Ben called back, “I could get used to this, Jack,” He quickly turned the plane and taxied over to a phalanx of Agents waiting at the end of the terminal area. Sarah looked out the window and coined a new phrase, “Jack, it looks like
the Secret Circus out there.”

“I know, a week ago we could have flown in here and just walked off.”

Today was different, we descended the steps of the plane to a waiting Agent Bob, who had the door to a large black SUV already open. Tugs and baggage cars blocked off the area like circled wagons. Lexi and her crew were filming our arrival. I waved to her producer and cameraman knowing she couldn’t see me turned towards the camera.
 

“Watch your step, Hon,” I said motioning for Sarah to avoid the heavy oil stain on the tarmac. Portland had been through some tough economic times, and the small jetport was showing signs of it. The cement formed walls of the outer terminal, once white, were graying and needed a paint job. Water mixed with rust had stained a section next to an abandoned jet way. The municipal budget had been redirected toward post-9/11 security measures. The inside of the terminal was a choppy hodgepodge of temporary barriers. The city didn’t have the funds to renovate and was left in a mess. I was glad we didn’t have to step inside there today.
 

“Look at the helicopter, Jack,” Sarah pointed to a Huey-sized Hunter Green Copter with the inscription ‘United States of America.’
 

When we got to the waiting car, I introduced Sarah to Bob, explaining he was the agent in charge of the operation.
 

“Just the man I want to speak with then,” Sarah said.

Stepping inside the vehicle with one hand on my arm, Sarah took the seat next to the far window. I jumped in next, and then Bob pulled the door closed sitting across from us facing the rear.
 

“Agent Bob, is this all for us?” Sarah couldn’t believe the production.

“Yes, ma’am, we have over two hundred agents on the ground.”

“You can drop the ma’am, it’s Sarah.”

“Honey, Bob had told me he has agents stationed all along Route 1, two each at various motels along the way.”
 

Bob added, sounding full of himself, “Those agents are backup in case we need them. The agents traveling with us are the ones you saw outside when you arrived.”
 

“Isn’t that enough?” Sarah said.

“We also have plain-clothes agents you won’t even know are there as part of the crowd.”

Sarah was right. This is like a traveling circus, hundreds of agents and a bus full of press along with us wherever we go.

I had given the itinerary. Portland, Freeport to visit LL Bean, Boothbay Harbor, Bar Harbor, and then inland to Bangor. Furthest north would be Milo to get a visit to the rural interior. I wanted the press to get a look at the small Maine towns to document the lives and struggles of the people here. This trip would showcase how bad management in Washington had caused the mess the country was in. I told Bob to plan for our return via an inland route through the center of Maine, south to Sebago. That’s where this over the top dog and pony show would land for a week before heading back to Alexandria.
 

Our first stop was the Portland City Hall. Bob gave the driver the okay to move.
 

I joked to Sarah, “It’s funny how nobody moves without being told in this bunch.”
 

I had driven the route into downtown Portland many times. Usually, we’d get to the airport, fumble around for fifteen or twenty minutes waiting for the baggage handlers to bring our luggage. We’d always get that hopeful first piece and then wait for the rest. The ride into downtown normally takes about fifteen minutes because of the narrow one-lane roads that made up the drive. The city can’t widen the roads because everything was planned before the car, so the homes sit fairly close to the road.
 

Today, the entire ride would take less than five minutes, as the Portland Police closed off each intersecting road along the route.
 

I remembered when I was young; Fritz Mondale came to our town to do a speech. I happened to be the first car stopped for a light on a side street. All of a sudden, a cop car pulled up and blocked the entire road, and then the officer jumped out and stood outside the vehicle. I could see across the street—another cop did the same and all the way down the road, the side streets were being blocked from traffic heading for the main thoroughfare. It seemed like the world stood still for what now I realize was about five minutes. You know how everything seems much longer when waiting at a traffic light, especially with a cop blocking your path and no way to know how long it’s going to be. Well, after a few minutes, along comes a motorcade with a big black limo heading into City Hall. I remember thinking, who is this guy that miles of road from the airport to the town center are shut down for? I’d like to be that guy.
 

Sarah got right to her point. “Bob, who is in charge of the protection assigned to our girls?”

“I am,” he answered without hesitating.
 

“Then do me a favor, explain to me why we are traveling with all this while there are only three agents with our girls?”

Agent Bob started to explain, “We have sharpshooters stationed on nearby roofs ready, drivers, and shields to walk along beside us…”
 

Sarah cut him off. “Jack, I think we need to bring the girls here with us, we can get them a tutor for the trip. I can stay with them in Alexandria after that. Either that or I could fly back to get them myself.”

“I think you’re right! We need to have the girls with us.”

“Well, send the plane back for them then. I’ll call my cousin and tell her to pack some things.”

Bob started, “Sir, we’re really not prepared for a change in plans.”

The driver, blocked from view by a blackened glass divider, announced into Bob’s ear loud enough so we could hear, “Two minutes to arrival, Sir.”
 

The press, the buses, Bud, Bill, Lisa, Daphne, and the rest of our crew were already at Portland City Hall waiting for us to arrive. The granite steps fronting the building were now the staging area for our kick off speech for the trip. I picked the setting for its downtown location steps from a working waterfront mixed with restaurants and cobblestone streets. I would give a brief speech about unchecked greed, get the crowd stirred up, and then walk the few hundred yards to the scenic backdrop of the Old Port Area.
 

“Sarah, I told Daphne to tell the press to save their appetites for lunch in Camden. I thought we’d treat everybody to Chappy’s Chowder House.”
 

“Jack, turn this car around. I’m feeling like I want to go back and get the girls.”

“You heard the lady, Bob, back to the jetport.” I reached for my cell.
 

I knew what Sarah was doing; she was working on an angle, and I let her run with it.

“Sir, we have agents set up all through the downtown area ready for your arrival. The crowd has swelled to over five thousand.”

“Turn this car around, Bob!” Sarah said in a chillingly firm voice.

“Sir?”
 

“Bob, turn the fuck around.”

Bob was squirming in his seat.
 

To let him off the hook, I asked. “Sweetheart, if Bob can take like fifteen guys off of this detail and run them down to stay with Veronica and the girls, would you be okay?”

“I guess I’d feel better.”

“Can you do that, Bob?” I asked.

Bob nodded his head. His lips were tight against his teeth. Not many people have ever gotten past the two of us; Sarah and I had an unbreakable alliance, and we were a formidable team.
 

“How soon can you make it happen?” Sarah asked.

“As soon as we arrive, I’ll make the call.”

“Do it now, Bob,” Sarah wasn’t going to wait.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Bob spoke into a tiny clear mouthpiece at his cheek, “Get me command.”

Sarah turned to me and gave me the gentlest kiss, took a deep breath and then sat back in her seat.

“You know, Jack; it would’ve been nice to do something like Chappy’s for dinner.”

“I know, Honey, but it gets dark so early up here.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“Jack, I’m not so sure I’m loving having Lexi underfoot. I have to watch everything I say. Couldn’t you ask her to follow us in their own vehicle, at least to give us a little privacy between stops?”
 

Sarah got my attention; I’d been looking out the window at the scenery along Route One. The waterfront towns are elegant with their Main Streets lined with New Englanders all seeming to have the same front porch style.
 

Bob looked over at me listening intently to hear my answer.

Lexi was up front going over some notes with her cameraman and producer but still close enough to hear the gist of the conversation. Cocking her head towards us, she lifted a hand to brush away some hair that had gently fallen into her face. Exposing her ear, I saw the big gold hoops I told her I liked.
 

“I’ll take care of it, Hon,” I said. “Listen up everybody. Once we get to Camden, everybody is off this bus. This isn’t working; no one can be on all the time and I need some downtime. Film all you want in between.”

When we arrived in Camden, I walked off the bus to the smell of the thick salt air. February is usually colder than this, but we’d lucked out; today was fairly warm with no wind. We pulled into the town parking lots that sat up a rise, one street back from the town square. From this vantage point, I could see part of the waterfront through spaces between the shops of the brick building lined Main St. This is where we’d feed the crew. Chappy’s was happy to get the publicity. I told Daphne to leave a big tip; we don’t want to take advantage.
 

Lexi came quickly over to me, begging… “Jack, our van is filled with equipment, and there’s no room for the three of us to jam in there. Can’t you talk to Sarah, please, for me?”

“That’ll go over big, ‘Hey, Honey could one special reporter ride up front with us? She could sit on my lap, you don’t mind do you?’”

“You’re making fun of me now?”

“Listen to yourself; I’m having fun with you. Anyway, problem solved, I’ll have Bob find spots for you guys in the Secret Service Cars.”

Lexi was pouting, “I don’t want to ride with him I’ll die of boredom.” The little girl inside was finding her way out.
 

I had no choice but to ignore that, “Better yet, tell that billionaire you work for to buy you guys a damn car in Rockport or have one shipped up from Portland. That ought to be easy enough.”

“I’m not so sure I even like it here in Maine. I wanted to be near you.”
 

I quickly changed the subject.

“Lexi, there’s this guy in Rockport who gave up corporate life in New York City. He lives in a converted barn right on the water up there. Believe me, it’s basic. Upstairs is the living area, a big open loft with the walls covered in insulation and plastic. I saw it on a TV documentary a while back; he runs a sailing school year round. The bottom floor of the barn is filled with tiny two-person sailboats. He’s really making a go of it. I want you to try it.”
 

“You’re kidding me, what if I get wet… it’s winter. The water has to be freezing.”

“I’m gonna do it, Lex. The guy has suits people wear and even kids sail year round. You know, I bet I’d be happy living in a barn in Camden. I’d grab a good book, a cup of coffee and sit by the ocean.”

“I don’t know about that, Jack. It would be you sitting with your book. The secret service, the roof top sharpshooters, helicopters, cameras everywhere.”
 

“You’re right. Could you even believe the set up at City Hall.”

“No, they’ve pulled out all the stops, Jack; they’re not taking any chances.” Lucky for me, the little girl had retreated; grown up Lexi was back.

We had been having our conversation standing in the middle of this small town parking lot, flanked by Secret Service agents, and Bob, pretending not to listen. I thought that’s got to be tough, I’d probably crack up laughing hearing the exchange we had.