ALL IN: Race for the White House, page 23
“Jack, the UN knows what they are doing.” I could hear the irritation growing in the president’s voice.
“Seventy million lives were lost in World War Two, half of them innocent civilians. What do you think happens if Israel launches an attack? They have the bomb and have threatened to use it, are you prepared to stand by and let that happen?”
“Jack, for this argument this one time, I wish you were in the hot seat. Let’s say it changes your perspective.”
“All I’m saying out there is that you should send in surgical strikes. No one will come after America the way they’ll retaliate against Israel.”
“I know what you’re saying; I don’t agree with you.”
“Then it will end badly with boots on the ground. Why don’t you take the afternoon Mr. President and visit Arlington? Every one of those crosses represents a young American who lost their lives because someone like you sent them into war.”
“You’re going too far, Jack, you’re making a lot of powerful people angry, people you don’t want to screw with.”
“People who want war to line their own pockets. They’ll send kids into battle but never fight themselves. Is that who you work for Gil?”
“Jack, it’s a good thing you have Secret Service Protection, you’ll need it.”
“Is that a threat, Mr. President?” Sandy was falling out of her chair.
“No… believe me, I want to run against you in the fall. I’m going to paint you into the biggest socialist that ever came down the pike.”
“Gil, there’s a stark contrast between us, let the voters decide.” Sandy was staring directly into my eyes, shaking her head and mouthing Oh My God in disbelief.
“Jack, the people you’re aiming at are worried about you. I mean opening up the surplus food supplies and eliminating speculation on oil. Are you nuts?”
“Have you ever worked with the homeless, Gil? Or visited with a father who can’t feed a hungry three-year-old child, her big, brown, watery eyes crying softly into a soiled blanket? Have you ever watched as a family piled into a barely operating minivan to go to sleep for the night? No room left in the shelter?”
“I can’t say I have, Jack.”
“You’ve got to get your head out of the sand. 50% of the people in this world live on less than two dollars a day. People are starving right under your nose.”
“Jack, save the shit for the debate. Or keep it up; you’ll take a bullet faster than you can say ‘Sirhan Sirhan.’”
“Gil, your warmth is disarming.”
“Jack, I’m going to level with you. It’s not the crowds like they probably told you. Believe me, the agency doesn’t break protocol because they’re worried about some teenage girl at a rock concert. The NSA picked up some chatter. The deal I’m going to offer is this: lay off Iran and you’ll get the full boat… helicopters, sharpshooters, protection for your family. The basic protection you’re scheduled for may save you from taking a bullet, but what if they kidnap one of your kids?”
“Gil, I’m going to enjoy taking the oath and then having you tour me through the White House. The funds for that library disappearing faster than the fake smile you flash for the cameras.”
“You bleeding heart liberals are all alike. I am trying to help you here, Jack.”
“You’re going to let Israel fight this battle?”
“Yes, we are. Whether you like it or not I’m still the president.”
I thought about Iran. There were enough people talking about it now to keep the heat on.
“I’ll take it, the whole ball of wax, Gil.”
“Consider it done then.”
The president ended the call. Sandy and I looked at each other still shaking our heads. My heart was racing and by the looks of it hers too. Finally, I found the words, “Wow… unbelievable.”
The one thing I could count on negotiating with a pro is you always have the fallback option of giving him what he wants, especially if he leaves you no other choice.
Sandy asked, “Did you hear a slight cringe in his voice when you mentioned the library?”
“Barely, it was almost like he wished I’d decline his offer.”
“That’s what I felt, too, Jack, eerie, I got the chills.”
“He’s one cool customer,” I said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I saw Sarah’s picture pop up on my cell. It was unusual for her to call in the morning. Our routine was to catch up around lunchtime.
Martha and Bethany both went to Leary School in Lincoln Heights. The school had a small population of 110 students in grades 3 through 12. We had chosen Leary for two main reasons, in addition to an excellent reputation the student teacher ratio was less than one to ten. The second and more important to me was that we could do everything for both girls in one place, drop off, parent- teacher conferences and school events were combined. It avoided us fragmenting our time in different dates and directions.
The agents had entered the school flashing badges. The two male agents asked to be shown to the girls’ classrooms so they could stand guard by each door. The third agent, Sally Rhine, explained to the office that she was assigned to the girls and would function as their direct liaison. Sally was the team leader for the group. The agency felt a young woman could interact with the girls, and they’d be more comfortable with her.
“Sarah, I got off the phone with the president less than an hour ago. I didn’t know this would happen so fast.”
“Jack, you told me the Secret Service was going to be joining us in Portland, Maine on Wednesday. You didn’t say anything about the girls and me. I figured that wouldn’t come until you were president.”
“Honey, we have no choice. The president called and offered us protection based on threats that made it to his attention. It was a ‘take it or leave it’ offer. I can’t take chances with you and the girls.”
“Oh, no… Did he tell you what kind of threats, Jack?”
“He didn’t, but with all the crackpots out there… it only takes one.”
“I understand, Sweetheart; I would have done the same. We definitely can’t let some crazy make good on a threat. Wow, I’m not used to this.”
“I’m sorry, Sarah.”
“Jack, I didn’t get a chance to tell you everything yet.”
“There’s more? What else is happening”?
“Well, where do I begin, we have a road block at both ends of the street. Our dining room is transforming into a command post while were talking. There are agents setting up who knows what all over the house.”
“I know you waited years to find exactly what you wanted for that room.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t care about the dining room. I want to be sure my girls and my husband are safe. That’s all that matters. Don’t worry, we talked about this.”
“Nothing this abrupt and intense, though, and this is much earlier than we planned.”
“There’s a funny part, Mr. Pickering called demanding an explanation.”
Pickering was the neighbor that everyone seems to have, the one who complains at the drop of a hat. I always tried to avoid him when walking Sophie, if he got my ear I’d have to be almost rude to get away.
“That pain in the butt, what happened?”
“Well, apparently he’d gone out to walk his dog, and when he tried to get back to the house he was stopped and asked for identification.”
“Good, we’ve put up with his silver spoon lazy ass complaining for years.”
“I know right? The thing was he didn’t bring his wallet. An agent had to walk him home to check his id. He was furious. It’s wall to wall Secret Service here, Jack, there must be twenty agents between the house and the street.”
“Honey, the protection we were originally scheduled for was nothing compared to this. The president escalated this to full scale, basically the same as a visiting foreign head of state. Remember the summer in New York with Netanyahu.”
“Oh my God, Jack. You’re serious, why would he do that?”
“Look around you, it’s done.”
“Jack, you didn’t answer, why would Barker give you all this protection?”
“It’s complicated I think, I’ve definitely got some enemies or they wouldn’t go to all this trouble.”
“Jack, this has gotta be overkill.”
“Barker said he wants to run against me.”
“He’s an ass; he’s trying to get into your head.”
“We’ve got this, huh, Sarah?”
“There is a bright side to this.”
“That’s why I love you so much, what is it?”
“You know how worried sick, I get about my cousin’s driving?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, now Veronica won’t have to drive the girls to school while we’re in Maine. Agent Sally told me on the phone the Secret Service will be taking them from now on.”
Veronica at twenty-seven was Sarah’s youngest cousin on her father’s side of the family. We all laughed along when she made fun of herself for being a perennial student still working on a degree in art history. The girls loved her and she was always our first choice to babysit.
“She’ll love all the attention, she’ll probably volunteer to move in and watch them for the rest of the campaign. Won’t that be nice, Jack?”
“Funny, Sarah. Maybe for the first few days.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The day had finally arrived and Sarah and I were on approach to the Portland International Jetport. We agreed that going up to Maine for the primary would be a vacation break for the two of us. We were alone on the plane except for our usual pilot Ben and the one concession seated next to him, a Secret Service co-pilot. I assumed in case Ben had a heart attack or went crazy or something. Bob had bargained with me to have at least one armed-agent on board.
I had met Bob Sheppard, the Agent in Charge of our detail the same day Sarah had called about all the commotion going on at home. Bob was a no-nonsense guy who’d been with the agency for years. I’m a pretty good judge of people, and while I’d only known Agent Sheppard for a few days, I felt he was genuinely concerned for our safety. He received hourly updates from Agent Sally, who, along with two other agents, never left the girls.
Our deal was struck when Agent Sheppard asked to meet with me alone back at campaign headquarters. He came into the office in official mode asking for my complete cooperation. Adding he would need to know the complete itinerary for our trip to Maine.
“Senator, we can’t do our job if we don’t have agents set up in advance of your arrival. We need several days of preparation to ensure your safety on the road.”
“Bob, hold up, I promised my wife a vacation, you don’t want to spoil this for us?”
“Senator, I have worked with the agency for seventeen years and I never once compromised on protocol.”
“I know you mean well, but we are going to travel freestyle in Maine. There’s so much to see and it’s our second home up there.”
“You have three residences, Sir.”
“Lighten up Joe Friday,” I explained that while we were in Maine the basic plan was to end up in Sebago at the tail end of our visit before returning to Washington.”
“We will need the specific itinerary senator to do our job effectively, Bob pressed.
He confided his dream was to be promoted to agent in charge of the President of the United States and he had no intention of marring his perfect record.”
“Bob, I’ve met dozens of guys like you over the years. Your intentions are good, you do what you’re told, but his vision was myopic.”
“Sir?” Bob looked puzzled.
“Bob, I’m going to come and go by jet and meet up with the buses, I’m not going to be trapped at every stop with a press starving for anything that might pass for a story.”
“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.
