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."
"We won't hover over you, either, but we will be in the background.", said Marie. "We'll be dressed appropriately for the occasion, and just look like we're mingling in. If it's something in Washington, where you'll be in a secure situation, we won't even go in."
"So if I'm in the Capitol building?", I asked.
"Once you go inside, we'll just stay with the car or head to the office or something. You have to call us to tell us to pick you up. We won't be over your shoulder in meetings."
Joe said, "When you reserve a room, try to reserve one with a maid's bedroom, that sort of thing. Otherwise, we can just stand post in the hallway."
"Generally, you can ignore us. Don't ask us if we want a drink or want to eat or whatever. We'll make arrangements for that. Don't think you're being rude to us. Just go about your business, whatever it is.", said Marie.
"Huh. Uh, are you two carrying? You know, guns? Now?", I asked. Joe opened his jacket to show a small automatic. Marie simply nodded. "How does that work overseas? What are the rules in the Bahamas? I would prefer not to need to bail out my bodyguards. You're supposed to bail me out, not the other way around."
That earned a few chuckles from everybody. "We will need to make some arrangements. We should be safe, but try to avoid getting us in a gunfight.", was Joe's smiling reply.
I glanced at my wife. "Good advice.", she commented drily.
The four of us chatted for the rest of the flight, mostly about Joe's and Marie's backgrounds and experiences, which were totally alien to Marilyn and me.
Eventually we were on approach to Nassau and descended to land. The strange part came when we taxied up to the terminal. As always, we parked away from the terminal and waited for a Bahamian Customs officer to come out. Normally this doesn't take all that long, since Nassau isn't the world's busiest airport, and they are used to having a number of small planes land. Instead, the pilot popped the bulkhead door open and yelled back, "We've been asked to hold for Customs. It'll be a few more minutes."
I went forward. "Anything unusual?", I asked.
"Not that I know of. You guys carrying the crown jewels?", he replied.
"Not us!"
We shrugged at each other and waited. He kept one engine running to provide power to the air conditioning, since otherwise it's just a big metal tube in the tropical sun.
About ten minutes later, he said, "Okay, it's showtime." He shut down the engine and came back and opened the door as a pair of Customs officers approached.
That in itself was unusual, since we had never had more than one check us out and wave us through. Maybe the second guy was a trainee, but I didn't think so. For one thing, the first officer didn't do any more than glance at all of our passports. He said, "Mr. and Mrs. Buckman, would you please come with me?"
"What's wrong?", I asked.
"Nothing's wrong. We simply need you to come inside for a moment. This will be cleared up shortly. This officer will stay with your luggage."
The pilot looked very alarmed at this, figuring we were smuggling something. On the other hand, who the hell smuggles shit from the U.S. to the Bahamas? It goes the other direction! I motioned for Joe and Marie to stay seated. They couldn't do anything with the cops involved in any case. What were we going to do? Yank up the stairs and blast our way down the runway? This wasn't an old rerun of Miami Vice.
Marilyn and I shrugged in confusion and then climbed down the steps and walked with the Customs guy inside. We were led into an office where a slim man of average height in a police uniform was waiting, seated behind a desk. The Customs officer handed him our passports. The second man glanced at them and then at us, and looked at the Customs officer and tilted his head towards the door. The Customs officer nodded and silently left.
The police officer turned back to us and smiled. "Welcome back to the Bahamas, Mrs. Buckman, Mister Buckman. Here, you may have these back. Thank you."
I took our passports and put them back in my pocket. "Is there some sort of problem, officer?"
He brought his hand up to his heart, and answered theatrically. "Oh, I am heartbroken! You don't remember me! And yet I remember you so well! Allow me to re-introduce myself to you. I am Assistant Commissioner Javier. We met back in 1982."
Marilyn continued to look mystified, but it came back to me. I looked closely at the policeman's face. It looked a bit older, with a few more lines, and a trace of gray at the temples, but I could tell who it was. "The last time I saw you you were an Assistant Superintendant, if I remember correctly. Might I assume that Assistant Commissioner is a step or two up from that?"
He smiled broadly. "Oh, yes, several steps. That is why I am here. It seems that you, too, have had a promotion since those days!"
I gave a modest shrug and a nod. Then I noticed Marilyn, and I turned towards her. She said, "Carling, what is going on?"
"Ah ... Marilyn, allow me to introduce you to Assistant Commissioner Javier. When last you saw him, he was but a humble Assistant Superintendant on the island of Eleuthera, and he was talking to us in the clinic where I was being sewed up after the bar fight. Remember that?"
Marilyn's eyes popped wide open at that. "But that was years ago! What's wrong now?!"
Javier had a big grin on his face. "Oh, nothing at all. I am simply here as a humble messenger. You have been invited to dinner by the Prime Minister at Government House on Saturday evening."