Page 29 of The Bodyguard

“I can do both,” he said, not looking up.

“Um. Not really. But okay.”

Nothing to do but keep talking. As I remembered who I was, I gained momentum. I pushed the handout I’d brought for him across the table. Printed on the cover page was our guiding principle. I recited it out loud. “The object of personal security is to reduce the risk of criminal acts, kidnapping, and assassination against a principal through the application of targeted procedures to normal daily life.”

Jack Stapleton looked up. “Assassination? Really? I’ve got a fifty-year-old stalker who breeds show corgis.”

But he couldn’t derail me now. “Constant awareness is the cornerstone of good personal security,” I went on. “In addition, security measures must always match the threat. Based on our level of knowledge at current, your threat level is relatively low. Of the four levels—white, yellow, orange, and red—we presently list you at ‘yellow.’ But we expect the news of your visit to Houston to break at some point, and when it does, we’ll up your classification to ‘orange.’ The strategy is to have systems in place to make that transition quickly.”

Jack Stapleton frowned. This was a lot of high-level jargon coming from the cleaning lady.

I went on. “All security is a compromise between the demands of the threat level and the reasonable hopes of the client to live a somewhat normal life.”

“I gave up on normal life years ago.”

“We’d like you to read this guidance carefully and familiarize yourself with your responsibilities toward your own safety. Anything you can do to prevent yourself from being successfully targeted helps us all keep you safe.”

“Again,” Jack said, “this lady mostly knits Christmas sweaters with my face on them. They’re actually kind of impressive.”

I stood up a little taller. “All successful kidnappings and assassinations happen because of one final factor and one final factor only: the element of surprise.”

“I’m really not worried about being assassinated.”

“And so the number one thing we need from any protected figure is awareness. Most people sleepwalk through their lives, barely cognizant of the dangers everywhere. But people under threat don’t have that luxury. You must train yourself to notice the people and objects around you—and to question them.”

“You’re kind of like a talking textbook, did you know that?”

“I’ve worked for Glenn Schultz for eight years and made my way to the highest rungs of his organization. I have a PPO certificate, as well as advanced training in countersurveillance, evasive driving, emergency medicine, advanced firearms, and close combat. But if I do my job right, we’ll never need any of that. You and I and the team, working together, will anticipate threats and diffuse them long before any crisis occurs.”

“I think I liked you better as the maid.”

I met his eyes. “You won’t say that at threat level orange.”

He looked away.

I took a breath. “I can sense from your body language that you’re not too interested in reading the handout, so I’ll summarize the most important guidelines for VIPs.” I ticked off the list on my fingers, going faster than necessary, just to show off:

Don’t meet with strangers at unknown locations.

Don’t book restaurants in your own name.

Don’t travel at night.

Don’t frequent the same clubs and restaurants.

Walk in groups whenever possible.

Don’t drive a distinctive vehicle.

Alert the police to any new threats.

Keep your gas tank at least half-full at all times.

Always keep your car doors locked.

Avoid stopping at traffic lights by pacing your speed.

Establish special code words to indicate all is okay.