beaming with pride when we went inside with Amy.
She stood back a ways as we got in line to pick up our tickets, but someone from the airline came out from behind the counter to approach us. Amy moved closer to us, and heard him quietly ask me 'Mr.
Andrews? I'm with the airline, sir. There's no need for you to stand out here; we've got your tickets all ready. If you'll follow me, sir, we can get you on your way without any, um, undue attention.'
I thanked him, and the five of us followed him to the end of the ticket counter, where he discretely handed me our tickets. I thanked him, and he told me 'It's our pleasure, sir. We thought that you might be experiencing a certain amount of notoriety, and prepared the tickets ahead of time. We deal with enough celebrities and such that we know publicity can be awkward and inconvenient at times.'
I thanked him again, and we started for the departure gate.
When we got to the security checkpoint, all of us loaded our bags onto the little conveyor to be X-rayed. Lucy, Robyn, and Sandra all went through the metal detector; I showed them my gun permit, and started around it. One of the security people put a hand in my chest, and told me that I'd still have to go through the detector – that he'd hold my weapon. I looked down to where his hand was, then looked him in the eye. He pulled his hand back, and I told him 'That's a federal permit. It means I don't have to turn the weapon over to *anyone*, for*any* reason.'
He told me that was wrong, and started to tell me something else when Amy lit into him. First thing she did was show him her FBI ID. That got his attention.
'Officer' – she looked at his nametag – 'Larson. This man is carrying a FEDERAL permit. As he told you, it entitles him to carry his weapon virtually ANYWHERE. That means he has the right to bypass this security checkpoint completely. As a COURTESY to you, he allowed his carryon, and those of the people with him, to be scanned. That he tried to explain to you what his permit means is an indication of his patience, and a sure sign of your ignorance. As an added bonus attraction, this man is Dan Andrews. If you'd watched anything but cartoons the last few days, you would know that he personally helped the FBI seize and recover a BILLION and a quarter dollars. You would also know that he has done more crime-busting in the last week than you're likely to do in your entire lifetime. So,*Officer*' – she said it like it left a bad taste in her mouth – 'unless you want to find out what it's like to make sure no one steals the tires off the planes at the salvage yard, I suggest that you show this man the respect he's due, and let him go.'
The other people at the checkpoint watched all of this in silence – Amy hadn't left them any doubt about which direction was uphill from where they were.
The security guy turned about the color of library paste as Amy was talking to him; when she was done, it took him a couple tries before he could get out an apology, and tell me he'd made a mistake. I politely thanked him, and Amy and I moved toward where the others were standing a little way down the concourse.
Beside me, I heard Amy grumble 'Jackass airport security people.
Decent ones cost too much, and the ones that are willing to take the pay aren't worth*shit*.'
I laughed, and told her 'Amy, that was some kind of speech you gave him. I haven't seen anybody turn that shade of white in a*long* time.'
She looked over at me, and finally grinned, telling me 'It just drives me nuts when somebody with a badge gets too full of themselves. People have to deal with idiots like him, they start to think*anyone* with a badge is going to be just like him.'
'Only until they meet people like you, and the rest of them. Then they know what*real* law enforcement is all about.'
She smiled at me, and we joined the others to make our way to the departure gate. We made a brief stop at a newsstand so Lucy and the girls could pick up something to read; I expected to have enough to do with my laptop.
We still had over half an hour before our plane would take on passengers, so the five of us found a quiet spot in one corner to spend time with each other. Amy chatted quietly with Robyn and Sandra while I told Lucy about what Amy had done at the security checkpoint.
She laughed when I was done, and interrupted Amy long enough to congratulate her, and thank her.
When she turned back to me, I told her 'There's still something that you need to start thinking about, and planning for.'
She looked at me in expectation, and I told her 'You've still got a wedding to plan, remember?'
With that, she suddenly realized that it had completely slipped her mind, and looked down to the diamond ring on her finger before looking up at me again with tears in her eyes.
I told her 'Oh, now don't go crying. Your face'll get all puffy, and you'll scare the stewardesses. Excuse me, flight attendants. Besides, I'll be there – I promise!'
She laughed, and leaned over to give me a hug and kiss before sitting up again. When they finally announced that our flight was ready to board, all of us stood up, even though we'd be the last called because of our first class tickets – Lucy's boss had come through for us on that, too. Finally, they announced boarding of first class passengers, and Amy came over to wish us a good flight. All four of us politely kissed her on the cheek in goodbye – careful to ignore the tears in her eyes. As I stood up to head for the gateway, I noticed that several of the guys around us were looking at me with envy before they went back to eyeballing Amy. I caught her eye, and indicated that she should look around. She did, discretely, and her eyes were smiling when she looked back at me.
The flight back was as bland as the flight out, but Robyn and Sandra still found ways to enjoy it. Lucy sat next to me, holding my hand the entire time. I found out that watching her look out the plane window wasn't boring, at all.
After we landed and collected our bags, we found that Lucy's company had set up a limo to get all of us home.
The next day was spent getting ourselves settled back into our normal routine; the days after that were spent taking care of all the things that everyone wanted us to do when we got back: I went with Lucy to her office, where they showed her where her new office was, and gave her the keys to her own – new – company car, and presented her with a *very* nice bonus check. They wanted to give me a bonus, too, but I convinced them to make annual payments to the FBI's Emergency Relief fund, instead. Their client showed up to give me a certified check – in the amount of $25,425,034.64. The FBI had officially totaled the money directly accountable to my efforts as something over 317 million dollars; Lucy's client cheerfully figured my payment down to the last penny of the FBI's figure. The only 'publicity' they wanted out of it was a few photos as they handed over the check; they were considerate enough not to want turn it into a big media event.
It was several weeks before I could go anyplace without having people I didn't know coming up to me for one reason or another.
Robyn and Sandra became major celebrities at their respective schools; Sandra's parents were more than a little upset with us, but got over it soon enough. It helped that Clara Hawkes sent her a nice letter, thanking her for helping putting a dent in a major crime family, and assisting the FBI in recovering well over a billion dollars.
Robyn stayed alert to what was around her, and told me once that she'd noticed a guy following her home from school. The next day, I shadowed her, and found him. It turned out to be a local reporter, trying to find a way to make a story out of her. Between looking at the business end of my.45, and my explanation of how*very* disappointed I was in him, he decided that he didn't want the story all
Over the next six months or so, the trial of the TechnoDynamics bunch took place. Their lawyers tried to fight it as best they could, but the evidence was simply too overwhelming. Lucy and I both had to make several trips for depositions, and then a final one to appear on the witness stand. Each visit, we'd spend a little time with Amy – sometimes in her bed, sometimes not. Either way, it was always a pleasure – particularly when she could get Tom Gallery to join us; the two of them had apparently become something of an item.
My accountant had a running battle with the IRS. I'd hired him for the simple reason that he had a well- deserved reputation for doing everything he could to legally reduce the taxes his clients paid. The IRS didn't see it that way where I was concerned, and he spent no small amount of time in IRS offices defending his actions. It only ended when a Senator for our state got the letter I sent to him, explaining what had happened, and how the IRS was getting a little full of themselves. When he got involved, they eventually decided that everything my accountant had done was legal and reasonable, and finally quit jerking him around. When all was said and done, I ended up
