"Well, Lucy and I had a talk about it last night" – "I'll bet!" she interjected – "and she understands why it's so important. Not just to you, but to me, and even herself. She's not happy about it, but she can live with it."
"And the girls?"
"They're tolerant-to-amused at the attention. They understand that the people we're after are bad guys, and why. I'm figuring that being here will help it sink in just important this is, and why."
"I think we can help with that."
I grinned at her, and said "I'm counting on it!" and getting a smile in return.
We went back to join Lucy and the girls, and followed O'Malley as she showed us some of the other technology and techniques that the FBI used to solve crimes, or prosecute offenders. By the time we left their lab, it was time for me to collect my pistol from Mike. Lucy and the girls followed O'Malley on to their next destination, saying they already knew I could shoot good.
Mike told me what he'd done, and I gave it a couple of dry-fires to check it out. He invited me to try it out on their range, an offer I readily accepted. What I didn't expect was the audience I drew. There must have been twenty agents that had nothing better to do than watch me.
I went through the first clip nice and slow, appreciating the fine work Mike had done on smoothing the trigger out – it felt like two pieces of polished glass sliding across each other. With the target at thirty feet, I all but eliminated the 'X' in the x-ring.
Following that, I went through another magazine, getting a feel for where the hammer released. This time the target was at fifty feet, and I*almost* took out the 'X' again.
When I'd reloaded, I turned around to see the crowd had grown to about thirty people. One of them stepped forward to ask me if I'd do them the favor of going through their combat range; I checked my watch, and saw that there was still plenty of time, and agreed. They led me outside, then down to a hilly area where I found Bill, and Agents Gallery and Jones. Bill told me that the range was set up no differently than it was for any other agent, with random pop-up figures. Some were targets, others were 'civilians', some were a combination. The goal was to go through the range and fire 3 magazines before getting to the end while using whatever cover and concealment was available. I was to start with my weapon holstered, and my hands at my sides. Scoring was done through a calculation of the number of 'kills' and 'wounded' for both bad guys and civilians, and elapsed time. Time would start from when I first drew my weapon.
I nodded my understanding, and the three of them stepped aside for me to enter the range. I found myself going down a stereotypical city street, with a mix of single and two-story 'buildings', alleyways, cross streets, and so on.
The first thing to happen was a couple of generic thugs to cross in front of me from opposite sides; both quickly sported half-inch holes. To my right, a figure popped up, a child with a toy gun. When that dropped, another slid out of a hood with a shotgun; that one was perforated, as well. A few more steps, and I heard something behind me, and added a third eye to the two the woman with a machinegun already had. A couple more steps, and a lady with her arms full of groceries came out of a doorway, then disappeared back inside – followed by her reappearance with a handgun. Another half-inch hole, and I move forward again. A construction worked pops out of a manhole, then disappears. A cop pops out of an alley. Another hood shows up in a second story window, and gets ventilated. When he 'falls', he's replaced by another one, who gets the same treatment.
The next window down, a kid pops up. A granny appears in a doorway; her shotgun gets her shot. A hood slides out of a doorway, with a kid held in front of him. He gets a third eye, too.
I duck behind a dumpster, and change mags in a couple of seconds; when I step out, a biker-looking character pops up. Armed only with a kitten, he goes free – but not the biker chick with a magnum that follows him. A woman with a baby is next, then another kid with a toy gun. A couple of bikers with rifles get dealt with, then the 'druggie' with a machete. A psycho with a kid hostage is next to get shot, but not the little girl with a doll. A cop in an upstairs window, then a terrorist with a rifle gets dealt with. Another terrorist, with a pistol, then a thug with a rifle, get taken out.
Change mags on the move, and the President shows up; he's followed by another terrorist, who gets holed. A woman with a baby carriage, flanked by a couple of gangsters with machine guns – they fall, she doesn't. A paperboy on a bicycle to ignore, then a biker with a rifle to get perforated. Behind me, a noise – the lady with the baby carriage apparently had a machine gun in it, and she gets ventilated.
An unarmed biker goes free, but not the guy in a suit packing a shotgun. A couple of kids, a housewife, then a female terrorist gets shot, as does the construction worker with an Uzi. As the slide on the pistol locks back, I shout "Time!" to stop the clock.
Behind me, I hear cheering, and make my way back to where the assorted agents are all waiting. Bill is grinning at me; so is Agent Gallery. Jones is just staring, as are a few of the others. A few seconds, and another agent walks up to Bill, handing him a sheet of paper. Bill looks it over before looking at me, then the other agents, before saying "Perfect score on bad guys – every one a lethal first shot. No innocents wounded or killed. Time was just 3 seconds short of a new course record. He's added seven points to set a new best score."
Bill turns back to me and says "Dan, you've broken the best range score we had, and did it your first pass through. If you ever need a job teaching firearms, I'm sure we can get you a job at the Academy.
Don't you think so, Amanda?", he added, looking at Agent Jones, who just stood there staring at me.
When she realized her name had been used, she gave a sudden start, and blushed, making several of the other agents start laughing. I looked at Bill, and he told me "Jones, here, set the score you just beat. Took her thirteen tries to do it, too."
I apologized to her, saying "Sorry. Didn't mean to embarrass anyone, or anything."
She gave me a shy grin, and said "It's okay. At least it took someone as good as you to do it!" – getting a few chuckles from some of the agents around us.
"Well, if it'll help make it better, I'd be happy to buy you some dinner tonight, to make up for it."
"Deal!", she laughed, before we all headed back to their offices.
Back inside, Mike quickly offered to clean my pistol as I reloaded the magazines. As I was holstering the loaded pistol again, Lucy came up and gave me a hug, saying "I just heard that you did good on their range."
"Pretty good."
"Hmmph. Set a new course record, Agent Jones told me. Blew by HER course record."
I just shrugged, and Lucy said "Funny thing is, she doesn't seem mad or upset about it. Just said she was going to practice more, and get the record back."
"That's how it is with folks like this: records are the harmless way of measuring how good they are. When it gets down to it, the only thing that*really* matters to them is whether or not they're good enough. They are, and that's all they need to know."
Lucy looked at Mike, and he just smiled at her, and nodded.
About that time, another agent showed up, and said "Mr. Andrews? It's almost time, sir. If you'll follow me?"
At that, Lucy suddenly got serious, and I told her "Look, it's nothing, really. We're going to shake up a bunch of office drones.
How dangerous, really, are the people YOU work with, compared to these agents?"
She thought about that for a few seconds, the smiled at me, and answered "Nowhere near. Just be careful, okay?" before giving me a kiss.
As we got to the cars we'd be taking, Agent Hernandez came out to greet me, saying "A gringo speaking Spanish with a Russian accent.