Deja Lubbock.

Deb:  Now what?

Sam:  We're gonna try it again.

Deb:  Oh, brother...do you ever quit?

Sam:  No.

Deb:  Never?

Sam:  Never.

Cosmo:  Perish the thought.

I noticed my childred lined up in the back seat of one of the sedans.


Deb:  What are my boys doing here?  Gerard, I'm warning you, if you...

Sam:  You're what?

Deb:  Strongly advising?

Sam:  What?

Deb:  Admonishing?  Mildly?

Sam:  Come again?

Deb:  Mentioning?

Sam:  Afraid I didn't hear you right.  What'd you say?

Deb:  They have nothing to do with this!  They've never even seen Billy!

Sam:  Why do you assume I think so?

Deb:  Then why are they in the car?

#3:  Cosmo's takin' us to Pizza Hut an' DQ an' a movie!  'Small Soldiers',
right, Cosmo?

Cosmo:  I am?

Sam:  You are.

Cosmo:  For this I became a deputy marshal.

Sam:  Life of privelege, Renfro.  Move out.

Deb:  Hang on, just a minute, what's going on here?  Who's going to...?

Sam:  You and I are going to take a little trip.  Cosmo's got the duty.
Everything's under control.  Would I lie to you?

Deb:  Prevaricate, dissemble, evade, snowball, stonewall, fudge, fib...yes.
Lie, no.

Sam:  Good girl.  Get in the car.

Deb:  I need to pack.

Sam:  Boy did it for you.  Girl, you got to get yourself a nightgown, 
person could read a damn newspaper through that thing he grabbed.

Deb:  That's my oldest nightshirt.  I've had it fifteen years.

Sam:  Looks every minute of it.

Deb:  It's comfortable and I like it.  What does it have to do with this
wild goose chase?

Sam:  You're right.  Nothing.  Get in, let's go, time's wastin'.

Deb:  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I'm goin', I'm goin', I'm goin'.

Another mad dash to the airport.  Sam flashed his credentials at the
security manning the metal detector, then began unloading his pockets.  When
the detector beeped anyway, the rent-a-cops tensed.


Deb:  Chill out, it's just the plate in his head.

Sam shot me a look which would have blistered paint, then pulled a
humongous wad of keys from the pocket of his jeans.  This allowed him to
pass through the detector successfully.  Sam restowed the artillery and
resumed hustling me down the concourse.  Security would begin the chain
of calls which would culminate in the flight crew being informed that
they had, as a passenger, an obsessed United States Deputy Marshal on board
who was loaded for bear.


Deb:  Can I have the aisle?

Sam:  Nope.

Deb:  What if I need to take a walk?

Sam:  You won't.

Deb:  You sound sure.

Sam:  I am.  You wanna use the restrooms, you tell me.  Say, before I
forget, you got fifty cents?

Deb:  What for?

Sam:  Extra peanuts...come on...

Like I said before, varying degrees of age and treachery.  It should
have dawned on me to wonder why Samuel P. Gerard, adequately compensated
government minion, would need half a dollar from a mere taxpayer.  It
should have, but it didn't.


Deb:  I think so.  Go ahead, in my purse.

Sam hoisted my bag to his lap, making a huge production out of its size 
and weight


Sam:  Where...what've you got in here, lead balls...don't see how in hell
women lug these things...ah, gotcha!...what's this?...Beth's number...

Deb:  Hey, that's my cellphone!  You louse!

Sam:  I had your permission.

Deb:  Won't hold up in court.

Sam:  Don't try and think, girl, confuse yourself if you do.  I'm not 
takin' any chances this time.  Speakin' of not takin' any chances...

Deftly, Sam snapped a pair of cuffs open.  One he fastened around my
right wrist, the other bracelet encircled his left.


Deb:  You can't do this, Sam Gerard!  It's unconstitutional!  I know my
rights!  You can't restrain me unless I'm under arrest!

Sam leaned close, invading my space.  He knew what my weaknesses were
and mercilessly exploited them.


Sam:  You could be.

Deb:  Don't threaten me.

That came off sounding weak.


Sam:  I don't threaten.

Deb:  I don't guess you do.  But...

Sam:  Quiet!  You're not getting loose and you're not gonna blow this 
for me!

There was menace and an implied threat to Sam's words that I had no
desire to challenge.  I sat back and kept my own counsel.  Sam, in a
gesture of apology, covered my hand with his for the remainder of the
flight.  It didn't do anything to mask the cuffs, but somebody just
glancing down would merely see a man covering the hand of a woman.  Going
down the jetway and through the terminal, Sam kept his left arm, still
firmly attached to my right, about midway across my back.  That way there
was nothing untoward visible, as his hand and arm hid the cuffs.

Deb:  Where are we going?

Sam:  You'll see.

Deb:  How long will we be here?

Sam:  Long as it takes.  Biggs...you got Beth?

Biggs:  Picked her up outside her apartment.  She started spittin', until
we told her you were comin'.

Sam:  Any sign of Strannix?

Biggs:  Not yet.  He's one slippery bird.

Sam:  Damn!

Deb:  Sam?

Sam:  Who told you to talk?

Deb:  Sorry.

Sam:  No you're not.  Where's she at?

Deb:  Hotel not far from here.

Deb:  Sam, by the time you get your warrant he'll have whatever you're after
on the moon.

Biggs:  We've got a judge on standby.

Deb:  Oh, crap.

Sam:  Hmm...smells of fuel oil and...what?

Deb:  You're in my e-mail!

Sam:  Prove it.

Deb:  Rrrrr.  Maybe he's building a motorcycle down there!

Sam:  We'll find out, I promise you that.

END OF PART 1