Some of her disdain must show, because all of the probies were being kept away from her (lest she 'corrupt' them), the career bureaucrats were either taking long lunches or hiding in the 'icebox' with all the really classified information, and most of the office wasn't talking to her. Well, either her reputation preceded her into this entire Federal Building, or they thought she was the inspector conducting the budget and classified information audit. She shook her head, smiled at the poor lost probie (who turned and ran, barely not screaming), and walked into the local SAC's office.
"It's done, Don. That is two you owe me now." The sound of the nearly-phonebook-thick folder hitting his desk echoed across the room seconds before the urgent sound of the "Action Stations' alarm from the new BSG series started screaming from her PDA. Andrea nodded to Don and began walking towards the elevators as she shut off the "Urgent Contracting" ringtone and began to read the e-mail.
The Federal Judge, her clerk, and her stenographer were all bowled as Andrea knocked them aside at a run and slid in the elevator trailed by rather 'colorful' Arabic phrases. Her knowledge of Arabic held up under the three-minute elevator ride to the basement garage, and she continued to show her 'respect' of the powerful and rich by bull-rushing through the group of press hounding some rich sleazeball coming for the first day of his trial. The press, surprised from behind, either ate concrete or got a couple oblique shots of a an 'older' white woman in a nice dark-colored suit, ballistic shades, and low pumps knocking aside the press (all but the 'conservative' ex-military bloggers), the defense team, three personal assistants, and taking down the defendant with spectacularly well-placed knee...but yet the mystery assailant somehow managed to miss the wife, three daughters, and building security. The CNN crew (who was live) who chased after her caught rather foul Arabic phrases before being rundown by a heavily-tinted SUV with government plates.
Andrea grinned--after all, there was always next time to scare the shit of useless reporters--and focused on weaving through the traffic at 'unsafe' speeds while the traffic dodged her light and siren. Luckily, 'The Warehouse' was a mere three and a half miles from the Federal Building--she still hoped someone would be 'kind' enough to attack it so the team would have a reason to blow the crap out of the building...legally. One could dream. As she triggered the garage door to her parking space, she hoped the team wouldn't think this was like when that disgruntled customer called in a fake tip to ICE. (How were they supposed to know he wanted his mansion intact as well as his family back? He had said "Get me my family NO MATTER WHAT!". What did he want: he had his children, his wife, and even his damned Corgis...plus all the scumbags dead.
That ICE raid hadn't ended well...for ICE...Well, they should know her by now. If not, that is why her vehicle was bullet-resistant. She drifted around a corner, finally seeing the open door over her parking place a little over a block ahead. She hadn't shown up with lights and sirens to the Warehouse since the ICE "raid"...
"Well, I should have thought of that earlier."