You want to check our files?
One day many years ago when I worked for Pinkerton's several investigators were hanging around the front desk in the area where eight or ten female clerks worked. The manager of our agency branch in Cleveland was there too so something special was going on but I don't remember what. The investigators had their own room at the far end of the hall and we didn't even use the front door as we'd come and go. The office girls wouldn't have recognized us if we passed on the street. Or perhaps they knew more than we believed.
So anyway, while some of us were milling around there, two FBI agents came in and asked to see the manager. After he identified himself one of them said, "We want to see your files."
At that time Pinkerton's had, among other things, the largest file in the world on jewel robbers.
The manager, a tough, burly man, smiled cordially and nodded his head. "We'll be glad to let you see our files - the day the FBI allows us to see its files."
The visitors turned and left in a huff. I'm sure that as they walked down the corridor to the elevator they could hear the loud laughter behind them all the way.
Nearly a decade after that two men who identified themselves as FBI agents came to my house and knocked on the door. When I opened it one said, "We want to talk to you."
I told them to get off my property and slammed the door in their faces. All these years I've occasionally wondered what it was they wanted to talk about.