And that’s what he was doing over lunch, mapping out their next big trip-the best one yet. Machu Picchu. The Andes. Then on a fantastic walking tour of Patagonia. Their twenty-fifth anniversary was coming up. Patagonia had always been one of Sharon ’s dreams.

“My next life”-Betsy grinned as she shut the office door-“I’m making sure I come back as one of your kids.”

“Next life,” Raab called after her, “I am, too.”

Suddenly a loud crash came from the outer office. At first Raab thought it was an explosion or a break-in. He thought about triggering the alarm. Sharp, unfamiliar voices were barking commands.

Betsy rushed back in, a look of panic on her face. A step behind, two men in suits and navy windbreakers pushed through the door.

“Benjamin Raab?”

“Yes…” He stood up and faced the tall, balding man who had addressed him, who seemed to be in charge. “You can’t just barge in here like this. What the hell’s going on…?”

“What’s going on, Mr. Raab”-the man tossed a folded document onto the desk-“is that we have a warrant from a federal judge for your arrest.”

“Arrest…?” Suddenly people in FBI jackets were everywhere. His staff was being rounded up and told to vacate. “What the hell for?”

“For money laundering, aiding and abetting a criminal enterprise, conspiracy to defraud the U.S. government,” the agent read off. “How’s that, Mr. Raab? The contents of this office are being impounded as material evidence in this case.”

“What?”

Before he could utter another word, the second agent, a young Hispanic, spun Raab around, forcing his arms roughly behind him, and slapped a set of handcuffs on his wrists, his whole office looking on.

“This is crazy!” Raab twisted, trying to look the agent in the face.

“Sure it is,” the Hispanic agent chortled. He lifted the travel brochures out of Raab’s hands. “Too bad.” He winked, tossing them back onto the desk. “Seemed like one helluva trip.”