eina was tickled pink.  She had talked to two of the men who were not handpicked by either the General or William and the second one was having a problem with his shoulder.  He'd taken a rifle butt to the back of his right shoulder in the last raid of the Hanoi Hilton and she told him about her talk with William.  "Yeah, I'll let you go first, but make a final check with William," he said.

"Yeah, I'll go there right now," she said.  Then a hand drawn picture by one of the other girls caught her eye on the wall of the ready room.  "Hey, that's a great picture of Royce Harrington," she said.  "Who drew that?"

"What did you say?" Daniel exclaimed then continued.  "That's not Royce Harrington.  That's Tracy Peterson!" Daniel finished.  He found it strange that she would immediately identify someone by a composite drawing and that by a different name.

Daniels' last name was White, and he'd joined the militia instead of joining the military.  A good ol' boy from the lower end of Missouri who was also stubborn as the proverbial Missouri mule.

Daniel suggested to Reina "let's go talk to William about this.  I think this might be important."

William listened to their story and asked Reina to relate what she knew and how she knew it.  "Royce was a beginning lawyer in DC when the Clintons were governor in Arkansas.  His help was enlisted by the Clintons to do some real estate legal work there in Arkansas.  It had some connections with a project called White Water."

"He was the junior lawyer in his dads firm in DC.  His dad was a very trusted man among many of the few good honest and loyal business men and lawyers.  After a couple of years his dad started getting sick and he laid more of the business responsibly on Royce.  Like many father and son teams, there was conflict between dad and son.

It seems his dad was not happy with the connections between Royce and the Clintons.  His dad felt any connection with the Clintons at all was a contamination to honesty, integrity, truth, and right.  Anyone would sooner or later be compromised by them.  In no time at all they would have their hooks in you."

"Royce was getting very rich very fast outside of his dads law firm.  His dad learned of some of the shady deals he was doing and attempted to cut all ties with him, but then died suddenly.  Several of Royce's friends suspected fowl play." She finished.

William was listening intently.  "Describe him to me," he said.  

"Well, he's not a tall man, about five foot ten or so, kind of slim with thick dark hair and heavy beard, deepest blue eyes you've ever seen.  He has a voice that you will never forget, a deep voice which I always thought could sing opera or at least bass in a quartet.  He speaks very deliberately, annunciates each word perfectly and has a reputation for never using contractions," she said.  "He has black hair, eyes set wide apart and a wide, blunt nose."

From the description Sung Wu gave, it was the same man.  But the name was confusing him.  He asked Reina "have you ever heard him called Tracy Peterson?" he asked.

"One time before I was sent to the Hanoi Hilton, I saw him talking to dad in our DC home.  They had decided to send me to a finishing school he owned at his salt mines in Texas she said.  I had not seen my parent since the first night I was sent there, although I was sure they had come to the Hanoi Hilton.  They disappeared without even saying good bye.  But I didn't think too awful much about it as dad and the family were never close.  Neither was I close to mom.  That's the reason I was sent away so much."

"I learned a couple days before the men took the place over with all the guns that my sister was being sent there, but I never saw her."

"That was when I saw Royce one day at the Hanoi Hilton with some foreigners.  Muslims I think.  The next day I saw him with some tall slim men dressed in black suits and all wearing long black coats.  There were some other men lounging around an old bus outside, then they all took off.  The head of the finishing school, Mr. Blakely, and Royce were arguing loudly.  All I ever seen of Royce is that he was strong-arming someone or in some kind of argument with them."

Later that day, I was on the inside of the fence looking out and wondering if I could escape.  The scene caught my attention because I heard that unmistakable voice.  Royce was being introduced as Tracy Peterson to a tall, lean and stern looking man meticulously dressed in a black suit, and although it wasn't cold, he had on a long black coat.  I was confused as to the name, but had no idea what it meant.  The two men talked a while after Mr. Blakely left, then they shook hands and parted.

Within two days, that same bunch of ragged looking men returned.  They had some older men and women with them who all seemed sad and tired.  Many were Mexicans.  They were rough looking, prison types with tats everywhere.  The men and women who seemed like decent people were unloading two trucks into a storage mountain just outside the wall of the compound.

I stood watching the scene for a long time.  It seemed the people had a real dread or sadness about them; they walked blank faced, starey eyed, like robots.  It wasn't long before I understood why.  They were merely slaves to do the work of unloading the trucks, their future not known, but a good idea of what it would be.  When they were finished, they were herded out back and I heard lots of shooting going on, whooping and hollering.  Then, the group of thugs came back without the men and women who unloaded the trucks.

They stormed the place and started killing people.  Most of the adults were shot right off.  It was then I figured out what all the shots were that I had heard out back.  I know I never saw any more of the people who were unloading the stuff from the old trucks after that.  I was sure they had been disposed of.

Mr. Blakely wouldn't have guns around, and so there were only a few old ones, and no one knew much about handling them.  So none of the adults could protect us in any way except attempting to shield us with their bodies.  You can imagine the screaming and the terror of the children as the blood and bits and pieces of the adults bodies were splattered all over the children.  The children that had not been wounded were separated, the wounded ones were finished off with a single shot.

The children were watching this going on and didn't put up too much resistance when men made everyone strip naked.  Then they began raping many of the girls, many were not even teens yet.  All who resisted were shot.  If they cried out or screamed, they were shot.  Mostly all could be heard was the low crying of the girls and the filthy grunts of the men.

"Mrs. Blakely was pregnant and was ordered to lay down on the stage in the blood of some of her students.  When she resisted, they shot her in the head.  They tied a rope around her feet and drug her out like a dog.  That man in his late forties sat in one of the chairs close to the front and watched the scene unfold was the man I saw Royce talking to earlier.  He never showed any emotion other than being bored.  Within a half hour, he walked out and was never seen after that.  Somehow, I knew Royce had a connection to all of that nasty business."

Reina broke down and cried softly from time to time while she was telling all this.  Then she added one more thing.  "I'd hidden in a cupboard of the kitchen when I heard all this happening.  I could see a little bit of what went on through the partially open gym door.  Then, the cupboard door opened and this ugly man with nothing on but a diaper on his head was standing there grinning at me.  I made myself not cry out as he herded me into the gym."

The General came in about halfway through her relation of the incident, and sat down.  As he listened to the events, he sat ashen faced as the horror of the scenes played over in his mind.  When he heard the name Royce, a funny look came on his face.  "William," he said.  "There is a Royce Harrington who is a cousin to your uncle.  The bunch he was from had quite a lousy reputation and were known as outlaws."

"How do you know this General?" William was incredulous.

"I saw it on a genealogy report which was part of an investigation on my own Aunt Stephanie, and I recognized the name.  Your uncle, Rod Harrington, on your mother's side had a good reputation and distanced himself from them.  Rod helped your father and your mother to get together.  Any more questions?" he finished.

"Yes," said William.  "A lot more!  Why haven't you told me this before, and what else is there I don't know?"

"Well there's a train load of information you don't know, much of which I only in the last couple of days have learned," the General said.  "You may not like it, but, you and I are kin.  We are third cousins.  And Royce knew this.  And if you haven't figured out as of yet, Royce is out to allow us to take out the Clintons, who by the way, do have a large claim in not only the bunkers I own, but, Hanoi Hilton as well.  And one more thing.  They own outright one of the underground bunker complexes."

"Royce was trying to get information out of me concerning what I know about the ownership of the property.  He meant to have me killed, but you saved my neck on that.

He wound up with all the blue prints of the places when a prostitute, brought into the White House by a pimp was talking one day about her time at the White House with the Clintons.  Both Bill and Hillary made love to her."

"After learning of the blue prints located in a storage closet of some kind, the pimp got the chance to clean the closet out.  He was found dead in the bed with the prostitute a week after acquiring those blue prints.  He was in cahoots with Royce who wound up with all the blueprints.  How the Clintons got hold of all them is another mystery.  Seems like Royce was in a land grab himself, and wanted to off the Clintons or con someone else to do it for him."

"Royce wanted to let you survive long enough to ice the Clintons for him.  Then he will come after you and I.  He knew enough about these places to access them at will."

William sat soaking all this in.  After a minute or so he asked Reina "did Royce see you at any time?"

"I'm sure he saw me, but not much more than just a glance, but to recognize me or to know who I am, I doubt very much that he could do that," Reina said.  She sat red eyed and had a huge wad of used Kleenex in her hand.

William realized he, the General and the entire organization were at a huge risk.  But Royce Harrington, aka Tracy Peterson, was now on the same list as the Clintons.  He would swing from a rope for his part in the life of debauchery and scandal he shared with the Clintons, plus his part in the killing of the people at the finishing school.

He realized as well that the bunkers had all been compromised.  The Hanoi Hilton had been one of his personal projects, and now William was wondering from where had all the ordinance come.

And if Royce had all that, then it would be certain he had his hands in on other places.  The question was, how much more?  Did he have his own militia or did he use groups of thugs of lowest bidder?

Was Royce gun running?  With whom else was he connected?  Did he have knowledge about their own stashes?  Then his mind went in a different direction.  It was about that time that William made the connection with the leader of the group that came after him that night.

Ginger was seated there close by where Reina was sitting and listening to every word.  Finally, she said "I've some information for you that you may have not realized.  First, let me confirm something with Reina."

She turned toward Reina and said, "Reina, If I'm thinking of the same guy of which you are speaking, he had a scar on his face.  Did you see that?"  After she shook her head to the affirmative, she asked "Describe it for me."

"The scar of which you speak ran along his right eyebrow, then turned upwards to the middle of his forehead.  It terminated with a crows foot, and was very dark."

That man is Kyle Benson, head of Mrs. Clintons own personal task force.  They go by the name of Lugers Of Justice.  They were known for making sure that contacts that would be an embarrassment or perhaps have some information on them would disappear.  They were really nothing but an assassin group of thugs whom no one could or would have anything to do with.  These are not to be confused with Federally paid body guards of Mrs. Clintons."

It's amazing the information that was coming out.  Ginger was really hard against the Clintons, and William would like to probe more into that problem she had with the ex-president and first lady.  But right now, they needed to get on with the information on current projects.

"Reina, you mentioned you knew where the tunnels terminated on both ends at the White House.  Tell me how you know that please."

"Yes sir.  I was taken down into the government emergency bunker owned by the Feds.  Dad took me down there on several occasions when he visited the White House.  He was not connected politically, but was a termed as a vendor.  We were to use the servants quarters via one of the tunnels.  It opened into a hall just inside the mess hall of the DC bunker."

"The other led straight to the Lincoln room.  It is where the Lincolns slept although now it is used as a dining hall.  It is still called the Lincoln room by the workers and I figure it is still there and still in working order."

William and the General sat pensive and in deep thought.  It looked as if they were both thinking the same thoughts as they aligned all the information into an order which could be understood.

Some way or another, Royce Harrington had to be eliminated.  He doubted a move to secure the property could be made as long as the Clintons were alive.  So he knew Royce had to be dealt with first.  That put a whole new slant on things and would delay the raid on the White House.  Obama's appointment with death would have to wait a little while.  So, for the moment, all plans were shelved.

The General was already laying out means to investigate the situation.  William was quite positive that bunkers Texas and Virginia were not bugged.  Beau and Hazard each had spent days going over every square inch of both places with bug sweeps.  The DC bunker most assuradly was another matter.

Even though the internet, now a thing of the past, (at least for the common person not equipped with some of the higher end equipment) could still be utilized.  Many organizations still had uplinks via satellite.  Via the internet, one could learn many things almost about anybody.

Soon there were four people hard at work running down detail after detail which came in through various leads.  But they were learning very little.  They needed names and places and dates and incidents.  Those will eventually come with research.

Later that evening before retiring, William and the General were lounging in front of the fireplace with their coffee.  Each were reminiscing their own personal close calls to the other.  With all that had happened to them, it was easy to look back and tie incidents together.  It was also easy to see the thread that ran through both lives, the incidents and direction these incidents had pushed them.

They suspected they were being led into a huge trap in which they will take out the sitting presidential sleaze, his cabinet and other frauds, and then they themselves would be attacked.  They were going to have to deploy two scenarios.  One in guise of deleting Obama, and quite possibly merely a ruse or false flag operation, while the other would be the real deal and get the job accomplished.

At the same time as all that, they would be running a sting operation to take care of Mr.  Royce Harrington aka Tracy Peterson, (and who knows whatever other aka's).

A couple of break-throughs brought in results of several connections to Royce.  He had been a very busy man indeed!  A chance check on expunged debts raked in several hits on Royce.  Also, a thread of commonality rang true in each one as well.  Where ever Royce had ever owed money, the person that received the money, usually via bank transfer, would die and soon after the record was expunged . . . and of course the money was recovered.

It was also found that many times the money never was paid, but the person in conflict again was found dead, which, much like how the Clintons, was usually ruled 'natural causes.'  Another chance search listed Royce Harrington as suspected connections with murder.  It had also been expunged.

"Convenient!" William thought.  "Mr. Peterson (or Royce Harrington or whoever he was) and being a lawyer, and having connections in high places seemed to be above the law.  "Well, you won't win this time," William said to himself. "The hanging judge is back . . ."

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Chapter XXIX