K, Move out!" Beau ordered.  He had been selected to lead the task force which would clear the way to move on the White House.  A lot had been learned of Royce Harrington, and with a few well placed calls by the General, they soon had his location pinpointed but it was not going to be an easy job.

Royce actually lived in one of the underground bunkers, had a crew of men that were pretty much rogue military, all Seals, all big, all mean, tough and all paid well.  He had a body guard that accompanied him almost everywhere he went.

His was a business that could and did, defraud a lot of people.  His business gave him the advantage of some big names who had come to him hoping to get some help in manipulating the courts; for which he would be very well paid.  But every one of these turned out very bad for them.  You don't spend much time with a man the caliber of Royce without him learning all your dirty little secrets. And then, he would blackmail them into anything and everything.

He had manipulated men in high places.  Men of import.  Yes, blackmail was a favorite tool of his, and in his business and in his circles there were always plenty of opportunities.

His reputation was that he was hard, he was mean, and he was lethal.  Being a parent was nothing he ever wanted.  He pretty much loathed children of all ages.  His reputation with women was the same and he'd never married.  Many women had thrown themselves at him, and he'd had his way with those he thought worthy.  He would then simply nod to one of his henceen and the woman would disapear - for good.

But those were few and far between.  Mrs.  Clinton had proclaimed herself very available numerous times, but he had merely rebuffed her.

His opinion of her was that she was simply ugly in the face, pig fat body, and she walked like a man.  There was absolutely nothing pretty about her in the least, and no wonder Slick Willy Clinton had sung "I want a   d - i - v - o - r - c - e . . ." as a lullaby to their only child, another ugly female.  Bug eyed, gangly, clumsy and also did not walk like a girl.  Her supposed daddy (Slick Willy is NOT the father of Chelsea - Webster Hubbell is her real father,) walked more like a girl than she did.  Royce simply wanted nothing to do with the black spider, lady Clinton!

His time was spent leveraging people, money, situations, real estate .  .  .  the avenue didn't matter.   He owned numerous planes, was a master pilot and flew anything up to a Lear Jet 70, of which he owned two, well, thanks to John Randolph anyway . . .  Material items of this nature fell into his hands for merely pennies on the dollar.

With his ability to jet anywhere within the Continental US in a matter of hours, he could make real estate investments in person, usually at a tremendous gain.  But all this was about to change.

He had come up against two extremely Patriotic men, and they had more on him than he would have ever thought anyone could learn.  Even so, it was only a percentage of all he had done.  Had he just stayed in real-estate and small local thugs he would have probably never been caught.  But when he started blackmailing Senators and Congressmen, he was dealing with the stability of America and that was death!  At least, if the General and or William had anything to say about it.

He was helping erode the system, helping the rogue government that already had a foot in the door.  Had helped allow in a communist loving Muslim goat lover as a president.  Considering what he was spewing, this prez was more qualified to sit behind the desk of a sewer pumping company than the Oval Office.  He was not born in America, wrote books negative to America, showed open disdain for our flag, our military, and our country in general.

He was an avowed homosexual married to the same sex transgender, swore to change America, and was open about his use of drugs.  This is what a fraud Congress is; to allow in as president of the United States a goat-humping scumbag such as this.  The government has been compromised.  And Royce Harrington was instrumental in doing exactly that.  And a compromised Congress can easily be manipulated by outside forces.

William and the General both knew this man topped the list of priorities with the exception of one man: the resident president.  He had proven himself to be worth about as much as a long dead pig.  It is worthless and it stinks!

The plans to eliminate Royce were to seal him in his bunker, and pump in a sleeping element.  Because the air filtration system would close the fresh air vent and begin recirculating and filtering the air within seconds of sensing anything foreign, the Fentanyl gas would only succeed if it was placed beyond the vent doors.

And the gas had to be effective immediately because after the recirculating / cleaning system kicked in, people living within the bunker could live indefinitely, or as long as their food supply held out.  Water could be cleaned and purified to be reused time and time again.

But William was given a little piece of information from Beau on breaching the bunker and taking Royce down, that was so easy, it was incredulous.  So, Beau had been chosen to lead the task force.  Hazard had completed the means of delivery of the attack weapons.  If they had a fair amount of success in their mission, they would be back at the Texas bunker that evening.

Ginger had proven her value many times over, and had become one of the favorite 'guys.'  She could cuss with the best of them, shoot with the best, drink with the best, and she could out fly and mechanic all of them.  Her technical skills were second to none, and she kept all the maintenance up on her planes herself, kept the records and had taught several of them, both men and women to fly the single engine planes.

One of the planes, the little experimental had an engine seize up just moments after take off being piloted by one of the students.  He was able to get the plane down in one piece with an emergency landing, but the amount of damage and the lack of parts prohibited the rebuilding of her.  Her wings were removed and she was pushed into one of the caves and forgotten.

Ginger was going over the flight instructions and was doing her calculations.  Given the lack of law enforcement, the lack of proper tower and airport support she seldom filed flight plans.  Besides, secrecy was a big part of their work.  She would be ready for takeoff at seventeen hundred hours this evening.  She would be returning for the pickup in twelve hours.

The retrieval of the men was always the riskiest.  She actually had to set the plane down in unknown strip conditions.  Taking off could be even more hazardous, especially if the runway were short and tall obstacles were around.  More than once she arrived home with leaves or a small twigs in her landing gear where she barely made the lift off from a runway that was too short.  Too, sometimes there was wounded and that took a lot of time and a lot of room, especially if they were not able to sit up.

If one of their force died, he was brought home and given proper burial (as they did it in the bunker which consisted of cremation).  But Ginger was an extraordinary addition to the Club and was even voted into the Four, albeit as honorary member at first, then with full accolades later.  She was the first of only two woman to be inducted into the Gentlemans club.

Amy was fast becoming another Ginger, the second woman to be inductd into the Gentlemans club.  She emulated her mother in everything, was now flying left seat in the DeHavalind twin, and her fingernails were usually broken in a couple of places and had grease under them.  Even so, she did her very best to keep them and herself looking very nice and ladylike.  She loved children and wanted same, but the harsh conditions and the uncertainty of the hour prohibited even marraige at this point.

The plane had made record time with the good strong tail wind.  Ginger was flying IFR (Instrument Flight Rules), in the dark of night with no lights on anywhere, neither were there any on the ground.  In these kinds of conditions most of the time it is impossible to discern the ground from horizon.  But on some moonlight nights you could see the ground almost as good as in the day once your eyes adjusted.

On this mission she would descend to within one thousand feet, turn into the wind over the target and pull the throttle and the stick back flying just above stall speed to give the jumpers every advantage.  Each had been trained using the base jumper technique and each had top lights mounted on helmets which could only be seen if you were above.  This would give the next jumper direction to aim allowing them land as close together as possible.

The base jumping technique used a small parasail which was easily guided.  The terrain into which they were jumping had a small landing strip which Royce used with a Cessna 152.  He loathed rotary craft and preferred fixed wing aircraft.  His long runway for use with the jets was a little further away and required use of a vehicle to cover the distance.

Their main concern was the missing of him in one of his forays across the US.  He could be gone within an hour when the whim took him.  Their spy on the ground had seen him come in and knew exactly where all the vents were, where the planes were parked and everything.  They hoped to take over the bunker thereby adding to their own real estate and places of safety, plus, they were hoping to gain access to his planes.  It was already known there were some large aircraft there.

Although Beau and Hazard both had become proficient pilots in single engine land (SEL), aircraft, Beau had graduated to twins such as the Cessna 210.  If they were able to score the takeover they would fly themselves to base leaving a group there to search it out.

But things were about to go very badly for them.  They were still at least a half mile away from the compound and had planned on landing just shy of the runway Royce used.  Just before the first man stepped out onto the step to jump, a bullet ripped through the door at upward angle and out the roof of the plane.  The man set to jump second died there.  The first aborted the jump, struggling to hold the man back away from the door and hang on to the plane himself.

Ginger shoved the throttle to the dash, and raised her flaps.  Several rounds hit the plane and they could hear them ripping through it.  Who ever was shooting was probably using night scope sights.  They had no idea if the shooter just happened to be around, or, if it was one of Royce's men.  Within a few seconds they were out of range of the shooter, but now directly over the compound.

Beau tapped Ginger on the shoulder and motioned they were still jumping.  She quickly brought the DeHavalind back down to stall speed, set her flaps and Beau struggled with the door.  Blood was everywhere.  Beau stepped out onto the running board and jumped, setting his chute quickly and turning on his helmet light.  Within thirty seconds six more men were sailing down.  In less than a minute all the men were in the air and floating toward their goal.  It was the last time they'd see some of their friends.

On the ground the men quickly stowed their gear, determined their proximity and direction and set off.  Within twenty minutes of double time they'd found their location, and Hazard was clumping up the tree with his spikes to deliver the gas canisters and remote vehicles down the air inlet tube.  He would set the gas off when he had gotten it past the vent emergency lockout doors.

It had been an ingenious plan.  The plan was to use a couple of remote controlled cars to run the canisters back, then a simple miniature charge would open the can and instantly the entire contents of Fentanyl gas would be drawn into the compound.  Hopefully, it would have done it's work in less than thirty seconds because it was a very potent mix and was odorless.  His radio crackled as his progress was called for.  "Would he make the zero four thirty one zero hour?"

"Affirmative.  Awaiting your command."  Within twenty seconds he was standing back on ground, guiding his cars via remote screen.  When he was at the threshold of the vent door, he carefully eased them across the vent seat, then well past the sensors.  He then sat waiting for the command.  All the while he was making his way cautiously toward where the others were about to blow the door.  The charges were already fixed in place awaiting command.

At zero four thirty one he pushed the detonate and watched them blow on the screen.  The view was only milliseconds before the cameras were destroyed, but he had confirmation that the Fentanyl in cloud form was already well down the vents, too late for the emergency filtration system to do any good.  Less than a minute later he heard the charges go off that would blast the door.  It could get real sticky here Hazard thought.

He headed full out for the door which was now standing ajar.  It was pitch black and the men all had lights.  They had to descend the ladder into the blackness and by instinct gained via blue prints, head toward what they thought was the heart of the complex.  They had no idea as to the location or number of the men who occupied the bunker.

Curt Stallings was the first man down the hole and was already twenty feet from the ladder by the time the second man hit the floor.  Curt was the first hit and died almost instantly by a round in the chest, the second man to die that night.  All hell broke loose at that moment, but the raiders took down the guard stationed there at the door that led to the interior of the complex.

The next man was a soldier of only twenty two, who took a bullet to the lower chest.  He was hit bad and they didn't think he would survive long simply because they couldn't get him medical help.  They were through the interior door and running full out.  The gas masks they had were only good for five minutes at which time they could very well fall victim to their own devices.

Hazard saw Curt die, and it increased the fire in his blood to see Royce go down for it.  It was because of evil men such as this that good men like Curt Stallings died.  They rounded another corner and was met by a man who was staggering to stay up.  How he'd lasted this long without a mask Hazard had no idea.  Beau put a bullet into his head with his 45, knocking him backward, his finger on the full auto '47, sprayed a hail of fire as he fell backward.

Hazard caught two of these and was on the floor bleeding out fast.  Beau bent over him, shook his hand looked him in the eye and said I'll get him Haz.  You rest now.  Before Beau hurried out of the room, Hazard, now free of his body, was walking out the door to meet Curt.

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Chapter XXX