I growed up on a farm in Pennsylvania. There ain’t much to tell ‘bout it cause it didn’t last too long. When I was eighteen, I enlisted in the army and died in Europe fightin’ Germans.
We was dirt poor, and in the winter I’d get a job to help us out. My last job was in a bakery deliverin’ pies and cakes and things like that. Those were the good ‘ole days, but we was still dirt poor.
He had come to understand that as departments go in the universe of DC politics, the BAR was Pluto, compared with the gas giants like the DOJ and the CIA. Sara seemed to always be fighting an uphill battle for even the simplest of details. That is why she used people like Harry, who didn’t even work for the government, and Schilling, who worked for other departments.
Sara called him back to tell him Tom Schilling worked as the DOJ’s special counsel in Flagstaff. “He’s legitimate, Harry.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me you were sending a babysitter?”
She sighed. “I wouldn’t say babysitter. Say, partner. Do you trust him?”
I am now available on Wattpad, a free site where you can catch new material displayed on a weekly basis.
Robert Walton Books 