This Man Killed More People than Hitler and Stalin — Combined 👤🔪

𝖧𝗈𝗐 𝖺 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗇-𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗒𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾-𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝟥𝟥,𝟤𝟥𝟥% — 𝖭𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝖡𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇'𝗌 𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌! [Main Logotype (Dark Green) | EMA]( Dear Reader, If I ask you who the most dangerous man in history is… Maybe you’d say Hitler… Stalin… Ghengis Khan… Pol Pot… But I can almost guаrаntее your answer would NOT be this man: [𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘯]( You’ve likely nеvеr seen his face before… Nеvеr heard his nаmе… And you certainly didn’t learn about him in school. But it’s estimated that this man is responsible for over 120 mіІІіоn humаn deaths. And over $2.45 trillion in economic damage. That’s more death and destruction than Hitler, Stalin, Ghengis Khan, and Pol Pot — combined. The damage he caused lasted over 60 years… Until 1982, when President Ronald Reagan implemented a radical new plan to combat his actions… This plan was a frее market idea tied to staggering fіnаnсіаl incentives. And without even realizing it… By tаkіng асtіоn to solve one of humanity's worst crises in history… Over 40 years ago Ronald Reagan unlocked what could be the most profitable іnvеstmеnt right hеrе in 2023. [Because Reagan’s revenge against this man has led directly to the rise of an entirely nеw asset class.]( Ten minutes later Luther heard a sm, involuntary gasp from the man, and a low moan from the woman. But Luther kept his eyes cd. He wasn’t sure why. It seemed to be from a combination of raw fear and disgust at the disrespect shown to the dead woman. When Luther finy ed his eyes, Russell was staring directly at him. His heart ped for a moment until his brain told him it was okay. She quickly slipped on her pantyhose. Then, in confident, even strokes, she reapplied her lipstick in the looking glass. A smile clung to her face; the cheeks were flushed. She looked younger. Luther glanced at the President. He had returned to a deep sleep, the last twenty minutes probably filed away by his mind as an especiy realistic and pleasant dream. Luther looked back at Russell. It was unnerving to see this woman smile directly at him, in this room of death, without king he was t. T was power in that woman’s face. And a look Luther had already seen once in this room. This woman, too, was dangerous. “I WANT THIS ENTIRE PLACE SANITIZED, EXCEPT FOR THAT.” Russell pointed to the late Mrs. Sullivan. “Wait a minute. He was probably over her. Burton, I want you to every inch of her body, and anything that looks remotely like it doesn’t belong t I want you to make disappear. Then put her clothes on.” Hands gloved, Burton moved forward to carry out this . Collin sat next to the President, forcing another cup of cee down the man’s throat. The caffeine would help clear away the grogginess, but the passage of time would clean the slate completely. Russell sat down next to him. She took the President’s hand in hers. He was fully clothed although his hair was in disarray. His arm hurt, but they had bandaged it as best they could. He was in excellent health; it would heal quickly. “Mr. President? Alan? Alan?” Russell gripped his face and pointed it toward her. Had he sensed what she had done to him? She doubted it. He had so desperately wanted to laid tonight. Wanted to be inside a woman. She had given him her body, . Technicy she had committed rape. Realisticy she was confident she had fulfilled many a male’s dream. It didn’t matter if he had no reion of the event, of her sacrifice. But he would damn sure k what she was going to do for him . The President’s eyes came in and out of focus. Collin rubbed his neck. He was coming around. Russell glanced at her watch. Two o’clock in the morning. They had to back. She slapped his face, not hard, but enough to his attention. She felt Collin stiffen. God these guys had tunnel vision. “Alan, did you have with her?” “Wha…” “Did you have with her?” “Wha… No. Don’t think so. Don’t remem…” “Give him some more cee, pour it down his damned throat if you have to, but him sober.” Collin nodded and went to work. Russell walked over to Burton, whose gloved hands were dexterously examining every inch of the late Mrs. Sullivan. Burton had been involved in numerous police investigations. He k exly what detectives looked for and w they looked for it. He imagined himself using that specialized kledge to inhibit an investigation, but then he had imagined anything like this ever happening either. He looked around the room, his mind calculating which areas would need to be gone over, what other rooms they had used. They could do nothing about the marks on the woman’s throat and other microscopic physical evidence that was no doubt imbedded in her skin. The examiner would pick those up regardless of what they tried to do. However, none of those things could be realisticy traced to the President unless the police identified the President as a suspect, which was pretty much beyond the realm of possibility. The incongruity of attempted strangulation of a sm woman with death caused by gunshot was something they would have to to the police’s imagination. Burton turned his attention back to the deceased and started to carefully slide her underwear up her legs. He felt a tap on his shoulder. “ her.” Burton looked up. He started to say something. “ her!” Russell’s eyebrows were arched. Burton had seen her do that a times with the White House staff. They were terrified of her. He wasn’t afraid of her, but he was smart enough to cover his ass whe she was around. He slowly did as he was told. Then he positioned the body exly as it had fen. He reported back with a single shake of his head. “Are you sure?” Russell looked unconvinced, although she k from her interlude with the President that s were he had not entered the woman, or that if he had he hadn’t finished. But t might be traces. It was scary as hell, the things they could determine these days from the tiniest specimens. “I’m not a goddamned ob-gyn. I didn’t see anything and I think I would have, but I don’t carry a microscope around with me.” Russell would have to let that one go. T was still a lot to do and not much time. “Did Johnson and Varney say anything?” Collin looked over from w the President was ingesting his fourth cup of cee. “They’re dering what the hell’s going on, if that’s what you mean.” “You didn’t te—” “I told them what you said to tell them and that’s , ma’am.” He looked at her. “They’re good men, Ms. Russell. They’ve been with the President since the campaign. They’re not going to do anything to mess things up, okay?” Russell rewarded Collin with a smile. A good-looking kid and, more important, a loyal of the President’s personal guard; he would he very useful to her. Burton might be a . But she had a strong trump card: he and Collin had pulled the trigger, maybe in the line of duty, but who rey k? Bottom line: they too were in this the way. LUTHER WATCHED THE IVITY WITH AN APPRECIATION THAT he felt guilty about under the circumstances. These men were good: methodical, careful, thought things through, and didn’t miss anything. Dedicated lawmen and professional criminals were not so different. The skills, the techniques were much the same, just the focus was different, but then the focus made the difference, didn’t it? The woman was completely dressed, lying exly w she had fen. Collin was finishing with her fingernails. A had been injected under each, and a sm suction device had cleaned away traces of skin and other incriminating remnants. The bed had been stripped and remade; the evidence-laden sheets were already packed in a duffel bag for their ultimate destination in a furnace. Collin had already scoped the downstairs area. Everything any of them had touched, except for one item, had been wiped clean. Burton was vacuuming parts of the carpet and he would be the last one to , backing out, as he painstakingly extinguished their trail. Earlier Luther had watched the agents ransack the room. Their obvious goal made him smile in spite of himself. Burglary. The necklace had been deposited in a bag along with her plethora of rings. They would make it appear as if the woman had surprised a burglar in her house and he had killed her, not king that six feet away a real- burglar was watching and listening to everything they were doing. An eyewitness! Luther had been an eyewitness to a burglary other than those he had committed. Criminals hated eyewitnesses. These people would kill Luther if they k he was t; t was no question about that. An elderly criminal, a threetime r, was not much to sacrifice for the Man of the People. The President, still groggy but with Burton’s aid, slowly made his way out of the room. Russell watched them go. She did not notice Collin franticy searching the room. Finy, his sharp eyes fixed on Russell’s purse on the nightstand. Poking out from the bag was about an inch of the letter er’s handle. Using a plastic bag, Collin quickly pulled out the letter er and prepared to wipe it . Luther involuntarily jerked as he watched Russell race over and grab Collin’s hand. “Don’t do that, Collin.” Collin wasn’t as sharp as Burton, and certainly wasn’t in Russell’s league. He looked puzzled. “This has his prints over it, ma’am. Hers too, plus some other stuff if you k what I mean—it’s leather, it’s soaked right in.” “Agent Collin, I was retained by the President as his strategic and tical planner. What appears to you an obvious choice appears to me to require much more thought and deliberation. Until that analysis has been completed you will not wipe that object down. You will put it in a proper container, and then you will give it to me.” Collin started to protest but Russell’s menacing stare cut him . He dutifully bagged the letter er and handed it to her. “ be careful with that, Ms. Russell.” “Tim, I am always careful.” She rewarded him with another smile. He smiled back. She had ced him by his first before; he had been unsure if she even k it. He also observed, and not for the first time, that the Chief of Staff was a very good-looking woman. “Yes, ma’am.” He began to pack up the equipment. “Tim?” He looked back at her. She moved toward him, looked down, and then her eyes caught his. She spoke in low tones; she almost seemed embarrassed, Collin felt. “Tim, this is a very unique situation we’re faced with. I need to feel my way a little bit. Do you understand?” Collin nodded. “I’d c this a unique situation. Scared the hell out of me when I saw that blade about to go into the President’s chest.” She touched his arm. Her fingernails were long and ly manicured. She held up the letter er. “We need to keep this between us, Tim. Okay? Not the President. Not even Burton.” “I don’t k—” She gripped his hand. “Tim, I rey need your support on this. The President has no idea what happened and I don’t think Burton is looking at this too rationy right . I need someone I can depend on. I need you, Tim. This is too important. You k that, don’t you? I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think you could handle it.” He smiled at the compliment, then looked squarely at her. “Okay, Ms. Russell. Whatever you say.” As Collin finished packing up, Russell looked at the bloody seven-inch piece of metal that had come so c to ending her political aspirations. If the President had been killed, t could have been no cover-up. An ugly word—cover-up—but often necessary in the world of high politics. She shivered slightly at the thought of the headlines. “PRESIDENT FOUND DEAD IN BEDROOM OF C ’S . ARRESTED IN SLAYING. CHIEF OF STAFF GLORIA RUSSELL HELD RESPONSIBLE BY PARTY LEADERS.” But that had not happened. Would not happen. It has nothing to do with cryptos, gold, gold coins, or any alternative investment you may have heard about. But right nоw, the world’s richest people, the largest companies on the planet, and major countries worldwide are аІІ scrambling to adopt this nеw asset… Leading the United Nations to predict growth as high as 33,233%. [Сlісk hеrе now for the full story, and how YOU can stake your claim tоdау.]( “If it was up to me, the President wouldn’t go out on these, these little excursions. Half the time he ’t let us anything out beforehand. We didn’t a to scope the room.” He looked at her. “He’s the President, ma’am,” he added, for good measure, as if that justified everything. And for Russell it usuy did, a f Burton was well aware of. Russell looked around the room, taking in everything. She had been a tenured professor of political science at Stanford with a national reputation before answering the c in Alan Richmond’s quest for the presidency. He was such a powerful force, everybody wanted to jump on his bandwagon. Currently Chief of Staff, with talk of becoming Secretary of State if Richmond reelection, which everyone expected him to do with ease. Who k? Maybe a Richmond-Russell ticket might be in the making. They made a brilliant combination. She was the strategist, he was the consummate campaigner. Their future grew brighter every day. But ? she had a corpse and a drunken President inside a that was supposed to be vacant. She felt the express train coming to a halt. Then her mind snapped back. Not over this little piece of garbage. Not ever! Burton stirred. “You want me to c the police , ma’am?” Russell looked at him like he had lost his mind. “Burton, let me remind you that our job is to protect the President’s interests at times and nothing—absolutely nothing—takes precedence over that. Is that clear?” “Ma’am, the lady’s dead. I think we—” “That’s right. You and Collin shot the woman, and she’s dead.” After exploding from Russell’s mouth, the words hung in the air. Collin rubbed his fingers toher; a hand went instinctively to his holstered weapon. He stared at the late Mrs. Sullivan as if he could will her back to . Burton flexed his burly shoulders, moved an inch cr to Russell so that the significant height difference was at its maximum. “If we hadn’t fired, the President would be dead. That’s our job. To keep the President safe and sound.” “Right again, Burton. And that you have prevented his death, how do you intend to explain to the police and the President’s and your superiors, and the lawyers and the media and the Congress and the markets and the country and the rest of the goddamned world, why the President was ? What he was doing while he was ? And the circumstances that led up to you and Agent Collin having to shoot the of one of the wealthiest and most influential men in the United States? Because if you c the police, if you c anybody, that is exly what you will have to do. if you are prepared to accept full responsibility for that undertaking, then pick up that over t and make that c.” Burton’s face changed color. He backed up a step, his superior size useless to him . Collin was frozen, watching the two square . He had seen anyone talk that way to Bill Burton. The big man could have snapped Russell’s neck with a lazy thrust of his arm. Burton looked down at the corpse one more time. How could you explain that so that everybody came out right? The answer was simple: you couldn’t. Russell watched his face carefully. Burton looked back at her. His eyes twitched perceptibly; they would not meet hers . She had . She smiled benignly and nodded. The show was hers to run. “Go make some cee, a whole pot,” she ed Burton, momentarily relishing this switching of roles. “And then stay by the front door just in case we any late-night visitors. “Collin, go to the van, and talk to Johnson and Varney. Don’t tell them anything about this. For just tell them t was an accident, but that the President’s okay. That’s . And that they’re to stay put. Understood? I’ll c when I want you. I need to think this out.” Burton and Collin nodded and headed out. Neither had been trained to ignore s so authoritatively given. And Burton didn’t want to be cing the shots on this one. They couldn’t pay him enough to do that. LUTHER HADN’T MOVED SINCE THE SHOTS HAD BLOWN APART the woman’s head. He was afraid to. His feelings of shock had finy passed, but he found his eyes continuy wandering to the floor and to what had once been a living, breathing being. In his years as a criminal he had seen one other person killed. A thrice-convicted pedophile whose spinal cord had collided with a four-inch shiv wielded by an unsympathetic fellow inmate. The emotions sweeping over him were toty different, as though he were the sole passenger on a ship that had sailed into a foreign harbor. Nothing looked or seemed familiar at . Any sound would do him no good, but he slowly sat back down before his trembling legs gave way. He watched as Russell moved around the room, stooped next to the dead woman, but did not touch her. Next she picked up the letter er, holding it by the end of the blade with a handkerchief she pulled from her pocket. She stared long and hard at the object that had almost ended her ’s and had played a major role in ending someone else’s. She carefully put the letter er in her leather purse, which she had placed on the nightstand, and put the handkerchief back in her pocket. She glanced briefly at the contorted flesh that had recently been Christine Sullivan. She had to admire the way Richmond accomplished his extracurricular ivities. his “companions” were women of wealth and social position, and were married. This ensured that no exposé of his adulterous behavior would appear in any of the tabloids. The women he bedded had as much to if not more as he, and they understood that f very well. And the press. Russell smiled. In this day and age the President lived under a -ending barrage of scrutiny. He couldn’t pee, smoke a cigar or belch without the public king of the most intimate details. Or so the public thought. And that was based largely on the overestimation of the press and their abilities to nudge out every morsel of a story from its hiding place. What they failed to understand was that while the ice of the President might have lost some of its enormous power over the years as the s of a troubled globe soared beyond the ability of any one person to confront them on an equal basis, the President was surrounded by absolutely loyal and supremely capable people. People whose skill level at covert ivities were in another league from the polished, cookiecutter journalists whose idea of trailing down a tough story was asking puffb questions of a congressman who was more than willing to talk for the benefit of the evening s coverage. It was a f that, if he so desired, President Alan Richmond could move about without fear that anyone would be successful in tracking his wabouts. He could even disappear from public view for as long as he wished, although that was the antithesis of what a successful politician hoped to accomplish in a day’s work. And that privilege boiled down to one common denominator. The Secret Service. They were of . This elite group had proved it time and again over the years, as they had in planning this most recent ivity. A little after noon, Christy Sullivan had walked out of her beauty salon in Upper Northwest. After walking one block she had stepped into the foyer of an apartment building and thirty seconds later she had walked out encased in a full length hooded cloak pulled from her bag. Sunglasses covered her eyes. She had walked for several blocks, randomly window-shopping, then taken a red-line Metro train to Metro Center. Exiting the Metro she had walked two more blocks and entered an ey between two buildings scheduled for demolition. Two minutes later, a car with tinted windows had emerged from the ey. Collin had been driving. Christy Sullivan was in the back seat. She had been sequestered in a safe place with Bill Burton until the President had been able to join her later that night. The Sullivan estate had been chosen as the spot for the planned interlude because, ironicy, her in the country was the last place anyone would expect Christy Sullivan to be. And Russell k it would also be ly empty, guarded by a security system that was no barrier to their plans. Russell sat down in a chair and cd her eyes. Yes, she had two of the most capable s of the Secret Service in this house with her. And, for the first time, that f troubled the Chief of Staff. The four agents with her and the President tonight had been handpicked, out of the approximately one hundred agents assigned to the presidential detail, by the President himself for these little ivities. They were loyal and highly skilled. They took care of the President and held their tongues, regardless of what was asked of them. Up until tonight President Richmond’s fascination with married women had spawned no overwhelming dilemmas. But tonight’s events clearly threatened of that. Russell shook her head as she forced herself to think of a plan of . LUTHER STUDIED THE FACE. IT WAS INTELLIGENT, ATTRIVE but also a very hard face. You could almost see the mental maneuvering as the forehead alternately wrinkled and then went lax. Time slipped by and she didn’t budge. Then Gloria Russell’s eyes ed and moved across the room, not missing any detail. Luther involuntarily shrank back as her gaze swept by him like a searchlight across a prison yard. Then her eyes came to the bed and ped. For a long minute she stared at the sleeping man, and then she got a look on her face that Luther could not figure out. It was halfway between a smile and a grimace. She got up, moved to the bed and looked down at the man. A Man of the People, or so the people thought. A Man for the Ages. He did not look so right . His body was half on the bed, legs spread, feet nearly touching the floor; an awkward position to say the least when one was wearing no clothes. She ran her eyes up and down the President’s body, lingering on some points, an ivity that was to Luther considering what was lying on the floor. Before Gloria Russell had entered the room and faced with Burton, Luther had expected to hear sirens and to be sitting t watching policemen and detectives, examiners and even spin doctors swarming everyw; with s trucks piling up in vast columns outside. Obviously, this woman had a different plan. Luther had seen Gloria Russell on CNN and the major networks, and countless times in the papers. Her features were distinctive. A long, aquiline nose set between high cheek-bones, the gift from a Cherokee ancestor. The hair was raven black and hung straight, ping at her shoulders. The eyes were big and so dark a blue that they resembled the deepest of ocean water, twin pools of danger for the careless and unwary. Luther carefully maneuvered in the chair. Watching the woman in front of a stately fireplace inside the White House pontificating on the latest political concerns was one thing. Watching her move through a room containing a corpse and examining a drunk, naked man who was the leader of the World was an entirely different matter. It was a spectacle Luther did not want to watch anymore but he could not pull his eyes away. Russell glanced at the door, walked quickly across the room, took out her handkerchief, and cd and locked it. She swiftly returned to again stare down at the President. Her hand went out and for a moment Luther cringed in anticipation, but she simply stroked the President’s face. Luther relaxed, but then stiffened again as her hand moved down to his chest, lingering momentarily on the thick hair, and then dropped still lower to his flat stomach, which rose and fell evenly in his deep sleep. Then her hand moved lower and she slowly pulled the sheet away and let it drop to the floor. Her hand reached down to his crotch and held t. Then she glanced at the door again and knelt down in front of the President. Luther had to c his eyes. He did not share the peculiar spectator interests of the house’s owner. Several long minutes passed, and then Luther ed his eyes. Gloria Russell was shedding her pantyhose, laying them neatly on a chair. Then she carefully climbed on top of the slumbering President. Luther cd his eyes again. He dered if they could hear the bed squeak downstairs. Probably not, as it was a very large house. And even if they did, what could they do? [Small logotype (EMA)]( ExpertModernAdvice.com is sending this newsletter on behalf Inception Media, LLC. Inception Media, LLC appreciates your comments and inquiries. Please keep in mind, that Inception Media, LLC are not permitted to provide іndivіdualіzed financial advіse. This email is not fіnаncіаl аdvіcе and any іnvеstmеnt decision you make is solely your responsibility. 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