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Chapter 14
"That's right. We're civilized people." Lynch took a step back and adjusted his collar. "Is there anything else? If not, I'll be leaving; I have plenty of things to do!"
Michael couldn't help but step forward again, roaring in a low voice, "This is between us; don't involve my family. You're breaking the rules!"
"Rules?" Lynch appeared puzzled. "I'm not associated with your profession, haven't had any dealings with you. Are you sure the rules you mention are suitable for me?"
He chuckled, "Of course, I am a law-abiding citizen. I don't need your reminders. If you have nothing else to say, I'll be leaving."
He glanced at Michael; the two locked eyes for about three to five seconds. Michael made way, and Lynch nodded slightly in acknowledgment as he brushed past him.
Watching Lynch leave, Michael displayed his badge hidden in his attire and then parked the car in the driveway spot at his doorstep.
He hurried back home, finding his wife engrossed in the afternoon soap opera. He quickly approached her, giving his somewhat surprised wife a hug. "Nothing unusual happened just now, right?"
"I mean, no one knocked on the door, or anyone tried to break into our yard?" He added.
One of the reasons why so many people aimed to join the Federal Tax Bureau was to find a good partner. They possessed the highest salaries, best benefits, excellent work environment, and various unexpected perks within the government system.
This made every employee of the Federal Tax Bureau a highly sought-after match in the marriage market. Regardless of gender, they could find an ideal partner easily.
Most men would opt for younger women, a difference of three to five, or even ten years wasn't uncommon.
Michael's wife was six years younger, and he cherished her deeply.
"No, no one came. I've been sitting here watching TV all afternoon. I would have noticed if someone had come."
The living room directly faced the entrance. If someone knocked or entered the yard, they could easily be spotted through the bright windows on the walls. The afternoon was so calm that it nearly put her to sleep.
Michael sat on the couch, embracing his wife's shoulders, unsure how to bring up his upcoming trip or caution her about the potential reappearance of Lynch.
Meanwhile, after wandering outside for a while and purchasing some electrical supplies, Lynch returned to his temporary residence. As he took out his keys to unlock the door, someone who had approached from behind suddenly pressed something sharp against his waist.
A voice, reeking of bad breath, sounded in his ear, "Where's my money?"
Lynch's actions paused momentarily, then he proceeded to open the door, stepping one leg inside while saying, "If you don't want things to escalate, it's better you come inside with me. We can solve whatever issue you have through communication."
In this less-than-five-second exchange, Lynch had already identified the person behind him. Thanks to the accumulation of his experiences in the past, this energetic body, in its twenties, at its peak, gave him a sense of exhilaration he hadn't experienced before, a feeling of having everything under his control.
The person outside hesitated but eventually followed inside. Two thousand bucks wasn't a small sum to him, and he was surprised Lynch, this young man, wasn't afraid of the knife in his hand.
The room was small, a bedroom connected directly to the entrance, and another room for washing up, but with a faint... smell of excrement. The News Head raised an eyebrow, expecting better cleanliness.
That evening, Lynch had spent a long time washing off the feces that had seeped into his pants. Despite multiple washes and air fresheners, the lingering odor persisted.
"It's your business with Michael, not mine. Give me my money back!" The News Head gestured with the knife, restating his purpose of visit.
After the newsboys returned, he collected the bundles of newspapers from them, only to find around two thousand bucks. It was short by nearly two thousand six or seven hundred. This amount of money was not insignificant; considering his earnings from selling newspapers, it could possibly amount to several months' income for him.
He wouldn't let this money disappear so easily. He went to find Michael, but Michael said he had nothing to do with the matter. Now, he could only approach Lynch; perhaps this young man would be more easy to talk to.
"I only want my money back. Do you understand? Whatever happened to you has nothing to do with me!" He added.
Lynch tidied up a bit and sat on the bed, crossing his legs and resting his hands on his knees. He could tell the News Head was nervous, stumbling in his speech, constantly emphasizing the knife in his hand, but Lynch didn't find him particularly intimidating.
The News Head’s gaze wandered, eyelashes quivering slightly. Most of the time, his eyes fixated on the ground between them, revealing his fear. It was his first time doing something like this, holding a knife, standing on someone else's territory, demanding something.
Lynch saw through his external bravado, smiling as he said, "Do you know, even if I were to kill you now, a judge wouldn't sentence me because you, armed, broke into my flat."
The News Head abruptly raised his head, looking back at the door. A thought flashed in his mind: Lynch had invited him in not to avoid being seen by others but to set him up.
He became more agitated and fearful because he realized he had transformed from the hunter into the hunted. His breathing became rapid, almost suffocating.
He took a few steps back, brandishing the knife fiercely, wanting to intimidate Lynch, maybe slash his clothes, yet fearing Lynch might have something up his sleeve. He was momentarily at a loss.
Seeing the News Head stuck in a state of hesitation, Lynch pointed to a nearby chair, "Why don't you sit down, and let's have a civilized conversation? Violence won't solve anything!"
He spoke earnestly. Perhaps it was this sincerity that touched the News Head or maybe Lynch's calm demeanor that influenced him. After a brief consideration, the News Head agreed and sat on the chair.
Once he settled, Lynch asked, "In fact, my loss is much greater than yours; I lost five thousand!"
The statement shocked the News Head, revealing a mix of surprise and a sense of realization.
"Have you ever considered this might be a setup?" Before the News Head could react, Lynch continued, "I split five thousand among five kids. They counted it, and I counted it in front of them. There was no problem with the money when it was still here."
"After they left my room, did they come straight to you or go somewhere else?"
"If they came directly to you, have you considered whether these newsboys are reliable?"
"If they went elsewhere, could there have been others involved apart from you and me?"
Lynch shrugged, looking regretful, "Michael told others he didn't get anything from me, but I did lose five thousand. I believe that money is with him!"
These words quickly started spinning in the uneducated News Head’s mind. To avoid exposing himself and being dragged into this mess, he indeed wasn't around at that time; he was waiting in a more distant alley.
The newspaper boys, after receiving the money, didn't come straight back to him. Instead, they went to a room across the street to meet Michael, a gap of about one or two minutes.
If something went wrong with that money... it could only be attributed to Michael.
At this point, he started to believe it to some extent. The newsboys he sent could be considered the ones he trusted more. Additionally, they had told him about counting the money, and Lynch also counted the money, then watched as the money was packaged up as it had been before.
As he began recollecting, Lynch added, "We're all afraid of certain people, not daring to speak up. I believe it's not just us who fear telling the truth; those kids might also be afraid."
"If you came here with a knife to find me, you've got the wrong person. Ask those kids again; maybe you'll discover something new."
Uneducated people are so easy to deceive!
Lynch once again displayed a caring, kind expression through his eyes, filled with affection.
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