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Chapter 49: Since Everyone is Here, Let's Begin the Meeting!
Lynch sat in the office, gazing at the unchanging view outside the window. Apart from the industrial forklifts shuttling back and forth in the warehouse district, there were also some "blue-overall workers."
The so-called "blue-overall workers" were people doing odd jobs in the warehouse district. They lacked stable work and income but needed to support themselves or even their families.
These individuals were mostly in their late thirties or older. They lacked the foundation and time to learn certain survival skills, lacking mental capacity and energy.
They could only exchange their physical labor here for meager earnings. Not everyone renting the warehouses could afford a forklift, and not all goods were suitable for forklift use, which created a space for these workers to survive.
Suddenly, there was a knocking sound at the office door. After Lynch called out, "Come in." Vera stood awkwardly at the door for a few seconds before stepping into the room.
She wasn't entirely comfortable being alone with Lynch in such a closed environment. This setting tended to lead to unwarranted thoughts, be they good or bad.
She was unsure how to position her hands, one supporting her elbow while the other nervously fidgeted with her hair by her ear. "Just now, when I was standing at the door, I noticed someone seemed to be watching us."
Lynch raised an eyebrow. He turned and stood up, walking to the window to glance outside. With just one look, he spotted the "people" Vera mentioned.
This also reminded him of the first time he met Mr. Fox, during which Mr. Fox was confident that he wasn't working for the federal government.
The people outside were dressed formally, wearing sunglasses, and had slicked-back hair, giving off a vibe that they might whip out their IDs and badges at any moment. It was nearly thirty degrees Celsius in Sabin City during the day, making even wearing long sleeves feel stifling, yet these individuals...
He withdrew his gaze. Law enforcement agencies were never fools. If they were, they wouldn't have caught so many criminals.
The blatant surveillance wasn't so much surveillance as it was a warning to Lynch, advising him not to act rashly. It was also exerting psychological pressure, waiting for him to make a mistake.
The enforcement authority of the investigation bureau had long been criticized, especially for its extensive discretionary power. According to the current regulations and laws, when the Bureau of Investigation suspected someone of a crime and, during the process of requesting cooperation or monitoring the individual, if the target suddenly made a dangerous move like harming others, themselves, or attempting to escape, the involved agents could immediately make an arrest and then seek evidence and apply for an arrest warrant.
Lynch was just a twenty-year-old. If they could pressure him to flee, the people outside might not even need clearance from headquarters to arrest him right away.
Of course, that was only part of the reason.
"You go back first. There might be some danger here later," Lynch took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Lately, he had been using his brain a lot and couldn't resist the urge to find something to calm his emotions while contemplating.
When the human brain is active, emotions tend to fluctuate accordingly. However, rational thinking fears such fluctuations, whether they are exhilarating or agitating, as they hold little meaning or value for the thought process itself.
A cigarette could resolve these issues, separating thought from emotion.
He lit one and looked at Vera. "They won't harm you. You can go back safely. Wait for my call, I'll tell you when to come back to work."
Vera wanted to say something but ended up staying silent. She nodded her head quietly and started to pack her things before leaving. But just as she was about to leave, Lynch, coming out from the inner room, pointed at the trash bag in the room. "Could you please take the trash with you as well? Thanks."
Watching Vera leave, Lynch closed the warehouse door with the cigarette in his mouth. He picked up the phone and dialed the number of a certain office. "I need to report... Yes, I found someone surveilling me... No, this isn't my imagination. They are outside... Yes... My address is..." After providing his address, he hung up and calmly contemplated.
He had already removed the bulbs from the ultraviolet lamp and smashed them along with several other ordinary bulbs, instructing Vera to take them away.
He had also poured the chemical cleaning agents into the sewer. Such items were common in the warehouse district and wouldn't raise any suspicions.
Thinking that he hadn't overlooked much, he sat by the table near the warehouse door, smoking and waiting for the police to arrive.
From the start, he knew these people would eventually make a move. So naturally, he had everything under control. From his current perspective, his business might have a few minor issues, but overall, he was innocent.
Just because something wasn't prohibited by law didn't necessarily make it legal. It was a blurry line, prompting the enactment of many new laws every year.
Calling the police was merely to prevent these people outside from fabricating evidence. During this time, he had been continuously learning about this world. The Federal Tax Bureau wasn't a transparent department - he didn't yet know that the people outside were from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, but his caution was crucial.
From the information Lynch had gathered, the methods of the Federal Tax Bureau were somewhat shady. They encouraged certain individuals to step forward and report, offering them amnesty. Moreover, due to certain confidentiality systems, they wouldn't disclose the informants' identities to the public.
There were too many variables to manipulate in this situation. Besides these, Lynch believed they might fabricate evidence, especially when the public opinion across the federation was still fermenting. To overturn the situation, manufacturing some false evidence was acceptable.
So, he called the police. The police and the Federal Tax Bureau weren't part of the same system and had certain unseen competitions between them. Their presence would somewhat balance out the whole "process."
A few minutes later, the guy who was tailing Lynch was left dumbfounded as two police cars stopped outside the warehouse. Some officers, even upon noticing him, drew their weapons and approached. He radioed the situation while heading toward the officers.
Simultaneously, inside the warehouse, Lynch watched through the window as the guy outside, unmistakably working for the federal government, raised his hands, holding his credentials. After retracting his gaze, he signaled to two officers who were taking statements. The two officers approached the window to observe before one went outside to assess the situation.
About a minute later, the two investigation bureau agents, along with the police, entered Lynch's office. It was only then that Lynch realized these people weren't from the Tax Bureau; they were from the investigation bureau. He also realized they weren't just surveilling; at least, not solely surveilling.
Due to the intervention of a third party, in this case, the police, an arrest operation was initiated. To say it was disrupted didn't seem right because the person was there and hadn't fled, but to say it wasn't disrupted seemed slightly off.
The agents immediately reported the situation here to the task force responsible for collecting evidence in Prosperity Bank. The team leader decisively requested bringing Lynch to the bank for further cooperation, citing investigative purposes.
Whom were they investigating?
Certainly, it was Mr. Fox, and the charge was money laundering.
This decision was extremely decisive. Bringing Lynch here would increase psychological pressure on Mr. Fox's group, making them feel trapped and potentially prompting them to give up resisting under the strain.
Before long, Lynch arrived at Prosperity Bank in a special vehicle from the warehouse district, appearing in Mr. Fox's line of sight, even earlier than Mr. Fox's lawyer.
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