Like most Muslim men,
he also kept a thick beard but his face was lean, with prominent cheekbones, small, deep-set eyes, and a gaze that flickered unpredictably, giving him a cunning and shrewd appearance.
[Name: Ibrahim Adam.]
[Occupation: Clock shop owner, fence.]
[Monthly Income: $3,568 (legal), $643,000 (illegal).]
[Detailed Income Information: On December 3, acquired a batch of jewelry and watches robbed by gang member Qasim Lavi from the old city district, profiting $70,000; on December 17, acquired a pair of stolen paintings from the Black community's Mubemba Nia, profiting $90,000...]
[More Details: ...]
[Tax Owed: $254,628.]
"He's a fat sheep..."
Having scanned through the old man's tax details, David's mouth curled into a smile.
At that moment, Ibrahim spoke up, "Hello there, is there anything I can help you with?"
He had already figured out that these two men weren't here to look at watches, nor to have them repaired.
"You are Ibrahim Adam, correct?"
Hearing David call out his name directly, Ibrahim's gaze became even more erratic, but he replied truthfully, "Yes."
"We are inspectors from the National Tax Authority!"
"The National Tax Authority?"
Ibrahim was slightly taken aback, and then his mind raced to confirm there were no defaults on his taxes before replying, "I see, Tax Inspector Sir, although my shop is a small business, we always pay our taxes on time each month... "
David walked up to him, sat down facing him, looked straight into his eyes, and said with a slight smile, "I know that, I am not here to check the tax situation of this shop, but rather your other occupation's tax affairs!"
Ibrahim's expression froze, and ripples of unease spread through his heart.
Could it be...
Had his true identity been exposed?
But even if it had been exposed, shouldn't the people knocking on his door be the police or the FBI?
What did the National Tax Authority have to do with it?
He couldn't understand, and to attempt to coax more information, he feigned confusion and asked, "I'm sorry, Inspector Sir, but I don't quite understand what you mean!"
"No problem, I'll explain it to you!"
He knew what kind of people those guys were; confronting them in person would only make things more embarrassing.
The tax office had gathered so much information on him that he knew he had no room for sophistry.
"That's more like it. We're only 'seeking wealth' after all. You pay us, and we'll turn around and leave, promising not to disturb your business. It's a win-win cooperation, right?"
Listening to David's shameless words, Ibrahim cursed steadily in his heart.
Win-win cooperation?
You're using the authority's name to extort me, and you call it win-win cooperation?
The winner is probably only your tax office!
Although he was furious inside, by this point, he didn't dare retort and could only respond, "I've recently bought a house, and I've lost quite a bit of money at the casino. My funds are a bit tight; could you give me some more time?"
Being extorted like this, he was naturally reluctant and intended to delay as long as possible, which was also a form of petty revenge.
David let out a cold laugh and said, "It's only a couple hundred thousand, don't tell me you can't come up with that much money!"
"A couple hundred thousand?"
Ibrahim was stunned and also filled with confusion.
"You make over 600,000 a month, and according to the tax rate, that would be a couple hundred thousand!"
Ibrahim felt a storm raging within him.
He had originally thought that the tax office had only investigated his identity as well as the two individuals, Mubemba and Qasim.
But he had not expected them to know his monthly income so precisely.
Didn't that mean, aside from Mubemba and Qasim, every single transaction he had made over the past month had been under surveillance?
When the hell did the tax office start investigating him without him noticing at all!
After a long while, Ibrahim managed to compose himself and said, "Since you know everything, just like I said, a couple hundred thousand is not a small sum. I need some time to arrange it."
"How long do you need?"
"One month... Oh no, maybe two months!"
David was amused by this and said with an undeniable tone, "One day, I'm only giving you one day. I want to see your taxes tomorrow!"
With only 11 days left until the assessment period, he couldn't let the other party drag it out that long.
Moreover, with the function of his golden finger, he saw that a couple hundred thousand was not a big deal for this Egyptian elder.
As long as he was willing to pay, he could essentially come up with the money at any time.