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"Director Obadiah, what do you think?"
asked Consultant Welton Heng from across the table.
Obadiah remained silent for about ten seconds before replying, "Since you, Consultant Welton Heng believe so, let's go ahead with it..."
At those words, the faces of David's supporters, including Donald, suddenly turned pale, while the supporters of Brown and Bellamy looked visibly shaken, almost ready to high-five in celebration.
After the meeting dispersed, Donald immediately went to Obadiah's office to question him, "Director, why give the decision-making power to the Long Beach Branch? Before the assessment period is over, they will definitely not release these taxes!"
"Do you think that's what I wanted, Donald?"
Obadiah glanced at him and explained, "You saw it yourself, Consultant Welton Heng has already stepped forward, and this whitewash tax could serve as campaign capital for the godmaking project. This is already a step back for him. We can't just veto the freeze on funds and not give him any face, right?"
"This... Sigh."
Donald wanted to say more, but thinking of Welton Heng's position as the Chief Consultant of the main bureau and his allegiances, rumored to be even closer to the president than Obadiah's, it made sense that Obadiah was cautious. Consequently, Donald could only sigh in resignation.
"David has even got a handle on a tough company like GCO, and there's still four days left. Even without this tax money, it's not certain he can't win, Donald."
"Let's hope so. I'll inform him first to let him prepare."
Donald pushed the door and left, and upon returning to his own office, immediately called David's number: "Director David, I fear I have disappointing news."
"What is it?"
"Your 80 million-dollar funds, they are supposed to be whitewash rather than black tax, right?"
"Indeed, that's the tax GCO Corporation evaded before the black tax legislation."
"Well, the supporters of Bellamy and Brown at headquarters are attacking this point, claiming that as a spokesperson for the black tax legislation, whitewash cannot be used as campaign funds for the godmaking project. The Director and I fought tooth and nail to reject this notion, but as a compromise, we can't help with the Long Beach Branch freezing your funds."
"Fine, I'll handle it myself."
Donald had expected David to sound dejected on the other end of the phone, but to his surprise, David showed no signs of it, which caught him off guard. He then said, "Okay then, contact me again if you need anything."
"Alright, goodbye Deputy Director Donald."
[Income: Monthly legal income of $56,000, illegal income of $2.3 million US Dollars.]
[Income Details: On December 23, port cargo arrived, reporting false tax figures to profit $500,000 US Dollars, on December 31, the company managed port goods, profiting $500,000 US Dollars after cooking the books, on January 11 ...]
[Tax Due: $910,800 US Dollars.]
"Bring him over to me, discreetly!"
David knew that the Long Beach Branch might be watching him, and although he had tried to keep a low profile on this trip, he couldn't be sure he hadn't been detected, so everything had to be done with a level of discretion.
Following David's orders, Nisen and Bucky both donned hats and headed in the direction of the tall, thin man with glasses.
Before long, the man with glasses was brought over. On seeing David, he asked with some confusion, "You are...?"
As the tax director of a company, he was very familiar with the IRS staff of the Long Beach Branch, but he had never seen the faces of David and Nisen's party.
And if Nisen hadn't shown his tax badge just now, he would not have come along so easily.
"No need to guess, we are not from the Long Beach Branch, I am from the Las Vegas branch, my name is David."
"David... wait a minute...!"
The man named Trevicon seemed to have remembered something, he began to stare at David, sizing him up. After a long while, he confirmed, "Are you the Director David who led an armed raid into the Indian Tribe?"
"It seems you do recognize me."
"After all, my job is related to taxation, how could I have not heard of you..."
Trevicon began to feel uneasy inside because he didn't understand what this infamous Chief Tax Officer wanted with him in Los Angeles.
"Alright, let's not talk about that. I ask you, you and Director Ducray of the Long Beach Branch, you are classmates, right?"
On hearing this, Trevicon gasped, but still tried to respond calmly, "Yes, that's no secret. What's the problem, is there an issue?"
"On the 11th of last month, you asked him to greenlight a tax issue for you, and in the end, you slipped him $80,000 US Dollars, am I wrong?"
"No, that's not the case!"
Trevicon's face changed color, immediately followed by a rebuttal.