The black SUV convoy of the IRS special investigation team slowly drove into the underground parking lot of the GTO headquarters building. The tires rubbed against the ground and made a low roar. The lights drew a few dazzling beams in the dim underground space, reflecting the wall.
Mottled stains and rust.
Bavel Smith was the first to push the car door open, and the hem of the black windbreaker rose slightly with her pace. Behind her was a dozen fully armed agents, with footsteps neatly sounding like a well-trained army.
The elevator door opened, and Bavel led his men straight to the core office area of the GTO headquarters. The security guard at the door tried to stop him, but Bavel just glanced at him coldly and showed the IRS's ID: "Special investigation team, requisition yours.
Office area. Cooperate with me and don’t cause trouble for yourself.”
The security guard opened his mouth and finally retreated aside, allowing the uninvited guests to break in.
The employees in the office area stopped their work and looked up at the group of sudden intruders. Barvel ignored those surprised or angry gazes and walked straight to the largest conference room. The moment she pushed the door open,
Yeyi was standing in the center of the conference room, with his arms crossed his chest, and his eyes under the mask showed a hint of coldness.
"Baville Smith," Nightwing's voice was low and calm, "IRS's special officer. What a rare guest."
Bavel smiled slightly, walked to the conference table, supported his hands on the table, and looked straight at Nightwing like a knife: "Nightwing, or Richard Grayson. We finally meet."
Yeyi's brow frowned slightly, but he quickly calmed down: "It seems that the IRS intelligence network is wider than I thought. However, what do you want to do when you break in with so many people?"
“Recruiting your office,” Bavel said bluntly, “the financial problems of GTO have been listed as the highest priority by the IRS. We need a temporary command, and it’s just right here.”
Ye Yi sneered, knowing that her drunken man was not drinking. He walked across from Bavel, supported his hands on the table, and looked at her: "Your IRS's hands are so long. GTO's financial problems?
Do you have any evidence?”
Bavel pulled a document from the inner bag of the windbreaker and threw it on the table: "This is the search warrant and expropriation order from the federal court. As for the evidence," she paused, and a meaningful smile appeared on the corner of her mouth, "We
It will be found soon.”
Yeyi glanced at the document, and the expression under the mask could not be changed, but his voice became a little cold: "You are abusing your power. Every capital flow of GTO is transparent, and we have no violations.
Behavior."
"Is that?" Bavel raised his eyebrows, "Why are there billions of dollars in your accounts flowing in unknown directions? Why is your 'charitable fund' actually a shell company? Nightwing, don't think Pi
You can hide the truth by wearing a cloak.”
Yeyi's fist clenched slightly, but he quickly let go of his hand and his tone was still calm: "If you have any questions, we can cooperate with the investigation. But you don't have the right to requisition our office area at will. This is the core of GTO, not
Your playground.”
Bavel chuckled, straightened his body, and looked around: "Core? To me, this is just a place to hide dirt. Nightwing, you think you are upholding justice, but in fact, you and those criminals
There is no difference. It’s just that your methods are more hidden and cunning.”
Yeyi's eyes suddenly turned cold, and he took a step forward, his voice low and dangerous: "You'd better be careful of your words. Bavel. No matter how powerful IRS has, you can't slander others at will."
Bavel did not give in and looked right into Yewing's eyes: "Slander? No, this is the fact. What you GTO did have long attracted the attention of the IRS. Today is just the beginning."
The atmosphere between the two was tense, as if a conflict would break out in the next second. At this moment, the agents behind Bavel took a step forward, pressed their hands on the weapon at their waists, and stared at Yeyi vigilantly.
Yeyi glanced at the agents and sneered: "Why, do you still want to do it?"
Bavel raised his hand and signaled the agents to retreat, his tone still calm: "We are not here to fight, Nightwing. We are here to check the accounts. If you don't want to get into more trouble, it's best to cooperate with our work."
Ye Yi was silent for a moment, and finally took a step back, spreading his hands, with a hint of mockery in his tone: "Okay, Baville. You can stay here. But I warn you, if you dare to cross the line, you will be at your own risk."
Bavel smiled slightly, turned to the main seat of the conference room, sat down and opened the documents in his hand: "Don't worry, Nightwing. Our IRS has always abide by the law. However, if you have anything to explain, now is a good opportunity.
”
Yeyi did not answer, but just looked at Bavel coldly and turned away from the conference room. The moment the door closed, Bavel's smile gradually disappeared, replaced by a touch of deep thought. She whispered to the agent beside her: "
Keep an eye on him. The huge amount of money on the GTO account disappeared so strangely. I didn’t find any problems before coming. He should have a master’s advice behind him.”
The agent nodded and quickly left the conference room. Bavel continued to flip through the documents, his mouth slightly raised, as if he had seen the dawn of victory.
Meanwhile, Nightwing stood at the end of the corridor and looked out through the window at the city outside. His fists were slightly clenched, and a trace of worry appeared in his eyes under the mask.
GTO Headquarters, IRS Interim Special Investigation Team Office.
Bavel Smith threw black coffee on a metal table. The senior commissioner of Latino descent stared at the electronic clock on the wall - 09:37PM, the neon blue surveillance screen casts shadows on her hard side face,
The light flows on the lenses of the glasses.
Three unmarked Chevrolets pierced the quiet night sky of East Island. Special Agent Ferkas pulled the fiber joints of the bulletproof vest, and the light column of the tactical flashlight swept through the oak porch worth $8,200 for a limited marble door: "Carter IV".
Bavel growled at the headset: "The evidence collection team blocked the study on the west side. The Titan X host has backups of his three offshore shell companies' transaction records!"
She paused suddenly, and the tip of her nose turned around was only five centimeters away from the framed yacht club.
"Wait, this 2005 St. Bartz Island Yacht Charity Dinner photo, is the third person on the left witness at the Florida Digital Assets hearing last year?"
Bavel clicked a few times at the computer in front of her. A photo appeared in front of her. Her index finger accurately pointed to the expensive watch on the man's wrist on the mid-suit, and the guest bracelet for the hearing could be vaguely seen on the reflective dial.
A trembling voice came from the cell: "You are fishing enforcement! My accountant said those digital assets..."
A leisurely voice suddenly sounded above the cell: "Mr. Carter, you paid 1.47 million US dollars in business consulting fees you filed in 2001 to shell companies in the British Virgin Islands."
A plastic sealed document was thrown down from the air, and the white paper fell to the ground: "This is the transaction flow of the escrow account provided by Credit Suisse - do I need to read out the answer to the question you set a password?'My mother's maiden name+
The license plate number of the first lover is not a qualified information security strategy.”
Bavel suddenly turned his head and looked at the TV screen. The figure above the cell was looming, but most of it was hidden in the darkness.
"Go check who he is," said Bavel. "Also, as he said, go check Carter's Swiss bank account."
"yes."
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Evidence room.
UV lights flowed between the pages of The Great Gatsby. Suddenly, his hand with rubber gloves paused, and a string of numbers emerged between letters.
"The encryption key of the hard drive." The man with eagle-like eyes looked up and said.
The female team member next to him immediately picked up the walkie-talkie and said, "Flip through it in his study, the hard drive should be hidden there."
A woman wearing glasses next to her suddenly picked up the bookmark next to her - a yellowed 1998 Boston Red Sox ticket.
"It is perfectly consistent with the suspect sports betting account opening time marked by the headquarters technical support system." The woman said bypassing the table, "a classic method, but very useful."
She clamped the ticket with her index and middle fingers, shook it at Baville who had just walked in and said, "Hey, I've caught it."
The technician behind the glass suddenly looked up and shouted: "Boss, the chain tracking shows that this wallet address just transferred more than $6 million in digital assets to an online casino in Malta last week, and Carter Group is applying for charity tax exemption at the same time...
”
"This guy is really multifaceted." The woman wearing glasses pushed her glasses and said, "Greed is his gallows."
Suddenly, Bavel's satellite phone vibrated, and the caller ID in the special encrypted frequency band made her jaw line suddenly tight.
An unfamiliar voice that was electronically processed rang out on the other end of the phone: "Sir Smith, do you remember the assets your father declared when he immigrated from Mexico City in 1989? Some tax flaws in your family involved in immigration...may need to be re-established.
Examine.”
Bavel's hand was holding a coffee cup. The coffee liquid was spilled out, and the stains were dizzy on the IRS badge on his chest. The skyline of Gotham was white in the distance, and in the reflection of the glass curtain wall, her iris showed some kind of difference.
A special gray tone between the agent and the prey.
"What's wrong? Boss."
"Nothing, keep checking."
Bavel turned around. A young agent in uniform walked in, knocked on the door and said, "Hey, can't find it."
"What?"
"The mysterious man who appeared on the cell building was Schiller Rodriguez, but we couldn't find anything except this name."