Chapter 49 Everyone’s Here, So Let’s Start the Meeting

Lynch sat in his office staring out at the unchanging view. Outside the warehouse area, aside from industrial forklifts moving back and forth, there were only some blue overalls.

The so-called blue overalls were casual laborers working around the warehouse. They had no steady job or income but still needed to support themselves or their families.

These people were all at least thirty-seven or thirty-eight years old. They no longer had the time, energy, or mental capacity to learn new survival skills.

They could only exchange physical labor for meager wages. Not every warehouse renter could afford or rent a forklift, nor was every item suitable for forklift handling. This left room for these people to survive.

Suddenly, the office door rang. Lynch called out, “Come in.” Vera hesitated by the door for a few seconds before stepping inside.

She wasn’t comfortable being alone in such a confined space with Lynch; it made her mind race, whether with good or bad thoughts.

Her hands fidgeted awkwardly—one hand supporting the elbow of the other, the other brushing hair behind her ear. “When I was standing by the door, I noticed people watching us.”

Lynch raised an eyebrow, stood up, and looked out the window. Just one glance confirmed Vera’s claim.

It reminded him why he was sure Mr. Fox wasn’t working for the federal government when they first met.

Outside, the watchers wore suits and sunglasses, their hair slicked with gel, giving the impression they could flash badges and credentials at any moment. With daytime temperatures near thirty degrees Celsius in Sabin City, even long sleeves felt stifling—yet these men wore them.

He withdrew his gaze. Law enforcement agencies were never stupid; if they were, they wouldn’t catch so many criminals.

Their blatant surveillance was less about spying and more a warning—a psychological pressure meant to keep Lynch cautious and waiting for him to slip.

The FBI’s law enforcement powers had long been criticized, especially their broad discretionary authority. Under current rules, if the FBI suspects someone of a crime, during cooperation or surveillance, should that person suddenly act dangerously—hurting others or themselves, or trying to flee—the agents involved can immediately arrest them first, then seek evidence and a warrant.

Lynch was just twenty. If pressured to run, those outside wouldn’t even need a go-ahead from headquarters—they could just seize him immediately.

Of course, that was only part of the reason.

“Go back now. It’s going to get dangerous here,” Lynch said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Recently, his brain had been working overtime, and he needed something to help manage his mood while thinking.

When the brain is active, emotions fluctuate. Rational thought hates such fluctuations, whether excitement or agitation, as they add no real value to thinking.

A cigarette helped separate thought from emotion.

He lit one and said to Vera, “They won’t hurt you. You can go back safely. Come back to work when I call.”

Vera tried to speak but said nothing, just nodded and started packing up. As she was about to leave, Lynch came out of the inner room and pointed to the trash bag, “Take the garbage out too, please.”

Watching her leave, Lynch closed the warehouse door, lit his cigarette, and called the police. “I want to report… Yes, I think someone’s watching me… No, it’s not a hallucination. They’re right outside… Yes… Here’s my address…” He gave the details, then hung up, calmly lost in thought.

He had removed the UV light bulb and smashed it with some regular bulbs, asking Vera to take them out.

He poured the chemical cleaner down the drain—nothing unusual in a warehouse area.

After checking for loose ends, he sat by the warehouse door, smoking, waiting for the police.

From the start, he knew these people would eventually act. He had prepared for it. His business might have some minor issues but was basically innocent.

Legally, just because something isn’t explicitly banned doesn’t mean it’s legal, nor necessarily illegal. This blurry line led to many new laws every year.

Calling the police was partly to prevent those outside from fabricating evidence. He was learning more about this world—he knew the IRS was never a straightforward agency. He didn’t yet realize those outside were FBI, but his caution was crucial.

From what Lynch had learned, the IRS sometimes used dirty tactics—encouraging informants with immunity and keeping whistleblowers’ identities secret.

There was much room for manipulation. Lynch also suspected they fabricated evidence to sway public opinion in their favor.

So he called the police. The police were a separate system from the IRS, with invisible rivalries between them. Their presence made the process slightly fairer.

Minutes later, the men tailing Lynch were stunned to see two police cars pull up outside the warehouse. Several officers got out, spotted them, drew weapons, and approached, reporting by radio as they advanced.

Inside, Lynch watched through the window as the man clearly working for the federal government raised his hands, holding his badge. Lynch signaled to the two officers taking notes, who came to the window to look and sent one officer outside to check.

About a minute later, two FBI agents entered Lynch’s office with the police. Only then did Lynch realize these men weren’t IRS—they were FBI. They weren’t just watching him.

The police’s sudden intervention disrupted the arrest. No one fled, but something felt off.

The agents quickly reported to the task force collecting evidence at Prosperity’s. The team leader immediately ordered Lynch brought to the bank to cooperate with the investigation.

Investigating whom? Certainly Mr. Fox for money laundering.

This decision was decisive. Bringing Lynch to the bank would add psychological pressure on Fox and his group, making them feel surrounded.

In such a situation, they might have planned to resist, but now they would likely give up.

Soon, Lynch was driven from the warehouse area to Prosperity Bank, appearing before Mr. Fox even before his lawyer arrived.