If Reeves really has some extremely secret connections that can directly reach the top of the IRS...
So, Harold, holding the so-called "fatal evidence", not only could not deal a fatal blow to Reeves, but it might even backfire on him, causing the IRS to investigate him in turn!
Harold gasped at the thought.
Reeves's previous remarks, "Even the IRS can't overturn my boat" and "There are people supporting me from behind," shattered his original confidence.
"There's not a single flaw..." Harold muttered to himself, "Either he's just bluffing, or...he really has some incredible abilities!"
He has been active in business and politics for decades and knows that the IRS is an invisible sword hanging over the heads of all top Americans. It is absolutely abnormal for him to be so nonchalant about it.
"Investigate!" A cautious glint flashed in Harold's eyes. He gave an order to the family intelligence director standing solemnly beside him. "I want to know who is behind Reeves! We must confirm this before submitting the materials to the IRS!"
The intelligence director bowed slightly. "Yes, sir. We have close contacts in the Treasury Department, the Congressional Oversight Committee, and several regional IRS commissioners' offices. I will immediately initiate an investigation."
Harold waved his hand, and the intelligence chief left quickly and silently.
…
At the same time, inside the luxury car, Reeves' face seemed covered with ice, with a solemn and murderous look.
"Speaker? Is everything okay?" Alfred, sitting in the passenger seat, observed his expression through the rearview mirror.
"He believes it, at least temporarily." Reeves' voice was low and cold. "But this is just a delaying tactic. Harold, that old fox, won't sit still. He will definitely use the vast network of contacts his family has accumulated over decades to thoroughly investigate the truth of my so-called 'IRS background'."
Ribs looked out the window at the New York night sky speeding by. "I've bought myself a little time. I must eliminate the threat of the IRS within this short window of time, or... turn my guns around!"
"What do you mean?" Alfred adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes behind the lenses as sharp as a knife.
"Go back to Chicago! No, contact Governor Morgan directly!" Reeves' voice was firm. The only person he could think of who might have access to the IRS system was Illinois Governor Morgan, who had just cost him $150 million!
On the plane back to Chicago, Ribbs dialed Governor Morgan's private line directly.
"Speaker? I heard you just came back from New York?" Governor Morgan's voice was as "friendly" as ever, with the tact unique to politicians.
"Your Excellency, Governor, I have an urgent matter and need to meet with you immediately. It's a matter of great importance!" There was a rare hint of urgency in Ribbs' voice, and he even used the honorific "Your Excellency".
Morgan keenly caught the unusual solemnity. "Is it that serious? Okay, come directly to the Governor's Mansion when you land. I'll be waiting for you."
…
The study was filled with smoke.
Reeves briefly recounted Harold's threats - Frank was controlled, core financial evidence was stolen, and the other party planned to leak all the materials to the IRS to kill him.
"...Harold wants to use the IRS as a knife to dig me out at the root." Reeves stared into Morgan's eyes, "Governor, you must help me with this! I'm doing this for the development of our Illinois!"
Reeves' words were blunt, even tinged with a hint of threat. Morgan had previously received a large donation, and the two were in the same boat. If Reeves fell, Morgan would also be in big trouble.
Governor Morgan's face changed, and he finally extinguished the cigar in his hand.
"Harold...this is too much!" He seemed to be enraged by what happened to Reeves. "You're using such despicable tactics in New York! Speaker, don't worry! Over at the IRS...I do know some people who are truly in power! Although it's a bit tricky to cross state lines, with my reputation as a Morgan and my connections at General Dynamics, I can definitely build a bridge for you!"
He regained his governor's dignity and spirit. "Look, I'll arrange it! You prepare. It's in Chicago, at the best private club! I'll organize a meeting and invite key figures from the IRS and the president of General Dynamics! We'll have a meal together, talk it out, and pave the way! With the three of us here, the Harold family is nothing but clowns!"
Morgan's confidence didn't seem fake, and Reeves felt a little more at ease. "Great, Governor! If this matter can be resolved smoothly, I will double the amount for whatever Illinois needs in the future!"
…
Three days later, in the top-floor box of Chicago's top-tier and most secure private club, "The Summit".
The environment is elegant and luxurious to the extreme, with the aroma of cigars, the richness of vintage port wine, and the scent of expensive truffles intertwined in the air.
Four people sat around the central mahogany dining table that could accommodate ten people:
Ribs: As a “help seeker”, I lowered my posture a little and carefully observed every expression of the three big guys present.
Governor Morgan: As the middleman, he was beaming, calm, and controlled the pace of the conversation.
Eberhart: President of General Dynamics. An elderly man with silver hair and a gaze as deep as a hawk, he was elegantly dressed without appearing out of place, possessing the composure and weight of a true leader of a top-tier military-industrial giant.
Bill Sterling: A lean, middle-aged man. He was a prominent figure within the IRS. Morgan didn't specify his title, but he was definitely no ordinary person, at least a regional director or even a key figure at a higher level.
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