The conference room closed silently, isolating the last trace of sound from the outside world.
Ribbs stood alone in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the leaden sky of Chicago.
Keshia and the three sisters had secretly boarded a special plane to Canada hours ago, using the backup funds and anonymous identities that Alfred had personally arranged.
This was the only shelter he could offer before the storm.
The brothers' stalls have been temporarily settled. Fox knows how to stabilize his men. Heisenberg's business has not been affected for the time being and can still generate revenue. As for the butcher... I hope he can swallow his anger and not cause any deaths in the casino blocked by the IRS.
All the superficial work that could be done was done.
Now, all ties have been temporarily severed. His kingdom is in danger of being overthrown, but so what?
Loneliness, on the contrary, brings a long-lost, pure power.
"Boss?" The corner of Ribs' mouth curled up into an extremely cold and sarcastic arc.
Governor Morgan's sanctimonious, chest-thumping assurances flashed before his eyes; President Eberhart's hypocritical support; Sterling's feigned impartiality of "following the rules." These three so-called supports combined to push him over the edge!
Is the IRS scary? Yes, it represents the most ruthless tax machine in the federal state apparatus.
Those who are targeted by it rarely have a good ending.
But at this moment, Reeves no longer had any fear of the "institution" itself.
When a person is truly not afraid of death, then there is nothing to be afraid of. Moreover, he has not yet decided to die.
"Speaker," Alfred said in a very low voice, "The IRS's special cars...are here. There's more than one, a convoy. They've blocked all exits of the manor."
Ribs didn't look back, he still looked out the window, as if admiring the coming storm.
Sure enough, the shrill and majestic sound of sirens came from far away, and the heavy sounds of car doors opening and closing came one after another.
Looking down from the huge floor-to-ceiling windows on the second floor, a dozen vehicles painted dark blue with the white lettering "IRS" surrounded the entrance and main driveway of the lakeside manor.
"Hold steady." Reeves only uttered two words, his voice dry but with a strange calmness.
Heavy and rapid footsteps were heard in the stairwell, and in less than thirty seconds, the door of the conference room was roughly pushed open again.
A dozen or so people in crisp black suits, with gleaming IRS badges pinned to their left breasts, streamed into the room.
Their expressions were solemn and murderous, and their movements were filled with unquestionable force. They quickly occupied key positions in the conference room and formed a subtle encirclement.
The leader was tall with a cold face, holding a piece of paper with the official emblem and the judge's signature printed on it.
Without further ado, the person in charge stepped forward and spoke in a loud voice, "Mr. Ribs! This is an arrest warrant issued by the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) of the United States Federal Government pursuant to Sections 7201 and 7203 of the Internal Revenue Code, among other statutes! You are suspected of massive tax fraud, systematic money laundering, and intentionally concealing overseas assets, among other serious federal felonies!"
He thrust the thin, yet weighty piece of paper forward, as if issuing a verdict: "You are officially arrested! Please give up any resistance and come with us immediately!"
The muscles on Ribs' face twitched subtly.
"Haha... arrest? I'll go with you?" Reeves repeated the cold order, his eyes sweeping over the agents who were facing a formidable threat. "Of course... yes."
He raised his wrist without any hesitation, as if he had accepted his fate.
Alfred's heart sank as he looked at the dark smile on the Speaker's lips, which could definitely not be described as "surrendering," and his gesture of completely giving up on outward resistance.
He knew his master too well - this was by no means an admission of defeat, but rather a dangerous signal.
Sure enough, just as the IRS officer stepped forward, took out handcuffs and was about to handcuff Ribs.
Ribs suddenly took a step back, and in the blink of an eye, two submachine guns suddenly appeared out of thin air in his left and right hands.
In the blink of an eye, bullets flew everywhere. All the IRS personnel present had almost no time to react and were all shot and fell in a pool of blood.
The smell of blood was so thick in the conference room.
The smoke had not yet cleared, and the bodies of more than a dozen IRS officers lay on the floor. Blood spread freely on the expensive carpet, outlining a horrific pattern.
In the dead silence, only Alfred's heartbeat was beating like a drum in his chest, almost breaking his ribs.
He stood frozen in place, his pupils dilated in shock behind his gold-rimmed glasses. The fleeting scene just now was like a nightmare projected from hell.
The Speaker, who was ready to surrender just a second ago, showed no signs, not even a sign of muscle contraction - two Uzi submachine guns appeared in his hands out of thin air!
What followed was a torrential downpour of gunfire! It was so precise, cold, and efficient it made your scalp tingle!
The IRS agents, who were highly trained and wearing bulletproof vests, had no time to react.
They couldn't even pull out the guns stuck in their ribs completely. In an instant, they were swallowed and torn apart by the dense rain of bullets, and they couldn't even let out a complete scream.
Too fast! So fast that it surpasses the limits of human reaction! So fast... Alfred is certain that this is not a realm that can be achieved through training alone!
Alfred looked at Ribs.
The Speaker's face was no longer gloomy or angry, only a chilling indifference remained. He casually threw two Uzis, which were still smoking slightly, to the ground, making a heavy metallic sound.
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