Without the help of the three big guys, facing an institution like the IRS.
Reeves couldn't find any good solution for a while. After a few days, the situation became more serious. The IRS even sent people to directly seal off the Black Rabbit Casino.
On this day, the Black Rabbit Casino lobby was bustling with people.
The bailiffs, wearing dark blue uniforms and IRS badges on their chests, rushed into the casino and slapped a yellow seal on the baccarat table.
The butcher immediately took a few of his men to check.
The leading bailiff was not intimidated at all and shouted directly: "In accordance with Section 7403 of the Internal Revenue Code, the Black Rabbit Casino is shut down!"
Immediately afterwards, a large number of IRS personnel swarmed in like ants. Seeing this, the gamblers also grabbed the cash and chips on the table and then dispersed.
The butcher was so angry that he was shaking all over. He saw with his own eyes that the Black Rabbit Casino he had run for many years was closed down by these people. This was more painful than stabbing him with a knife!
"Damn IRS! Do you think I'm made of clay?!" The butcher's left hand subconsciously slid to his lower back, where his Glock, which he never took off, was tucked.
As his rough fingers touched the cold gun handle, a voice roared in his head: "Kill these sons of bitches! Even if I die, I'll take a few people with me!"
Just as his finger gripped the trigger guard, his muscles tensed to draw his gun—
"Buzz buzz buzz—buzz—!"
He took out his cell phone, and the name that popped up on the screen was the person he most wanted to vent his anger to and who most needed instructions from - Reeves.
The butcher took a deep breath and fiercely swiped the answer button. His voice was hoarse and rough, filled with uncontrollable anger: "Brother! These guys..."
"Shut up! Butcher!" Ribs' voice was unusually low on the other end of the phone. "I know everything! Now! Calm down immediately! Come to my office!"
"Fuck! Got it, big brother! I'll be there right away!" The butcher's anger subsided a little after hearing Ribs' arrangements.
He didn't even glance at the IRS personnel who were busy putting seals on the door. With a feeling of frustration and unwillingness, he fiercely kicked over a heavy chair next to him!
The chair rolled out with a loud noise, scaring an IRS agent who was finishing up nearby so much that he shuddered.
The butcher didn't waste any more time. Under the astonished and awed gazes of his men, he strode out of the casino without looking back, leaving behind only a savage figure and a roar that echoed in the messy hall: "You son of a bitch Harold—I'm not done with you!"
The butcher suppressed his anger, almost stepped on the accelerator through the floor, and the SUV rushed towards the lakeside estate outside Chicago like a black lightning.
When he pushed open the heavy oak door of the manor's meeting room with anger still lingering, a solemn atmosphere hit him.
Both sides of the long table were already full of people.
Fox looked pale and anxious; Heisenberg, the usually almost invisible head of pharmaceuticals, also appeared on the scene; Alfred was like an eternal rock, always standing diagonally behind Ribbs's seat, his sharp eyes sweeping over the butcher who had just entered, with scrutiny and urging.
In the center of the room, Ribs had his back to everyone, facing the huge floor-to-ceiling window.
The butcher pulled out a chair and sat down heavily, his voice hoarse and low: "Everything is sealed, big brother. Brothers... feel so aggrieved!" Every word seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth.
"Feeling aggrieved?" Fox was the first to speak. He looked at Reeves, "We feel even more aggrieved! Hundreds of us are tightening our belts, working desperately, and even the money for food is hanging in the balance! But we feel aggrieved not because of our wages, but because we see you, Big Brother, being schemed against by those old bastards!"
He took a deep breath, as if making up his mind. "Brother, Fox is where he is today thanks to your support. Over the years, I've followed you in building your empire. Besides my duty of security, I've also received a lot of benefits in the form of dividends. There's not much left. I can take out 100 million from my personal account today! I can't let Harold and those bastards laugh at us!"
"Fox is right!" Heisenberg, who had been silent until then, pressed his cigarette butt firmly into the ashtray, making a soft "sizzle" sound. This pharmaceutical expert, controlling the core technology and huge profits, was usually a man of few words, but now every word was like gold: "Business is business. The pharmaceutical industry is profitable but also risky. Without you, big brother, protecting me, I, Heisenberg, would have been finished eight hundred times over. I'm not going to waste any time here. One hundred million, just like Fox, immediately." His voice was calm, but it carried undeniable weight.
The butcher slammed the table so hard that the water glass jumped up. "Fuck! You all want 100 million? Damn it, I've been in the casino for so many years, and money comes and goes quickly. I can't compare to you guys in saving money. But a lean camel is bigger than a horse!" He looked around at everyone present, his eyes full of blood and blood, "I'll grit my teeth and get it together! I have 100 million fucking dollars! Big brother, you say, whether to use it to hit Harold on the head or to fill the hole in the IRS, I won't blink an eye!"
Alfred remained expressionless, but after Fox, Heisenberg, and the Butcher had spoken, he took a barely perceptible half step forward. His voice, as clear and steady as ever, said, "Speaker, my personal liquidity is intricately intertwined with your business. Withdrawing such a large sum of cash would require at least 48 hours of precise operations, but I assure you that $100 million will appear promptly in the account you need it most."
Outside the window, a pale flash of lightning tore through the night sky, briefly illuminating every face in the room: Fox's determination, Heisenberg's decisiveness, the butcher's violence, Alfred's calm loyalty... and finally, it stopped on Reeves' face.
Anger, humiliation, the chill of being betrayed by the "big guys"... these surging negative emotions seemed to be temporarily dispelled at this moment by the four brothers using the simplest and most direct way - personal wealth and wholehearted trust.
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