"Okay, Speaker! I understand. I'll be waiting for you in New York!"
Eugene agreed immediately and hung up the phone. He quickly drove away from the Norman Hotel and found a secluded cafe nearby.
The window seat had a great view. He ordered a cup of coffee, spread out the newspaper, and began to remotely monitor Frank, who lived in Suite 1906.
…
Chicago, at Ribbs' lakeside estate.
Keshia pulled his arm and said coquettishly, "Honey, you are going to New York again! Take us sisters with you! I also want to attend the evening parties..."
"This isn't a party, Kezia." Ribs interrupted her, his eyes sweeping over the four sisters. "We're going to do something big this time, and it's inconvenient to bring you women along. You'll only get in the way..."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and got into the car.
The car drove directly to the Chicago airport, and the private plane was already ready.
As soon as Ribbs entered the cabin, the plane took off immediately.
He unbuttoned his suit, rubbed his temple, and said to Alfred beside him, "Please contact Harold for me. I want to go and 'visit' this energy tycoon in person. I want to see what he wants to do with my materials..."
…
In the suburbs of New York City, deep in Long Island, at Harold's Manor.
Harold leaned back in the high-back leather chair, fiddling with a small receiver between his fingers.
In the headphones, there was the dead rustling sound of Suite 1906 of the Norman Hotel - the sound of Frank's room was coming in continuously through the nano pickup.
The butler walked in quietly and reported in a low voice: "Sir, Ribbs's private plane has landed in New York. He sent someone... to contact the manor directly and request to meet with you."
Harold listened without even raising his eyelids, his tone as flat as if he were discussing the weather: "Oh? Pretty quick reaction, it seems this Reeves is quite capable. He figured out so quickly that we were behind him."
He put down the receiver, took a sip of port, and then said slowly, "It's okay, let him in. We have enough evidence to get him killed by the IRS. I'd really like to see what this upstart Chicago guy has to say."
…
Not long after, the extended black sedan drove into the solemn gate of Harold Manor and finally stopped in front of the main house.
Ribbs got out of the car alone, wearing a perfectly tailored dark suit and walking steadily into the study full of power.
"Mr. Harold, I've long heard of you." Reeves extended his hand with a smile on his face.
Harold also stood up, smiling, as if he was welcoming an old friend he hadn't seen for many years, and shook hands with Reebs' hand vigorously: "Speaker Reebs! Welcome, your deeds in Chicago are truly well-known. Please take a seat!" He pointed enthusiastically to the leather sofa opposite.
The two of them sat down politely on the sofa. The butler silently served them two glasses of top-quality whiskey and then quietly left.
On the surface, the atmosphere could even be described as "harmonious", but at this moment, both of them were thinking about how to kill each other.
"I wonder what instructions the Speaker has for you this time?"
Harold asked politely while leaning back, his posture relaxed, yet filled with an invisible sense of oppression.
Liebs picked up his glass and didn't answer directly. Instead, he took a sip and spoke slowly, "New York is a wonderful place with endless opportunities, but it's also... a mixed bag. Recently, my Thorn Group has encountered some... minor troubles here, and several projects have been suspended." His tone was flat, as if he was just discussing an insignificant matter. "Losing a little money is a small matter. I think... it might be worth talking to a respected senior like Mr. Harold. After all, New York is the home of old money like you, and rules... are very important."
Harold's smile remained unchanged. He leaned forward slightly, his hands folded on his knees. "Oh? Rules... are indeed important. New York has its own rules, and some of Chicago's... styles may not apply. Sometimes, if you walk too fast, you might get hurt..."
"Hahaha, this little money is nothing." Ribs said with a smile, "I can still withstand this little storm."
"Storms?" Harold warned threateningly, "Real storms often come from the most unexpected places. For example... an IRS audit notice? That's a monstrous wave capable of capsizing any ship. A newcomer with an unstable foundation wouldn't be able to withstand such storms."
Although Harold didn't say it explicitly, bringing up the IRS at this time was the ultimate threat to Reeves.
Faced with Harold's implied warning, Reeves knew that he had evidence of his tax evasion, but he must not show weakness at this moment - once he showed weakness, he would be eaten to pieces by this old fox.
The air in the study seemed to freeze.
The charcoal in the fireplace crackled, but the atmosphere between the two men had dropped to freezing point. They still maintained a superficial decency, with smiles, small talk, and polite words... these hypocritical cloaks of upper-class society firmly wrapped around each other's naked murderous intentions.
Ribs slowly stood up, adjusted his suit cuffs, and deliberately put on a nonchalant smile:
"It doesn't matter. I, Reeves, have come this far because I have people supporting me. The IRS won't necessarily be able to bring me down."
"Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Harold." His voice was low and steady. "The whiskey at your estate is... quite good. As for the wind and waves... we'll see. Goodbye."
Ribs left in an unusually decisive manner, without even a single extra glance.
The gloom on Harold's face did not disappear. Ribs' calmness exceeded his expectations.
Normally, a person who is told that the core fatal evidence may be leaked to the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) would always be a little panicked and try to remain calm no matter how hard he tries...but Reeves didn't.
"Of course there are people supporting me from behind... The IRS may not be able to make me fail..." Reeves' words circled in Harold's mind.
Is he bluffing? Or...
Harold narrowed his eyes slightly, a haze of uncertainty looming over his heart.
Harold Energy Holdings, with a market capitalization exceeding $50 billion, has deep-rooted connections in New York and across the United States. However, the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) is one of the most feared law enforcement agencies in the U.S. federal government, possessing investigative powers that transcend state lines and even penetrate the walls of top chaebols.
Countless once-prominent business tycoons and political rising stars have been torn to pieces by the IRS due to tax issues. Even if they don't die, they will suffer heavy losses and lose all their halo.
Reeves is just a gangster who emerged from the Midwest and his main base is in Chicago. Why is he so dismissive of the threats from the IRS?
"Could it be... that this guy really has a backer in the IRS?" Harold's heart skipped a beat when he thought of this.
It's not impossible!
During his rise to power in Chicago, Reeves had already proven his ability to connect with officials at all levels and infiltrate official power. Illinois Governor Morgan had a close relationship with him, even mobilizing the National Guard on his behalf!
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com