Darkstone Code
Chapter 49 - 0049 Everyone is here, so let’s start the meeting!

Chapter 49: 0049 Everyone is here, so let’s start the meeting!

Lynch sat in the office, gazing out at the unchanging scenery. Outside the Warehouse District, aside from the industrial forklifts going back and forth, there were only some "Blue Straps."

The so-called "Blue Straps" referred to people doing odd jobs in the Warehouse District. They did not have stable jobs or income, yet they needed to support themselves and possibly their families.

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

They could only use their physical strength to earn a meager income here. Not everyone who rented a warehouse could afford or rent a forklift, and not every type of goods was suitable to be moved by a forklift, providing these people with survival space.

The office door suddenly knocked. Lynch called out, "Come in." Vera stood awkwardly at the doorway for a few seconds before stepping into the room.

She wasn’t quite comfortable being alone with Lynch in such an enclosed environment. It could make people overthink, be it good or bad thoughts.

She seemed unsure of what to do with her hands, holding one elbow with one hand while tucking her hair behind her ear with the other. "I noticed earlier when I was at the door that it seems like someone is surveilling us."

Lynch raised an eyebrow and stood up, walking to the window to take a look outside. With just one glance, he noticed the "those people" Vera had mentioned.

This also reminded him of the first time he met Mr. Fox, who could ascertain he wasn’t working for the Federation Government.

Outside, those people wore suits, sunglasses, and hair slicked back with gel, giving an impression as if they could take out their credentials and badges at any moment. It’s worth noting that the daytime temperature in Sabin City was already approaching thirty degrees, and wearing long sleeves already felt a bit stuffy, yet these people...

He withdrew his gaze, knowing that law enforcement agencies were never fools. If they were, they wouldn’t catch so many criminals.

The blatant surveillance by these people was more of a warning. A warning for Lynch not to act rashly while applying psychological pressure, waiting for him to make a mistake.

The FBI’s law enforcement authority had always been criticized, especially for having an excessive amount of discretionary power. According to current rules and regulations, when the FBI suspects someone may be involved in a crime, during the process of requesting cooperation or conducting surveillance, if the target suddenly acts dangerously, such as harming others, themselves, or attempting to flee, the agent in charge may immediately take action to make an arrest, then look for evidence and seek an arrest warrant.

Lynch was just a twenty-year-old youth. If they could force him to flee, then those outside could immediately arrest him without having to wait for headquarters to notify them.

Of course, that was only part of the reason.

"You should go back for now. Things are about to get dangerous here," Lynch said as he took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He’d been using his brain a lot lately, and couldn’t help but want something to aid his thoughts emotionally.

The human brain, when active, also causes emotional fluctuations, yet rational thought feared these fluctuations—whether excitement or agitation—as they had little meaning or value for thought itself.

A cigarette would solve these, separating thought from emotion.

He lit one and looked at Vera, "They won’t harm you. You can go back assured. Come back to work when I call you!"

Vera wanted to say something but eventually said nothing, just nodded, started packing up, and left. As she was about to leave, Lynch pointed at the trash bag in the room from the back room, "Please take the trash out too."

Watching Vera leave, Lynch smoked and closed the warehouse door. He picked up the phone and dialed, "I want to report something...yes, I found someone surveilling me...no, it’s not my imagination; they’re right outside...yes...my address is..." He gave his address and hung up the call, slowly thinking about something.

The ultraviolet lamp bulb had already been removed, smashed with a few other ordinary bulbs, and entrusted to Vera to take out.

The chemical cleaning agents were also poured down the drain; such things were common in the Warehouse District and nothing noteworthy.

Finding not too many mistakes in his thoughts, he sat on the table next to the warehouse door, smoking and waiting for the police to arrive.

From the beginning, he knew these people would eventually act. Naturally, he’s handled everything, looking closer; his business might have a slight issue, but overall, he was innocent.

In law, what’s not explicitly forbidden isn’t necessarily legal, yet it’s also not necessarily illegal. This is a gray area, and because of such a boundary, new laws get frequently introduced yearly.

Calling the police was merely to eliminate the possibility of those outside fabricating evidence. During this time, he’d been understanding the world; the Federal Tax Bureau was never a transparent department—he didn’t know that those outside were actually the FBI, but his caution was crucial.

From what Lynch had learned from some information centers, the Federal Tax Bureau’s methods weren’t clean. They encouraged people to come forward and report, granting immunity and not disclosing informers’ information due to confidentiality procedures.

There was a lot that could be manipulated here. Beyond this, Lynch also believed they could fabricate evidence, especially with the Federation’s public opinion still boiling, and to turn the situation around, fabricating evidence was somewhat acceptable.

So he called the police. The police and the Federal Tax Bureau weren’t within the same system. There was invisible competition between them, and with them present, the entire "process" would be somewhat fairer.

A few minutes later, the guys keeping watch on Lynch gaped at two police cars pulling up outside the warehouse. Several officers got out and noticed him, drawing their weapons as they approached. He reported the situation via short-range radio while walking toward the officers.

Meanwhile, inside the warehouse, Lynch watched through the window as the man outside, clearly working for the Federation Government, raised his hands high, still holding his credentials. After pulling his gaze back, he signaled to the two officers taking notes with him, prompting one to head outside to check things out.

About a minute later, those two investigators, along with the officers, entered Lynch’s office. It was only then that Lynch realized these people weren’t from the Tax Bureau, they were from the FBI and that they weren’t just monitoring him.

The sudden involvement of a third party—the police—disrupted the arrest operation...to say it ruined it isn’t accurate, as the person was still there and hadn’t fled, but to say it didn’t affect it somehow seemed incorrect.’

The investigators promptly reported the situation to the action team responsible for collecting evidence at Shengrong. The team leader made a swift decision, requesting Lynch be brought to the bank as well, purportedly to cooperate with their investigation.

Investigate who?

Of course, it would be Mr. Fox, on charges of money laundering.

This decision was quite decisive, bringing Lynch in would increase psychological pressure on Mr. Fox’s associates, giving them a sense of being caught in a net.

In such an environment, they might have initially planned to resist desperately for a while, but would now yield to pressure and abandon resistance.

Soon, Lynch was escorted from the Warehouse District to Shengrong Bank in a special car, appearing in Fox’s view. His appearance was even earlier than Mr. Fox’s Lawyer’s.

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