Daily life of an American TV drama agent

"BOSS, let's seal down that meth lab now!" As soon as Ron hung up the phone, Hank couldn't wait to make suggestions.

Ron asked strangely: "Search it for what?"

"This way we have evidence to prosecute him for drug production and trafficking." Hank said matter-of-factly. He had always done this in the DEA and didn't think there was any problem.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hank, I need to remind you that you no longer work for the DEA, but for the IRS. We do not have anti-drug law enforcement powers." Ron looked serious.

"Then what should we do? Should we just leave him alone?" Hank said angrily. He thought he could realize his ambition by joining Ron, but he didn't expect the reality to be a disappointment.

A strange smile appeared on Ron's face: "Of course not, Mr. Hank, do you know what the most important job of our IRS is?"

"Collect taxes?" Hank asked tentatively, and Ron responded with a satisfied smile.

"That's right."

Hank: "What do taxes have to do with drugs?"

"Do you think Flynn is just a drug dealer?" Ron put his hands on his chin: "How naive!"

"Is not it?"

"Of course not, or not entirely. While he became a drug trafficker, he was also a shameful tax evader. The tax bureau has not received a cent of his taxes from that part of the drug trade."

"It's not even a cent!" Ron hammered the table hard and said in a more serious tone: "So, we have the right to collect money from him, and we can use violence if necessary."

After saying that, Ron winked mischievously, and Hank immediately understood.

Yes, the IRS does not have the power to investigate drugs, but it can definitely go to Flynn to collect taxes. Hank doesn't believe that he can really turn over the drug tax.

"Then what are we going to do? I have never done tax collection work before. Should we go directly to him for an interview?" Hank planned to study his boss seriously and see what tricks he could do.

"It's okay, I will teach you well. Just follow it once and you will be good. Besides, your relative's chemistry teacher is okay. A big drug lord like Gustavo Flynn. Do you think he will pay taxes properly? "

"probably not."

Hank thought for a moment, not to mention Flynn, even Walter would fight for that money in order to cure the disease or leave a sufficient inheritance for his children.

Ron turned his head to Andy: "Andy, did someone who looked like Nicolas Cage deliver anything yesterday?"

"If you are talking about that strange-looking pickup truck, he is parked in the garage downstairs now." Andy took out a key from the drawer and threw it over.

Ron reached out to catch it, and then pressed it under the desk. The bookshelf originally filled with various books immediately split from the middle, revealing the secret room inside.

"These..." Hank opened his mouth in surprise.

The secret room was filled with all kinds of weapons, from Springfield rifles to recoilless rifles. It was not an exaggeration to say that it was a small arsenal. Hank conservatively estimated that the equipment inside could at least be armed. A battalion.

"This is the arsenal of the IRS Special Operations Team. You can take whatever you like. You're welcome." Ron said generously. At the same time, he took off his suit to reveal his strong muscles, and put on a composite body armor underneath. A large plaid shirt covered him so tightly that it couldn't be seen from the outside.

Then he put the Smith \u0026 Wesson pistol into the holster, and took a Remington M870 and put it on his back. Before going out, he took a broken felt hat from the hanger and put it on his head, like an old west cowboy.

"BOSS, is it too much for us to bring such equipment? Are we going to fight?" Hank asked uneasily as he got into Ron's truck with a gun in his arms.

Because he noticed that this pickup truck seemed different from ordinary ones. Not only did the outer shell seem to be bulletproof, but even the things behind the truck frightened him and brought back some bad memories of his time as a soldier.

Ron started the car and drove out of the garage: "War? Why do you have such an idea? We are just going to collect taxes~"

"Do you need that thing to collect taxes?" Hank pointed at the big guy behind who was covered with a cloth.

It was a twelve-tube steel monster that was welded to the trunk. If he remembered correctly, it was a rocket launcher. When he was a soldier in Iraq, the local guerrillas often used this thing.

It has no recoil and is easy to shoot, but it can shoot twelve rockets at the same time. It has fierce firepower and is also light in weight. It only weighs 613 kilograms when fully loaded. It can be transferred immediately after shooting, using any small car. Just pull it away.

Therefore, together with AK and RPG, they are called the three major artifacts of the guerrillas.

Hank's unit was attacked by this weapon, which left a deep psychological shadow on him.

"Of course~" Ron raised his voice dissatisfied: "There are only two of us, and they are a group of heavily armed drug cartel militants. Only this can give me a sufficient sense of security."

"But it's too powerful. Do you want to blow up the drug laboratory? Then what evidence do we have to accuse him of drug trafficking... No, I mean tax evasion."

Hank felt that Ron didn't look like a tax bureau employee at all, but rather like a guerrilla who often appeared in his dreams, using this thing to collect taxes door-to-door? What hasn't been blasted to pieces? I can collect some yarn.

"Don't worry~" Ron waved his hand: "I didn't fire all the high-explosive rockets. There were only four real anti-personnel rockets. The others were tear gas and flash bombs. I am a measured person. "

"That's okay..." Hank just calmed down and immediately felt something was wrong: "What a fart! Even if it's tear gas, using this kind of charge is too much, right?"

"Otherwise, what should I do? Do you know that I am short of manpower and can only use firepower to close the gap between us? Or do you want to transform into Stallone from First Blood and fight against a group of them alone?"

One sentence immediately made Hank sit in his chair and stop talking. He was still young and had a beautiful wife. He didn't want to die so early.

Immediately, the pickup truck drove to an open space less than five kilometers away from Flynn's laundry. There were no buildings blocking the distance between here and the laundry. It was an excellent launch base.

The smoke on the top of the laundry chimney in the distance is slightly yellow, which should be the smoke produced during the initial reaction of methylamine. If Ron guessed correctly, poison manufacturing activities are currently going on inside.

In other words, Hank's chemistry teacher's brother-in-law happened to be there too.

Ron pulled off the cloth, revealing the ferocious steel monster inside: "Now, start working~"