"What's there to talk about?!"
Brown failed to pick up on the hidden meaning in Darrell's words. If he had been calm, he might have noticed, but right now, he was in a rage.
As the director of the CIA, the head of one of America's violent institutions and one of the world's largest intelligence agencies, Brown normally could not exactly run roughshod over everyone, but no one dared provoke him lightly. He had lived quite comfortably.
When had he ever suffered such indignity?
The IRS? Wasn't it just a tax collector? Could Brown possibly be afraid of... afraid... Well, maybe a little.
In short, Brown was furious, and the consequences were severe!
So, he decided to prepare for a head-on clash with the IRS!
As the head of spies, and a former agent himself, how could he possibly let others bully him without making any preparations to strike back?
Of course Brown would not do that. Though he still did not know why the IRS had suddenly come knocking to tear down his house this time, one thing was certain—the other side had already come to his door with a "knife."
Surely his side could not be completely defenseless and let themselves be butchered at will?
Thus, Brown intended to get his own "knife" firmly in hand first.
At worst, they could expose each other's secrets and stab each other in the back. Who was afraid of whom?!
The CIA was one of America's violent institutions, after all!
Sure, the IRS had more authority, broader jurisdiction, and definitely possessed more "dirt" than they did. It even had two armed forces under its command and more funding than they did, but... but... but...
Brown shook his head and chose not to think too deeply about it.
He could not keep thinking. If he did, he would just surrender outright.
He should think of it this way—even if the CIA really could not stand up to the IRS, the IRS would not get off easy either!
At that thought, a surge of heat suddenly rose in Brown's chest, as if he had returned to his youth.
Back then, he had not yet gone bald. He had been high-spirited, never looking before leaping, relying solely on hot blood to fight heaven, earth, and even the air itself!
"Go to the Main Switchboard Archives right now and retrieve File 100-86," Brown said. His tone was resolute and brimming with passion. "If the IRS wants war, then we'll give them war!"
Darrell's expression instantly froze stiff.
What the hell?
How had this turned into a war?
So the director had already confirmed that the IRS intended to tear up all pretenses, and wanted him to retrieve the file so they could prepare?
Darrell frantically guessed, trying to figure out what Brown meant.
"...Are you listening?"
Brown had finished that impassioned declaration, but Darrell did not answer for a long while. It felt like he was performing a one-man show, and he immediately lost some steam as he asked irritably.
"Ah... I'm listening!" Darrell finally snapped back to his senses and asked cautiously, "But Director, the Main Switchboard Archives... I can't get in!"
Although he was the administrative director, Darrell did not actually have much authority. At the very least, he did not have clearance to freely enter and leave the archives attached to the CIA headquarters' most tightly secured main switchboard room.
According to Yinsen, only the main switchboard administrator, William Dom, could enter those archives, and even then, he had to pass multiple verifications such as iris scans, voiceprints, and fingerprints.
"Can't you have William retrieve it for you?" Brown was nearly losing his mind.
"That requires procedural authorization..." Darrell was somewhat dumbfounded.
"...Fuck. Then go keep talking to that IRS guy first. Wait for me to get there—I'll be there soon!"
Brown paused, then cursed irritably. "Threaten him to some extent. It would be best if you can make him back down in the face of difficulty. Make him understand exactly what kind of retaliation we'll deliver if they insist on continuing down this path!"
The first burst of energy is the strongest; the second weakens; the third is exhausted.
Brown's experiences and emotional journey over this short hour perfectly embodied that saying.
At first, he wanted to ask Chris what exactly was going on. Chris simply did not answer his call, and the more Brown thought about it, the angrier he became, until his momentum reached its peak.
Then he called Darrell and fiercely declared war. But... Darrell did not play along, leaving Brown somewhat awkward as his momentum began to weaken.
Then, he told Darrell to retrieve the file, but Darrell could not do it.
The problem was that Brown knew perfectly well that it had nothing to do with Darrell. He had simply lost his temper in the moment, failed to think things through, and issued a completely impossible order...
After suffering another setback, Brown's momentum instantly plunged to rock bottom. That could be seen from his order to Darrell—"Threaten him. It would be best if you can make him back down."
That was worlds apart from his earlier declaration of, "If he wants war, then give him war!"
After hanging up, Darrell pondered for a while before finally reaching a conclusion.
Brown's call had just been telling him to keep doing what he had already been doing?
Shaking his head, Darrell understood that Brown had likely become so angry that he was beginning to lose his reason.
So naturally, he could not provoke Brown right now. He had to follow Brown's orders!
After arranging his facial expression, Darrell put on his professional smile once more, pushed open the conference room door, and walked inside.
Zhou Yi fiddled with his phone and looked at Darrell. "Finished talking, Mr. Darrell?"
"Yes." Darrell walked over to Zhou Yi. "Mr. Zhou, our director just called me and explained a few things. But before that, I need to ask: what is the purpose of your visit this time?"
Brown would be arriving soon anyway. At this point, even if Zhou Yi revealed his intentions, it did not matter!
With that thought in mind, Darrell asked directly.
"My purpose..." Zhou Yi frowned and put on a deeply contemplative expression. "What was my purpose again?"
After pausing, Zhou Yi suddenly looked as though he had remembered. "That's right. I came this time to conduct a friendly exchange with the CIA!"
"..." Darrell fell silent.
He was carefully and seriously considering—
Did the words "friendly" and "exchange" have some other meaning?
In this environment, at this moment, combined with Zhou Yi's identity, tone, and expression, what exactly could those two words mean?
They could not possibly mean exactly what they said on the surface, could they?
"It's like this. We discovered that when pursuing certain criminals who evade and underpay taxes, we always run into various problems. Those problems involve many aspects, such as equipment technology or the professional qualities of our agents."
Zhou Yi spoke with great seriousness and sincerity.
"So, after giving it some thought, our director thought of you, as a fellow intelligence agency... Ah, no, you're an intelligence agency. Sorry, we're a tax department... Well, no big deal. Let's continue."
Zhou Yi explained, "We hope to conduct a friendly exchange with you in areas including management systems, equipment technology, and personnel training, in order to promote a friendly, harmonious, cooperative relationship between our two departments. We can develop together and improve together!"
Wasn't it just official-speak?
Surely no one actually did not know how to use it, right?
If the situation had been more suitable, did he think Zhou Yi would not drag out the entire community with a shared future for mankind?
Zhou Yi recalled the message Yinsen had just sent, informing him that the operation had succeeded. Looking at Darrell's completely frozen smile, he found it rather amusing inside, though outwardly he remained meticulous, stern, and serious.
His acting had to remain convincing.
At the same time, Zhou Yi silently said something in his heart—
"Thank you for your cooperation!"
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