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What would happen if Ron got busted?
Not much. As a fellow law enforcement officer, Ron could easily explain away his illegal street racing as part of an undercover operation.
However, there was a good chance this story would spread through FBI channels to intelligence agencies across the country, and Ron would become a laughingstock, never able to live it down.
The CIA especially would get a kick out of Ron being humiliated, since Ron loved screwing with the CIA. If
they wanted to play dirty, then he wouldn't play nice either. Ron pulled out his phone, found Toretto's number, and hit call.
Toretto had just found a multi-level parking garage and stashed his car. Seeing Ron's call, he immediately picked up. "Toretto, where you at? I'm coming to get you."
"What's wrong, Ron?" Toretto asked.
"Don't worry about it right now. Find somewhere to lay low, then tell me where you are and I'll pick you up." Out of his usual trust in Ron, Toretto cautiously gave him the parking garage's location and stayed put.
The parking garage was just one block from where the street race had gone down,
and Ron quickly scooped up Toretto. As Ron drove off with Toretto, a green sports car flashed its headlights from an alley across the street. It was none other than Agent O'Connor's Mitsubishi Eclipse.
O'Connor pulled out his phone, dialed a number from memory, and made the call. Not far away, in an unmarked sedan sat the two FBI agents who had previously staged their arrest in front of Ron.
"Sir, the operation's blown. Target's in the wind,"
the bald agent said in disbelief. "How the hell are they gone? Weren't you tailing the target's vehicle the whole time?"
"I was parked across from where Toretto was hiding, waiting for him to make a move, but then out of nowhere Ron shows up, and before I could call for backup, he grabbed Toretto and they were gone."
The big Black agent slammed the steering wheel in frustration. "Damn it! That guy again! How did he know we had an op running tonight?"
Ron: "Sorry, but I've seen the movies, and your hand signals are a dead giveaway."
"Jack, I keep telling you, we just need to focus on taking down Toretto. There's no need to poke that hornets' nest," the bald agent said with a shrug.
The Black agent, clearly the senior agent, shot him a look. "You giving me orders now?"
"No sir, Boss. Question is, what's our play now?"
"Nothing. We extract Agent O'Connor and wait for another opening." The Black supervisor had no choice but to scrub tonight's operation.
Tonight's op was actually a joint task force with LAPD, specifically targeting Toretto, based on O'Connor's recommendation. The primary objective wasn't to arrest him.
Without solid evidence, even if they nabbed Toretto, the most they could charge him with would be reckless driving and street racing, and he'd be out in a few days.
Plus, he had Ron Cooper backing him—the so-called "Wolf of the IRS."
The real plan was to put Toretto in a jam, then have O'Connor swoop in as the hero, save his ass, and successfully infiltrate Toretto's crew.
Everything had been going according to plan until someone came out of nowhere and threw a wrench in the works.
"I got a suggestion , you want to hear it? Boss, when Ron comes fishing for intel tomorrow, we shouldn't give him any grief. Just hand over whatever he wants."
"But..." the Black supervisor hesitated.
"Think about it—with his connection to Toretto, he can blow our operation anytime he wants. Unless we can grab Toretto and sweat him, and you know we won't get jack shit that way."
Bald Agent Jack, his glasses gleaming with calculation, continued making his case.
"And we're running out of time to crack this case, so why not give him the intel he wants, keep him busy, and get him off our backs?"
The Black agent sighed. "Alright, we'll do it your way."
...
Meanwhile, in the car, Toretto could sense something was off with Ron tonight.
"What's the deal? Ron, why'd you come back for me? I thought you were hitting that party tonight with those two hotties you just picked up."
"I was planning on the party. God knows how long it's been since I got laid, but some assholes just killed my mood.
Dom, how would you feel if I told you tonight's bust was a targeted operation with you in the crosshairs?"
"What? You saying there's a rat in my crew?" Toretto's eyes went wide with shock.
He always treated his team like family, calling them his "family." He couldn't believe any of his "family" would sell him out.
"Could be someone in your crew, someone trying to get in your crew, or maybe someone just ran their mouth. I just hope you guys keep your heads down for a while."
Due to his position and the deal he'd just cut with the FBI, Ron decided to leave it at that, but he still tried to warn his friend.
"Ron, we've been keeping it low-key lately,"
Toretto said, staring out the window with obvious guilt, not daring to meet Ron's eyes.
Ron said sternly, "Dom, I'm not an idiot. The tax amount on the return you filed matches the street value of the merchandise stolen in those recent truck heists.
And you even screwed up the math, overstated it by 35 cents. Of course, paying your taxes on time is good citizenship, and I hope you keep it up. Like I told you before.
If you ever get yourself in deep shit, the IRS and I are in a position to help out an honest taxpayer, even if he's been working in the gray areas.
If you threw races like tonight's every week, you wouldn't be hurting for cash given your setup. Dom, level with me—what's really going on?"
Ron's tone was almost accusatory by the end.
"Ron, I..." Toretto shook his head. "Alright, fine. I admit it. This whole thing started with a business deal that went sideways with some Korean gangsters, and I shouldn't have hooked up with that guy's sister."
With no other options, Toretto came clean.
"Okay, bottom line is what I told you—you're being hunted. You better watch your six. I'm working drug cases and don't have time to babysit you. So were you behind those recent truck heists?" Ron finally got his confirmation.
End of Chapter
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