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"Howard, where's Rajesh?" Ron hurriedly asked when Howard sent Lily back to the hotel. If he didn't ask quickly, he was afraid the plus-sized girl would come back. Just now, she took the opportunity to say hello and touched Ron.
Who knows if she'd drag him to her hotel room next time and do something unspeakable. After all, Americans have always been known for their boldness and lack of restraint, and group activities are nothing new.
Ron still had some energy left, but he didn't want to waste it on her. He still had two tigresses to feed. God knows what happened today. If he took the initiative with Max, he was completely passive with Caroline.
But in that situation, would it still be manly to refuse?
"Rajesh? He's still resting in his room." Howard said with a blank expression, like a puppet that had been thoroughly played with.
Oh, oh! Ron remembered this plot from watching the show before. It was at Howard's wedding, when Rajesh exposed the three of them playing games together. Wil Wheaton even recorded a video and posted it online, which almost ruined the marriage.
So it's not just Comic-Con - it's starting now?
"Poor Rajesh," Ron glanced at Howard. "Poor Howard. I hope you'll have the energy to go to work soon, and not be so weak that you can't even drive.
I have something else to do, so I won't stick around. Tonight, I can take you to Little Italy for some good food - the kind that's very... energizing. Of course, you're buying."
Ron winked at Howard, and Howard understood immediately. A hint of life finally returned to his empty face.
"There's that kind of stuff in Little Italy? Is it some legendary Italian remedy? I heard from a cousin of mine about this incredible supplement. His wife got it for him once, and not long after, she gave birth to a beautiful child."
Howard, who had been hanging around different ethnic neighborhoods a lot, wasn't surprised to know about folk remedies.
"Of course not," Ron shook his head. "I was just planning to take you for some Italian food."
"Italian food? How could it have such effects? Does it really work?" Howard expressed skepticism, yet also a certain eagerness to try.
"Of course. In Italy, there's this belief in 'like cures like.' They firmly believe that eating the specialized organs of strong animals can strengthen the body. They call it an 'aphrodisiac,'" Ron continued his boastful exaggeration.
In reality, he was craving some good grilled Rocky Mountain oysters and wanted someone to pay for it. Whether that would work or not was hard to say, but it was definitely a psychological factor, and Howard was already tempted.
"Thanks, Ron. It's a deal. See you tonight." Howard had fully recovered, his expression back to his usual lecherous self. He sneaked back to the hotel, apparently planning another round.
If you were to describe it like a movie, he had just been in black and white, and now he had suddenly transformed into color. Ron shook his head. This man was simply hopeless.
There was no way around it. Men from all over the world would not refuse anything that could enhance their abilities, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.
Two hours later, Caroline finally had a good sleep. When she woke up and saw that the person next to her was gone, she panicked a little. It wasn't until she saw the note Ron had left on the table that she smiled sweetly and took out her phone to call Ron.
Elsewhere, after returning home and packing up briefly, Ron finally arrived at FBI headquarters. Just as he was about to enter, his phone rang. Seeing it was Caroline, he immediately answered. "Caroline?"
Caroline sounded cheerful, likely well-rested. "Ron, you're so thoughtful. It's great to have a friend like you."
"Don't mention it. It's all my responsibility. So, have you figured out what to do next?" Ron asked with concern.
Before leaving, he left Caroline a note and some cash. To protect the poor girl's pride, he noted it was a loan, but didn't specify a repayment period or interest.
He also extended several job offers to Caroline, such as an accountant at Mr. Tosi's store or a clerk at Musk's company.
Ron figured that with his standing with the two, a job wouldn't be difficult to secure.
Of course, besides helping Caroline, he also had a selfish motive: he didn't want Caroline to continue working as a waitress at Han Lee's diner according to the inertia of time and space. Who knows what would happen if two girls he had slept with on the same night ended up together?
Although he hadn't promised anything, it looked like they were just casual partners.
Americans were quite open-minded about this. They could have sex even without being in a relationship, just like Caroline and the programmer who helped build the website in the original "2 Broke Girls." Being in a relationship was another matter.
But even so, having both sisters who would be living together in the future seemed... inappropriate.
However, Caroline's next words caught Ron off guard.
"First of all, thank you for your kindness. I appreciate that you've decided to stand by me after such a devastating change. But I don't want to rely on you anymore. I've been exiled from the entire wealthy community in Los Angeles and don't want to be seen by anyone other than you."
"So, what are you going to do?"
"I just googled 'places Beverly Hills people never go,' and I'm planning on getting a job as a server at a small restaurant. Actually, I've already found a restaurant I'm going to interview at soon. It's not far from the subway entrance where you met me."
Ron rubbed his forehead.
Well, after all this detour, Caroline still had to go back to that restaurant to work with Max on their cupcake business.
Ron said seriously, "Well, I just want to say that you can always come to me for help. I mean, in any way."
"Thank you, Ron. I don't know what I'd do without you. I'm going to pack up and go to the interview now. Bye."
After hanging up the phone, Ron decided not to dwell on it anymore. Forget it, just take it one step at a time. He strode into the FBI office, gave his name, and was taken directly to the office of bald Detective Jack.
This time, he wasn't hassled at all. The FBI simply shared all the city's drug intelligence with him. They both tacitly agreed not to mention what happened last night.
"The above is all the information we have about drugs in this city. We've always known that there should be one of the largest drug dealers in the United States, but his existence is too mysterious and almost completely untraceable.
We've placed undercover agents several times before, but we haven't been able to penetrate the inner circle of that mysterious dealer. We only vaguely know that such a person exists.
As for the 'Heisenberg' you mentioned, he seems to be a newly emerging drug manufacturer. The drugs he manufactured have flowed into our hands - that's the blue powder you mentioned. The purity is an astonishing 96%.
This makes us suspect that another white powder of the same purity that briefly circulated before should also come from the same person."
Ron's face was grave. Things seemed to be more complicated than he had imagined. He originally thought that this would be a vacation-like mission, but he didn't expect it to be so tricky.
"So, is it possible that this 'Heisenberg' is the hidden largest drug dealer in the country that you mentioned?"
"We don't think so through intelligence analysis," Jack took out several informant's statements from the materials on the table and threw them in front of Ron. "If it were that hidden dealer, with his distribution network, the blue powder should be everywhere in the United States by now, not just in Los Angeles."
"Okay," Ron knew he asked a stupid question. "I believe, with the capabilities of your FBI, it should be more than that, right?"
Jack was silent for a moment, took out a portrait from his office drawer and placed it in front of Ron. "In fact, we also got this portrait from the oral reconstruction of a witness who claimed to have seen 'Heisenberg', but how credible something like a portrait is, is unknown."
Ron picked up the portrait and looked at it carefully. "This person doesn't look like a good guy - fedora and trench coat, what century does he think he lives in? Are you sure the guy in this portrait hasn't been artistically embellished? This guy even signed the portrait 'Stuart Bloom,' and the name doesn't sound very promising either."
"Actually, he's the witness." Jack shrugged, sitting back in his seat. "Next, I want to tell you about our undercover agent. I'd like his work to be left alone. Ron, tell me, can you do that?"
"Of course," Ron agreed easily.
Anyway, I've already told Toretto everything I need to say. If he still believes your lies, there's really nothing I can do.
"Actually, I'm more concerned about this person right now," Ron said, pulling out the profile of the mysterious drug dealer from among the pile of documents and placing it on top. He licked his lips. "If he's really selling drugs everywhere like you say, I'm sure we can collect a large amount of tax revenue from him.
If I can find him, my mission for the year will be complete, and I can take almost half a year off."
Ron didn't know about other IRS departments, nor did he want to know, but all of their special operations teams used a performance-based evaluation system similar to that of American real estate agencies. As long as they collected a certain amount of tax within a working year, they could do nothing, happily collecting paychecks and receiving a generous bonus.
This shows just how far the US Treasury has been driven by those wealthy individuals. After all, the US was founded because a group of local tycoons, accustomed to Britain's lenient tax policies, resorted to violent resistance to avoid paying taxes, ultimately establishing a nation.
Not paying taxes is arguably one of their founding traditions, and all that talk of "equality and freedom" is just rhetoric.
(End of this chapter)
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