Chapter 92: Arthur's Test
The robber who'd been shot by Ron realized he'd picked the wrong target, so he quickly grabbed the cash bag from the table with his good right hand. Just as he was about to take a waitress hostage, he slipped on Caroline's puddle.
His head smacked into the table beside him and he went down hard.
"Outstanding!" Old Earl, sitting behind the register, couldn't help but applaud. "I haven't seen gunwork like that since Clint Eastwood's heyday. Earl's seen plenty in his time, and if you'd been born in the Wild West, you could've charmed a whole saloon full of ladies with those skills."
Clint Eastwood, the star of "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly," created the most iconic image of the Western gunslinger in cinema history.
"Much obliged," Ron said, tipping an imaginary hat in a courtly gesture. "But I think tonight's MVP goes to Miss Caroline here. A 'double takedown' like that doesn't happen every day."
Caroline groaned, grabbed an apron to cover her stained uniform, and fled to the employee break room. She felt like she'd lost every shred of dignity in one evening.
Not even when her father's Ponzi scheme collapsed had she felt this humiliated.
"If you were planning on getting lucky tonight, I'd say that's off the table," Max whispered in Ron's ear. "She won't look you in the eye for at least a week."
"So you're telling me I've got other options?" Ron said, sliding his hand around Max's waist as Earl put the money back in the register.
Surprisingly, Max didn't push him away.
"Any other night, I'd tell you to dream on!" Max said, torn between excitement and exasperation. "But since you just saved my ass, I might consider giving you a reward."
"How generous are we talking?" Ron asked with a grin. Earl had finished counting, so Max could only lean up and whisper in Ron's ear: "You'll find out tonight."
The two tech nerds who'd just entered the restaurant were green with envy.
"That was incredible! I thought you'd have to have a whole shootout before taking him down with some kung fu moves. I even called 911 for you," Raj said dramatically.
Ron was speechless. "Come on, this isn't some action movie. If it took me that long to handle amateur hour here, I'd turn in my badge."
Dealing with the cops was a bit of a pain, though. Ron had to find another place for dinner after giving his statement. But the silver lining was that while he was eating, he got a text from Max suggesting they grab drinks later. After sending the nerds home, Ron happily accepted.
...
The next morning, when Ron woke up in the hotel's king-size bed, Max had already slipped out quietly, leaving only rumpled sheets behind. Maybe because of yesterday's robbery, Max had been incredibly energetic, almost more than Ron could handle.
So after getting up early, Ron felt his legs were a bit shaky, like he was walking on clouds. Just as he was trying to think of a good excuse to call in sick, the phone on the nightstand rang.
It was an unknown number, but Ron answered anyway.
"Hello," came a voice from the other end. There was silence for a moment, but Ron had already guessed who it was.
"I take it you've had time to think things over, Arthur?"
After a long pause, Arthur's gravelly voice came through: "You were right. The company played me, and Harry's son figured out I killed his old man. Now I've got no choice but to eliminate him. I need backup."
As expected, Ron's little performance had successfully planted seeds of doubt, and the IRS logo on his business card had given Arthur a glimmer of hope.
If he couldn't properly retire from the assassination game and become a regular citizen, then becoming a federal agent wasn't the worst alternative.
As for doubting Ron's credentials, that was unnecessary. With such precise intelligence (Arthur assumed) and a well-trained team (little did he know Ron's crew was mostly incompetent), joining up seemed like a smart move. (He was overthinking it.)
"Sure thing, provided you tell me your plan and what's in it for me."
When it came to business, Ron was fully alert. He now held all the cards, casually grabbing a bottle of orange juice from the mini-fridge and taking a long drink.
"You know I'm IRS, so you understand I have to collect taxes. For the assassination industry, I'm looking at a 100% revenue tax. Sound fair?"
"Absolutely. If you help me collect from my former employer, I'll wipe clean all your past tax evasion and even get you a federal pardon."
Ron knew Arthur must have made serious money as a hitman over the years, but he also knew the assassination company had to be pulling in even bigger profits. His strategy was to go after the big fish and let the small fry slide.
If the assassination company's profits were substantial enough, even if his superiors balked at giving Arthur full immunity, skimming a percentage off their take would more than cover his back taxes.
Plus he'd gain a skilled undercover assassin—a massive win!
Ron cast his line, and the fish took the bait immediately.
Arthur considered this for a moment. "I accept. I know all the company's assassination contracts are laundered through their security consulting revenue. If you want proof they're running a murder-for-hire operation, only the boss has it, on his personal laptop."
"So how do we get that computer?"
"Kill him. He'll never give it up willingly," Arthur said matter-of-factly.
Ron smiled with interest. "So you want me to help you complete your revenge?"
"No, this is your operation to eliminate future threats. I doubt you want to spend your life looking over your shoulder, worrying about someone coming after you or your family. Our interests align perfectly here."
"Deal. So where is this company of yours located?" Ron was sold.
He figured the low-rent assassins employed by this company posed no real threat to him personally, but his family was his weakness, and he didn't mind playing cleanup crew. After all, these people had it coming.
"I don't know the location either, but I know someone who does. Are you willing to come with me to find this person? We might need to use enhanced interrogation or intimidation tactics. There's even a chance the target is just an innocent civilian."
"Arthur, you don't need to test my moral boundaries piece by piece," Ron was amused by Arthur's careful probing. "Don't forget—I'm a federal agent. As long as I achieve the mission objective, any means necessary are on the table."
(End of Chapter)
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