Shiller was watching Patrick's show in the office at Arkham Insane Asylum when suddenly his phone beside him rang. He picked it up, and from the other end ca Baville's angry roar: "Rodriguez! You dare to investigate ?!"
"Keep calm, ma'am." Shiller, while picking out coffee beans, said, "Of course you can continue to be angry, that's your right. But if you can't calm down soon, you'll miss a great opportunity to advance further."
Baville cursed several tis before calming down. She took a deep breath and said, "My father is already dead, no matter what happened back then, don't think you can use that to hinder ..."
"I have no intention of doing so, because it's of no benefit to ." Shiller said, "I investigated you because you were investigating . Since you haven't found anything, even if I did find sothing, I wouldn't use it. After all, you pose no threat to ."
This statent sounded convoluted, but Baville still understood what he ant. Although she did not know why the man on the other end was so confident, she heightened her caution as much as possible.
"Alright, ma'am, let's talk business." Shiller continued, "A great opportunity for you to rise to another level is right before your eyes, so stop wasting ti guessing whether I'm an alien or sothing else."
"What do you an?" Baville asked.
"Do you know what the ratings of Patrick's show have reached? He's about to break records... he already has. Right now, millions of people on the East Coast are watching his show. Do you know what this ans?"
Baville squinted slightly, stroking her fingertips and said, "So say you claim to be a psychiatrist, and my subordinate told Carter's ntal state is quite abnormal. Did you arrange this exciting chase?"
"Sort of," Shiller sighed as if sowhat helplessly, "Gothamites just love a bit of action drama. But the effect presented is pretty good. What do you think?"
Even as her heart was full of wariness, Baville could not outright lie. The ratings were the best answer. It was indeed a rather spectacular chase.
"That's not the point, ma'am." Shiller continued, "The point is, do you think this has showcased the deterring power and professionalism of the IRS?"
"What are you trying to do?" Baville asked.
"Go talk to your boss now, try to get so of the hottest radio stations in several East Coast cities to broadcast this show. He will agree."
Baville swallowed hard. She knew Shiller was right; her boss would definitely agree, as it was the best chance to flex their muscles. But she couldn't understand Shiller's motives and dared not agree hastily.
"You must be wondering why I would do this." Shiller seed to see through his thoughts, "But frankly, it's because you guys are too useless. Otherwise, I wouldn't need to go through such a big detour."
"What did you say?" Baville's tone beca sowhat unfriendly.
"I an, the work done by your National Revenue Bureau is really poor, shockingly bad," Shiller said bluntly.
Before Baville could say anything, Shiller rushed on, "You must wonder what gives the right to say this, but just like this ti, had it not been for those gamblers, you would have let Carter get away. This is the difference between you and —I understand ordinary people, stand with them, and I'm good at using them. That's what you should have been doing."
"Cracking down on tax violations is good, but focusing all your energy on squeezing poor people will get you nowhere in your career."
"Going after one rich person is worth tens of thousands of poor people, of course, you should target the fat sheep. You might think of targeting both, but in fact, it's better to use one against the other. Or rather, going after the rich is helping the poor. As long as you make it clear to them, countless people will be willing to help you."
After hanging up the phone, Baville thought about Shiller's words. She understood his intentions, but most Aricans were terrified of them. Not to ntion actively helping them, they would rather avoid them.
Previously, they had seen this as successfully establishing authority, but in reality, their work had been getting harder over the years, and it had been a long ti since Baville had received a promotion.
"Boss, the tip-off hotline has been blowing up." A head peeked in from the door, "It's all reports about Carter Group's tax evasion. I've sieved through them and found quite a few useful pieces of information."
Baville frowned and asked, "Do you know who reported it?"
"Many are anonymous. Should I check?"
"No, first verify the authenticity of the information. If it's usable, send soone to investigate. The more evidence we have before the trial, the better."
When daylight ca, Baville looked at the thick stack of docunts in her hand, slightly surprised she raised an eyebrow, "So much found in one night?"
"It wasn't us who found them; most were brought to us," her subordinate said. "People called to report, stuffed information into our mailbox, and so simply delivered things to the police station. We sorted it out a bit, and got this much."
Baville briefly flipped through the docunts and found that they were indeed not re hearsay. Most were very concrete cris, though not under the jurisdiction of the National Revenue Bureau, but being able to charge simultaneously would certainly add several degrees to Carter's cris, completely eliminating his chance to turn things around.
In their line of work, their biggest fear is failing to convict. As long as they could ensure the opponent ends up behind bars forever, they were daring in their actions.
Baville sighed and said, "Go call Chandler over, it's his turn to work."
"By the way, where did Nightwing go?"
"He t with Batman."
"Batman?" Baville slowly furrowed her brow.
"Yes, the arch-enemy of the Joker."
"This ti it's the Joker who kidnapped those wealthy individuals, right?"
"That's correct, so the two of them might be discussing how to deal with the Joker."
Baville quickly stood up: "Stop them! Hurry!"
Gotham is as noisy as ever in the early morning, with the IRS special operations team's black SUV convoy speeding down the streets, their headlights piercing through the curtain of rain, and the roar of engines echoing off the empty streets, drawing the attention of passers-by.
"Target is moving towards the docks, keep your distance, don't let him get away!" shouted the head of the special operations team, Lake, into the radio, his gaze fixed on the black Batmobile ahead, its rear jets painting a blue fla through the rainy night.
The motorcycle executed a smooth tail flick and ca up alongside the Batmobile as Nightwing clenched the handlebars, ducked his body, and roared into the radio: "Batman! Why are they chasing you?!"
"I think they are after you."
"How is that possible, I haven't evaded any taxes!"
"Neither have I."
"Well, it might be about the GTO thing, that guy is still investigating the GTO funds."
"Then you lead them away, I still need to go to Joker's base."
"What if they catch up with ?!"
"I'm not spending money to bail you out."
Nightwing rolled his eyes and throttled to the max. Facing tax inspections, life and death are in fate, riches are in heaven; those who run slow are in the front row!
"Batman! Stop imdiately! Batman!! I am IRS special squad agent Lake! Pull over right now!!!"
"Hey, it seems they are chasing you." Nightwing took another turn, ca to the other side of Batman, and said, "You didn't really evade taxes, did you?"
"I didn't." Batman denied again.
"Then why are they chasing you?"
"I'm pondering that question too."
Batman responded quietly, his voice tinged with impatience. He sharply turned the steering wheel, and the Batmobile swerved into a narrow alley.
Following behind, the IRS convoy quickly pursued. Over the radio in Lake's hand, an agent's voice ca through: "Leader, he went into the alley! Should we go in after him?"
"Follow him! Don't let him get away!" Lake quickly responded. He pulled out his pistol and fired a shot at the Batmobile's tail fin.
"Looks like I'll have to bail you out." Nightwing said through the radio to Batman, his tone tinged with mockery.
"Stay focused." Batman's voice remained calm, but he pressed the gas pedal harder.
This ti, all Batman wanted was to scout out Joker's base, yet the IRS appeared out of nowhere, relentlessly pursuing them. As Batman now recalled all of his handling of Wayne Enterprises over the years, he ensured there was nothing they could catch him on.
After much thought, Batman finally assured himself there were no tax issues on his part. He finally slowed down the car.
Batman stopped. Lake spoke into the radio to Baville: "It seems he's quite confident about his tax situation."
"Of course, who doesn't know that Wayne Enterprises has the world's best tax team?" Baville snorted coldly and said, "Tell him we're not auditing his taxes."
"On what grounds then?"
"GTO." Baville responded, "He was involved in the bidding for GTO investnt; we're approaching him to gather evidence."
Lake imdiately nodded but still said sowhat worryingly, "This guy is a masked hero; what if he refuses to acknowledge his actual identity?"
"That won't do him any good if he refuses." After a pause, Baville said, "Offending Bruce Wayne isn't a good idea indeed, but if we want to dig into GTO, we have to confront him. No need to be overly cautious."
Lake nodded and said, "Alright, I understand. I'll keep it as vague as possible."
He also pulled over and got out of the car with the radio in hand. The agents behind him drew their guns, targeting Batman and Nightwing.
"Don't be nervous." Lake waved his hand and said, "We'd like to ask you a few questions about GTO. Do you have ti to co with us?"
"No ti." Batman said.
"Sorry, that wasn't a question." Lake took out his badge and said, "The IRS doesn't need anyone's consent. Please, sir."
Batman squinted his eyes. Lake did not rush forward, and the two were at a standoff.
It was tricky for Lake, who knew Batman's real identity and didn't want to directly confront him without any slip-ups, as it could be very unfavorable to him and his superiors.
As he pondered whether to continue threatening, his radio suddenly rang. Listening to the sound on the other end, Lake slowly widened his eyes.
After hanging up, he stepped forward, not caring that Batman's hand was on his dart.
However, this ti he wasn't showing his badge, but handcuffs.
"Sorry, sir. Your official sponsor, Bruce Wayne, is suspected of using illegal ans to access the Federal Reserve's backend systems. We suspect he aims to alter financial data for Wayne Enterprises to evade taxes; you're under arrest."
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