American Tax Officer

"Fake Yau, didn't you hear me working here? What's all the fuss about, haven't I paid you bastards?"

At the angry shout from inside, Nisen lost his temper too, and kicked the doorknob forcefully.

The outer cells were equipped with specially made iron doors to prevent prisoners from escaping, but the inmates here already had the freedom within the area, naturally, they didn't use such iron doors, just wooden ones.

So when Nisen's powerful kick landed, the door burst open, and along with the swearing from inside, a woman's scream could also be heard.

"Director David, what the hell do you mean by this?"

"Nothing much, just wanted to check on the situation. Oh, and regarding the destruction of your prison door, put it on my tab."

"There's no need for that, Director David. It's something you could have let me take care of, no need to be so violent..."

David didn't speak further but stepped through into the cell that had been kicked open, where he saw a man and woman huddled together on the large bed.

And when the man saw Peter enter, he questioned discontentedly, "Prison Chief Peter, what is this about?"

Peter wore a dark expression and showed no intention of answering.

David walked over to him and asked, "What's your name?"

Looking at David's face, the man seemed to recognize him, but couldn't quite place where he had seen him, and ended up asking uncertainly, "What do you want?"

"The Chief Tax Officer is asking you a question. You just need to answer, no need for so much bullshit!"

"The Chief Tax Officer...!"

Triggered by Nisen's reminder, the man's face changed drastically—he finally remembered that this man was the same Chief Tax Officer David he'd seen on television!

This was the ruthless man who had stormed the Indian Tribe with armed forces and had dealt with two city halls. He obviously didn't dare neglect him anymore and quickly answered truthfully, "I'm Boon."

"Alright, Mr. Boon, what are you in for?"

"Manipulating the stock market illegally..."

David nodded and continued, "What I want to know is, how much do you pay each month for living in such a cell?"

Boon was about to answer but suddenly caught the warning look from Peter; hesitating for a moment, he eventually said, "Not much, just 100 US dollars."

David might have a notorious reputation.

But now that he was in prison, Peter could mess with him whenever he wanted, so of course he didn't dare offend Peter.

"100 US dollars? Are you sure about that?"

Boon couldn't meet David's gaze, and replied with a quivering voice, "I'm sure..."

"Mr. Boon, do you know what kind of person I dislike the most?"

"Ah?"

Boon was both shocked and terrified.

"Dishonest people!"

Boon went silent.

But David turned to Simmons and instructed, "Go check Mr. Boon's accounts, see if there's been any unreported income since he's been in prison, oh, and... to facilitate the investigation, let's go ahead and freeze them!"

On hearing that, Boon immediately panicked.

The reason he could still enjoy life after being incarcerated was mainly due to a continuous influx of money from outside. If the IRS froze his accounts and he no longer had money coming in, where would he be able to live as comfortably as he did?

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If he were to be thrown out into those common cells out there, wouldn't those vicious criminals flay him alive?

With that thought, he quickly called out, "Wait, wait!"

David turned to look at Boon and asked, "What's the matter, Mr. Boon? Is there something you want to add?"

Boon glanced at Peter and noticed an even more threatening look in his eyes, causing him to shrink back involuntarily.

But the thought of his accounts being frozen for three to five years, or even longer, by the IRS if he didn't cooperate with David made him realize he wouldn't survive that.

Offending Peter now would at worst result in minor harassment, and with money in hand, he could live comfortably either here or outside.

With that decision made in his mind, he said, "I got it wrong before, staying here for a day costs 1000 US dollars."

David had suspected that it wouldn't be as simple as 100 US dollars, but upon hearing that it cost 1000 US dollars to stay a day here, he still couldn't help but be impressed.

Although he hadn't counted them yet, at a rough glance there were definitely at least 50 cells.

If one cell was 1000 a day, that would be 30,000 a month and 360,000 a year. Totaled for 50 cells, it would be 18 million a year.

According to the records, GCO's prison had been built for three years now, which added up to 54 million dollars.

Considering possible vacancies and some initial periods of adjustment, there would definitely be at least 30 million dollars.

And this was just Zone A of the prison, with four other blocks—BCDE—left; David was certain that, like Zone A, these other blocks definitely had similar special cell areas.

If calculated with just these special cells in mind, the involved funds were already over a hundred million dollars.

And keep in mind, this was just the income from the prison cells; the money made from exploiting prisoner labor hadn't even been calculated yet.

What would the total figure be if it were all added up?

Calming his excitement, David stood up and said to Peter, "Prison Chief Peter, didn't you just say that a cell only costs 100 US dollars?"

"Yes, a regular cell is indeed 100 US dollars, but his is slightly more luxurious, so the price is a bit higher..."