Chapter 140: Susan - Interested in Joining Me on a Trip to a Major Global Power?
"So busy, huh?" Monica muttered casually, looking down at Chuck as he put down the phone.
"It doesn't matter. I can multitask," Chuck said matter-of-factly, lying back.
"..." Monica stiffened, thinking to herself, "Multitasking is impressive, but it would be even better if it were just for me."
She didn't have Chuck's exceptional hearing, and while Chuck's phone reception was clear, she felt hyper-aware in that moment. Her senses were heightened. Anyone who'd read adventure novels would recognize the feeling of heightened awareness—the natural world unfolding in greater detail, sensing every subtle vibration.
She'd recognized the alluring woman's voice on the other end of the line.
But she'd been prepared for this. Seeing that Chuck and the caller were discussing a serious case rather than anything inappropriate, she could only play ostrich, running frantically across endless plains, headfirst and directionless.
Just as she knew overeating would only make her gain weight, she couldn't change the habit for years—at one point even doing aerobics while binge eating, pure self-deception.
Still, she felt resentful. Ever since successfully losing weight, Monica had become a beauty with a great figure and good looks, so why did she always attract problematic men? Was there some special pheromone about her that specifically drew them?
"Ahhh!!!" The more she thought about it, the more hurt and angry she became. Monica screamed wildly, venting her frustration.
There was a knock at the apartment door.
No one answered.
The knocking persisted.
Chandler and Rachel, who lived across the hall, were the first to lose patience. Opening their door, they saw a tall, thin, white-haired old man in a bathrobe, knocking expressionlessly.
"Mr. Heckles," Rachel called out with a pained expression.
"They're at it again!" the tall, thin, white-haired man said flatly.
"Really? I wouldn't know," Rachel didn't need to, and didn't want to, cover for Chuck and Monica. But she disliked this troublesome old man, so she feigned ignorance and gave Chandler a look that said, "You get it, right?"
Chandler shrugged, indicating he understood.
This white-haired old man lived alone below Monica. He had mental issues and frequently bothered Monica and her friends.
"Tell them to stop! They're disturbing my birds!" Mr. Heckles complained.
"You don't have birds!" Rachel exclaimed, exasperated.
"I do!" Mr. Heckles insisted.
"So, are these birds you're referring to actual birds this time, or..." Chandler instinctively tried to be clever, but met Rachel's utterly disgusted look and changed course: "...or are they imaginary birds?"
"I'll tell them to keep it down," Rachel said, unwilling to endure his blank stare, and compromised.
After all, it wasn't her being interrupted.
Besides, why should she go to Chandler's to satisfy her craving for Mrs. Bing's latest romance novel while Chuck and Monica got to enjoy themselves?
"Thank you," Mr. Heckles said expressionlessly. "Now I'm going back to enjoy my dinner."
After watching him leave, Rachel immediately went back inside. Chandler followed. Listening to the faint sounds from the master bedroom, Chandler reflexively said, "I knew it! It's like a nature documentary!"
"Chuck is just like that," Rachel complained. "He usually doesn't talk much or show emotion, and apparently it's the same now. Nothing seems to faze him."
"Actually, that's pretty similar to Joey," Chandler listened for a moment and quipped. "Not even as animated as what I've heard from Joey. You know, Joey's an actor and interacts with lots of people in the entertainment industry."
Rachel looked at him and snorted.
"What? Did I say something wrong?" Chandler asked immediately.
"This is the gentle version," Rachel explained some Chuck and Monica gossip to Chandler. "Monica tried to challenge her limits once, but obviously failed."
"..." Chandler was speechless.
"Alright, get out," Rachel pushed Chandler toward the door.
"What about you?" Chandler was pushed out and put his hand up to stop Rachel from closing the door, asking with concern.
"What about me?" Rachel's eyes flickered.
"I mean, what are you planning to do?" Chandler wondered.
"I'll remind them to keep it down so they don't disturb Mr. Heckles downstairs. Then I'm going to bed. It's late," Rachel said guiltily.
"Okay, obviously I wasn't clear enough," Chandler smiled. "I mean, you stole my book. What are you going to do about that?"
"...You have a book?" Rachel was embarrassed at first, then became confident. "You're not still treasuring your mother's latest romance novel, are you? No way, right?"
"..." Chandler's mouth twitched. Faced with Rachel's pointed question, he could only retreat. After all, his mother had always been the source of his psychological issues.
After Chandler left, Rachel closed the door and went to the second bedroom. Listening to the sounds from the master bedroom through the wall, she leaned against the headboard, pulled out the latest Nora Bing masterpiece she'd taken from Chandler, and began reading.
Before long, she felt dizzy from excessive... attention to the story, and her vision began to blur.
Just then, a discordant sound startled Rachel awake. She froze before looking down at the floor and muttering, "You've got to be kidding me!"
It was a thumping sound on the floor—she immediately realized it was Mr. Heckles downstairs, banging his mop handle against his ceiling.
This wasn't the first time Mr. Heckles had done this.
Rachel had never been so annoyed by such noise.
So she jumped up, got out of bed, and stomped on the floor, transmitting the sound downstairs, instantly drowning out Mr. Heckles' mop thumping. The thumping paused.
"Yeah!" Rachel thought she'd won and immediately joined the celebration next door.
Then the thumping grew louder. It turned out Mr. Heckles had moved from below the master bedroom to directly below Rachel's second bedroom.
"Is this ever going to end?" Rachel felt her anger surge, and she stomped even harder.
After several rounds, downstairs fell completely silent.
"Yeah!" Rachel celebrated with immense satisfaction.
The next day, Chuck arrived at the FBI New York field office.
In the director's office, the big-screen TV was playing the news.
"Taxes are the foundation of American strength. Paying taxes is the obligation of every American citizen. Every American must pay taxes according to law..." An elderly white man in a suit stood at a podium, speaking to cameras, emphasizing "every American citizen."
After the speech, it was time for media questions. A female reporter stood up and asked, "Commissioner, congratulations to the IRS on dismantling several large-scale organized crime operations. However, some have questioned whether this was the work of informants or the NSA. Do you have any comment?"
"Let me turn this over to the head of our task force," the IRS Commissioner smiled. "Director of Financial Crimes, Ray McGrath."
He stepped back, shook hands with the approaching bald director, and let him take the podium.
The bald director raised both hands for silence and spoke calmly, "Hello everyone, there are no secrets or dramatics here. It's all teamwork, thanks to everyone's dedication and hard work to ensure proper collection of federal taxes. Any attempt at tax evasion will be detected and severely punished. So don't evade taxes. Any questions?"
FBI field office, Director's office.
"Well said, Director," Susan commented, watching the bald director speak eloquently on TV.
Teamwork? The IRS's success was all thanks to elite agents like her!
Every department had its deadweight, and the IRS was no exception. Teamwork? If she'd worked with those incompetents, she'd probably have been sold out long ago.
Exactly!
What she hated admitting to outsiders was that despite being responsible for tax collection—a powerful organization rivaling the FBI and CIA—they were defrauded of billions in taxes annually, with amounts skyrocketing.
It was utterly shameful.
Working with those incompetents meant they couldn't solve cases. The IRS's reputation would have been destroyed long ago.
If it weren't for certain global superpowers with all their associated horror stories, even someone as confident as her wouldn't dare go there. She would have taken on cases that were major embarrassments to the department long ago.
But... thinking of this, she looked at Chuck, who remained composed. "Dr. Wolfe, do you enjoy travel?"
"No," Chuck shook his head.
"..." Susan paused, glanced at Kate Joyner, the FBI director smiling nearby, and stopped talking.
The three discussed the case briefly, then Susan and Chuck left the FBI New York field office. The next case would transfer to headquarters in Washington DC, which had nothing to do with this office.
Susan was also returning there.
"Dr. Wolfe, I heard you like challenging cases," Susan said once they were alone, making a direct invitation. "Interested in going to India with me on a case?"
"Not interested," Chuck shook his head.
"Why?" Susan was puzzled. "I thought you liked challenging cases."
"Yes," Chuck nodded. "But when it comes to India, it's not a case."
"You know about the telecommunications fraud investigation in the bureau?" Susan suddenly understood, then raised her eyebrows provocatively. "What? You lack confidence?"
"Yes," Chuck said calmly. "I'm still human, not superhuman. Unless you're a deity, even monsters would weep and flee."
Susan: "..."
(End of Chapter)
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