Black-Haired Internal Revenue Service SWAT Agent - Chapter 228



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Exploration

Immediately after I got back to Chicago, throughout the debriefing, Mr. Coulson, or rather Director Coulson, was biting me.

Perhaps, if we hadn’t secured the cargo truck of Lopez and Pedro’s gang with two million dollars in cash in it, the chief would have shot me dead.

Instead of working with local police and federal agencies, we went it alone and turned the new SUVs into beehives, and the BearCats, which are still rolling around, smell like roasting sweet potatoes inside.

Mr. Coulson used to not say anything when we were out in the field, breaking up cars, but now that he’s in the director’s chair, his reactions are completely different.

The way he was swearing at me and going ‘fucking,’ ‘fucking’ just looked exactly like the old Chief Fisher.

Indeed, I think the place makes the person.

Anyway, I finished it off and left work with the compliment of ‘a crazy person who finishes things off’.

And on my way home from work, I was asked to help out at my dad’s restaurant in Niles, where a large group of customers were being accommodated, so I headed there.

* * *

While the tourists from Korea were eating for two hours, I was busy serving and washing dishes so much that I forgot that I had a Glock 27 in my ankle holster.

People grumbled about coming to Chicago during such a cold season, but they also praised the food at our restaurant, saying it was better than what they got in Korea.

Bulgogi stew, stir-fried pork, and soft tofu stew were the objects of praise.

After shivering in the blistering cold of Chicago’s winter weather, this hot soup couldn’t be bad.

As the customers who had come in like a storm started to leave like the tide was going out, the inside of the store became a quiet place with only the sound of the TV, as if we had never been that busy.

“Taesik, go to Baskin Robbins and get some dry ice.”

“why?”

“Take some of the marinated pork stir-fry and feed it to Enzo later.”

Suddenly, when you gave me another container of stir-fried pork, I was reminded of the time when I was ambushed by strangers on the highway, and I felt a little scared.

So, let’s try to reject it for now.

“We’ll just eat whatever we want, so let’s treat the guests. Ilheung Restaurant has prepared a lot of side dishes for us, so the fridge is full, so why are we even making stir-fried pork…”

But, immediately, my mother shouts at me.

“Who told you to eat? Enzo, feed him! Enzo! He left his family behind in his hometown and is suffering alone in America. Is it hard for you to just bring him this little bit and feed him?”

“Okay, okay. Then just put it in the Lock & Lock kimchi container. The meat marinated in this winter weather won’t spoil, so I’ll just take it and feed it to you.”

I answered dryly and started watching TV, when suddenly there was no response from the kitchen.

Just in case, I turned my head in that direction, and there were two people standing at the kitchen entrance.

The atmosphere is such that we have to hurry up and head to Baskin Robbins.

I quickly got up and headed to the store door before the lightning struck.

I’m running across the street to Baskin-Robbins 31, feeling the chilly Chicago winter wind blowing all over my body, but I feel reluctant to walk.

If you say something wrong to the owner there, you’ll have to chat for 30 minutes, but it’s impossible to just get dry ice and leave without looking back.

It makes me realize that there are so many things in the world that make things difficult for me, other than the annoying things like shooting at villains.

I let out a deep sigh before I even opened the door to the ice cream shop.

What topic will the owner have today, with the thieves whispering to each other?

“Boss! Yeonggwang Restaurant, it’s Taesik.”

As the glass door opens, a bell rings and a startled person is seen inside.

Oh, shit!

That guy looks like he’s picking up the shotgun again and then putting it down again.

Still, Niles is a pretty safe neighborhood, so I don’t understand why they’re doing that.

Do I have to wear a bulletproof vest when I go to buy ice cream?

I said, taking out a few dollars and looking at the freezer display case with the ice creams on display.

“Boss, could you please fill up a can of ‘Family’ with just vanilla, and while you’re at it, could you please put in some dry ice? I need to grab some food.”

The old man puts down the shotgun and approaches me, saying:

“Don’t call me boss, just call me hyung…”

What I mean is, the moment you call me ‘hyung’, the gates of hell of chatter open.

Even if we keep our distance like this, 30 minutes of chatting and nagging is the norm, so if we become close friends, I’m sure we’ll chatter until my ears bleed and my eardrums get calluses.

While the old man was scooping up ice cream, I glanced at the counter inside and said.

“Boss, do I have a permit for that sawed-off shotgun? If you have one without a permit and it accidentally fires, you’ll be in trouble.”

Then he stops scooping ice cream into a container and looks up at me through the glass of the ice cream display case and responds.

“I have permission to carry both the shotgun and the 9mm pistol. What does Taesik think of me~.”

After sighing at those words, he said:

“If you’re that worried, install a silent alarm and call the police for help. And Niles isn’t that dangerous of a neighborhood, so why are you operating your business with two dangerous guns?”

After saying that, he turned his head towards the large TV screen in the hall.

But then, something was happening on the news screen that caught my eye.

I turned up the TV volume with the remote control on top of the showcase, and soon I could hear the explanation continuing along with the on-site screen.

“The two bodies found near a trucker’s rest area on the highway were discovered by truckers with only torsos, and no heads. The Wisconsin Sheriff’s Office and the Wisconsin Highway Patrol are working to identify the bodies…”

I stared at the screen, unable to close my gaping mouth.

Although the screen was partially mosaic-processed, the torsos of the corpses were still visible, and their clothing caught my eye.

The owners of those corpses were Luis Lopez and Juan Pedro.

Judging by their clothing, shoes, and the tattoos on their arms, they were definitely the offspring of two Satans.

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I was thinking that I should quickly go to the store and call the manager to let him know, but the owner came up to me and stood there silently, like a ghost.

The old man said as he handed me a paper bag full of ice cream containers and dry ice.

“Hey! Hey! Look at what’s on the news. Corpses with their balls blown off are constantly reported on the news channels. There’s no way we can let our guard down in this neighborhood. Shotgun as the main weapon, 9mm pistol as the secondary weapon! If necessary, we need to be prepared to launch a preemptive strike to repel the robbers…”

At those words, I asked as I accepted the paper bag of ice cream.

“Boss, how many customers did we have today?”

“I came a little while ago, why?”

“Don’t lie, bro. No, boss! The ice cream containers in the showcase look exactly the same as they did two weeks ago. Shops that aren’t doing well don’t get raided by robbers. I don’t have any cash to rob, so why would I point a gun at the boss, take a spoonful of each of the 31 flavors, and run away?”

The owner hesitated at my words, then shook the paper bag I was holding and spoke.

“You can just give away dry ice, so don’t buy ice cream that you don’t even want to eat, Taeshik. What’s the point of having good neighbors?”

That just made me laugh.

It wasn’t because I found it funny, but because I felt grateful and warm for the heart of the man who took care of his neighbors despite the fact that his store was not doing well.

* * *

I packed some dry ice and returned to the store, which was closing time, with its lights out.

Before closing time, they had received the last table of customers, and there was a man sitting at a table in the middle of the hall.

And on that table, a pot of bulgogi stew is boiling on a portable gas stove.

“Vanilla ice cream and dry ice!”

Let’s take it to the adults in the kitchen, and Mom starts packing up some food for Enzo.

“Bring plain rice to table number 3! Ask if it’s your first time trying stew and take good care of it.”

An elderly white gentleman approached me, who was looking at the bulgogi stew boiling in a bowl with rice that my father had prepared for me as if he was curious.

“After boiling for about 3 more minutes, you can eat it with this Korean rice.”

I placed a digital timer on the table, set to ring in three minutes, and explained it to him in English.

Then the old gentleman smiles and nods.

Considering the extremely expensive prices for suits and cashmere coats, it seems a bit unusual to come here alone and dine there.

I moved the tables and chairs that had been pushed together because of the group guests back to their original positions.

After roughly finishing cleaning up the inside of the restaurant, I saw a white man clumsily using his chopsticks trying to pick up the noodles in the bulgogi stew.

Although he is not good at using chopsticks, he tries to grab the noodles that keep slipping away, as if he wants to taste the noodles soaked in broth.

I quickly handed him the liquor company promotional apron that was hanging on the wall and said,

“The soup will splatter, so put on this apron. And I’ll bring you something you can use instead of chopsticks.”

Then, I quickly took the tongs, fork, and large spoon to the table.

Next, I used tongs to scoop up all the noodles onto the plate of a white gentleman wearing a disposable apron.

He picks up the noodles with a fork and nods his head.

After that, he drank the soup in the appetizer plate with the appetizer plate instead of the spoon and gave me a thumbs up.

“The meat juice will be evenly distributed in the broth, so you can eat it by rolling rice in the broth. This is a method that Koreans like.”

I wanted to explain to him, “A really cold glass of soju is enough,” but I held back.

Only after the white man started eating his meal the way I had told him to do did I turn around to finish cleaning up the hall.

However, as I turned my back to the table and walked a few steps, something he said caught my attention.

“Agent Kim!”

For a moment, I considered pulling the Glock 27 out of the ankle holster.

But he immediately revealed his identity before I could do anything wrong.

“I’m Reed McKellen. I think you’ve heard of me.”

I turned to him and saw him now picking out bulgogi and noodles with his familiar chopsticks.

He seemed very adept at using chopsticks, so I thought he was just pretending to be clumsy to test me out.

They measured what kind of person I am by such trivial things.

I approached him, and he gestured politely to the seat opposite him.

I answered him as I sat down.

“I understand that you are soon to become our Minister of Finance.”

Senator Reed McKellen picks up a few strands of noodles with his chopsticks and puts them in his mouth.

Whether it’s a stew or a noodle dish, this isn’t something I’ve only tried once or twice.

He put the hot noodles into his mouth without even blowing on them.

“I don’t think you came here by accident, Congressman.”

At those words, Senator McKellen grins and puts his chopsticks down on his plate.

He wipes his mouth with a napkin, then leans back in his chair and looks at me.

It’s almost funny to see the hard-liner who leads the U.S. Republican Finance Committee wearing an apron with the Chamisul logo on it.

He also glances down at the apron he is wearing and gives an awkward smile.

Congressman McKellen picks up a cup of hot barley tea from the table and, before drinking it, looks up at the TV screen on the wall to the right of our table and says:

“Is that how Luis Lopez and Juan Pedro ended up?”

At those words, I turned my head to look at the TV, and the news footage I had seen at the Baskin Robbins store earlier was on.

Phew!

It’s awkward that that scene came out at this particular time, but it seems like the next Secretary of the Treasury knows everything about our operation.

Damn, if I say something wrong here, I’m going to get in trouble again.

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