Black-Haired Internal Revenue Service SWAT Agent - Chapter 229



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As if he noticed that I was rolling my head while staring at this professional politician, he took a sip of barley tea like coffee and smiled.

“Don’t worry, Kim. I’m not your enemy.”

I forced a smile at those words, but I think I can still feel the cold sweat dripping down my butt.

“I’m going to turn back to the news screen,” Rep. McKellen said.

“Even Alice (Alice Cromwell), who will soon step down as Chancellor of the Exchequer, and the world’s biggest idiots, the Zaminski gang, will not deny that Task Force Blue is the most successful expropriation project. And I want to continue that successful project…”

His gaze turns to me as he watches Lopez and Pedro, who look like mannequins on the news screen.

“I also know that Agent Kim and IRS SWAT were at the heart of that success. And I even know the DC machinists who make the Treasury Board tick.”

Funnily enough, while I was listening to this important story, I was watching the bulgogi stew broth completely disappear right before my eyes, and I was wondering when I should turn off the gas stove.

I knew how important every word this guy said was to me and my SWAT buddies, but still…

But, as if Congressman McKellen had read my mind, he suddenly put down his cup of barley tea and quickly turned off the gas stove.

At that moment, from this gentleman’s small action, I instinctively felt that this person would be a great ally, no, one who would be on my side.

If someone heard it, they would say it was a really stupid and outrageous idea, but still, at this moment, I felt that this diehard Republican powerhouse would have great chemistry with me going forward.

Immediately afterwards, the words coming out of his mouth proved that my feeling was not wrong.

“As I said before, I am not the enemy of Kim and IRS SWAT, but their staunchest comrade and supporter. I can’t stop all the bullets that the bad guys are going to fire at you, but I will stop all the grenades that are going to fly at Kim and her SWAT colleagues outside the line of fire.”

At that point, when I opened my eyes wide, the congressman continued speaking with a big smile.

“What this means is that I will stop all enemies within our agency, as well as idiots from other rival agencies. So, if you continue to do your job well as you have been doing, I would appreciate it, Agent Kim.”

Senator McKellen said that and raised an eyebrow to gauge my reaction.

I asked, still tense, wondering if I had misheard.

“Sir, is that all?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Did you come all the way here to tell me that you will fully support me and my team? You could have said that with a phone call…”

Then, Senator McKellen smiles and nods.

“I wanted to talk to you face to face and look you in the eye.”

At those words, I slowly began to relax and let go of my guard.

Soon the white man speaks with a big smile.

“And I wanted to personally thank you, Kim, for taking such good care of my father’s savior, Douglas McKill. When he was called to the U.S. Attorney’s Office, you even paid for a tax attorney and a criminal defense attorney for him out of your own pocket… I was very impressed by that.”

I said that with an awkward smile.

“I once received a small amount of money from a rich Russian man, but I thought it wasn’t my money, so I wanted to use it to help people in difficult situations. That’s all. If my colleagues had the means, they would have helped Mr. MacKill in the same way.”

At those words, McKellen speaks while raising his cup of barley tea.

“You’re talking about the reward you received for rescuing a Russian oil tycoon’s daughter from the Red Mafia.”

If I had heard this from other guys, I would have glared at them with suspicion.

But it was nice to hear it from the man who is a powerful Republican and the next person to have power at the Treasury.

Paul Zaminski and Michael Kelly, those bastards that almost killed me now seem like a distant heroic tale.

McKellen just stared at me silently from then on.

It’s as if you’re looking at your best confidant, whom you’ve carefully selected, with anticipation of his performance.

I asked him out of the blue how I could overcome the awkward silence.

“By the way, how was the food at our restaurant, Senator?”

Then McKellen gives me a thumbs up without saying anything.

I thought of my dad who prepared this meal, and I looked over my shoulder from McKellen and toward the kitchen.

Then, Mom and Dad, who had been secretly watching this place, suddenly went into the kitchen.

* * *

“So you saved all the kids? How many?”

Enzo asks while eating the stir-fried pork from the frying pan with a fork.

This man came home from work at dawn, and was grilling stir-fried pork in his underwear. If I hadn’t brought it, I would have been in big trouble.

I held out my fingers twice to Hector, who was standing at the stove, while I fed him almond pieces at the table.

As I spread my two fingers twice, Enzo asks again, picking up a piece of meat with his fork.

“Four people? You only saved four people, and a gunfight like World War III broke out?”

Then I answered again in an irritated voice.

“Not 4, but 22! 22, Man!”

At those words, Enzo suddenly puts his fork down in the frying pan and walks towards me with quick steps.

Enzo nodded repeatedly and thrust his fist at me, motioning for me to close it.

“Come on, man! Come on!”

Enzo tried to do another fist bump, but he was frustrated and ended up doing the same.

One head-on bump, fist up, fist down, fist left, fist right. Then, to finish, one more head-on bump.

It’s not like USA food, really~.

Only after the raucous greetings did the Puerto Rican man shower me with compliments.

“Kim, it seems like you are really accumulating virtues that you and your family, your cousins, and all your bloodlines can use in the next life.”

“Deuk? Enzo, you know how to say something like that? Did you see that cheap fortune-telling phrase in a Chinese restaurant’s ‘fortune cookie’?”

At that Enzo wags his finger at my face and says:

“Hey, I’m a reader too, man!”

Then, he points to some paperback books on one corner of the table with a fork.

These were books on Eastern philosophy.

Enzo stands next to me, picking up some meat from the frying pan and eating it as he speaks.

“In our hometown, there were frequent cases of children being kidnapped by human trafficking organizations. How would the parents feel if the children they raised with difficulty suddenly disappeared from the streets? If I thought that something terrible like this happened to my daughter, I would have a hard time living my life. So, Kim, you saved 22 children and their parents from hell. You did a great job, Man!”

The moment I heard that, the Chupacabra came to mind.

Presumably, if the Department of Homeland Security, the DEA, or the FBI had realized that he had crossed the border into the United States illegally, they would have used every means at their disposal to catch him.

Nevertheless, he brought a large number of his confidants from the border to Wisconsin to rescue his daughter.

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If I were in his shoes, would I be able to risk my life and the fate of a huge organization like that?

Then, I remembered the happy image of little children, each covered in a blanket, drinking hot chocolate on the side of a quiet country road.

Even now, when I think of that scene, I feel like crying for no reason.

I hope all those children returned safely to their families?

As I was quietly swallowing that feeling and feeding Hector some crushed almonds, Enzo suddenly placed something on the table.

“Kim, I am giving you this as a gift because you have done a gracious service in illuminating this world with the grace of the Virgin Mary.”

It was a high-quality tequila called ‘Añejo (high-quality tequila aged in Ocoton for more than 12 months).

“Damn it! Wasn’t this the one that got destroyed when the rockets flew into our fire station? Or, wasn’t it the one Claire and I drank before that?”

Before opening the tequila cork, Enzo rubs his palms together as if he were generating electricity.

“This is the only thing I saved from the fire station building that completely collapsed. I hid it away for a special occasion…”

“I’ve cooked in the kitchen and cleaned my room dozens of times since I moved here, so where the hell did you hide this?”

Enzo says, very carefully opening the añejo lid with both hands while shaking loudly.

“I hid it between your bed and the wall by the window. Even though you vacuum it often, you can’t use it there because of the length of the cord. So, I thought it would be a good place to hide it.”

I’ve been sleeping with that fancy tequila bottle right under my bed all this time.

Enzo, you’re such a jerk, you’re such a jerk.

This Puerto Rican tough guy is a real punk.

* * *

After drinking Enzo, Añejo, ‘Cheoeumcheoreom’, and a bottle of ‘Chamiseul’ each until dawn, I woke up around 9 in the morning and thought my head was going to burst.

I made a survival hangover soup with Mr. Lee Kyung-gyu’s ‘Kkokkomyeon’ soup, the best invention of the 21st century(?), with chicken breast cubes, fabrica, and potato pieces, and went to work at the federal building.

My team and I could have rested until tomorrow, but we had to come out today because something came up.

It was because of the Bearcat that had been hit by a grenade thrown by David Osmond.

This armored vehicle is an upgraded model with chemical, biological, and radiological protection capabilities, unlike the basic Bearcat I ate a while ago, and I need to show the guys from Renko headquarters that its protection is still intact due to a grenade explosion.

However, while I was driving to our SWAT headquarters in my Mustang, full of bullet holes, in the parking lot, they found our guys moving around inside the headquarters.

Those people don’t have work to do today either. What’s going on?

While drinking coffee, I had my ID card stamped at the main entrance of our headquarters.

As the door opens with a beep, all the guys in our SWAT armory, the gym, the hallway, and the office all look in my direction.

“Hey! What are you all doing?”

He held a take-out coffee cup and looked at Team Leader Dawson, Strauss, Romano, Randall, and Deputy Team Leader O’Connor in turn.

But whatever happened yesterday, their faces are covered in bruises and scratches.

Romano’s left eye is swollen shut and barely open, while O’Connor has a large bandage attached to the side of his head.

“No, rather than what you’re doing now, what happened yesterday?”

Then, Team Leader Dawson did not answer, but passed by me with a grin.

He carries a fixture (a light box that holds a light bulb, fluorescent lamp, or three-wavelength lamp) and a screwdriver in his hand.

Now that I look at it, it looks like the old men have replaced all the light fixtures installed on the ceiling of our headquarters.

Perhaps, they replaced all the fixtures as Randall explained and instructed, but I couldn’t figure out why they were replacing all the good fixtures, as they looked like they had been fighting.

“Come on, Pops!”

As I whine again, Randall approaches me and finally explains.

“Last night we were all going to the Blue Moon for a quick drink and we were harassed by some Chicago undercover detectives. That led to a bit of a fight, Kim.”

“Provocation? All the police officers who come and go there know that we are SWAT team members. Who would dare to pick a fight?”

Randall shrugs his shoulders as if he doesn’t know, then snatches the coffee cup from me and drinks it.

At that moment, Strauss, who was fixing a new light fixture to the ceiling in the gym, added to Randall’s explanation.

“Preston! The Southern Precinct detectives teased Preston by calling him ‘Rain Man’ and we beat them to it.”

The famous Hollywood classic film character ‘Rain Man’ refers to a movie character who has both an autism spectrum disorder and genius math skills.

The problem is that when people tease someone by calling them Rain Man, they are essentially referring to someone on the autistic spectrum, without any genius-level abilities.

Team Leader Dawson appears and mutters as he gathers the switch boxes of the light fixtures in front of me.

“Preston opened a new bottle of whiskey, then opened and closed it a few times, and the South Side homicide squad at the next table noticed him doing that. Then, when they saw Preston open and close the bathroom door three or four times before coming out, they started talking about Rain Man joining our IRS SWAT team, and then we got our jaws blown off.”

“Were there any serious injuries among our team members?”

At that question, everyone laughs.

So I asked again.

“So, were there any people from the Chicago PD who were seriously injured?”

Then Strauss responds by coming down from the ladder, having finished installing the fixture.

“Probably, the Southern Police Department’s jurisdiction will see a surge in violent crime for the time being. All the violent crimes officers who are supposed to be guarding the streets are lying in emergency room beds.”

The moment I heard those words, I remembered how Strauss had been most wary and disgusted by Preston’s obsessive-compulsive disorder.

So, I was going to point my finger at him and ask him about that.

But Mr. Strauss immediately answers the questions I couldn’t even bring myself to ask.

“We’re all going to be fine with Preston now, Kim.”

After saying that, he nodded to me, and I could tell the general mood just from Strauss’s words.

He, O’Connor and Romano, the day before they left for Wisconsin, very subtly expressed their opposition to Joe Preston joining the team.

However, now they are all gathered here and replacing all the original fixtures with sensor lights that have ‘motion detection sensors’ attached.

Preston takes care of making the lights turn on automatically without having to turn the light switch on and off repeatedly while watching other people’s reactions.

I say as Randall takes the switch boxes out of the box in front of me.

“These sensor lights will turn on when they first detect our movement, and will stay on if they detect any more movement. Then, if there is no movement for 30 minutes, they will turn off automatically, so at least when Preston is inside our SWAT headquarters, he won’t have to worry about the light switch.”

I nodded to those words and watched the men work in silence.

Judging by the original fixtures lying on the floor, they appear to be replacing all the fixtures in our headquarters.

I just smiled as I felt a warm feeling in my chest.

I wonder what kind of dirty work our Task Force Blue, or rather our IRS SWAT, will be doing for the new Treasury Secretary in the future.

But at this moment, one thing was clear.

That is, no matter what mission I undertake in the future, I will have the world’s most lethal and perfect team by my side.

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