Hollywood Taxes: A Tycoon in TV Land

Chapter 29: Deals and Conspiracies

Toretto was gone.

The FBI had officially issued a warrant for his arrest, charging him with murder and hijacking freight trucks. Ron knew this marked the end of The Fast and the Furious—at least, the first chapter.

But that didn't stop him from paying a visit to Detective Jack for a proper "conversation."

"Ron, I already gave you everything you asked for last time—every bit of intel, in full. What the hell are you doing here again? You know you're not exactly welcome around here." Jack frowned the moment Ron stepped into his office.

"I thought we were friends, Jack." Ron made himself comfortable on the sofa across from Jack's desk, casually placing a small tape recorder on the table. He pressed play.

A familiar voice came through the speaker:

> "Your warehouse is being watched. And it's someone troublesome…"

It was Jack's voice.

Jack's eyes widened, and he instantly shot up from his chair. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, grabbed the recorder, yanked the tape out, and began tearing it apart.

Ron simply watched with a half-smile, making no move to stop him.

"You've got more copies, don't you?" Jack finally realized, slumping back into his chair in defeat.

Ron nodded matter-of-factly.

Jack sighed. "What do you want?"

"I want a pardon," Ron said, standing and leaning over the desk. He slapped his palm flat on the surface. "You know what it's for. If it weren't for you and your idiot Korean gang contact, my friend Toretto would never have been forced to flee the country!"

"That's impossible!" Jack barked. "We just issued the warrant. The case is already closed. If we suddenly revoke it now, where does that leave the FBI's credibility? Go ahead—leak the recording everywhere if you want! You think I'm scared? Everyone at the top already knows the score. The gangs are one of our biggest sources of funding for operations. And the mayor? That's a vital voting bloc for him during re-elections. Are you really prepared to go up against all of us?"

Ron had long suspected that the gangs were paying off the FBI for protection—but the mayor's involvement turned this from a dirty secret into a political powder keg.

Even with the powerful figure backing him from behind the scenes, Ron knew there was no way his benefactor would support him in this. Opposing that kind of influential voter base would be political suicide—especially for someone with presidential ambitions.

Ron rubbed his temples in frustration and cursed under his breath. Damn this American election system.

Jack's tone softened slightly. "Look, here's what I can do. I'll suspend the FBI's active pursuit of Toretto. That'll give your friend some breathing room. And I'll issue a pardon—but it won't be valid for another six months. When the time comes, you'd better have a damn good reason ready to justify it."

"In exchange," Jack continued, "I want that recording… gone. Forever. Deal?"

Ron thought it over. There weren't many better options on the table. And truth be told, with the skills Toretto and his crew had, living off the radar might suit them better than being stateside under constant surveillance.

He nodded. "Deal."

If worst came to worst, Ron could always wait until the six-month period was up and then use the pardon to bring them back. Still, if this was going to be a negotiation, he wasn't about to settle without haggling a little.

"Alright, I'll agree to your terms," Ron said. "But I want two pardons."

"Two?!" Jack's eyes bulged. "We only issued a warrant for Toretto! Now you're just being greedy!"

"Relax, Jack," Ron said soothingly, trying to calm the detective down. "Tell me—have you ever heard of someone called 'Mr. Nobody'?"

Jack stiffened. "Mr. Nobody," the CIA's codename for their California bureau chief. Ron had discovered through his own intelligence channels that this man was the real power behind Shawshank Prison.

Now that Ron had some free time, he figured—why not stir up some trouble?

In the U.S., the "Big Three" intelligence agencies—the CIA, FBI, and IRS—were nominally on equal footing. But the truth was far messier. Each agency represented different interests and constantly worked to undermine each other, while still having to cooperate just enough to function.

Technically, because the FBI operates under the Department of Justice, it holds absolute authority over pardons and criminal case rulings. Even the other two agencies have to go through the Bureau when dealing with such matters.

But when it came to funding? That was the IRS's territory, under the Department of the Treasury. They held the purse strings—and theoretically, they could launch tax investigations into any federal employee, which made them deceptively powerful.

The IRS, however, lacked real enforcement muscle and had to rely heavily on cooperation with the CIA. As a result, they had to offer certain "favors" in return.

Ron's own Special Operations Unit was created for precisely that reason: to reduce reliance on CIA muscle.

The CIA, meanwhile, boasted the strongest operational capabilities and was financially independent, drawing direct funding from the Pentagon rather than the Treasury. But their side businesses? Mostly illicit operations that wouldn't stand up to scrutiny. If the FBI ever decided to take its job seriously, it could gut the CIA's budget and personnel overnight.

This made sabotage among the three agencies a common sport. In their own twisted way, they formed a kind of covert separation of powers—another uniquely American spectacle.

Jack seemed intrigued. "So... what's your plan?"

"I've got a man who's been locked up for over twenty years for murder—a crime he didn't commit. The real killer? Currently serving time in another prison. With a little effort, we could exonerate him."

Ron was referring to Andy, and he intended to use Andy's case to catch the CIA off guard, clear Andy's name, and recruit him. His Special Ops team was still a one-man show—it was time to start building a real unit.

And Andy, with his quick thinking and masterful accounting skills, was the perfect candidate.

Jack frowned. "And what does that have to do with Mr. Nobody?"

Ron grinned. "Andy escaped from Shawshank—and while he was in there, he handled the prison's finances. Hell, he was even doing the taxes for high-ranking officials across the whole prison system. You do know what that means, don't you?" He gave Jack a meaningful wink.

Jack froze for a moment, then suddenly sprang from his chair and began digging through old files from a series of drug trafficking cases. When he saw the final incarceration locations for the convicts involved, his eyes widened in realization.

Shawshank. All of them.

That couldn't be a coincidence.

Ron's signature devilish smile crept across his face. "All we need to do now…"