Chapter 3329: Blood-Spattered New City (89)

The night rain grew heavier, and thunder roared. The Carter Group building stood like a tilted black obelisk in the thunderstorm, the glass curtain wall covered with earthworm-like rain streaks.

The red light of the security door's fingerprint scanner jumped three times in Carter's eyes before it successfully identified him. He even couldn't help but start thanking the IRS for not touching the security power supply in his heart.

A dull thud of tactical boots stepping on the metal floor suddenly came from the corridor behind him. When Carter flashed into the shadows of the pantry, he saw the reflection of Agent Lake's night-vision goggles sweep across the wall; this experienced agent was using a tactical flashlight to check the shredded paper scraps.

"Team B, seal off the fire escape; Team A, advance with me." Lake's wireless radio static produced a short echo in the corridor, full of inorganic coldness, carrying a kind of cold-blooded, ruthless aesthetic of violence unique to law enforcers.

Carter moved carefully toward his office door, when a sudden thunderclap illuminated the entire floor, and he saw the bloodstains from Blon on his suit cuffs, presenting an eerie blue color in the lightning.

Ten minutes later, Carter curled up on the maintenance platform of the freight elevator shaft, and the sound of gloves rubbing against steel cables came from below. Lake's voice produced a metallic resonance in the shaft: "Mr. Carter, the shell companies you set up don't have bulletproof functions."

The stun grenade the agent suddenly threw upward made Carter lean back instinctively, the back of his head hitting the wall and bursting with blood. But he endured the severe pain and jumped out along the gap in the maintenance platform.

The rain beat against the glass curtain wall, making a "pitter-patter" sound, as if countless invisible hands were knocking on the heart of this steel behemoth.

Carter panted heavily, walking quickly against the wall. He held a small flashlight tightly in his hand, the beam drawing a faint trail of light in the darkness. His eyes revealed extreme tension and anxiety, and the fine beads of sweat seeping out on his forehead slid down his cheeks.

"Must reach the vault... must destroy the logs..." he whispered, his voice carrying a hint of imperceptible madness.

Just then, a burst of rapid footsteps and low conversation came from afar. Carter's heartbeat accelerated suddenly; he quickly turned off the flashlight, held his breath, and pressed his body tightly against the wall. In the darkness, several strong beams swept across the corridor; IRS agent Lake and his special agent squad were closing in on his direction.

"Search separately, he can't run far!" Lake's voice was cold and decisive, the beam of the tactical flashlight sweeping across the wall, cutting through the darkness like a blade.

Carter's heart was almost jumping out of his chest; he knew he had to leave here as soon as possible. He retreated carefully, trying to find another path to the vault. However, his heel accidentally kicked a metal trash can, making a loud "clanging" sound.

"Over there!" Lake's voice rose sharply, the beam instantly locking onto Carter's direction.

"Damn it!" Carter cursed in a low voice, turning and running for his life. His footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, and the sound of the agents' rapid pursuit and shouting came from behind.

"Stop! Carter! You can't escape!" Lake's voice was like a death god's whisper, chasing closely.

Carter ran with all his might, his heart beating violently, his lungs feeling as if they were about to explode. His vision was blurry, and he could only shuttle through the darkness relying on his memory. He rushed into the stairwell, jumping down two steps at a time, his footsteps echoing in the narrow space.

"He ran into the stairwell! Block the exit!" Lake's voice came from above, accompanied by the heavy footsteps of the agents.

Carter rushed out of the stairwell and entered the underground parking garage. The darkness here was even heavier, and the air was filled with the smell of oil and dust. His footsteps slipped on the wet ground, almost falling. He stabilized his figure, quickly hiding behind an abandoned sedan, holding his breath, trying to hide himself.

The agents' footsteps gradually approached, and the flashlight beams swept through the parking garage. Carter's heartbeat roared in his ears; he gripped the flashlight tightly, as if it were his only straw to save his life.

"Obstructing official business, add another five years!" Lake threatened coldly and decisively, "All exits here have been sealed; your capture is only a matter of time, stop resisting!"

Carter knew he couldn't wait any longer. He rushed out from behind the car, running wildly toward the vault. The agents discovered him immediately, and the shouting and footsteps sounded again.

"Catch him! Don't let him run!"

Carter ran with all his might, the footsteps behind him getting closer and closer. His legs felt as heavy as if they were filled with lead. Just as he was about to reach the vault door, a powerful hand grabbed his shoulder violently.

"Caught you!" Lake's voice sounded in his ear, carrying a hint of triumphant pride.

Carter turned around violently, smashing a fist toward Lake's face. Lake was caught off guard and hit, staggering backward. Carter took the opportunity to break free, rushing toward the vault door. He quickly entered the password, and the door opened slowly.

"Quick! Stop him!" Lake covered his bleeding face and roared.

The agents rushed up, but Carter had already rushed into the vault. He quickly closed the door, blocking the agents outside. The vault was pitch black, with only the indicator lights on the server cabinets flickering weakly.

Carter panted heavily, quickly finding the main server, and began to manually format the system logs. His fingers tapped rapidly on the keyboard, a trace of determination in his eyes.

"Hurry... hurry..." he whispered, fine beads of sweat seeping out on his forehead.

Just then, a violent crashing sound came from the vault door. The agents were trying to break in.

"Carter! You can't escape! Open the door!" Lake's voice came from outside the door, carrying a hint of anger and anxiety.

Carter's fingers tapped rapidly on the keyboard, and finally, the screen displayed "Formatting Complete". He breathed a sigh of relief, quickly unplugged the server power, and turned to run toward another door in the vault.

He pushed open the back door and rushed into a narrow passage. At the end of the passage was an iron door leading to the ground. Carter ran with all his might, finally pushing open the iron door.

The wind of the rainy night rushed toward him, the rain hitting his face, bringing a trace of coolness. He took a deep breath, feeling that he had finally escaped.

However, just as he was about to take the last step, several strong beams suddenly shone on his face. He squinted his eyes, seeing a group of ordinary people holding clubs standing in front of him.

"Carter! You damn tax thief! Don't even think about running away!" The gambler leading them roared.

Carter was completely confused. He stretched out his two hands and waved them, saying: "Who are you?! Don't block me!!"

"Catch him! Don't let him run!" The gamblers swarmed up, pinning Carter to the ground.

Carter struggled, but was quickly subdued. His face was covered in mud and water, his eyes revealing despair and fear.

Lake walked over with the agents, looking coldly at Carter pinned to the ground: "Game over, Carter."

Carter looked up, the rain sliding down his cheeks. He knew he had completely lost. But he had no idea why he had lost.

Where did that group of people rush out from at the end?! If it weren't for them, he could have completely shaken off the agents and headed to the safe house in the suburbs, and the IRS wouldn't have found it!

Filled with anger and unwillingness, Carter roared and struggled crazily. Lake looked at the back of his head covered in blood, a trace of doubt flashing in his eyes.

"Caught him, boss. But the system logs might have been partially destroyed by him, and also..."

"No, nothing, maybe it was my illusion. Alright... this guy doesn't look much like a banker; didn't he work as a spy or something when he was young?"

"He led our people on a tour around the building. And almost locked us out of the vault. This isn't the physical fitness a pampered rich guy should have..."

"If I have to say, I feel he's a bit crazy, like that kind of insane mental patient; I suspect he might be trying to use mental illness to escape accountability... Alright, I'll pay attention, I'm taking people back now."

In the lobby of Phils Casino, the lights were brilliant and the atmosphere was hot. Host Patrick stood in the center of the lobby, holding a golden microphone, a signature exaggerated smile on his face. On the giant screen behind him, the real-time footage inside the Carter building was playing—Carter fleeing for his life in the darkness, IRS agent Lake and his special agent squad chasing closely.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Patrick's voice spread throughout the casino through the speakers, carrying a hint of teasing and excitement, "Welcome back to our special program—'Tax Monopoly'! Tonight's live broadcast is truly wonderful, our protagonist Mr. Carter is performing a thrilling escape drama!"

The camera switched to Carter's disheveled figure; he was running for his life in the pitch-black corridor, sweat soaking his suit, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. Patrick pointed at the screen, shrugging exaggeratedly: "Look at this former financial tycoon, now like a rabbit chased by a hunter! I have to say, his performance is truly... um, how should I put it? Both heartbreaking and funny!"

A burst of laughter erupted in the audience, and the gamblers raised their glasses, excitedly discussing. Patrick walked to the side of the audience and handed the microphone to a gambler with a flushed face: "Hey, buddy, what do you think of Carter's performance?"

The gambler grinned, revealing a mouthful of gold teeth: "Wonderful! Too wonderful! I bet fifty bucks he wouldn't last ten minutes, but this guy actually ran for so long! Although he was caught in the end, this escape process was definitely worth the price of admission!"

Patrick laughed loudly, patting the gambler on the shoulder: "Looks like our Mr. Carter still has some skills, right?" He turned to face the camera, his tone carrying a hint of teasing, "However, I guess he must regret not paying more taxes now, otherwise he wouldn't have ended up in this state!"

The camera switched again, this time to the scene of Carter being pinned to the ground by the gamblers. The rain hit his face, mixed with mud and sweat, looking particularly disheveled. Patrick shook his head with feigned sympathy: "Oh, poor Carter, looks like tonight's 'Death Game' has ended for him. But don't worry, dear viewers, our program has just entered its climax!"

He walked to the other side of the stage, pointing to a real-time updating data screen: "Look at these text messages! Our audience friends are truly too enthusiastic! In just ten minutes, we have received over one hundred thousand text messages! Everyone is scoring Carter's performance, and some people are suggesting giving him a 'Best Escape Award'!"

There was another burst of laughter in the audience. Patrick blinked, his tone carrying a hint of cunning: "However, what interests me most is this text message—'Carter's performance reminds me of my ex-husband; he was also this good at running, only he was running to avoid debt!' Haha, it looks like our Mr. Carter has truly resonated with everyone!"

"Oh, my god! I just received good news—" Patrick shouted, waving his arms, "The Lower City Jazz Dance program has broken the historical ratings record! It's impacting the Cat Cat Getan TV station's highest ratings record! Let's cheer for this!"

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 3330 =====