After all, under normal circumstances, they didn't interfere with one another. Sometimes they even cooperated.
But today?
Someone had suddenly kicked in the door and started rummaging through their house.
Who wouldn't be confused?
Who wouldn't be dumbfounded?
Face-changing didn't happen this fast.
...Well, maybe Trump could manage it.
Naturally, Brown immediately tried to call Chris, the Director of the IRS.
But Chris-having been warned in advance by Morin-had already unplugged his phone.
"The phone is off, so I can't hear it. Won't pick up, won't pick up... hehehe, how frustrating~"
Chris lay comfortably on his couch at home, repeating Morin's exact words from earlier. The more he thought about it, the funnier it became.
Then-
"I'm kind of hungry."
Chris stood up, strolled to the fridge, and started rummaging around for something to eat.
As for the chaos at CIA headquarters?
Not his problem.
Meanwhile, Ethan and his team had successfully slipped inside.
They knocked out the front-desk employee in the storage room where the alarm system was located, changed clothes, and began preparing for the mission.
As for why no one had come to check on them?
Because-
"We've decided to fundamentally reform the CIA's internal management system."
Dal had just finished explaining, in great detail, all the places the CIA was supposedly "planning to renovate."
Seeing that he was about to run out of filler-and that Morin looked like he might finally ask about the real reason for his visit-Dal had a flash of inspiration and immediately switched topics again.
"Oh?" Morin, more than happy to let time tick away, asked casually. "And how do you plan to do that?"
Dal seized the opening like a drowning man grabbing a life raft.
"Right now, our management system has many problems," he began solemnly. "For example, responsibility distribution. Many tasks are handled by only one or two people. While accountability is clear, efficiency is extremely low."
He launched into a flawless performance, drawing on years of administrative experience.
"We plan to implement a cross-management structure to improve efficiency, optimize personnel deployment, strengthen security, and patch existing loopholes in our system. Of course, this will require significant funding..."
Morin: "..."
Morin looked at Dal with a complicated expression.
At this point, he genuinely couldn't tell-
Was this man pretending to be stupid, or was he actually stupid?
If he was actually stupid, then his ability to accurately identify CIA's internal flaws was... impressive.
If he was pretending?
That didn't make sense.
Because if Dal really knew the details of Ethan's mission and knew Morin was cooperating with Ethan, then there was no reason for him to be stalling like this.
Which meant-
Another bluff?
Morin listened quietly, nodding now and then, occasionally offering a vague response.
Inside his mind, however, dozens of contingency plans were already forming.
No matter what Dal was really up to, Morin wasn't worried.
In this world, he was essentially superhuman-never mind the high-tech toys provided by the IRS R&D department.
Self-preservation was not an issue.
And a direct confrontation was unlikely.
After all, Morin's identity alone was something even Brown, the CIA Director, had to tread carefully around.
After trying Chris's number again and still failing, Brown finally gave up.
He clenched his jaw and muttered to himself.
"Since you're the one who wants to turn against me... don't blame me."
Then he called Dal.
At that moment, Dal was still in full performance mode, rambling enthusiastically while Morin played the perfect audience. Both men had their own agendas, and both were very satisfied with how much time they were killing.
Then-
"Ding, ding, ding!"
Dal's phone rang.
"My apologies," Dal said reflexively, without even looking at the screen, and silenced it immediately.
"Let's continue discussing-"
He was convinced he had Morin completely fooled.
The conversation had already drifted from CIA renovation to organizational optimization, and now it had wandered into daily life, entertainment, and bizarre anecdotes.
Dal was confident.
As long as Morin didn't bring up the real purpose of his visit, Dal could keep talking until midnight without repeating himself.
After all, as the head of administration, wasn't this his specialty?
Changing topics.
Dodging questions.
Calling a deer a horse.
Borrowing authority.
Making things up on the fly.
Dal was very good at his job.
"Ding, ding, ding!"
The phone rang again-persistent this time.
As Dal reached out to silence it once more, he glanced at the caller ID.
And froze.
At the same time, he almost sighed in relief.
Finally... the scapegoat-no, the savior-has arrived.
Dal immediately turned to Morin.
"My apologies, Mr. Morin. The Director is calling. I'll need to step out for a moment."
"Please do," Morin replied calmly, lifting his coffee cup.
Morin hadn't seen the caller ID, but he didn't need to.
Dal had ignored the call before.
Now he couldn't ignore it.
Which meant the person on the other end could absolve Dal of responsibility-and, more importantly, make the tax issue disappear.
The identity of the caller was obvious.
Morin sipped his coffee, unhurried, waiting patiently.
Outside the reception room, Dal closed the door and answered the phone.
"Director?" Dal said respectfully. "I was just speaking with the IRS agent, Morin. That's why I was late in answering."
He couldn't make Brown take the blame too obviously.
That would come back to haunt him later.
So his wording was careful-subtly conveying I'm doing exactly what you told me to do.
Although Brown's order had been to stall, probe, and get Morin to leave, what Dal had actually done... was slightly different.
But-
Language is an art.
With a few skillful sentences, Dal neatly summarized his actions, making them sound perfectly aligned with Brown's intentions.
And that was why-
No matter the country, no matter the system-
If you want to climb the ladder in a bureaucratic organization,
the most important skill is not strength,
not intelligence,
but knowing how to speak.