Brown was confused.
"A pleasure working with you?"
What was going on?
Weren't they supposed to be at each other's throats?
He watched Dahl shake hands with a man, a strange smile on his face. It looked almost... tearful.
Brown was completely lost.
He didn't know whether to storm over and confront them, or pause and ask what was happening first.
All the anger and momentum he'd built up on the way here evaporated in an instant.
"Director?" Dahl greeted him reflexively, still wearing that odd smile. "You're here?"
"Yes..." Brown paused, deciding not to explode yet. "What's going on?"
"I heard you mention a partnership. What partnership?"
"Hello," Morin said, stepping forward with a polite smile and extending his hand. "I'm Morin, an IRS employee. You must be Director Brown."
"Yes..." There was a saying-don't hit a smiling man.
Brown didn't understand the situation, but he still shook Morin's hand.
"It's like this," Morin said smoothly after the handshake. "I'm here on behalf of our IRS director, Chris."
Brown's eyes narrowed at once.
Wolf in sheep's clothing.
He's smiling to lower my guard. Next, he'll reveal his real goal and catch me off balance.
But I've already seen through you.
Brown snorted inwardly, full of confidence.
Look at that hair. Just a young man. These tricks are childish.
He braced himself, ready to counter the moment Morin revealed his true intent.
Then Morin spoke again.
"My purpose here is to conduct a friendly exchange between the IRS and the CIA," he said calmly. "Management systems, technology, agent training."
"To demonstrate sincerity, our director sent me to negotiate in person."
If this were a cartoon, Brown would have turned to stone and shattered on the spot.
The words echoed in his head.
Friendly.
Exchange.
After a long pause, Brown slowly turned his head to look at Dahl.
His neck cracked loudly.
"I..." Brown said stiffly. "I almost made a complete fool of myself."
Dahl lowered his head, feeling a sharp gaze burn into him. He stared at the floor tiles as if they were the most fascinating things he'd ever seen.
Morin acted as though he noticed nothing.
"Director Brown," he asked casually, "what do you think?"
Awkwardness wasn't Morin's problem.
...
"Well then," Morin said a while later, standing up. "I look forward to our exchange with the CIA."
He bid farewell to Brown-who was smiling far too stiffly-and to Dahl, who was still studying the floor.
Then Morin got into his car and drove away.
Brown's smile faded with every meter the car put between them.
By the time it vanished from sight, his face was dark as a storm cloud.
"Dahl," Brown said after a long silence.
"Y-yes, Director," Dahl replied weakly.
"...Do you have anything you'd like to explain?"
...
In his car, Morin drove a short distance before pulling over.
Humming softly, he casually located several listening and tracking devices, removing them one by one and tossing them into the back of a passing truck.
Only then did he return to his seat and drive off calmly.
It was the CIA.
An intelligence agency.
Of course they would try something.
But trying it on Morin-a so-called master automotive mechanic-was insulting.
Advanced Automotive Master wasn't just a decorative title.
As he drove, Morin opened his phone.
Several new messages from Ethan.
Ethan Hunt:
I'm heading to England next. I'll be making a deal with Max on a train. If you want that ten million, you'll need to get involved. I'll need your help to make sure things go smoothly.
Ethan Hunt:
If you need me to do anything, let me know early so I can plan.
Morin smiled and replied.
FBI Employee:
Stick to your plan. I need to make a quick trip to Wisconsin. I'll be on the train when you make the deal.
Ethan replied almost immediately.
Ethan Hunt:
Wisconsin? Why there?
Morin steered, accelerated, and wove through traffic as he typed.
FBI Employee:
You don't think the CIA will just sit still, do you? If I'm not mistaken, your parents live in Wisconsin.
Another instant reply.
Ethan Hunt:
They wouldn't actually hurt them.
FBI Employee:
No. But they'll find a reason to arrest them and make it international news. That's the only way to be sure you know.
Ethan went silent for a moment.
Then-
Ethan Hunt:
...What are you planning to do?
Ethan had clearly considered the possibility.
Who would want their parents framed, jailed, and plastered across the world's headlines?
A person needed face, just like a tree needed bark.
Ethan knew the CIA wouldn't truly harm his parents as long as the list wasn't leaked.
But emotional damage still counted.
Unless someone was heartless.
A heartless man was a beast.
Of course, there were rare cases where family ties were beyond repair.
But Ethan wasn't one of them.
He cared deeply about his parents.
FBI Employee:
There are many ways to jail people. But for something big enough to make global news, the excuses narrow.
Drug trafficking. Terrorism.
In Wisconsin, the first two are the easiest. Both involve money.
Ethan Hunt:
So you're going to steal them? Or get there before the CIA?
Morin typed calmly.
FBI Employee:
Please don't make me sound like a bandit.
We're a legitimate organization with a license.
We're simply exercising the legal authority granted to us by the federal government.
How much authority did the IRS have?
Enough to arrest proven tax evaders.
Enough to pull suspects directly out of FBI or CIA custody.
And now-
Morin intended to exercise that authority.