Reborn: The Rookie Detective

Strictly speaking, Jack wasn't completely clueless. He even had some accounting knowledge, though limited to basic bookkeeping. However, the vast legal framework of the American financial sector prevented him from further study. Why waste his time competing with Chris for a living when there were so many other things to do?

"Let's get to the specifics. I might not be good at finding people, but the place you mentioned happens to be my territory. I can try to figure something out."

Jack didn't give a definitive answer. Only a fool would reveal all his cards right away. This guy hadn't even offered a price yet.

Ray King, though outwardly calm, had already placed this somewhat overly handsome young man on an equal footing with himself.

"Alejandro Mesia, alias Sacel Ojeda, is an excellent forensic accountant and also a cryptocurrency expert. Six weeks ago, he was planted in an arms smuggling ring, the intention being to infiltrate their financial system and cut off their financial channels. But since then, he hasn't sent any messages. I thought he was either discovered and silenced, or he was already…"

Jack nodded in understanding. It was 2019, and although cryptocurrency hadn't yet reached its peak, trading volume was increasing year by year. If Alejandro Mesia really gained control of the criminal group's cryptocurrency, it meant he could easily abscond with millions or tens of millions of dollars — a temptation that most people couldn't resist.

"How much do you trust this man of yours? What should I do if I find him?"

Ray King pondered for a moment. "Emotionally, I trust him absolutely. He's one of my most loyal men, and the fact that he's in LA instead of overseas is a signal that he hasn't betrayed us, but…"

"But you can't guarantee your internal network is absolutely reliable, right?" Jack finished his sentence.

Ray King nodded. "My mistake. This was a last-minute undercover operation. I didn't set up a separate communication channel with him beforehand. The team that was in charge of him has been taken under my control. Now, the only thing to do is find him as soon as possible and hand him over to me."

"No problem, but I need you to contact my superior, Captain Anderson. Only if she issues the order can I reasonably mobilize resources to help you find this Alejandro Mesia as soon as possible, ensure his safety, and notify you to come and pick him up."

"You can make up any reason; she won't ask any questions," Jack added.

Ray King's face flashed with surprise, seemingly not quite understanding the source of his confidence. He took out his phone to check before nodding.

"Thank you very much. If this operation is successful, we expect to intercept 60% of this criminal group's cash flow, totaling approximately $30 million. The IRS will provide you with 1% of that as a reward."

Jack's carefully maintained composure was almost shattered by this figure, and he remained silent for a long time before letting out a wry smile.

"Are you this generous even to your own people?"

Ray King also laughed. "Our internal policy is that 90% is handed over for each operation, and the remaining 10% is divided equally among the participants based on their contributions. Your 1% this time will be paid from my account."

Jack sighed, "Now I know why you have so much confidence in the loyalty of your subordinates."

The IRS is incredibly wealthy. If it weren't for not wanting to betray Maureen's kindness, he would really want accept Ray's offer. No, he must ask Maureen for some compensation later.

After the discussion, Ray King provided Jack with a file on Alejandro Mesia and a brief introduction to the arms smuggling ring. After confirming that Jack remembered it, he took it back and said he had to fly back to DC that night. Finally, the two shook hands and said goodbye at the door.

"I'll contact Captain Anderson first thing tomorrow morning. She's a real beauty; even an old man like me is a little tempted."

Ray King winked at Jack as he left, a sly look on his face.

"That old fox," Jack cursed inwardly. Of course, this wasn't just a fuss; after all, it's easier to gain someone's trust by letting them think they have some leverage than by making them be on guard. This was a lesson he'd learned from over 40 years of life experience in his previous life.

"Oh, by the way," Ray King suddenly turned back as if remembering something after a few steps and said, "I'll be retiring in a year. Until then, my invitation to you is still valid. It's been a long time since I've seen such a talented young person as you."

Jack returned a forced smile: "I believe that even if I didn't choose the IRS, we would still be good friends. Next time you come to LA, you can tell me in advance what kind of food you like."

After watching him get into his black Mercedes and drive away, Jack went back inside to tidy up and then drove to Zoe's house.

After their usual tender moments, Jack recounted the whole story to Zoe. Of course, he omitted parts about the accountant, not revealing his true identity, only hinting at his shady background.

Zoe was now somewhat familiar with Jack's methods, having personally experienced them more than once. She'd witnessed the changes in Maureen and Hannah's bodies, not just her own.

Although she knew her man was no ordinary person, Zoe was still quite surprised that he'd managed to get close to the head of such a powerful department as the IRS so quickly, especially when she heard about the nearly $300,000 bonus.

"Ahem." Zoe, annoyed by the surprise attack, playfully punched the unsportsmanlike guy before going to the bathroom to rinse her mouth before laying his arms.

"How do you plan to find that IRS mole?" Nestling into Jack's arms, Zoe lazily shifted, finding herself in the most comfortable position.

"Uh, isn't that why I came to see you?" Jack grinned, trying to please the mature woman. His earlier actions had been a bit rough; while it satisfied a man's desire to conquer, he still needed to appease his woman afterwards.

"Let me think… what do you think of Smitty?"

"Huh?" This time, Jack's mouth dropped open. "Are you serious?"

Smitty was practically the most inconspicuous old codger in the Wilshire Police Department. Even the perpetually sullen Soon-to-be Commander Gery couldn't handle him. This nearly 60-year-old had been married and divorced countless times and now lived in a campervan in the police station parking lot, just waiting to coast until he could collect his full pension.

"It's a task privately assigned to you by the IRS. I can't mobilize the entire precinct to help you find him; it wouldn't be right. The County Art Museum area is Smitty's territory. He's been patrolling there since he became a patrolman nineteen years ago. You could try bribing him a little."