I bought a prison in the United States.

If the problem lies in the procurement contract, going to a judge is indeed not very helpful.

Bayless took a deep breath and immediately dialed a friend's number in the county council.

That congressman was in his private restaurant last month, drinking his prized whiskey and patting his chest, saying, "Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything."

The other party answered quickly, but their voice was so soft it sounded like it was coming from inside a box.

"Vernon, don't call me. This isn't the time to talk."

"The parliament is in complete chaos, so I can't say much to you today."

"But I need..."

Bellus was interrupted before he could finish speaking.

"I know what you want, but I can't help you."

The other person's voice sounded somewhat flustered:

"Hart is under investigation, an audit has been launched, and everyone is watching this."

"If you're smart, take care of what needs to be taken care of first, and don't drag others into it."

The call was abruptly disconnected, as if afraid that Bayless might have more to say.

What exactly is going on?

The problem lies with Hart. Could it be that our shady dealings have been exposed?

Damn it!

Bayless held the receiver, put it back, picked it up again, and dialed a third number.

This time, it was a friend of his in Tulsa who ran a building materials wholesale business. He had no connection to officialdom; they were purely business partners.

The call connected, and the other person's voice sounded no different than usual.

"Old Vernon, what brings you here?"

"Old Butch, I've run into a bit of trouble here."

As if grasping at a straw, Baylors quickly said:

"The contract in the county has been suspended, and the bank is pressing for loan repayment. Could you have your lawyer review the contract and see if there's any way to resolve this...?"

"Vernon, it's not that I don't want to help you."

Old Butch hesitated, his tone tinged with wariness:

"But you have to tell the truth, what's the deal with those contracts of yours?"

"I heard someone is investigating your company's financial records. What good would it do me to get involved?"

Bayless tried to appeal to emotions, "Old Butch, how many years have we known each other? You…"

"Ten years, that's why I didn't hang up on you."

The other party's reply was also very straightforward:

"But I can't help you. You should look for someone else."

The call was disconnected again.

Undeterred, Bellus called a lawyer he knew at the Tulsa Chamber of Commerce who specialized in commercial contract disputes.

"Mr. Bayless, let me be frank with you."

The lawyer remained very calm and analyzed the situation:

"Your problem isn't a contractual issue; it's a criminal issue."

"The wife of the county procurement committee chairman received nearly 80,000 yuan through a nominee account in your company. In the prosecutor's eyes, this is blatant bribery."

"If you want to save the company, save yourself first. Find a criminal lawyer, not me, I don't deal with that."

Bayless finally put down the receiver.

This time, he didn't pick it up again.

He placed his hands on the table, his fingertips touching the cool mahogany surface, and looked at the wall opposite him.

A beautifully framed calligraphy scroll hung on the wall, a gift from a friend of his who was in the printing business.

That friend later went bankrupt because he used substandard paper to print textbooks. The school district sued him until he was bankrupt, and now he's hiding in some state doing odd jobs.

"Hamond...Hart...Ringo...Could this be related to him?"

Bellus became increasingly suspicious. Who sent the anonymous letter to Parliament, and how did they obtain the evidence?

He suddenly pulled open the bottom drawer and pulled out a brown paper envelope.

Inside were several notes that Hammond and Hart had casually written to him over the years.

The content was all trivial, just ordinary chat questions, with no transaction records and no sensitive numbers.

But the handwriting on the note is genuine.

Bellus unfolded the slips of paper one by one, reading them over and over again, then suddenly flew into a rage, grabbed them, and tore them to pieces.

Still not satisfied after tearing them apart, he took out a lighter, held the pieces up to the flame, and watched them turn to ash and fall into the ashtray.

"Fuck you!"

Bellers stood up, grabbed his car keys, rushed out of the office, and headed straight for the company headquarters.

He had to go and check if the ledgers hidden deep inside the safe were still safe.

……

Hammond did not return home at 7 p.m.

He was still sitting in the leather chair in his office, with three slips of paper spread out in front of him.

One of the documents was sent by the county council's legal advisor, informing him that the county council had initiated a full audit of the procurement committee.

One of the documents was from the bank's credit department, informing him that two loans under his personal name had been placed on a watch list due to business risks associated with the borrower's affiliated companies.

One of the notices was written by the club's golf suite manager, who said that his reservation for next Saturday's golf suite had been cancelled and his deposit would be refunded.

"Ringo Chen, don't let me catch you red-handed!"

Hammond cursed under his breath.

He felt increasingly overwhelmed in dealing with Ringo.

Especially when he learned that Boone, the deputy director of the state corrections department, had come to McLean in person.

Hammond knew that everything was out of control after the other party went to the prison without even saying hello.

"Ring ring!!"

The phone on the table rang again, the noise making him even more irritable.

He glanced at the caller ID but didn't answer.

Hammond had lost count of how many calls he'd received today—maybe fifty, or maybe a hundred?

He didn't want to accept the offer because he hadn't come up with a solution or prepared an explanation.

These calls will only cause trouble; my home phone has probably been ringing off the hook by now.

Given Nancy's personality, she's probably already unplugged the phone line.

Both Hart and Bayless are in dire straits, but Hammond is in no position to save himself either.

Just then, the answering machine started automatically, and the red indicator light flashed.

Although Hammond kept himself locked in his office and did not answer any calls, he was still receiving information from the outside world.

He wanted to wait for the moment when things would turn around, and until then, he remained silent in order to protect himself.

After pressing the button, a man's voice came through; it was a contractor from the county named Slaterley.

Slaterley rambled on on the phone, the gist of which was that he had bid for the repair contract of the rural road in the county last month, but had lost it.

He heard that the winning company had connections with Judge Hammond and wanted to know what was going on.

Hammond listened to the message and a cold smile crept onto his lips.

Who has time to worry about these things now?

He wasn't familiar with Slaterley; he'd only seen him twice at parties, and the man wasn't even in his network.

He reached out and pressed the stop button on the answering machine, and Slater's voice came to an abrupt halt.

The phone rang again.

Hammond checked the caller ID and saw it was Bayless's number.