pjbooks Chapter 56 May You Have Sweet Dreams
Chapter 56 May You Have Sweet Dreams
Midtown Detroit.
Inside a modern apartment in the Sugar Mountain Art District.
Jimmy stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, holding a whiskey glass, his ear pressed to his phone, waiting for the call to be answered.
Unfortunately, the call went unanswered and was automatically transferred to voicemail.
Another ten minutes passed.
Reg called back.
Once the call connected, Jimmy couldn't wait to ask, "How did it go, Reg? I think you've already taught that kid a good lesson, right?"
"No, today a worker was burned by acid while extracting metal from a circuit board. I'm dealing with that and haven't gone out."
"How could you let such a small matter delay my request?" Jimmy's tone instantly turned dissatisfied.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of him in the next few days."
"What days are these exactly?"
"I'll call you when the time comes. Trust me, I'll strip him naked and shove his ass hard with a stick."
"Oh my god, you're so creative!" Jimmy laughed, tilting his head back and downing the drink in his glass in one gulp.
We chatted for a couple more minutes.
The two hung up the phone.
Jimmy turned and walked towards the bedroom.
Inside the bedroom, Howard and Debbie, formerly Clarissa's subordinate, were busy with something important.
This was naturally arranged by Jimmy; he needed to please his own uncle.
"Unfortunately, we couldn't get Reg to finish our entertainment video," Jimmy said to the two who were having a great time.
"Can't you even handle something this simple?" Howard frowned.
"He said a worker at the factory got burned by acid, so he didn't have time today. But he gave me an idea," Jimmy repeated, laughing.
Howard burst into laughter upon hearing this: "Reg should be a director. I'm already looking forward to Clarissa's expression when she sees this video."
"Me too, hahaha..." Jimmy laughed, hands on his hips.
Meanwhile, to avoid the police who might arrive, Meng Ran, carrying six injured people, parked their car at the entrance of Wayne State University.
Reg, in the passenger seat, put down his phone.
Then, turning to Meng Ran in the driver's seat, she pleaded, "Sir, I've done as you said. Can you let us leave? I think I need to see a doctor."
"No rush, I have a business deal I'd like to do with you." Meng Ran tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.
"You also have waste to dispose of?" Reg endured the pain and forced himself to talk to Meng Ran.
"No, no, no, I want you to help me get Howard into jail." Meng Ran made no attempt to hide his purpose, nor was there any need to.
"So... you're a secret agent?" Reg had a new guess about Meng Ran's identity.
It's not surprising that he acted this way. Judging from his skills and what he just said about pollution and law, he seemed like a secret agent from a movie.
Meng Ran was amused by him.
This is the United States, a magical country where even the president can suggest "injecting disinfectant for disinfection".
Let alone spies, many people believe in S.H.I.E.L.D.
However, when splitting wood, one must observe the grain; when speaking, one must consider the person.
Trying to explain anything too profound to someone like Reg is a complete waste of time.
Therefore, Meng Ran simply said, "You don't need to know my identity; not many people know who I am. I hope you can do something for me, and you'll definitely get a reward afterward."
Clutching his stomach, Reg couldn't help but turn around and exchange a glance with the few half-dead people in the back row.
Then, he cautiously asked, "What is it?"
"Howard is trying to pin the blame for the improper disposal of waste on you, which is not what the government wants. So, I hope you can find an excuse to meet with him and have a talk."
After saying that, Meng Ran added, "And record the chat with my webcam and send it to me."
What did we talk about?
Meng Ran didn't answer directly, but instead asked, "How much did he pay you to handle the waste?"
"This..." Reg hesitated.
"It doesn't matter if you don't say it. As far as I know, Ford and GM gave Howard a large donation, but Howard gave you very little. Your workers only earn $80 a day."
When the specific salary figures were revealed, Reg's expression changed instantly. Did they find out that much?
"Furthermore, I am well aware that your workers have no protective measures whatsoever. The youngest worker was only 12 years old, and he is dead."
"I just wanted to give them a job..." Reg quickly explained.
"Reg, you seem to be taking a chance. But let me tell you, these things alone are enough to put you in jail for life," Meng Ran threatened again.
And Reg was indeed fooled.
"However, now there is an opportunity for you to go from being a heartless factory owner to a hero who fights for workers' rights."
"What do you mean?" Reg was a little confused.
"The funds that were supposed to be used to purchase protective equipment for you all ended up in Howard's pocket. Find him, ask him for those funds, and secretly record the whole process."
"How could he possibly agree?"
"Of course I know he disagrees. Your goal is to use this chat to prove that Howard is the heartless boss who doesn't provide protective equipment for the workers, understand?" Meng Ran said directly.
"Then I'll record these conversations and give them to you?"
"That's right."
"..." Reg hesitated again.
Meng Ran understood what he was thinking and smiled, "Are you worried about your business? You should know how serious the pollution situation is in Detroit."
Protests against environmental issues are happening everywhere, including at Howard's association. Someone needs to be held accountable for these problems. But the mayor won't take responsibility.
The executives at Ford, GM, and Chrysler won't take responsibility either. Do you want to be held accountable for this and then bear the brunt of public anger?
"No, no, no, no." Reg immediately shook his head.
"Then you should find a way to make Howard take responsibility. Don't worry, once things calm down, your business will still be able to operate. Detroit's unemployment rate is too high; even if you're breaking the law, the city will pretend not to see it."
He offered a reassuring remark.
Meng Ran then threatened in a sinister tone, "Reg, it's incredibly easy for me to find out about you. You don't want to find a gun pointed at your head while you're sleeping, do you?"
"I'll give it a try!" The threat worked, and Reg immediately declared, "I'll go back and talk to Howard."
"Don't touch Jimmy until this is done, understand? After that... hey, I think your idea is really good."
"I understand." Reg nodded his head like a chicken pecking at rice.
"I'm giving you three days. If I don't get the video footage within three days, I'll send you all to meet your maker with my 50 teammates. You choose whether to be heroes or corpses."
After saying that, Meng Ran tossed a business card to Reg.
Then he pushed open the car door, which had no glass, and got out of the car.
Watching his receding figure.
Razor, sitting in the back, couldn't help but ask, "Reg, what should we do? Should we really listen to him?"
The moment the words left his mouth, the beaver, who had been feigning death, suddenly opened its eyes: "What else! Do you know how long it took him to take down all five of you? Probably only 3 seconds!"
Unlike them, the beaver had witnessed the entire thing from the car.
He then pointed to the window next to the driver's seat: "This is laminated glass. Do you know how much force it takes to punch it through the middle?"
"I don't want to get involved with someone like that. Didn't you hear him say he has 50 team members! Who knows what kind of team members they are, Navy SEALs?"
Over here, the people in the car were discussing something.
Meanwhile, Meng Ran, who had already walked quite a distance, dialed the phone number of the Black mother, Tessa.
"Tessa, I'll give you $1500, do me a favor."
"It's simple. Have you been spending every night with Reg lately? Tonight, when you're with him, put a note under his pillow."
"Of course I know Reg; in fact, I just taught him a lesson."
You don't believe me?
"It's okay, it doesn't matter whether you believe it or not, just leave me a note."
"Remember to write with your left hand, just write: Sweet dreams, Reg."
Signed: Mr. Special Agent