Blackstone Code-Chapter 662: Direction

Hiss…

Phew…

Michael took a deep breath, using his strong arms to push himself up, exhaling slowly as he steadied his body.

From initial discomfort to now being completely adapted to the seemingly dull and simple, yet honest and fulfilling prison life, he was no longer as lost and helpless as he had been at the start.

Daily work, exercise, study, and rest—life in prison followed a strict routine. Every part of the day was scheduled, with a balanced rhythm and self-discipline. Most people gained weight after coming in, and Michael was no exception.

Freed from bad habits and consistently training, he had become much stronger. Even people who knew him might not recognize him at a glance.

But prison life wasn’t easy. Bullying was rampant. Federal public prisons operated under a highly autonomous system—prisoners managed prisoners.

Guards rarely intervened in conflicts unless there was serious injury or death. Regular fights were simply ignored.

In such an environment, whether to enrich oneself or protect oneself, strength was essential.

Sweat rolled down his near-fatless body. With every push-up, the shifting muscle fibers under his skin were clearly visible. He never stopped.

Beside him, Gap was also working out.

Gap had joined in purely because he was drawn to Michael. Every man wanted to look more like a man, not a weakling.

No one dared mess with Gap here—he was the prison’s chief accountant, handling financial matters for the warden and guards. Within the prison hierarchy, he was a prized asset. Anyone who tried to bully or provoke him had already been shut down and locked up by the guards.

Even Michael benefited from his position. The two were now the most unique pair in the prison.

Just then, a guard arrived outside the cell, one hand on his hip, the other tapping a baton against the bars with a dull thud.

“Michael, you’ve got a visitor…”

Michael paused, then pushed himself up with a smooth motion, grabbing a towel to wipe his sweat as he changed clothes. “Can you tell me who it is?”

Under federal prison rules, inmates had the right to refuse visitation.

The guard tilted his head. “Federal Tax Bureau.”

His tone was laced with… disdain? Mostly it was jealousy. They were all federal employees, but agents from the Tax Bureau always had more prestige.

Say Federal Tax Bureau anywhere, and 99% of people would back down. But prison guards? Outside of prison, they were just regular people—many didn’t even like admitting their job.

Michael looked at Gap, nodded, then followed the guard to the visiting room.

He and Gap had agreed: whichever of them got out first would try to help the other get a sentence reduction. A unique bond forged in a unique place.

When Michael arrived at the room, he realized the visitor wasn’t Director Johnson, but a middle-aged man he didn’t recognize—who actually looked a bit younger than him.

“You’re Michael?” The man removed his sunglasses and looked him up and down. The muscle-bound figure before him screamed strength.

When he reviewed Michael’s file, it showed a soft, slightly overweight middle-aged man—typical of low-level investigators.

They didn’t need to be fit, rarely trained, and often had dinner with suspects, teetering on the line between legal and not, stuffing themselves with high-calorie junk food.

But the man in front of him looked nothing like the one in the file. It took comparing facial features with the dossier for him to finally confirm—this was Michael.

“You’ve changed a lot.”

Michael casually pulled out a chair and sat down. “Stay here two years and you’ll look like me too.”

“Where’s Johnson?”

The man didn’t sit. He crossed his arms, looking down at Michael. “Johnson’s been promoted. He’s now a nominal consultant at the State Tax Bureau. Sabin’s new director is someone else.”

“I’m here because I need your cooperation on something.”

Michael looked a bit dazed. “He retired?”

He gave a bitter smile. “Yeah, it’s been two years. I guess it’s time to step aside. Worked his whole life, and in the end, got kicked out…”

He never used to feel this way. Back then, he thought he’d take Johnson’s place—never imagined he might have been the one who got him kicked out.

Now, the realization hit different. With Johnson gone, their previous agreement—the Special Talent Requisition Act—might go nowhere.

That was bad news. Michael had no idea if the new director would be willing to get him out. They had no relationship, and Michael had embarrassed the Sabin bureau.

The thought made him anxious.

Sensing this, the agent asked directly, “You’re worried about whether you’ll get out early, aren’t you?”

When Michael mentioned Johnson, he already knew what he was thinking.

The Special Talent Requisition Act was mostly used by the FBI. They often bent the law to crack cases, especially when dealing with tainted witnesses or prisoners with real skills.

Presidential pardons were hard to get, but this act often solved that problem.

Ironically, the prisoners who were truly talented—those best suited for the act—rarely got picked.

After all, without a vested interest, who would go out of their way to request an administrative order for a convict?

Michael stayed silent. The agent smiled—he knew he was right.

“Let me introduce myself. I’m a special investigator with the State Tax Bureau. I can help apply for your release under the Special Talent Requisition Act. I can also testify to the judge that your contribution was key in solving my case. You’ll likely get a good sentence reduction.”

“This is your chance, Michael. Not everyone’s as easy to deal with as I am.”

Michael didn’t hesitate long. “I’ve got no one else to trust. What do you want from me?”

The man with the pale face pressed his lips together. “Do you remember someone named Lynch?”

“Lynch?” A flicker of recognition crossed Michael’s face. If he had known Lynch would be this hard to deal with, he would’ve preferred never knowing him at all.

Prison wasn’t completely cut off from the outside world. There was a TV in the common room, inmates could subscribe to newspapers and communicate with the outside.

Lynch’s rapid rise and his recent peak—being dubbed Mr. Billionaire—made one thing clear to Michael: whether or not he wanted revenge, he had little to no chance.

As a tax officer, he knew that once someone reached this level, unless a figure of equal or higher status actively moved to take Lynch down, no federal agency alone could do it.

Only when someone powerful enough wanted to bring him down would agencies like the Tax Bureau, the Investigation Bureau, or others be useful. The real decision-makers weren’t law enforcement, but the ones pulling strings behind them.

“Yes, I remember him. What about him?” Michael asked.

“He’s been reported for tax evasion. We’re launching a full investigation. While going through the files, I found that you were involved in an earlier investigation into Lynch—before he became well-known.”

“That was a very particular time. Lynch probably wasn’t as hard to deal with then. You might know something I don’t—maybe evidence, or leads.”

Michael didn’t hesitate for long. “I don’t know much about Lynch. I only know he laundered money for a loan shark named Fox. He helped Fox clean his money by providing fake legitimate income.”

“There was definitely a financial relationship between them. That’s how Lynch quickly built his initial capital. But due to certain reasons… I ended up here, and couldn’t continue with the case.”

The investigator frowned. “Fox is already in custody, but he only admits to his own crimes. He denies any financial ties to Lynch or using Lynch’s services to launder money. He’s taking the full blame himself. We can’t get a breakthrough from him.”

“Think carefully. Any other important evidence? Or even just a lead?”

Michael hadn’t expected Fox to be so… loyal. He wasn’t sure what to call it. In prison, taking the fall for someone was often seen as admirable—everyone wished for someone who’d do that for them.

But to investigators, it was the worst-case scenario—it meant someone would walk free.

After nearly three minutes of silence, Michael finally offered a key lead: “There was another link in the money laundering chain between Fox and Lynch—those newsboys.”