CHAPTER 65: CORPORATE COUNTER-STRIKE
The LaRusso Auto showroom had never seen this much activity at 10 AM on a Tuesday.
Health inspectors swarmed like locusts with clipboards, checking oil tanks and examining brake fluid containers like they expected to find nuclear waste. Three different officials measured the distance between fire extinguishers. Another one photographed every corner of the service bay with the intensity of a crime scene investigator.
Amanda LaRusso stood in the center of it all, smile fixed in place, answering questions with the practiced grace of someone who'd dealt with difficult customers for thirty years. But I could see the strain around her eyes, the slight tremor in her hands when she reached for paperwork.
Daniel was at the bank, fighting the IRS audit that had mysteriously appeared yesterday. Johnny was with his accountant, trying to prove he actually had financial records. Tory was supposed to be packing her apartment for an eviction that we were fighting tooth and nail.
Everyone was under attack. Everyone was scattered.
Which made this the perfect time to counter-attack.
"Hawk, you're on computers," I murmured into my earpiece, pretending to examine a display of car accessories. "Tory, create a distraction in three... two..."
The crash was spectacular.
Tory—who'd "stopped by to see Sam"—had somehow managed to topple an entire display of premium motor oil. Bottles rolled across the showroom floor like escaping prisoners, spreading synthetic lubricant in every direction.
"Oh my GOD!" Tory's voice carried exactly the right mix of embarrassment and panic. "I'm so sorry! I just—the heel caught—oh no, it's everywhere!"
Every inspector in the building turned toward the commotion. Health hazard. Slip risk. Documentation required.
"Moving," Hawk's voice crackled in my ear. He'd positioned himself near the administrative offices an hour ago, wearing a Lyft driver costume that made him look like someone waiting for a pickup rather than a teenage infiltrator.
"Security camera loop is active," Demetri reported from his car in the parking lot, three laptops open across his passenger seat. "You've got four minutes before the cycle resets."
I watched Hawk slip into the back offices while Tory's oil disaster consumed everyone's attention. The kid moved like smoke—Johnny's aggressive training combined with natural talent creating something genuinely impressive.
"Their passwords are pathetic," Demetri muttered. "Seriously, 'LaRusso2018'? That's not security, that's an invitation."
"Focus," I reminded him.
"Focusing. Hawk, second drawer on the left. There should be a contracts folder."
Sam appeared beside me, phone held casually like she was scrolling social media. Actually, she was recording everything—the inspectors' aggressive attention to minor issues, their coordinated movements, the way they seemed to know exactly where to look for problems.
"Building a case," she'd explained earlier. "If we can prove this inspection was harassment rather than legitimate concern, we can sue."
"Your family's lawyers must love you."
"They send me Christmas cards."
One of the inspectors—older guy, tired eyes, the look of someone who'd done this job for decades—separated from the pack. He approached me with his clipboard, face professionally neutral.
"You work here?"
"Friend of the family. Stopped by to say hi, got caught in the excitement." I gestured at Tory's oil disaster. "Never a dull moment."
"Mmm." He made a note. "You're one of those martial arts kids, right? Saw you on the news."
"Allegedly."
"Weird how every business that opposes DynaTox seems to get inspected lately." I kept my voice casual, like I was just making conversation. "LaRusso Auto. That gym on Ventura. The restaurant supply place in Reseda." I shrugged. "Probably just coincidence."
The inspector's pen stopped moving.
"Three inspections this month," I continued. "All businesses that refused contracts with Silver's company. All getting surprise visits right after they said no." I met his eyes. "You ever wonder who's really sending you to these places?"
His phone buzzed. He checked it, and something shifted in his expression—confusion, then concern.
Demetri's voice in my ear: "Leaked the DynaTox investigation documents to every news outlet. Should be hitting now."
The inspector stared at his phone for a long moment. Then he looked around the showroom—at his colleagues photographing minor dust accumulations, at Amanda's strained smile, at the complete lack of anything resembling actual health violations.
"Maybe we should wrap this up," he said quietly. "Minor warnings. Nothing that needs immediate attention."
I smiled. "Sounds reasonable."
---
The inspectors left within the hour.
Amanda collapsed into a chair the moment they were gone, professional facade crumbling into exhaustion. "What did you do?"
"Gave them bigger fish to worry about." I pulled up the news on my phone, showed her the headlines. "DynaTox Industries Under Investigation for Corporate Sabotage." "Former Employees Allege Systematic Harassment." "Valley Businesses Claim Coordinated Attacks."
"How did you—" She stopped herself. "Actually, don't tell me. Plausible deniability."
"Probably wise."
Hawk emerged from the back offices, sliding into a chair like he'd been there the whole time. Tory had somehow cleaned up most of the oil disaster and was now helping Sam sort through documentation.
"Got what we needed," Hawk reported quietly. "Planted the files too. If anyone investigates DynaTox's connections to local inspections, they'll find evidence of bribery that definitely wasn't there before."
"That's illegal," Amanda observed.
"So is using government agencies to destroy your business competitors," Tory countered. "We're just evening the playing field."
Amanda looked at us—four teenagers who'd just orchestrated a counter-intelligence operation in her showroom while she smiled for bureaucrats. Something shifted in her expression. Respect, maybe. Or concern about what her daughter had gotten involved in.
"Daniel's going to have complicated feelings about this."
"Daniel's going to be glad his dealership isn't getting shut down," Sam said. "The complicated feelings can wait."
The door burst open. Louie—Daniel's cousin, the one who handled vehicle acquisitions through methods nobody asked about—stormed in carrying boxes of donuts.
"LaRusso enemies are MY enemies!" he declared, dropping the boxes on the nearest counter. "I heard there was trouble! I brought reinforcements!"
"Louie, the inspectors already left."
"Then these are victory donuts!" He started distributing pastries with aggressive hospitality. "Anyone who messes with this family messes with ME!"
Nobody had the heart to explain the actual situation. We ate victory donuts and pretended everything was normal while planning our next moves.
"Silver's going to retaliate," I said between bites of glazed perfection. "This was embarrassing for him. Losing control of his narrative."
"Let him try," Tory said, licking frosting from her fingers. "We've got momentum now."
My phone buzzed. Text from Kreese: Impressive counter-strike. Silver's entering phase two. Be ready.
I showed the group. "Anyone else weirded out that Kreese texts?"
"Everything about Kreese is weird," Hawk said. "But he's right. Silver won't take this lying down."
"Then we don't give him time to respond." I grabbed another donut—stress eating was becoming a concerning habit. "We hit everything. Simultaneously. Don't let him recover."
The war council had given us targets. The war council had given us plans.
Now it was time to execute.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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