America: Starting with Daily Intelligence-Chapter 281 - 171 Maserati_3

But the engineer’s cell phone suddenly started ringing, and he quickly found out that the tracker was activated.

He couldn’t help but curse loudly, "It’s them! The vehicle’s location is in the warehouse area!"

Once they heard this, everyone else didn’t say much, furiously mounted their motorcycles, twisted the throttle and headed towards the warehouse area.

On the other side, Allen Zhang took a big detour and spent more than ten minutes to return to Old Pick’s repair shop.

He parked the Jeep by the roadside, honked twice outside, and the Beggar Gang Disciples responsible for staying at the shop immediately opened the warehouse door. Sieg drove the Maserati into the warehouse with a push of the accelerator.

From the first day they opened the shop, the first luxury sedan came back so smoothly, risk-free, and unnoticed.

"Boss, how should we modify this car?" Beggar Gang Disciples looked at the Maserati and felt a bit unsure where to start.

"Just modify it so that it doesn’t look like the same car on the outside, take off the license plate and toss it, find some scalper on the street and register a new plate." Allen Zhang ordered the Beggar Gang Disciples to make expensive modifications so it could sell for a better price.

After stating his demands, Allen Zhang left the repair shop and got back into the Jeep.

He drove to the next area, letting Sieg turn on the tracker for a sting operation.

Soon, they arrived at the warehouse area on Dragon Avenue; Bailey was guarding it. From afar, they saw several Black people smoking outside the warehouse door. Maybe because they didn’t trust cameras, they didn’t install any and just relied on the most primitive method of shift changes and staying up all night to watch it.

Either Black is really honest, clearly smart too but just refused to budge.

Allen Zhang drove by pretending to just pass through, stopped at the street corner, picked up Bailey, Sieg rolled down the window, spat out, casually tossing the tracker by the roadside. With a press of the accelerator, they sped away.

"Fxxk! Rude bastard spitting around! Driving a damn Jeep! These rich white folks, they deserve to be screwed!"

A well-built Black dude spoke in fluent West Coast rap, feeling envious and resentful.

He then turned to a tall, skinny Black man smoking beside him, "What do you say, bro, wanna come over to my place after the shift?"

"Beat it, you’re just trying to screw my sister," the Black man cursed.

"Oh, don’t be jealous of me, man. Seriously, if you fixed your loser haircut, maybe someone would want to chat with you, guess what, your ex-girlfriend would probably call me, as long as she isn’t messing around with that lawyer or some other white dude, I think I’d get back with her," Black joyfully expressed.

Are you aiming for grad school or what?

"Fxxk you!"

"Fxxk you too!"

They started cussing and bickering with each other.

Soon, motorcycles were approaching from the end of the road, and the Silver Fox theft team followed the tracker all the way here.

"This is the place? Hey! Fxxk you! You bastards have no respect, stole my damn car?"

The boss of Silver Fox got off, holding a baseball bat and started scolding while pointing it at the noses of the two Black men.

Black was taken aback and got angry too. "Where the hell did this moron pop out from!"

"Hey! Get the hell off our turf!"

The two sides confronted each other, quickly shoving and clashing, although the two Black men were physically strong and resilient, they were ultimately outnumbered and soon found themselves pinned to the ground, getting a harsh beating which left them with black eyes and swollen faces, furiously sitting on the ground and wailing.

Allen Zhang and his group sat in the Jeep, turned off the engine, and parked by the roadside, watching the scene unfold. Allen took out his phone, snapped a picture, and sent it to Simone. frёewebηovel.cѳm

Allen Zhang: Your compatriots are suffering again.

Simone: Are you even human?