America: Starting with Daily Intelligence-Chapter 268 - 167: Retrieving the Glider

The buzzing of the electric drill echoed throughout the entire bank vault, but after more than ten minutes, it resulted in nothing. Sieg’s initial enthusiasm waned to complete disinterest, eventually descending into irritation and numbness.

Unable to hold back, he complained: "Those damned bank clerks! I knew they wouldn’t leave anything good here! Not a single cent!"

Muttering and cursing under his breath, he drilled into drawers, finding them all empty.

"It’s not the road’s fault if you’re not up to the task."

Allen Zhang took the drill again, aimed it at the C-96 safe’s drawer, and within half a minute drilled open the lock, opening the drawer.

He pulled out a key and a qualification document, which listed the geographic location of a storage warehouse, "See, my luck is indeed much better than yours!"

"..." It’s not you...

Did it open?

Sieg stared, dumbfounded, beginning to question his life choices.

"Why do you get to drill into good stuff, and I don’t?"

"Because I’m a man blessed by God!" Allen Zhang chuckled, pocketing the key and document, ready to leave.

"Not continuing? There are still several hundred safes unopened." Sieg asked, puzzled.

"I need some fresh air. It’s too stuffy and hot in here, keep busy. When you’re done, come find me." Allen Zhang waved him off and left the bank vault.

Sieg nodded in agreement and resumed working. freewebnoveℓ.com

Allen Zhang exited the bank building, settled on the Jeep to enjoy the breeze, chewed some gum, and browsed short videos on his phone.

Half an hour later, Sieg emerged disheveled and disheartened.

"What’s up? Did you find anything good?" Seeing his sorry state, Allen Zhang couldn’t help but laugh.

"Forget it, nothing at all; just worked up a sweat. And the drill bit is ruined!" Sieg was at a loss for words. The overheated drill bit went back into the toolbox, its battery drained without yielding anything.

"That key, was it for a warehouse? Surely not unclaimed property, right?" Sieg entered the car, curious.

"We’ll find out once we get there." Allen Zhang started up the vehicle, left the old site of West Street Morgan Bank, and headed for the private warehouse at 356 Dragon Avenue.

They soon arrived at the street and began to search for the warehouse among the flat-topped buildings - seemingly a dedicated storage area, with graffiti plastered all over the walls of the street.

Allen Zhang steered the wheel following the navigation coordinates, drove into an L-shaped yard, parked the car, and noticed several Black people there.

They wore tank tops with tattoos on their arms, sitting on steps smoking and catcalling.

Noticing the arrival of the Jeep, they perked up and stood.

Ignoring those guys, Allen Zhang and Sieg got out of the car, locked the doors and windows, and began to unlock the warehouse door with the key.

The Black individuals watched them suspiciously, initially wanting to greet them, but Sieg reached into his tactical vest.

Instantly, the Black guys understood these folks meant business! Not wanting to embarrass themselves, they quickly left the yard.

"These Black guys even try to get tattoos, but with their skin color, you can’t even make out what it is," Sieg muttered.

Allen Zhang unlocked the warehouse, and indeed inside were cardboard boxes of tires, each bearing the BMW logo.

"BMW run-flat tires? And they’re brand-new. These ought to fetch a nice sum, right?" Sieg was surprised, not expecting another windfall.

Allen Zhang searched for the tire prices on his phone. Ordinary BMW tires wholesale for hundreds of dollars, and if you go to a professional repair shop to change a set of four, with labor costs and materials, they charge at least two thousand dollars! These run-flat tires cost between $200-600 each, and a set would be under $4,000.

Of course, if you choose a repair shop in a corner of the streets or suburbs, a few hundred dollars would suffice for high-quality, genuine tires.

After all, when it comes to Black people’s production, there has to be quality.

Those Capitalists’ price wars have all been undercut by the Blacks!

They looked around the warehouse again, an L-shaped layout suitable for storing goods and parking vehicles, and there was an office too, but the computers inside had been cleared out, leaving only desks and chairs, and no water or electricity.

That was also good; if there had been water and electricity, community managers and government departments would surely come to tax it.

Allen Zhang felt he didn’t need the warehouse for the time being, but those tires could be sold, posted for online sale.

Top-quality, brand-new BMW run-flat tires priced at $580 each, a set of tires at a discounted price of $2,200, with four sets on hand, the value was $8,800! A fair deal for all. If they couldn’t sell, they could always go to Old George, who takes anything.

Allen Zhang handed the warehouse key to Sieg, instructing him to get several copies made for convenience.

With a few snaps of the actual items, Allen Zhang drove to the recycling station, while Sieg got off halfway to make copies at a hardware store.

At the Eito Street recycling station, Allen Zhang parked the Jeep by the roadside and saw Dominic and Gate busy handling cans, with a garbage truck parked outside; he greeted them.

Not wanting to disturb their work, Allen Zhang went straight inside the house, logged onto Opportunity Network from the computer, and put the items up for sale.