My Cyber Psychosis is Task Prompt-Chapter 290 - 165: Old Friends and Little Troubles

Barry abruptly interrupted his topic.

[Hold on, John, first of all, what you're talking about is something that belongs to someone else's money-making area. I might be willing to make a call to arrange some labor when I'm free, but not right now!]

Barry was getting angrier as he spoke, even shouting, obviously not a good-tempered leader in his job.

[You'd better damn well check what position a Colonel in the ECPD holds before confusing me with a street middleman, or I'll throw you into a private prison to reflect.]

He rudely hung up the phone.

John grinned and didn't take it to heart.

He knew that he had disturbed the other person's work.

If someone called him asking where the hottest girls in the Red Light District of the West District were, while he was on a mission firing shots, he'd probably react similarly, maybe even worse than Barry.

John drove through the newly developed district.

His next destination was Kaufoglandon Auto Sales Center, planning to meet Raphael, whom he'd just met.

Unexpectedly, Barry called back.

"Hey, Colonel, are you really thinking about arresting me? Where's the hovercar? Why haven't I heard sirens, damn it…"

[Shut up, John, did you say you needed a car?]

"That's right, for business deliveries."

[Interested in an armored truck? Six years in service, just passed annual inspection and maintenance, performance and armor are fine.]

"…Are you trying to encourage me to rob a bank?"

John frowned, maneuvering into the shadow of a skyscraper, slowing down and parking, waiting for the explanation on the other end of the phone.

Barry mentioned he had encountered something troublesome.

On the edge of his jurisdiction, a financial auction house's transport vehicle was hijacked, and the assisting police officers were shot dead.

[I knew the fallen officers. While they weren't saints, they definitely didn't deserve to die. One of them even had a family. I suspect there's a mole among the auction house's higher-ups. After all, the security insurance and mercenaries haven't done their job.]

"Was the whole armored truck hijacked?"

[Yes, the tracking devices were destroyed. Professional car thieves, but now all parties are hindering our investigation, and the end result is simply compensations paid to the fallen officers' families.]

"You think that's not enough, right?"

[Exactly, your job is to make those bastards pay, then dump all the on-site goods into the black market, sell to the middlemen. I need to take seventy percent of the profits to supplement the compensation fund. In exchange, I'll cover for you in the official investigation. Keep the car, strip the system and tracker, and use it for your deliveries…]

"A profitable trade, give me the location, you surely have your own avenues and clues, right?"

[In your email, waiting for your news.]

Barry hung up the phone.

He obviously still had a lot of work to deal with.

John recalled the type of vehicle often used by the auction house, immediately grinning—such a thing was considered a luxury delivery vehicle on the street, better alternatives were probably only used by professional transport companies like Tiebang Logistics.

He checked his private mailbox, transferred the coordinates to the navigation system.

The black motorcycle drifted in place, speeding towards another direction of the city.

John pondered the auction house matters along the way.

They were backed by substantial capital and multiple banks, involving luxury and artwork transactions amongst elite tycoons. The so-called armored truck actually carried similar items.

Since electronic currency and fund chip technology matured, physical currency became rarer in the market. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

The thieves were exceptionally neat, with professional equipment.

It's obvious that there's an insider in the auction house's management.

This probably involves some messy accounts that require an incident for cover-up.

They dared not let security insurance intervene, and gave the mercenaries hush money. After all, professional agencies could easily spot anomalies, issue stern warnings, or even disrupt the scheme.

The auction house selected private security services from high-end companies that survived market validation, like Isaac in the private arms sector, assuring clients to pay with peace of mind.

And these companies boast mature businesses, massive background, bewilderingly vast resources, and professionalism, daring to deceit them with insurance fraud would result in relentless revenge.

Thus, every unscathed person in this transaction was an accomplice, with only the unaware officers obligated by government regulations to assist, becoming the only victims in this dirty deal.