America: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 117 Show Your Sword

Zhang Ailun relayed the intelligence about the refrigerated company's escort trucks to the group. Sig asked curiously, "Is the source accurate? Where did you get this information?"

"Ninety percent," Zhang Ailun replied. "I told you to go online to study, but you wouldn't listen. You just like watching videos and looking at pretty girls. The license plate of that refrigerated truck belongs to that company. Their publicly available delivery orders also include a schedule for arranging delivery times with the manufacturer. Since they're doing dirty work as a company, it's impossible for them not to expose any information. No matter how well they hide it, it can still be found out."

"The only question is, should we sabotage his goods ourselves, or should we let more professional officers handle them? Should we offer them a VIP suite?"

"Is that even a question? Of course, we should report it to the police! Who knows if those guys have heavy weapons! We just need to provide evidence, there's no need to take the risk, right?" Sig immediately suggested, since they only had one life.

"Okay, then you can inform Officer Miguel about this now." Zhang Ailun nodded, not wanting to get involved in a fight with the criminals unless absolutely necessary.

Fighting and killing are things that street thugs do. True masters always kill without shedding blood.

Sig informed Mig of this news and quickly received a reply from him.

Miguel: Is that so? Your information and intelligence sources are incredibly fast! I already had someone check yesterday's bill, and there are definitely some problems. We now suspect that company is an illegal shell company. The legal representative is an Italian, but he has never even been to the United States! The company hasn't been paying taxes on time, raising suspicions of tax evasion! Clearly, this is a serious violation of market transaction rules, disrupting the economy and severely impacting the physical and mental health of citizens!

Sig: So what are you planning to do?

Miguel: I haven't officially resumed work yet and can't be directly involved in this matter, but I've entrusted it to my friend, my superior, Officer Mans, who is a veteran sheriff in the Southern Precinct with over 20 years of experience. If the situation is true, he will handle this matter properly for the citizens!

Sig: We hope those criminals can be arrested as soon as possible! If there's anything we can do to help, we're willing to contribute our small share!

Miguel: Nothing else is needed. Every officer in our police department is professionally trained; they just lack advice from professional lawyers on legal matters.

Sieg: Wasn't Dave's performance good enough?

Miguel: He did an excellent job! According to my colleague, the lawyer you recommended, Dave, not only helped us improve our evidence collection and fill in the gaps in the case, but also successfully brought those two illegal gun owners and brothel smugglers to prison. They'll likely never get out. Of course, the bills you provided were also part of the evidence chain, and we're considering formally hiring him as our Department of Justice's resident lawyer.

Sig: Thank God, evil will not escape the judgment of justice in the end!!

Dave's job is now sorted out.

After inquiring about the details of Officer Miguel's enforcement actions, Zhang Ailun led Sig and the others to Y2 Street to disperse the Beggar Clan members, so as to avoid being caught in the crossfire and injured.

The Beggar Clan members who were begging and scavenging nearby were also very surprised to see their leader. Zhang Ailun did not make a big fuss, but simply told them to leave the scene as soon as possible, and then he got a cup of free milk tea from the street vendors and sat by the roadside to watch the show.

Around 3 p.m., unusual and special people appeared on the street.

Wearing a baseball cap, a gray shirt, and brown leather shoes, he sat to the side holding a newspaper and a cup of milk tea or a donut.

Sieg's keen eyes recognized these people almost instantly; they were all plainclothes police officers who had been mentored and guided by the leader.

"Look at their stance. Although they look relaxed, they can draw their guns and fire at any time in case of an emergency. They all have portable pistols strapped to their legs, and their shoelaces are very loose, so they can bend down and draw their guns at any time, which is in line with the characteristics of firing force. Moreover, the places they look for are close to obstacles that can effectively block bullets. Once a fight breaks out, others generally cannot hit them, but they can shoot their opponents."

"In conclusion, they are not ordinary police officers; they are likely from the Special Operations Bureau of the Southern Precinct. They are specifically responsible for support and plainclothes investigations, as well as various other duties, including handling riots and terrorist threats in special circumstances."

"The officers who appear most often in GTA are from the Special Operations Bureau," Siegfried added.

Now that you've said that, I understand.

Elite!

Zhang Ailun listened attentively.

Aside from learning various poses from film instructors before, I've never been this serious before. I've also learned a lot of useful training techniques and knowledge from Sieg.

[Counter-Reconnaissance and Urban Combat Lv0: Sig Comprey teaches you street fighting and gunfight techniques.]

Great, you're a qualified intern now. Go find a gang leader and have a thrilling shooting battle!

Zhang Ailun silently complained. Of course, he had no intention of getting involved himself.

At approximately 16:33 PM, a refrigerated truck drove up to the street right on time. Unsurprisingly, the license plate number matched the intelligence report: LS-56F-27.

Two patrolling police officers on the street immediately raised their hands to signal the car to stop.

I opened the window and saw that the driver was a Black man.

Plainclothes officers from the Special Operations Bureau immediately moved closer without making a sound.

The Black driver, a little nervous when he saw the police officer pull him over, tried to appear calm and said, "Good afternoon, officer. Which driving law have I broken?"

"I'm Constable Romy from the Southern Precinct, and this is my colleague Rod. The reason for pulling you over is that the tint on your car's windows is too dark, sir. Please show me your ID. What's in your car?"

The patrolling officer showed his identification, indicating that he had legally stopped the vehicle, and then took the opportunity to ask the other party for their driver's license.

The Black driver, not wanting to cause trouble, didn't dare take his hands off the steering wheel for a moment. "Oh, it's just some ordinary pork in the car, nothing serious. Officer, the refrigeration unit in this car is malfunctioning, and I really can't open the trunk for you to check it, because if the air conditioning leaks, the pork could spoil, and I can't take that responsibility."

"Really? Please get out of the car and cooperate with the investigation." The patrol officer completely ignored his request. "I suspect you are carrying illegal items in your vehicle. Are there any firearms concealed in your driver's seat?"

The Black driver was sweating profusely with anxiety, while the police officer beside him glared at him, his hand never leaving the Glock 17 pistol at his waist.

"Okay, I can get out of the car, but I need to take my hands off the steering wheel temporarily. I also need to call my boss and tell him about the trouble I'm in." The Black driver conceded.

"Okay." The officer nodded in agreement.

The next moment, seeing the Black driver bending down to hide his hand, he hurriedly shouted, pulling out a gun and pressing it against his face, "Hey! What are you doing?"

"I... I need to get my phone..." The Black driver was startled, breaking out in a cold sweat, feeling incredibly stressed.

"Put your hands where we can see them! Now!" the officer yelled.

"But then I wouldn't be able to unbuckle my seatbelt and take out my phone," the Black driver said, sounding aggrieved.

"Hands up! Get off the bus!"

"Sir, I need to reach down and unbuckle my seatbelt..."

"I said! Get off the bus!!"

They argued heatedly, their faces flushed and their words flowing endlessly.

The Black driver was furious. He floored the gas pedal and drove straight at the rammed car, yelling, "Fxxk you! Go eat shit! You damn white cop!"

He casually pulled out the pistol hidden under the seat, leaned out the window, and fired several shots in quick succession!

"Shooting! Shooting!!" The patrolling officer was shocked, but thankfully, no one was seriously injured; the bullet grazed his scalp. He pulled out his walkie-talkie to call for backup.

The Special Operations Bureau officers, who had been lying in ambush nearby, drew their guns without a word and charged out from all directions, unleashing a barrage of fire!

As soon as Lao Hei drove his refrigerated truck out of the intersection, it was as if he had been hit by a Gatling gun. The glass shattered, the tires went flat, the steering wheel went out of control, and he crashed headfirst into the road barrier. The hood and bumper were instantly crushed!

The entire truck overturned and slid a long distance away, sparks flying and parts flying everywhere!

The officers were still firing wildly!

What a gunfight!

Zhang Ailun and his companions kept their distance, watching this scene with admiration. This was truly the professionalism of the Los Angeles police officers. Thankfully, they hadn't rashly engaged the criminals in a direct confrontation.

Free America, gunfights every day.

The entire incident, from start to finish, involved only a few hundred bullets. The Los Angeles police officers emerged unharmed, successfully apprehended the criminals, and discovered refrigerated pork contaminated with drugs in the refrigerated truck, as well as traces of residual drugs in the cargo.

The Black driver was incredibly lucky; despite being shot 23 times, he was still alive and kicking, with remarkably strong vital signs.

After being arrested by the police, he tearfully confessed his crimes and begged to call an ambulance to save him. He didn't want to die and, in order to get leniency, he sold out his boss and his downstream associates.

The police officers immediately reported to the dispatch center and began to deploy resources to arrest the person in charge of the can processing plant, setting up a tight net to capture the group of smugglers.

With lawyer Dave present, their sentences will start at least 200 years!

But only the living are eligible to go to prison.

Those butchers are thinking of hiring people to retaliate? That's hilarious! What era are we living in? They're still thinking about hiring someone to kill and fight. They can't even clean their own messes, how dare they jump around like that?

To survive in this world, you need power, connections, and weapons that allow you to dominate.

Now look what's happened. Details determine success or failure. With the younger brother in trouble, his hometown and business partners are going to be wiped out in one fell swoop, and everyone from upstream to downstream will suffer.

They didn't even know how they died.

Zhang Ailun is in a good mood.

But things soon started to go wrong.

Sig's phone showed a call from an unknown address. When he answered, the caller immediately said his name, "Hey! Sig Comprey? The murderer, how are you?"

Sig: "I'm not."

"Stop pretending, you are!"

"Who are you?" Zhang Ailun asked, taking the phone from Sig's hand.

"Who I am is none of your concern, and who are you?"

Juan King.

"Juan Kim? Hamburger? Hahaha, I heard you're now the boss of Lori Louis 19? How about you join an underground boxing match? The winner gets a $150 prize!"

"I'm not interested."

Zhang Ailun refused outright, saying, "$150? Are you trying to fob us off like a beggar? Although we are indeed beggars."

However, most members of the Beggars' Guild are self-reliant, and begging is only part of their business.

The Grand Master doesn't need to beg for food.

"Tell me your address, kid. I don't care how you got my friend's number, but you're about to be fired!"

"Hahaha, are you threatening me? I'm a hacker. You have no idea where I am or what my name is. We're like cat and mouse, you're Jerry and I'm Tom."

"I hope you can stay this arrogant forever." Zhang Ailun hung up the phone immediately.

The phone was returned to Sig, and the Beggar Clan disciple beside him was also puzzled, "Where did this kid come from? Why is he so arrogant?"

"He's playing with fire, thinking he can do whatever he wants just because he knows a little bit about internet technology," Zhang Ailun scoffed. "It's not like we can't find people like that around us."

Such people can be called harmful online trolls.

"Your phone is free, so your information isn't secure. You'd better buy a practical phone on the black market another day," Zhang Ailun suggested to Sieg.

"Okay." Sig thought there must be a problem with that.

They didn't know much about this area, nor did they understand much about network technology, so Zhang Ailun decided to ask Blitz to come out of retirement and help him solve his problem!

Let the others continue with their work, Zhang Ailun got on his bicycle and rode with Sieg to the convenience store where Blitz worked.

We arrived at our destination quickly, without much time passing.

"Hey! Blitz!"

Zhang Ailun parked his car at the entrance, pushed the door open, and greeted Blitz, who was unloading goods.

"Allen? Are you going to buy something?" Blitz asked, somewhat surprised to see Zhang Allen and a exhausted Sieg. "What happened to him?"

"Young people should exercise more. Let's not worry about him for now. I have something very important that I need your help with." Zhang Ailun immediately explained the reason and purpose of his visit.

"You mean, someone skilled in internet technology found Sig's information, located his phone number, and made anonymous calls to him?"

Blitz looked surprised and put down the box of potato chips he was holding. "So what do you want me to do for you? Reverse engineer their IP address? Or create a Trojan virus to hack into and destroy their botnets and mainframes?"

"What is a broiler chicken?" Zhang Ailun asked.

"These are bot computers controlled by Trojan viruses. Many hackers create malicious viruses and Google links, waiting for users to browse and click on them. Once downloaded or clicked, the virus is implanted, and the computer is remotely controlled by the hacker. Now, many computers are also used for cryptocurrency mining to obtain Ethereum and Bitcoin."

Blitz replied, "I did that too. Basically, every good hacker has a large number of botnets with very different addresses to prevent their real IP address from being traced."

Sieg recalled, "If I browsed American and European movies on Pornhub, would it leave any traces? Would my phone also get infected with malware?"

"That's right." Blitz nodded. "But the probability is still very small. Your phone getting inexplicably hot could be due to cryptocurrency mining, especially when browsing inappropriate websites. Sig, when did you browse those movies?"

"In the next day or two, I guess." Sieg replied vaguely, not wanting to go into too much detail.

As expected, free things are the most expensive. Who would have thought that watching a short movie could lead to such a scam?

"I think the most likely reason is this comment in the comments section." Zhang Ailun took the hand from Sieg and showed it to Blitz.

Men really do all have the same tastes.

Teenagers tend to like young and beautiful women. Even as people get older, they still tend to like young and beautiful women.

Blitz couldn't take his eyes off her after just one glance, and reluctantly pulled his attention away from the yoga pants' waist-to-hip ratio and voluptuous figure.

"These are minor issues." Blitz led the two into the server room.

"Here's an old computer, it still works. I can help you check this person's information and real IP address." Blitz took out the old, dilapidated computer, quickly plugged it in and assembled it, logged into a mysterious website, and immediately revealed his true intentions.

"This won't affect you, will it?" Zhang Ailun hadn't forgotten that Blitz was someone with a sword hanging over his head.

"As long as I don't commit any major offenses, the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security won't pay too much attention. Techniques like social media threats, link deletion, locating missing persons, background checks, Social Security Number (SSN) tracking, signal tracking, password acquisition, and online fraud are all things that only newcomers can do. You know why? Because the real veterans are either in jail or have already been recruited by the Department of Defense!" Blitz laughed.

"Then it should be a sure thing."

With Blitzkrieg, the godfather of Los Angeles hacking, on his side, Zhang Ailun had nothing to worry about. He turned around and went out to buy three bottles of Coca-Cola and three grilled sausages, giving the sugar-free bottle to Blitzkrieg. The total cost was $7.

It didn't take long for Blitz to quickly find the complete information ID based on the residual network information.

"He's unemployed, a graduate of Los Angeles high school, self-taught in computer technology. His real name is Justin, and his nickname in the community is 'Steam Cat.' He graduated from college in 19 and started working as a cashier at a supermarket in June. He hacked into the supermarket's shopping computer and embezzled $1629. His boss investigated and reported him, so he was locked up for a few months. While he was there, he met those young people from the motorcycle gang. After his release, he took jobs collecting debts, spying on people's privacy, making cyber threats, and organizing criminal activities. He has several frequent phone contacts who are probably from those motorcycle gangs."

"My girlfriend is that gym girl named Mickey, a short video influencer with tens of thousands of followers. But during our relationship, she cheated on me with other men 26 times without using condoms. Those were the top donors who tipped her. Last month, her bank statement showed $2 in earnings, one of which was spent on painkillers and birth control pills."

"I've already sent you their identity files. They're mostly minors and young criminals who have just come of age."

Blitz pushed up his glasses on the bridge of his nose; his plump figure gave off an indescribable sense of security.

Sig was shocked all day.

How can you tell whether someone is wearing a mask or not?

god!!

(End of this chapter)