American Strategic Deception Bureau

　"What should we do next? Call the police?" Marita leaned her head on Ferry's shoulder and said gloomily.

　"Call the police? Honey, are you stupid again? Our family has so many secrets. How can we let the police in?"

　After hearing this, Fili laughed silently, reached out and touched his wife's nose, and said in a reproachful tone.

　"Oh, that's right! There's really no way to call the police. Besides, most Los Angeles police can't catch thieves."

　After being reminded by Feri, Marita quickly realized that there were too many shameful things in her family. If any of them were disclosed, there would be the risk of social death or even worse. To be on the safe side, it would be better not to let the police intervene.

　So, instead of calling the police, now he has to clean up all the climbing marks on the cliff and pretend that his beach house has never been burglarized!

　What's more, even if we call the police, can we catch those thieves relying on these good-for-nothings in the Los Angeles Police Department?

　Based on Marita's understanding of the case-handling and investigation capabilities of ordinary American police officers, as well as the police's disdain for such "small cases" that did not result in any deaths and did not involve state secrets, Marita estimated that the police would probably just register the report after receiving it, and at most send someone in to check the scene, and that would be the end of it.

　When ordinary people report a burglary at home, they usually don't expect the police to solve the case, but rather to ask the insurance company to pay the claim.

　But most of the belongings in Fili's house are of unknown origin, so they are not insured at all.

　Since reporting the crime does no good and actually increases the risk, why bother reporting it? It's better to just pretend nothing happened!

　But this also made Marita feel even more aggrieved and frustrated. "Are we really going to let these thieves go and let them happily sell my jewelry for money?" She bit her lips unwillingly, clenched her little fists, and gently beat Fili's not-so-broad chest.

　"I didn't say I'd let them go, dear. In fact, I've already marked them!"

　Fili looked down at the footprints left on the beach and explained, "Some of the jewelry you stole was made by me, and they have magical markings on them. Unless these thieves sell the stolen goods today, I will be able to track them down tonight!"

　"What will you do after tracking them down? Are you going to kill them yourself?" Marita asked with a blink.

　"No, no, a good person like me, how could I kill someone just because a few pieces of jewelry were stolen? I should repay evil with kindness!"

　Fili said with a smile, "Why not give them some interesting supernatural powers? They can be used as test subjects!"

　Of course, not now, we have to wait for a while, lest they think the source of their superpowers is related to the theft from our house..."

　The camera then cuts back to the news studio. The anchorwoman, pointing to the mayor's smiling face on the screen and showing the audience a map of the Los Angeles fire damage, remarks sharply, "A month is enough for fire to consume 150,000 acres, but it can't burn through someone's face!"

　"Ah, it's like this again: lying politicians, incompetent and irresponsible bureaucrats, and a mess left unchecked..."

　Roy, a red-haired female thief who temporarily switched jobs from a stunt actor, was smoking a lady's cigarette while watching the TV news and complaining like this. She casually smashed the crowbar against the spring mattress, causing the lids of eleven jewelry boxes to open due to the vibration, and also made the rock singer Daisy, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed, scream.

　"Be careful, you tomboy! Your iron stick almost hit my foot!"

　"Yeah, even if you don't care about Daisy's feet, don't destroy these spoils."

　Leonard, the third-rate, poor screenwriter, quickly examined the jewelry box spread out on the bed. "You had to drill through the ventilation ducts twelve times to steal these things from houses in Monterey Park and San Gabriel!"

　"So what if I drilled the ventilation duct twelve times? This junk can't be sold at all! It was all for nothing!"

　Roy said with lingering fear, stroking the blisters remaining on his neck and forehead and recalling the horror of racing against the thick smoke and flames.

　"What are you all looking at me for? It's not my fault that these stolen goods can't be sold! I've been working hard to find a buyer!"

　Buck, the former fishing tackle shop owner who was in charge of selling the stolen goods, had his left hand in a cast and bandage. He was struggling to use a ballpoint pen in his right hand to count on a small notebook. When he noticed everyone's gaze, he immediately looked up and refuted.

　At the same time, he put down his pen and pulled out a jade pendant from a jewelry box with a distinctly Oriental style and a phoenix pattern. He shook it and said, "I've already sold those easy-to-sell gold and silver jewelry and pearls and gemstones! The rest are just green and white stones! They even have their owners' names engraved on them. How can I sell them? Besides, these stones aren't gold or silver; they can't be melted down!"

　"Well, it's true. It seems that only Chinese people like this kind of stone. It's really not easy to sell." Construction worker Carl nodded.

　After their big harvest on Malibu Beach, this small team of amateur burglars continued to drive their tattered pickup trucks disguised as makeshift fire trucks, wandering around the various fire scenes of the Los Angeles wildfires, using the name of firefighting to commit robberies.

　Sometimes, they even deliberately set fires near neighborhoods that weren’t on fire in order to create chaos and facilitate looting!

　After more than two weeks of turmoil, despite being completely burned to ashes by the fire and being chased by the homeowner who had discovered the truth, the unfortunate old Buck was also shot in the arm by an angry Chinese gang member in San Gabriel, where there are many Chinese people...

　But they did manage to collect a lot of valuable gadgets, but unfortunately they got too little cash. After so many break-ins, they only collected a little over $15,000 in cash, which was only enough for each of the five of them to pay two months' rent.

　And those luxury accessories, cosmetics and clothes that seemed magnificent and tempting were not sold at the prices they desired.

　——Since the outbreak of the American Civil War, frequent nuclear explosions in Europe, and the global epidemic and economic crisis, the luxury goods market in Europe and the Western world has collapsed. The ladies of Beverly Hills have begun pawning their jewelry and fashions, causing the prices of gorgeous clothes and jewelry to plummet.

　These ignorant low-level thieves are still stealing some gorgeous clothes that are already out of date. How can they sell them for a good price?

　For example, the diamond bracelet that Carl stole from Malibu Beach was sold for only sixty dollars in an underground black pawn shop that collected stolen goods!

　There was also the Bulgari sapphire necklace that Roy had stolen. Because it was slightly damaged, it only sold for a little over a hundred dollars.

　Of course, these five amateur thieves lacked reputation and intimidation, leading to heavy price pressure from the dealers. However, the current slump in the US luxury goods market also contributed significantly to the low prices they were able to fetch for their stolen goods.

　However, no matter how low the black market dealers pushed the goods to, these jewelry and other items were sold after all.

　And what was left before him… Roy sighed, looking down at the unsellable spoils on the bed and floor—jade and jadeite stones that only the Chinese liked, but were engraved with their owners’ names, chipped and ripped Versace scarves, Chanel No. 5 perfume that had solidified into amber, Givenchy handbags with moldy linings, Philips cameras with smashed lenses, and gold-plated tie clips deformed by fire…

　There were also twelve mildewed silk nightgowns and embroidered cheongsams, as well as two mink coats that were moth-eaten, hair-losing, and burnt in several places, hanging on the makeshift wire clothesline in the room, like a group of ghosts mocking their poor eyesight.

　Even if Roy racked his brains, he still had no idea how to sell these out-of-season, damaged luxury goods on the black market...

　After all, some of these things really no one wants even if they are given away for free!

　Watching the mildew on the hotel wallpaper swell in the cigarette smoke, she sighed again, "Buck, are these things really unsaleable?"

　"I have already tried to hire two little ghosts to

　There's a stall in the university town! It took two whole days to sell a piece of junk! "

　Old Buck put down his account book again and complained, "I think we should just throw it all away like garbage!"

　"Throw it into the trash? How can you do that?!"

　"Quiet! Shut up, everyone!" Construction worker Carl looked up from the TV. "It's showing the sequel to the Bellaire warehouse arson case... Wait, wasn't this the warehouse we robbed last week? It wasn't even on fire then?"

　Everyone turned to look at the screen. On TV, the fire chief pointed at a pile of charred debris and declared, "We've pinpointed the professional arson gang." Then the screen cut to the mayor awarding the Fire Department a medal of honor.

　Old Buck suddenly burst out laughing. "No wonder he's the fire chief. This bastard is better at stealing and selling stolen goods than we are."

　"The mayor must have gotten his share of the spoils! These legal thieves are much more arrogant than us, and their appetites are much bigger!"

　Pop! Leonard, a third-rate screenwriter, finished a cigar and opened a can of beer, splashing the foam onto the dreamcatcher that decorated the ceiling.

　"Fuck the mayor! Fuck the fire department! Fuck 'The Godfather'!" he yelled, cursing and drinking his beer. "Coppola didn't tell the audience that rich people keep Indian God Oil in their safes!"

　This dropout from the University of Southern California always regarded movies as his guide to crime. A few days ago, he laboriously pried open a safe in a burnt-out villa. When he looked inside excitedly, he found that there were no bundles of banknotes in the safe, but only yellowed love letters and expired Indian God Oil!

　The others searched the entire villa but found no bundles of cash or gold and silver jewelry. All they saw was a walk-in closet full of sex toys and a washing machine piled high with moldy Prada leather boots, each heel holding the remains of their shattered dreams of getting rich.

　However, this was not the worst misfortune. What was even worse was that Old Buck had previously rescued a cash box from the ruins of a burned-down casino under hail of bullets. However, after escaping and prying open the box, he discovered that it contained not cash, but a box full of plastic gambling chips!

　"Well, anyway, this year's wildfire is almost over, and our scavenging operation should come to an end."

　Daisy, the outdated rock singer, finished applying her mascara in front of a small mirror. Then, with a slightly greedy expression, she asked, "Buck! How much money did we make from the money we stole earlier and the goods you've sold these days? How much will each of us get?"

　When they heard about the money, all the thieves pricked up their ears, and Carl even clamored for a share of the money immediately.

　Seeing this, Old Buck threw the account booklet onto the bed and said, "Take a look for yourself. Not counting the small things you each hid, we got about $15,000 in cash in total. The total amount of stolen goods sold was $24,000. After deducting the money spent on food, alcohol, room, gas, cigarettes, medical expenses, vehicle modifications and other expenses, and then rounding off the decimals, there is still $30,000 left..."

　Author's words: PS: Trump's plan for Greenland independence and annexation has also been thwarted. In the Greenland election that just took place, the faction advocating independence suffered a crushing defeat.

　Oh, I thought there would be one more country in the world. All world maps and geography books need to be revised, which is also a small trick to stimulate the economy.

　Chapter 629: The rich play with technology, the poor rely on mutation

　What? Only $30,000 in total?

　Five people worked hard and risked their lives, taking advantage of the Los Angeles wildfires to break into houses and dig through the ruins with trepidation. They worked for more than half a month and only earned a total net income of 30,000 US dollars through crime... In other words, each person only got 6000 US dollars?

　Considering the current depreciation of the US dollar, a net income of $6000 per person is only enough to pay their bills for one month at best!

　This is thanks to the current IRS in the United States, which has not yet developed to the point where its imagination goes beyond the sky - criminal income does not have to be strictly taxed for the time being!

　Otherwise, the little income of these five thieves would have to be deducted by "illegal income tax"!

　Then, a fierce argument broke out among the five people over how to divide the $30,000 and the remaining miscellaneous goods.

　Leonard, who was the convener of the team but was basically only responsible for driving the whole time, very "generously" suggested dividing the stolen money equally, with each person taking 6,000.

　But Roy and Carl, who broke into the target house to steal every time, and Old Buck, who was responsible for selling the stolen goods, did not agree to divide the proceeds equally based on each person.

　"Thirty thousand dollars! Carl and I each get ten thousand! Leonard and Buck each get five thousand!"

　Roy reached out and pulled out the lady's cigarette that was originally in his mouth. While shouting, he grabbed the half-full bottle of whiskey on the bedside and drank it violently. The liquid flowed along the scar of her collarbone and into the collar of her leather jacket. "Daisy can take all the remaining goods. Whatever can be sold is hers."

　She patted the cosmetics and jewelry boxes on the bed, as well as the silk clothes on the clothesline, and said, "Let her set up a stall in the university town!"

　After hearing this distribution plan, before Daisy, who suffered the most, could protest, Old Buck, who was selling the stolen goods, jumped up first.

　"What? You and Carl each want $10,000? Are you kidding me? Why?"

　"Based on what we've amassed these past few days, at least 90% of it was stolen by Carl and I from other people's homes!"

　Roy dropped the bottle, slammed the table, and pulled up his sleeves, "I drilled through the ventilation duct twelve times!

　Look at the burn scar on my arm!"

　Carl, not to be outdone, roared at Old Buck, "While we were drilling the ventilation duct, you were fucking hitting on the waitresses in the bar!"

　"Fuck! Without my jewelry appraiser friend, those shards of glass you stole wouldn't be worth as much as brothel vouchers.

　Gold and silver are certainly easy to sell, but how many grams of gold and silver have you stolen in all these operations? Not even half a kilogram in total!

　The remaining gems and diamonds, real and fake ones, are all mixed together. Do you think you can easily sell them off by taking them to a pawn shop?

　It's the Great Depression now, and pawnshops in the city are going bankrupt and closing down in droves!"

　Old Buck instantly flew into a rage, his face flushed with anger. He showed off his inflamed left arm, the dirty medical bandage gleaming yellow-green with pus under the warm yellow light of the incandescent lamp. "Besides, a few blisters from your burns are nothing compared to me. I was even robbed! It still hurts! That lunatic chased me for four blocks! I even wore out a pair of my shoes! If I hadn't distracted him, you guys would have been shot long ago!"

　So, I have to take at least 10,000 this time! Otherwise, you guys will just have to carry a basket and go to the flea market to sell stolen goods next time!"

　"Well, Buck, you were shot by that yellow monkey in San Gabriel, and the wound still hurts today. We admit that. But the problem is, we spent three thousand dollars at that black clinic just to treat your gunshot wound and dig out the bullet!"

　Roy said sarcastically without any mercy, "Shouldn't the medical expenses also be deducted from your share?"

　"I don't want this junk! I need at least $5,000! I have a bunch of bills to pay!"

　Daisy, who was inexplicably kicked out of the money-sharing line, also screamed hysterically and kicked away the broken camera and moldy handbag on the bed.

　"Haha, who doesn't have a pile of debt?" Leonard sneered. "Also, Buck, your promise of a reliable way to sell the stolen goods isn't a bit problematic, is it? The bargaining is already ridiculous, isn't it?

　We got so much high-quality narcotics from that cult stronghold on Malibu Beach, but no one wanted to eat any of it. We gave it all to you to sell, and what happened? You only made $5,000 on all that high-quality narcotics!

　Buck! How much money did you steal from this?"

　"Ridiculous! Besides me, who among you has access to the black market? Aren't you afraid of being robbed by the black market?"

　Old Buck grew even more furious as he listened. "Now you think I'm selling it too cheap? Why didn't you all take on this job in the first place? Isn't it because you know nothing about it? Without my face and tongue, you wouldn't even get a penny!"

　Just as the thieves were arguing in the shabby motel room, a sudden gust of wind blew open the window, picked up a golden silk pajamas hanging from a wire rope, and flew out the window, like a golden leaf falling into the back alley of the motel.

　Leonard, who was closest to the window, subconsciously reached out to stop the pajamas, but failed. Then, he looked out the window and saw a stray cat in the alley below, making a baby-like cry at the falling silk nightgown.

　"What bad luck! Never mind, it's just a piece of rags that can't be sold!"

　Leonard muttered a few words and closed the window again, but he didn't notice that there was a fat black cat squatting outside the balcony that was only separated from them by a layer of glass. With the help of the protective color brought by the night, it quietly watched the five people in the room.

　The aura representing magic is flickering and flowing in the vertical pupils of the cat's eyes.

　At the same time, an invisible magical message was sent from Firi, the evil god's favored one who transformed into a black cat, to the other side of America's second-largest city, to a crystal ball in the basement of a villa far away in the San Fernando Valley. It turned into video images and text messages...

　"Marita, did you see that? These are the bastards who stole our things and messed up the house!"

　[I see, dear. Although it's a little blurry, I can still make out three men and two women. How do you plan to deal with them?]

　[As we all know, in the United States, when ordinary people want to become superheroes or supervillains, the rich usually rely on technology, while the poor rely on mutations.

　These little thieves look poor enough. I plan to follow the American tradition and mutate them so they can experience the exciting life of a superhero or super villain—of course, not in this shabby place, and I need to wait for the right opportunity...]

　More than three hours later, the five amateur thieves, who had barely divided the loot, finally parted ways with curses.

　Among them, Buck, the former fishing tackle store owner who was left penniless by the wildfire, naturally continued to stay at the "Blue Lizard" Motel - the room where they had divided the loot was the one he rented here.

　The remaining four people returned to the parking lot, took out spray paint, and disguised their shabby pickup trucks as mini fire water tankers. They hastily changed the paint job, turning it back into an inconspicuous gray-black paint scheme. They also removed the fake metal water tank and fire water pump on the truck bed, which were purely for decoration, and threw them on the ground.

　Then they got into the pickup truck with wet paint and prepared to go home.

　But what the four thieves didn't notice was that a black cat, with a look of disgust on its face, quietly climbed onto the pickup truck's bed...

　※※※

　In the silent night, the sound of tires rolling over broken glass was particularly harsh in the empty streets.

　Leonard was holding a Camel cigarette in his mouth and gripping the steering wheel with a depressed expression. In the rearview mirror, the neon sign of the motel was gradually shrinking into a scarlet dot.

　"...Damn the air conditioner!" In the passenger seat, Roy, in a bad mood, kicked the dashboard, and beads of sweat rolled down her neck into her collar.

　Carl in the back seat silently rolled down the window, and a gust of hot air mixed with the stench of rotting garbage instantly rushed into the car, forcing him to roll the window up again.

　Since the final amount of money they received from dividing the spoils was far less than expected, everyone in the car was in a bad mood.

　Some were thinking about how to pay their long-standing bills. Some were wondering where to pick up girls and get drunk after the group disbanded. Some were wondering how to make a fortune now that the wildfires were over and they could no longer take advantage of the situation. In short, everyone had their own concerns and no one was too lazy to speak.