The shipping company will definitely have to compensate for his economic losses. Of course, it’s also more likely that they’ll be nabbed by the Homeland Security Bureau on smuggling charges and end up rotting in jail.
After all, an incident at the port made the news.
The weight of a mobile phone is roughly 150 grams, and you can extract about 0.02 grams of gold from it. To produce approximately 1.4 pounds of gold, you need at least 35,000 phones, which is a total weight of 5.25 tons.
"Who’s going to tell me, how do you silently pull 5 tons of phones out of the warehouse?" Allen Zhang looked at Feis, "Didn’t you consider how to transport this batch of goods beforehand? Our pickup truck can carry a maximum of 1.2 tons or a bit more each time. Any heavier, and it’ll literally fall apart."
"Just make a few more trips, four or five at most, won’t take too much time," Feis said unconfidently.
"You go carry it," Sieg retorted curtly.
"I’m already , how am I supposed to help you guys? Fellas, you’re all strong and able-bodied. No need to pick on a crippled man like myself," Feis lamented, on the brink of tears.
Allen Zhang glanced at a small forklift nearby, indicating for Bailey to start it. The key was in the ignition, and Bailey, indeed, managed to start it with one try, skillfully reversing out of storage and stopping next to the container.
He said cheerfully, "With this, things will be much easier. Who’s going to bring our pickup over?"
Richie volunteered enthusiastically, took the keys, and soon returned, driving the pickup truck. The warehouse door was opened halfway, making it easier for transportation.
In just a few minutes, the truck was roughly loaded. Since they were all discarded phones, there was no fear of damage from dropping them. The weight of the 1.2-ton load of phone goods bent the spine of the old pickup, which hadn’t carried such a heavy load in many years.
The phone’s GPS located a cabin in the suburbs. Sieg just stomped the accelerator, taking off in a cloud of smoke. The wheezing sound of the engine made one wonder if the old thing would break down and explode halfway there.
"Drive slower. Four hours are enough for us to transport four trips’ worth. Otherwise, we’ll have to pay another 200 US dollars, not to mention a hefty repair bill," Allen Zhang reminded him.
If this old car broke down mid-way, it could be scrapped directly, as the repair costs could buy a second-hand vehicle.
With nothing to do while waiting, Allen Zhang simply led people around the warehouse, also finding some trinkets. Unfortunately, the most abundant stock here was nothing more than clothes, furniture, and worthless junk.
If it were a warehouse for valuable items or a private warehouse, it wouldn’t be so easy to sneak in the back door, and it would come with fully equipped security personnel.
After waiting for several tens of minutes, Sieg finally arrived late in the pickup. He was exhausted from unloading at the cabin, so after thinking it over, Allen Zhang decided to lighten the load and send someone to help him.
Everyone continued to transport goods, with Sieg continuing to drive.
About three and a half hours later, they had hastily loaded the rest of the goods onto the truck. Only then could everyone breathe a sigh of relief and leave the large warehouse.
Allen Zhang stepped outside, leading people away from the container port area. The sound of helicopter blades thundered overhead. Looking up, he saw a private plane flying over and then landing in the eastern private warehouse area.
"No idea which rich person’s precious collection that is," Allen Zhang felt not the slightest bit of envy. Really.
After sending Sieg the GPS location, they waited by the roadside for several tens of minutes before he drove back to pick them up.
"Heading back to base or to the Short-Tailed Dog’s turf?" Sieg asked.
Allen Zhang glanced at the time. It was only a little past ten, "Maybe they’re just having a gathering or drinking right now? Let’s drive directly there."
"Ok." Sieg restarted the vehicle, and everyone in the truck could clearly feel that it was making some strange noises.
Driving to the unfinished building district, Allen Zhang and his people got out of the car and found the area pitch-black, not even a street light in sight, and even the wiring wasn’t properly connected—completely off-grid with no water or electricity.
A food truck was parked on the construction site. Allen Zhang found it familiar; he seemed to have bought tacos from a roadside stand before.
"Look, the air here is filled with the scent of corn flour. These Mexicans, besides organizing Zero-Dollar Purchase events during the day, also often sell chicken wraps and tacos in the community and on the streets. Their entire territory is filled with the flavor of Mexican food! All grilled corn! Do they look like scavengers? They’re totally street vendors!" Feis, helped down from the vehicle, limping with his crutch, couldn’t help but complain.
The building was a half-completed high-rise, about five or six stories tall, which seemed to have been originally designed to be an office building but was only halfway finished. The rooftop also had a clearly visible light source.
"They’re running a legitimate business. Isn’t that exactly what the cops want to see?"
Allen Zhang was unconcerned, about to lead his men upstairs to find people, when suddenly, floodlights came on above their heads. Accompanied by the humming of generators, it turned into daylight in an instant.
Allen Zhang, wearing sunglasses, was hardly affected, while the others used their hands to shield their eyes from the light. From all around, a bunch of Mexicans appeared.
Armed with spinning heads, baseball bats, rusty steel pipes, and tetanus-ridden water pipes, they surrounded them layer by layer, so tightly packed that not a drop could seep through.