Darkstone Code
Chapter 206 - 0204 Theft in Progress [Extra update for the alliance leader ’You are the most beautiful cloud in my heart’ - 1/2]

Chapter 206: 0204 Theft in Progress [Extra update for the alliance leader ’You are the most beautiful cloud in my heart’ - 1/2]

"Not worth anything?" The young man standing at the door pulled his gaze back from the street outside the window. He couldn’t help but walk up to the counter, and looking at the shop owner behind the counter, he shouted, "How is that possible? Do you even know what these things are? They’re all silver. Don’t think we know nothing!"

The antique shop owner smiled nonchalantly, "Do you know how much silver costs per ounce now?"

With one sentence, the two young men were stumped. Seeing their dumbfounded look, the antique shop owner casually said, "You could go to the trading market or the bank to ask. Currently, the price of silver is about two dollars twenty cents to two dollars thirty-five cents per ounce!"

"Gentlemen, please note, that’s per ounce, but here..." He fiddled some of the silver items on the counter with his hand, "Altogether, they weigh less than five pounds. Do you want to weigh them?"

The two young men glanced at each other. They were almost convinced by the shop owner’s decisive words.

One of them nodded, and then the owner brought out a balance scale. He threw those silver items onto it and quickly adjusted the scale so that they could see the scale under the tray, "Just over four and a half pounds, about seventy ounces. At the highest price for silver, these things are worth a hundred...sixty bucks at most."

The owner quickly calculated the specific price. The two young men fell silent, not even noticing the obvious and awkward protrusion under the scale plate as the shop owner retrieved the balance scale.

They were still grappling with how the price of these things was so low, much lower than they imagined. They thought these things could at least fetch three to five hundred dollars or even more.

One of them pointed at the ivory comb, "And this, how much is this worth?"

The antique shop owner didn’t even bother to pick it up, "I’ll give you fifteen bucks for this, no more."

"People willing to use and able to afford an ivory comb wouldn’t use one that’s been used by someone else. You see, its color is already yellowing, and it’ll turn more yellow soon. If you can’t resell it quickly, it’ll become even less valuable."

The young man swallowed, tracing a finger over the pile of items, "So all together it’s a hundred seventy-five bucks, right?"

Though this price was far below their expectations, when they thought about it, it wasn’t unacceptable either. After all, these were just stolen goods they had swiped. If they sold for less, they’d just have to make more trips. The warehouse they discovered was filled with all sorts of things. Even if the prices weren’t high, with diligence, they could still get rich quickly.

The shop owner chuckled and shook his head, "All of these, together, I’ll give you a hundred bucks at most."

This made the young men lose their temper. The one with a feisty temper immediately shouted, "You just said all this silver is worth at least one hundred sixty bucks!"

The antique shop owner didn’t deny it, nodding as he said, "Of course, I can buy it at that price, but you have to bring the receipt from when you bought it and leave your real contact information, signing a statement ensuring it was purchased with legal money through legal means, and doesn’t involve any illegal activity."

"Otherwise, this is the price. You can go anywhere in the city. If anyone offers more than I do, I’ll match whatever extra they offer."

This was just nonsense, but undoubtedly, people would mishear it when agitated, lending what he said an initial persuasive power.

If these two young men actually had receipts, they could completely go to the bank where they’d buy back precious metals, even some gemstones, at slightly below the market price, around a five to ten percent discount.

But they didn’t have them; these were stolen goods. That’s the way for the antique shop owner and some fences to make money, as they have ways to make these things legitimate.

The top-class fences would take silver ore they collected over some time to partner mines, where the mines issue certificates. After paying taxes, the remelted silver ingots become legitimate property, which could be sold directly to banks or jewelers.

Of course, such work isn’t for everyone and carries huge risks. To mitigate the risks, many antique fences become police informants.

According to Federation law, if informants participate in criminal activities but aren’t the leaders, initiators, and provide important leads for solving cases afterward, even if they break laws during participation, they’re exempt from responsibility.

With murder, negotiations are possible, so selling stolen goods is a trivial matter.

The antique shop owner donned a take-it-or-leave-it attitude, making the young men uncertain about what to do. To top it off, about ten seconds later, the shop owner even graciously helped them put the items back in the travel bag and pointed to the door, telling them they could check other places.

His attitude showed he didn’t care at all about what they were selling, even giving the impression that he honestly wouldn’t profit.

Eventually, the two young men decided to sell the items. At least a hundred bucks is still money, and moving them around too much could bring trouble.

The owner smilingly took the travel bag, putting it under the cabinet along with the bag itself, and paid a hundred bucks in small change, watching the two leave.

In this transaction, he stood to make at least a hundred twenty bucks; of course, he deserved it. This business isn’t for just anyone.

After getting the money, the joy the young men felt quickly dissipated the displeasure from the pricing, prompting them to treat themselves.

Not far from where they lived, at a deli shop, the two ordered two large portions of roast beef ribs, and even some things they usually couldn’t afford to eat, like slices of smoked ham.

They belonged to a very loose gang, whose main way to make money was through a finance company.

Not long ago, the FBI and Federal Tax Bureau launched a devastating crackdown on finance companies on the street, implicating many gangs.

Some survived unscathed, others were still embroiled, and their gang, not quite well-known, got entangled too, with main members either running or captured. Both of them lost their source of income.

If not for a friend, a Blue Vest, mentioning the warehouse district filled with goods, they might not have thought of this quick money-making method for a while.

"If we add the stuff back home, this haul should almost be two hundred bucks, right?"

While eating, the two quietly discussed their haul this time. Actually, there was more than what they took to the antique shop; some remained at their place.

Their items included everyday stuff like grills, a deviation from other serious thieves. This time, their theft wasn’t purely for the returns on fences.

But after this time, their attitude had begun to shift.

"We need to grab more valuable stuff that’s easier to carry. Let’s try another place this time, don’t trust that old man."

After meals, they found their friend, the Blue Vest working in the warehouse district, and agreed that once the goods were fenced, they’d split the money.

The Blue Vest was stunned when the two handed over thirty bucks.

Though he hadn’t participated in the theft specifically, he knew how much they had grabbed, definitely worth more than ninety bucks!

After the two explained, the Blue Vest looked at them with disbelieving eyes, as if seeing idiots, "Is your brain filled with Genetic Liquid? When the price seems off, switch places. Why’d you still sell to that guy?"

The two, actually being first-timers at this, looked sheepishly unsure of what to say. Seeing their look, the Blue Vest also had nothing to add.

A few seconds later, the Blue Vest pocketed the money and asked in a low voice, "When’s the second round planned? This time, once you bring the stuff out, I’ll sell it, you guys are too dumb!"

The two also felt a bit of frustration and immediately replied, "Tonight..."

This time, they decided to haul more items out and see what the Blue Vest would say then.

At five in the evening, after work, he didn’t go straight home. Using a broken shower at home as an excuse, he intended to stay at the workers’ resting area in the warehouse district for a shower before going back.

Actually, after four in the afternoon, the warehouse district generally had no activity, partly because it was far from the city. With public transport operating at nearly half-capacity, missing the last bus at five thirty meant finding a way back yourself.

Blue Straps spent quite a while in the shower. Once the outside was quiet, he finally emerged from the bathroom.

He went to the special door for Blue Straps passage, opening the side door that shouldn’t be opened after work hours, for his two friends.

The three sneaked into the warehouse district, unaware their every move was being watched by a kid hidden not far away in the darkness.

This time, their goal was clearer: the same warehouse as last time, loaded with piles of goods, the important thing being many items were almost new.

Unlike brand-new items that draw attention easily, the varied items, along with their preparedness this time, were advantageous—they had even brought a cart!

The three stayed in Blue Vest’s changing area, needing to wait since it wasn’t dark enough yet—summer nights darken slowly. Acting only once it was pitch dark.

After about 11 p.m., they left the room with tools.

Blue Vest remained in the shadows, ready to deal with any passing warehouse security guard, while the other two skillfully pried open the recently repaired small door and slipped inside.

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