Chapter 64: Walking into the Trap

Night fell.

Outside Warehouse 17 on Manhattan's West Side.

"Everyone, stay sharp."

Malcolm crouched behind an abandoned truck, speaking into his earpiece in a low voice.

Behind him, more than thirty heavily armed men were spread out in the shadows around the warehouse.

AK-47s, shotguns, and even two light machine guns.

He was coming in loaded for bear tonight.

"Boss, they're here!"

One of his men pointed at the convoy rolling up.

Three black armored cash trucks, escorted by ten security cars, eased to a stop at the warehouse entrance.

The doors opened, and ten bodyguards in black suits jumped out, scanning their surroundings cautiously.

"That's it?"

Malcolm's lips curled into a sneer. "Ten people to move goods worth over a hundred million dollars? That woman, Sophia, really thinks highly of herself."

He raised his hand.

"Wait until they're inside the warehouse. Then we move."

The ten bodyguards opened the warehouse door and drove the three armored vehicles inside.

"Go!"

Malcolm slashed his hand down.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Gunfire erupted at once.

The two bodyguards left outside as lookouts were riddled with bullets before they could react.

"We're under attack!"

The bodyguards inside the warehouse immediately returned fire.

But the numbers were hopelessly lopsided.

Ten guys were never going to hold off more than thirty men with automatic weapons.

In less than three minutes, it was over.

Malcolm led his men into the warehouse, looking at the bodies scattered across the floor with a triumphant smile.

"Open the cargo!"

Two of his men stepped forward with crowbars to pry open the first armored truck's rear door.

The door swung open.

Inside, rows of black safes were stacked neatly.

"Hurry it up!"

His men used cutting tools to break the locks on the safes.

"Click!"

The safe swung open.

A dazzling sparkle flashed across the warehouse.

Inside, various pieces of antique jewelry were laid out in perfect order.

Jade bracelets, diamond necklaces, ruby rings...

Every piece looked like it could buy a house.

"We're rich! We're rich!"

Malcolm burst out laughing. "Hahaha! That idiot Sophia! She thought ten bodyguards were enough to protect this shipment?"

He picked up a diamond necklace, holding it up to the light.

The diamonds on the necklace were at least twenty carats, still blinding even in the dim glow.

"Boss, the other two trucks are open too!"

His men shouted excitedly.

Malcolm walked over to take a look.

The second truck was packed with antique porcelain.

The third held a haul of valuable paintings.

"Load everything onto the trucks!"

Malcolm barked, almost giddy. "Move it! We roll out in ten minutes!"

"Yes!"

His men got busy at once, hauling all the goods onto the trucks they'd prepared in advance.

Ten minutes later, Malcolm and his crew disappeared into the night with trucks full of loot.

An hour later.

A secret warehouse at the Adams Mansion.

"Boss, it's all here."

His men lined the safes up in front of Malcolm.

Malcolm opened them one by one, checking the contents carefully.

Jewelry, antiques, paintings...

Nothing was missing.

"Hahaha!"

Malcolm couldn't hold back his laughter. "This shipment has to be worth at least a hundred million dollars. Even if we unload it cheaply, we clear fifty million."

The more he thought about it, the more excited he became.

Fifty million dollars.

Enough to completely flip his standing in the family.

And...

He thought of Leo.

Reaper, huh?

The man who wiped out the Romano family?

Couldn't even keep an eye on the Vanderbilt shipment.

Maybe he'd been giving him too much credit.

"Boss, what do we do with all this?"

One of his men asked cautiously.

"Sell it, obviously."

Malcolm didn't hesitate. "I know a buyer who specializes in moving hot goods."

But then—

He paused, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

That mysterious gentleman had told him to report in as soon as the job was done.

Malcolm bit his lip.

Forget it.

Better call the gentleman first.

After all, this score was only possible because of the intel he'd provided.

Piss off a man like that, and he'd be the one in trouble.

"I'm going out to make a call."

Malcolm stepped out of the warehouse and dialed the familiar number.

The call connected quickly.

"Hello."

Still that cold voice.

"Sir, it went perfectly!"

Malcolm couldn't hide the excitement in his voice. "We got the goods. They're worth at least a hundred million dollars."

"Really?"

The line went quiet for a few seconds. "That easy?"

"Of course."

Malcolm said proudly, "The intel you gave me was dead on. Only ten bodyguards in the warehouse, we had over thirty guys. We took them down without breaking a sweat."

Another stretch of silence on the other end.

"Sir?"

Malcolm asked nervously.

"Too easy."

The voice finally answered, heavier now. "So easy it's... not right."

A chill ran down Malcolm's spine.

"Then... what should I do now?"

His composure cracked, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"Don't panic."

The voice went on, calm but hard. "Sit on the goods for now. I'll have someone check whether they're real."

"If they are, find a buyer and move them immediately."

"If they're not..."

The voice paused. "Then you get ready to run."

"Run?"

Malcolm's eyes widened.

"Remember this. If they turn out to be fake, you leave New York at once."

The voice turned icy. "Otherwise, Leo will come for you himself."

"I... I understand..."

Malcolm was shaking.

The call ended.

He stood there, almost dropping his phone.

No way.

There was no way they were fake.

He rushed back into the warehouse, yanked open a safe, and grabbed the diamond necklace.

He held it under the light, inspecting it closely.

The cut, the color, the weight...

Everything screamed top-tier.

How could this be fake?

"Boss, what's going on?"

One of his men asked carefully when he saw Malcolm's face.

"Get me a jewelry appraiser."

Malcolm said, voice low and tight. "Now. Right away."

"Yes!"

Two hours later, an old man with gray hair and glasses was brought into the warehouse.

"This is Travis, the most respected jewelry appraiser in New York."

His man introduced him with obvious deference.

"Travis, I need you to take a look at these goods."

Malcolm pushed a safe toward the old man.

Travis opened it, picked up the diamond necklace, and studied it carefully under a magnifying glass.

After a long moment, he set the necklace down, took off his glasses, and wiped the lenses.

"Well?"

Malcolm asked, nerves stretched tight.

"It's genuine."

Travis nodded. "And top-grade. This necklace alone would fetch at least three million dollars on the market."

Malcolm let out a long breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"What about the rest?"

Travis examined several more pieces of jewelry and antiques.

"All real."

Travis adjusted his glasses. "Conservatively, this shipment is worth around a hundred and twenty million dollars."

"Hahaha!"

Malcolm exploded with laughter. "I knew it. No way they were fake."

He whipped out his phone and dialed the number again.

"Sir, the goods are real. I had a professional appraiser go over them."

"Real?"

The voice on the other end stayed calm. "Good. Then find a buyer and move them as fast as you can."

"I know a guy who can handle it tonight."

Malcolm said confidently. "Sir, don't worry. Once I get the money, I'll cut you in for half."

"Not necessary."

The voice replied flatly. "No need for that. But the money goes through my account. I don't want any heat on you leading back to me."

"Understood."

After Malcolm hung up, he immediately dialed another number.

"Hello, Kirk, it's Malcolm."

"Malcolm?"

A raspy voice came on the line. "You calling this late, something big must be up."

"I've got merchandise I need to move."

Malcolm lowered his voice. "Antique jewelry worth over a hundred million dollars. Interested?"

"Over a hundred million?"

Kirk sounded genuinely surprised. "Is it clean?"

"You know how this works."

Malcolm sneered. "If it were clean, I wouldn't be calling you."

"What's your number?"

"Fifty million."

Malcolm named his price. "Cash, no questions asked. We can do it tonight."

Kirk went quiet for a few seconds.

"Fine. One hour from now, same place as always."

"Deal."

Malcolm hung up, a triumphant smile spreading across his face.

Fifty million in cash.

His position in the Adams family was as good as locked in now.

Meanwhile, at the Rosenberg Mansion, in Leo's study.

"Boss, the fish has taken the bait."

Olivia stepped in, a slight smile on her face. "Malcolm just reached out to Kirk. He's getting ready to move the goods."

"Kirk?"

Leo set the document in his hand aside, a cold smile touching his lips.

Kirk, the biggest fence in New York's underground.

And almost no one knew that Kirk was actually Leo's man.

More precisely, an information broker that the Shadow team had turned during a mission in Eastern Europe three years ago.

"Time and place?"

"One hour from now, the abandoned dock in Brooklyn."

Olivia reported.

"Good."

Leo stood up and grabbed his coat from the rack. "Get word to Kirk. Tell him to stick to the plan."

"Yes."