Chapter 236: Greedy Demands

Gunfire echoed from time to time not far away. For Americans, this was not so much a matter of being accustomed to it as simply taking it for granted.

But even if they were familiar with such sounds, it did not mean they would not be afraid. Perhaps because they understood the power of firearms even better, they knew all the more the principle of leaving a battlefield as quickly as possible.

The path the Fixman led them down, aside from the occasional unlit straight road that made the few followers' hearts race with fear, had basic lighting for most of the tunnels. For the group moving through the warehouse district at night, this was a blessing.

Especially since it sounded like they were moving away from the firefight, which was even more reassuring. However, not everyone following was blindly obedient; a few individuals had different ideas in mind, which was why they had followed the Fixman.

Seeing that the group had walked a considerable distance, and although they had not yet left the warehouse district, they should be safe now. A middle-aged Black man shouted to stop the Fixman, saying, "Hey, brother, wait."

"What is it?" the Fixman stopped and replied.

"Look, our employer got tipped off to the cops by you, so we don't even know who to ask for our pay today. We went through a surgery with you, enduring both exhaustion and fear; we can't go without some damn return, can we?"

The Black man's tone was fast and choppy, but not so much that the Fixman couldn't understand. He even grasped the meaning of the words; it was just a matter of money, after all.

Without a second word, the Fixman tossed one of the money bags in front of the crowd and said, "Divide this bag among yourselves; the rest is none of my concern. No one saw me, understand?"

The Black man who had spoken beamed, saying, "Hey, buddy, you know the score. We naturally know what to say and what not to say."

As he spoke, this middle-aged Black man was also the first to pounce on the money bag, unzip it, and check the haul.

With the first one moving, the others who had initially just wanted to escape also crowded around the money bag, ready to take their share.

They had agreed to assist in this surgery for money, hadn't they? If they couldn't fight the lead surgeon for the biggest cut, couldn't they at least demand an equal split of the rest?

So, whether bold or timid, once they saw the money, they wanted to divide the spoils right there on the spot.

From this, it was clear they had little experience with such matters. Where was the logic in dividing spoils before finding a safe location? It was just that the white bills in front of them had clouded everyone's minds.

Just as the group was happily rolling up bills, some here and some there, everyone keenly watching who got the larger denomination bills so the other would take one less roll, a group of police officers, guns raised, flanked them from front and back, shouting, "LAPD! Everyone, don't move!"

In an instant, everyone dividing the money on the spot didn't know what to do, staring wide-eyed at the police.

They held the rolls of money they had divided, unwilling to let go; a large bag of money on the ground remained undivided, and they were unwilling to run. The result was that they were completely surrounded by the police, with no way to escape.

Only then did they remember, wasn't there one person who hadn't divided the money? Why hadn't he reminded everyone?

They turned to look, but the Fixman was long gone... They had been abandoned.

Immediately, someone shouted loudly, "There's another one! Another one got away!" The middle-aged Black man who had spoken first to demand money shouted the loudest.

The police were not polite. The group was still wearing blood-stained clothes, and there was stolen money on the ground and in their arms; even if it had nothing to do with the Andrew Saxon case, there must be problems behind it. Naturally, they were cuffed first.

The police officer cuffing the group, while suppressing those unwilling to be arrested, said, "Rest assured, whoever he is, he cannot escape the police net."

"You are all highly educated; you don't need me to read you the Miranda rights, do you? You can understand your rights, right? Or should we go through the formal procedure for everyone?"

However, there was not just one police officer present; some could not stand the veteran's teasing of the suspects and directly recited the full Miranda warning. The content was nothing but 'You have the right to remain silent,' and so on.

Such things did not need to be declared individually to each suspect; as long as someone said it at the arrest scene, it was assumed everyone knew.

Not listening carefully, lacking concentration, that falls under the realm of mental illness and is not the responsibility of the police.

In America, being sentenced to psychiatric custody, do not think you can live freely outside, acting as if nothing happened and living a normal life.

Instead, you are locked in a mental hospital until you die; it is effectively a life sentence, and the outcome is even more terrifying. Even if you weren't truly mad at first, you will be locked up until you go mad in the end.

Among those caught, a few were unwilling and screamed the Fixman's name with all their might. However, they only knew the term 'Fixman' and did not know his real name.

Moreover, the police force this time was large enough to naturally divide the work. Other fugitives were handed over to others to handle; they only needed to manage the people they had caught.

So the situation was not as the middle-aged Black man thought, where most attention could be shifted from them to the fleeing Fixman, thereby allowing the police to deploy most of their manpower to pursue him, making it easy for them to break free and escape.

Besides, there was so much money on the ground; once proven to be illegal proceeds, it could be confiscated by the police station and become part of the station's bonus pool.

By then, case-solving bonuses, incentive bonuses, and various other labels would be attached, serving as welfare for the officers, making everyone split the money until they were beaming with joy.

Who said the United States of America had no legal money-laundering channels? This method of laundering money only means the money doesn't return to its original owner, but this black money becomes legal on the spot.

As long as those who took the bonus didn't forget to pay taxes, the money would no longer be something that couldn't see the light of day. Of course, any counterfeit bills still needed to be sorted out.

As for this kind of extra income, if the FBI people were smart, they wouldn't fight the LAPD people for it.

Because the credit for the big fish Andrew Saxon was given to the FBI. If they didn't give the officers on the ground some sweetener, who would be willing to support them with manpower in the future?

As for the Fixman, who was nowhere to be seen at the scene, after confirming there were no witnesses around, he had long ago used his super speed to run. Not to mention the police and FBI setting up a net; even a closed building couldn't stop his wall-phasing cheat.

Previously, with a group following him, he couldn't use super speed, so he reluctantly led them through the gap in the police encirclement.

The police encirclement seemed tight, but the warehouse district was simply too large; before they truly closed in, gaps still existed to slip through. As long as they moved quickly, there was a chance to escape.

Who would have thought they would actually open their mouths to demand money? The Fixman didn't care one bit; he threw out a bag of money. Shifting their attention to achieve a more convenient result for himself, what was there not to like?

Don't just think about whether throwing away half the reward meant a profit or a loss. From the very beginning, the Fixman never expected this income. Moreover, this was black money that couldn't see the light of day; how to use it was also a problem.

So giving it away was fine; escaping successfully was the most important thing. Whether there was more or less money, the Fixman really didn't care.

(End of Chapter)