Madrazo’s reaction was faster than expected.
The next morning, Michael received an envelope.
There was no letter inside, only a photo—an aerial view of Michael’s house, with red circles marking the locations of the bedroom, living room, and garage.
On the back was a line of words: Two million, or your family.
Two million.
Michael crumpled the photo into a ball and threw it into the fireplace.
“I don’t have two million.” He said to Franklin and Richard.
The trio was holding a meeting in Michael’s garage, with Lamar responsible for lookout—this time it was for real, standing at the door staring for any gang cars.
“Then go rob.” Richard said.
Franklin frowned: “Rob a bank?”
“Something a bit smaller than a bank.
A jewelry store.
Do you know where the biggest jewelry store in Los Santos is?”
“Rockford Plaza.” Michael said, “I’ve scouted that store, the security system is top-notch, ordinary people can’t get in.”
“So we need someone who isn’t an ordinary person.” Richard took out his phone and flipped to a number, “I know someone, his name is Lester Crest.
He is a…
computer genius.
Or rather, a ‘conspiracy theorist in a wheelchair.’ He can help us deal with the security system.”
Michael raised his eyebrows: “How do you know him?”
“Online.” Richard lied, “I talked to him on a hacker forum.
He said he did ‘big jobs’ in Liberty City before.”
Liberty City.
Michael’s pupils contracted slightly.
That was the place he used to hang out.
If Lester was from Liberty City, he might know some things Michael didn’t want to be known.
“Are you sure he can be trusted?” Michael asked.
“No.
But we need him.”
Richard took Michael and Franklin to Lester’s hideout—a dilapidated warehouse in the industrial area, piled with discarded mechanical parts outside, but inside was a full set of top-tier computer equipment, with code that Richard couldn’t understand scrolling on the screen.
Lester sat in a wheelchair, as thin as a bamboo pole, wearing thick glasses, and liked to tap his fingers on the table when he spoke.
He looked at Michael, his expression didn’t fluctuate, but Richard noticed his gaze lingered on Michael’s face for half a second.
The air froze.
Michael’s hand slowly reached for the gun behind his waist.
Franklin looked at Lester vigilantly.
Only Richard remained calm—he knew Lester wouldn’t expose him, because Lester needed Michael.
“You’ve got the wrong person.” Michael said.
“Maybe.” Lester smiled, that smile like a knife, “No matter who you are, you want to rob the jewelry store, right?
I’ve looked at the security data you sent.
Rockford Plaza’s security system is a third-generation product from ‘Eagle Eye’ company, with twelve hidden cameras, infrared sensors, and a vault door that requires iris recognition.
You guys can’t get in.”
“So we need you.” Richard said.
“You need my brain.
But I won’t work for free.” Lester tapped the keyboard, and a map appeared on the screen, “There is an old sewer under the parking lot next to the jewelry store, which can lead directly to the back of the vault.
But the sewer entrance is locked, and we need explosives.”
Michael asked: “Where do we get explosives?”
“I know a guy in the Desert.
His name is Trevor Philips.
But he’s got a bit of a temper, and I heard he thinks you’re dead.” Lester looked at Michael, his smile deepening.
Michael’s face turned ashen.
Richard quickly stepped in to smooth things over: “I’ll find a way to get the explosives.
You just help us handle the security system.”
Lester shrugged.
“Fine.
But I want a thirty percent cut.”
“Twenty percent.”
“Twenty-five percent.”
“Deal.”
On the way back, Franklin finally couldn’t help but ask, “Who’s Trevor?”
Michael didn’t answer.
That evening, Richard returned to Blue Hill Apartments alone.
Lying in bed, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
He opened the system and checked the quest log:
Recruit Lester (Completed)
Handle Security System (In Progress)
Obtain Explosives (Not Started)
Recruit Driver/Gunman (Not Started)
Execute Heist (Not Started)
He stared at the “Obtain Explosives” entry.
He knew that the “Trevor in the Desert” Lester mentioned was the easiest option, but Michael wouldn’t agree.
So Richard had to find another way.
He remembered someone.
Tom Connors.
The former Marine who owed President Park money.
Richard sent a text: [Tom, are you free tomorrow?
I need a favor.
Paid.]
A reply came three seconds later: [What kind of favor?]
[Teach me how to make something that goes bang.]
The other side was silent for a minute, then replied with one word: [Fine.]
Richard put down his phone and breathed a sigh of relief.
At least there was progress on the explosives.
The preparations for the Jewelry Store Heist were more complicated than he had imagined, but with every small task completed, the system would give him some rewards—driving skills, shooting accuracy, and even a “Luck Boost.”
He glanced at his attribute panel:
Richard (Transmigrator)
HP: 100/100
Armor: 0
Skills: Driving (B+), Shooting (C), Negotiation (A-), Stealth (B)
Favorability: Franklin 85, Lamar 60, Michael 35, Lester 10
Special Status: None
“100 HP,” Richard muttered to himself.
“I shouldn’t kick the bucket, right…”
He shook his head, pushing the thought away.
He had to meet Tom tomorrow; he needed to sleep early.