Lawyers are one of the professions with the broadest range of responsibilities, playing a crucial role in various aspects of life.
On August 16th, Saul approached Sean, who was diligently working in the laboratory, surrounded by an extensive list of glass and carton printing factories located near New York and New Jersey.
"This is a compilation I've put together, including the owners' information," Saul said, presenting the list.
"You clearly have a solid network in the legal circles and found this information quickly," Sean remarked, flicking the paper with his hand, creating a crisp sound.
"I would appreciate it if you didn't use the term 'legal circles,'" Saul replied, rolling his eyes.
Sean chuckled as he began reviewing the information. He was looking not for large venues or wealthier establishments, nor particularly young bosses. "It's best if the printing factory and the glass factory are nearby. Based on my experience, spreading purchases across multiple locations only increases exposure risk," Sean explained.
"You're helping me by finding more detailed information about their owners," Saul said, selecting six targets from the list.
"Great, just wait for my updates," Saul replied. His primary role as a public defender left him with little else to focus on, so he was eager to assist Sean.
"Honestly, I think it's a mistake for you to concentrate solely on public defense," Sean said, putting his arm around Saul's shoulder. "You should be engaging with gangs, families, and criminals. You're already a barrister."
Saul raised an eyebrow, skeptical of Sean's suggestion.
"Positioning is crucial," Sean continued, gesturing widely. "The people who need lawyers the most are often the ones society deems 'bad.' Think about it—how many of your clients over the years haven't been criminals?"
Saul's expression shifted from confusion to contemplation, realizing that many of the individuals he had encountered might have committed crimes.
Seeing Saul deep in thought, Sean encouraged him, "Let me handle this for now. In the meantime, consider who truly deserves your help. This is America, after all! Isn't that a more promising path than just being an old-school lawyer?"
On August 19, 1984, in Long Branch, New Jersey, Bill was driving with Sean in the passenger seat, holding a photo with detailed notes on the back.
"See that bald guy over there?" Sean pointed.
"I see him," Jonas said from the backseat.
"His name is George Carpenter. According to reports, he likes to hit the bar every night. We'll wait outside the bar, and when he shows up, you grab him and pull him into the car. Quick and quiet," Sean instructed.
"What if he's with someone?" Jonas asked, concerned.
"Don't worry about it. Just get him. Wear a hat to hide your face. If anyone calls the police, let them," Sean replied dismissively.
"Got it. I'll take the car behind," Jonas said as he stepped out.
They drove to a quiet residential area, and Sean instructed Bill to park discreetly.
"This guy is one of the few decent people left in America. He's not great at management but is very family-oriented. He goes home right after work and doesn't indulge in bad habits," Sean explained, lighting a cigarette.
"Wow, that's rare," Bill commented, surprised.
"Are you envious?" Sean asked, smirking.
"Of course! Just because I can't live that way doesn't mean I don't want to be a good person," Bill replied.
"Unfortunately, it turns out that after work, someone often visits his house," Sean said with a sigh.
"Wait, what?!" Bill was taken aback.
"Maybe it's just a plumber," Sean shrugged. "It's unfortunate. Seems like the guy's faucet is always leaking and never gets fixed."
Both burst into laughter.
As the clock struck 6 PM, Sean checked his watch. "He should be home soon. Let's move."
Bill got out of the car and took a position in the shadows of the target's yard.
A Ford Mercury approached, driving slowly. As the car parked, Bill stepped out of hiding, greeting the driver as if they were friends.
Suddenly, he pressed a cold object against the man's head, freezing him in place.
"Listen, if I were you, I'd get back in the car quietly. You don't want to get shot in front of your house. That would be too scary," Bill said, following Sean's instructions.
"Okay, okay," the man stammered, visibly terrified. He sat back down, and Bill climbed into the rear seat, instructing the driver to go.
Meanwhile, Jonas stood outside the bar, watching the crowd. When the fat bald man approached, Jonas swiftly locked his arms around the man's neck from behind, dragging him into the car without anyone resisting.
The driver accelerated, disappearing before anyone could react.
At an abandoned factory outside the city, two men—one tall and thin, the other short and fat—stood trembling with black hoods over their heads. The sound of footsteps echoed, heightening their fear.
"You can take off the hoods," a feminine voice commanded from behind.
The two men hesitated, raising their hands to remove the hoods.
"Go ahead, take them off. Then you can see who kidnapped you, making it easier to call the police later," the voice taunted.
Hearing this, the men quickly pulled the hoods back down, gripping them so tightly they nearly tore the fabric.
"Good choice," the voice continued. "Now, let's get down to business."
Sean stepped into view, his expression cold and calculating. "You two have some explaining to do," he began, circling them like a predator.
George Carpenter, the bald man, stammered, "What do you want from us?"
"Information," Sean replied curtly. "And if you cooperate, this will be over quickly."
The other man, visibly more composed, asked, "What kind of information?"
"Everything about your operations, your connections, and any dirty dealings you've been a part of," Sean said. "Start talking."
As the two men began to spill their secrets, Sean listened intently, occasionally nodding. He knew that extracting this information was crucial for the next phase of his plan.
In another part of the city, Saul was busy gathering more detailed information about the factory owners Sean had identified. He visited libraries, accessed public records, and discreetly questioned people who might know the targets.
"Positioning is important," Sean's words echoed in Saul's mind. He began to see the logic in focusing on clients who lived in the shadows of society, those who needed a lawyer who understood their world.
By the time he returned to Sean, he had a comprehensive dossier on each factory owner.
"This is excellent work, Saul," Sean said, flipping through the pages. "You're getting the hang of this."
Saul felt a surge of pride. "Thanks. I think I'm starting to understand your approach."
"Good. Now we move to the next step," Sean said, handing him a list of tasks.
Saul nodded, ready to tackle the challenge. He realized that working with Sean might not be conventional, but it was certainly effective.
Back at the abandoned factory, the interrogation continued. The information George and the other man provided was more valuable than Sean had anticipated. He now had a clear picture of their operations and could plan his next moves with precision.
"Alright, that's enough for now," Sean said, signaling to Bill and Jonas.
The two men were blindfolded again and led out of the factory. Sean turned to his team. "We've got what we need. Let's wrap this up."
As they drove back, Sean felt a sense of satisfaction. His plan was coming together, and with Saul's growing involvement, they were becoming an unstoppable force.
Saul, on the other hand, pondered his future. He knew that working with Sean would push him into a new realm of law, one that was dangerous but undeniably necessary.
"Isn't this more promising than being an old lawyer?" Sean's voice rang in his ears.
Saul smiled, feeling more confident about his path. He was ready to embrace this new role and make a significant impact where it mattered most.