Staring at the watch in his hand, Sean counted the seconds meticulously.
There was a reason for his caution—more so than in Newark.
Though New Mexico is vast and sparsely populated, and at first glance seems devoid of industry, the reality is much deeper. Sean knew he couldn't fully grasp the complexities here.
Seventy percent of New Mexico's job sources are tied to large federal government agencies. The state's economy is largely centered around two national laboratories—Los Alamos and Sandia. Notably, this is where the U.S. atomic bomb was developed.
Additionally, the state is home to three universities and their affiliated research centers, along with numerous federal, state, and private research and development institutions. This means that most residents are linked to the federal government, universities, the military, or major corporations, while the rest primarily provide services to these entities. Of course, there are also transient workers from Mexico, often filling flexible roles.
Previously, Sean had thought of New Mexico merely as a concentration camp for drug offenders; he never realized it served as a testing ground for countries, states, and major corporations.
As the time approached, Sean waved his hand vigorously. The team on the third floor swung their ropes toward the window, stepping onto the iron railing. Ignoring the presence of any occupants, they raised their weapons and began firing inside.
Simultaneously, two teams at the front and back doors of the building forcefully smashed the locks and stormed in. Sean was the first to enter, raising his M16A2 at the panicking individuals and opening fire.
The sudden barrage of gunfire shattered the night's tranquility. The gang of drug criminals, caught off guard, reacted sluggishly. By the time they reached for their weapons, most were already down, and the few remaining were trapped on the second floor.
Sean picked up a grenade, pulled the pin, waited a moment, and then threw it toward the second floor.
The explosion echoed, mingling with the screams of chaos. Sean dashed up the stairs, aimed down the corridor, and unleashed a hail of bullets. After emptying his magazine, he retreated silently, allowing several soldiers to rush forward and continue the assault.
While the firepower of the drug criminals was formidable, it paled in comparison to the military training of Sean's team. They advanced relentlessly, and when Sean received word that all enemies were neutralized, he glanced at his watch—only three minutes had passed.
"Set fire to the place and retreat!" Sean ordered swiftly. Killing without igniting the blaze felt like leaving a task unfinished.
Before setting out, Sean had arranged to bring several barrels of gasoline. After all, these criminals had lost all their 'own money,' so burning their hideout was no loss to him.
With his back to the entrance of the building, Sean lit a cigarette, tossed the lighter behind him, and watched as flames erupted.
The fire illuminated the night sky in a fiery glow as Sean and his team jumped into their vehicle and sped out of the city.
Justice served, evil vanquished, they brushed off their clothes and concealed their fame. It felt exhilarating!
After contacting the third team responsible for the carjacking, everyone headed south toward Texas. Fortunately, they were just 50 kilometers away, and Sean breathed a sigh of relief as they crossed into Texas within the hour.
Following their arrival, the third team reported in: the operation had yielded substantial rewards. The drug gang associated with Falk had amassed over $2.4 million in a short time, along with a stash of around 200 kilograms of narcotics.
"Excellent!" Sean remarked, a smile spreading across his face.
According to the security company's policy, when off-duty, each team member earned a base salary of $1,000 to $1,200 per month, with the company covering food, housing, and transportation. In 1985, the average annual income in the U.S. was only $15,000, making these salaries quite competitive.
Bonuses were distributed based on mission difficulty and rewards. For this operation, lasting just a week with minimal risk, each soldier would receive a bonus exceeding $5,000.
Though it might seem modest, Sean understood the costs well. A total of 30 operatives were deployed, including intelligence personnel, amounting to nearly $300,000 in expenses for travel, provisions, weaponry, and bonuses. After deducting the necessary commissions and laundering the funds, the actual income was reduced to just over $1.8 million. This was still black money, and after cleaning, it would dwindle to around $1.7 million. Taxes would further eat into that.
Sean grimaced at the thought. Recently, the security company had begun recruiting again, focusing on the intelligence team. Their total strength had now reached 50 operatives.
As Sean calculated his expenses, he realized that the projected costs for the year would total around $2 million.
It was daunting—despite the overwhelming firepower of his team that crushed the rival gangs, the reality was stark: maintaining such a force was incredibly expensive. It was no wonder that larger companies hesitated to field their own armed teams.
Initially, Sean had thought $2.4 million was a significant gain. But after returning to Newark and crunching the numbers, he was left stunned.
With expenses deducted and a 10% commission for Norris factored in, the net profit shrank to just over $1.8 million. After laundering the money, that figure would drop to approximately $1.7 million, and taxes would further diminish it.
Sean couldn't help but feel disheartened. Although the security company had made a considerable income, it was clear that the costs of running the operation were soaring.
The only aspect of his business that seemed to generate reliable income was the 'Sean Fitness Club,' but even that revenue was earmarked for future expansions, leaving no surplus funds available.
The real money came from his smuggling operations, particularly the counterfeit liquor business, which had negligible production costs. This endeavor was currently raking in about $8 million in annual profits. However, this income also had its own set of expenses—Gustavo's rent alone was around $1 million a year, and other investments in politicians and law enforcement added to the financial burden.
The security company was proving to be a bottomless pit, demanding constant reinvestment. The thought of investing in a movie project loomed large, but after more than six months of grueling work, Sean found himself with little to show for it.
His spirits plummeted.
After a brief moment of despair, Sean steeled himself and set a one-year short-term plan. He knew he needed to streamline operations, reduce expenditures, and find more efficient ways to generate income.
As he pulled himself together, Sean reminded himself that the game was far from over. With determination, he began strategizing the next steps to ensure the security company could thrive amid the challenges ahead.