Blackstone Code

The last maid—and maybe the one before her—also tried to seduce Lynch.

Lynch clearly remembered the red mole on the inner thigh of that girl. Later, he likely forgot to inform the service company, and by the time he returned, the maid had been replaced.

Was this the second or third time something like this happened? He couldn’t recall, but he didn’t look down on anyone.

From homeless people on the street to the president in the presidential palace, everyone has the right to choose how to live—that’s their freedom. Isn’t the Federation supposed to be a free country?

Once in the car, Austin glanced at Lynch again; she had witnessed everything that just happened.

As Lynch’s personal security captain, she stayed near him almost all day, except she didn’t sleep in his bed at night.

That was one reason the sergeant chose to transfer to a civilian role—sometimes it was inconvenient for him to be present, so it was better to have a woman for close protection.

Lynch noticed Austin’s gaze, sinking deeply into the luxury car seat. “Don’t like what you see? Or do you think I’m not a good person?”

He didn’t claim to be bad or good—maybe neither.

Austin thought for a moment. “I just can’t understand it.”

Lynch was actually pleased. “I don’t see it that way. First, from a female perspective, in this male-dominated society, relying on men to gain survival rights and improve life quality isn’t unreasonable.”

“Just because you don’t like how others do it doesn’t mean you’re right and they’re wrong.”

“Second, women trying to get support for their consumption without labor means the economy is recovering—and that’s a good thing.”

If pretty girls were everywhere on the streets, it meant the economy was declining. Big companies would have fired those ornamental employees who only collected paychecks without working.

Those relying solely on physical advantages to get jobs find it hard to compete professionally, so they take chances on the street.

But when the number of beautiful women on the street decreases, it signals economic recovery—companies have money to hire women who don’t work much but improve the office atmosphere or look good for bosses.

The same applies to villa areas: when the economy’s bad, even the rich tighten their belts.

During recessions, driver is one of the hardest-hit jobs since bosses can drive themselves to save money.

Maids and butlers are even less secure. Cleaning can’t be that hard.

If necessary, they save dirt for a while and hire an hourly cleaner to do a thorough job. They won’t keep maids or butlers long.

Now, as the economy improves, the wealthy seek comfort again, and pretty girls without special skills can find work.

Austin thought Lynch was just making excuses—nonsense she didn’t take to heart.

When Lynch arrived at the company, the young middle-aged Duncan family member was already waiting.

He immediately approached Lynch, trying to talk and even shake hands, but Lynch raised his arm. Austin signaled, and a bodyguard blocked the young man from Lynch’s path.

He watched Lynch enter the elevator and go upstairs, feeling bewildered, then angry, but soon resigned.

This was Mr. Geruno’s order. If it were just his own matter, he would accept losses and leave immediately.

But he dared not disobey Geruno’s request.

He obediently went to the secretary’s office, filled out a form, and after a few minutes, the secretary smiled and said Lynch was willing to see him.

Humiliated, he clenched his teeth.

As the elevator neared the top floor, he slapped his stiff face and forced a barely passable smile.

With a ding, the elevator doors opened.

He stepped out.

The entire floor was one room, and Lynch sat at its center.

To the young man, this looked like an unfinished shell—a bare cement floor and ceiling.

Exposed pipes and wires tangled overhead, seeming ready to fall at any moment.

The floor’s support columns were unpolished, standing naked between floors.

In stark contrast, Lynch’s desk, chair, and bookshelf behind him were exquisite.

The sharp contrast made the otherwise ugly unfinished look somewhat appealing.

Without hesitation, he strode forward and introduced himself warmly. “Mr. Lynch, I have a business for you and Blackstone Security.”

Lynch nodded. “Go ahead.”

No further difficulties, a serious attitude—which eased the young man’s mood a bit. “I don’t know if you’ve read the papers…”

Lynch nodded again. “I have.”

“Then you must know about what happened to the federal businessman Mike in Sugra?”

“Yes, I do.”

The young man suddenly grew angry. “Mike’s family already reported to local police. The police said those occupying the shop bought it and the goods inside from others.”

“The locals consider it a legal transaction, so they took no action against the buyer!”

“The seller was branded a bandit. The police conducted a simple search and issued a wanted notice but did nothing further.”

“I’m furious, Mr. Lynch. I’m sure you’re equally angry after seeing the news!”

Lynch said nothing immediately, simply looking at him.

At first, the young middle-aged man could still meet Lynch’s gaze, but soon his eyes flickered and drifted away, finally settling elsewhere.

“Yes, I’m angry too!” Lynch said after about twenty seconds, giving the answer the young man wanted to hear.

According to the plan, once Lynch gave this response, everyone’s emotions should have aligned perfectly. But now… the young man silently cursed Lynch while forcing a sorrowful expression.

“Mr. Lynch, overseas businessmen can’t protect their rights—neither their wealth nor their lives.”

“The federal government can’t demand how locals must act. Many similar incidents keep happening and will continue. It’s time to change this.”

He took a deep breath. “I heard Blackstone Security handles military operations outside the Federation…”

Lynch nodded. “That’s right.”

The young man smiled a little. “So, how much to find those who killed Mike and get revenge?”

Though mentally prepared, he was still shocked by Lynch’s price.

“I can send an independent strike team. The price is… three million.”

The young man’s eyelid twitched. “How many people are in this independent strike team?”

He suspected he misunderstood the term independent strike team and that it might not be so small. Maybe twenty or thirty people—that would make the price reasonable.

“Seven,” Lynch said.

“Also, I need to tell you that if the cost isn’t enough, there will be additional charges later. So, along with the three million, you’ll need to pay a deposit of no less than one and a half million.”

The young man grew annoyed. “Why so expensive?”

Lynch shrugged casually. “Because you’re asking for a military operation, got it?”

“I know hiring a hitman is cheap—twenty or thirty thousand, maybe fifty thousand for a good one. If you pay a bit more, two or three hundred thousand, they can finish the job.”

“But here’s the thing: hitmen kill illegally. My people kill legally. Three million plus possible extras—that’s the price for legal killing, sir. It’s not expensive.”

Lynch’s words suddenly made the young man understand why Mr. Geruno insisted this matter be handled by Lynch—because only Lynch’s Blackstone Security had the qualification for overseas military operations.

They wanted it to be seen as a just military strike, not a personal vendetta hired out to assassins.

Though the goal was the same—to eliminate those people—the process, reasons, and final outcome differed.

Hiring hitmen, even if allowed under the Overseas Security Act, could leave risks.

But making it a military strike eliminated most problems.

Realizing this, the young man quickly responded, “Price is fine. When can you start?”

“As soon as the money is received, we move immediately.”

Lynch suddenly remembered something. “By the way, I can arrange for a war photographer to accompany the operation. The entire process will be recorded, if you want.”

This caught the young man off guard briefly, then he nodded repeatedly. “Of course, record everything!”

Even if the footage isn’t needed now, it could be useful later.

For the Duncan family, money was never an issue.

Lynch smiled a bit more. “Four million total, with a two million deposit…”

The young man frowned. “Why did the price increase?”

Lynch laughed. “You can carry a camera yourself and go with my team. The price stays the same, but I only trust you. Think about it…”