After leaving the casino, Logan and Victor returned to his apartment and drank excessively all night, reminiscing about the past until they finally fell asleep in the early morning.
Around noon, Samuel woke Logan with a call, urging him to return immediately; the merchandise had been unloaded, and they had to begin the return journey.
Before leaving, Logan gave Victor his phone number, hoping to keep in touch.
Back at the warehouse, Samuel and the other two had also stayed up all night, but showed no signs of tiredness; the night of gambling had left them visibly euphoric.
The return trip to Santa Fe was much easier than the trip out. With the merchandise unloaded, the cargo was lighter, and Logan didn't need to be as cautious and tense as before.
One day of travel only covered half the distance.
This time, Logan wasn't so demanding. He found a hotel to rest that night and only resumed the journey after regaining his strength.
Leaving Nevada and returning to the desolate roads of Santa Fe, the temperature had risen significantly.
Logan looked up at the scorching sun shining in the sky, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
Although it was almost autumn, the temperature in Santa Fe remained stubbornly high, but luckily, Logan had already acclimatized.
Along the way, Logan idly chatted with Samuel about trivialities until late afternoon, when the four finally returned to the Lawrence family's logistics warehouse.
However, they did not see Chris immediately.
After Samuel inquired by phone, they learned that Chris had something to do that day, but had sent a person to deliver the money, instructing them to wait where they were.
The group did not object and waited, smoking, at the warehouse entrance for almost an hour before the representative arrived.
The $20,000 reward only included Logan, who was the leader.
Touching the thick envelope and confirming that the amount inside was correct, Logan sighed in relief.
The mission was completely over.
"Aren't you curious about what kind of cargo we delivered?" Samuel asked, counting the money and observing Logan, who was about to leave.
When they accepted the mission, they were very curious about the merchandise in the truck, but Chris had ordered them not to open it themselves.
"I'm not interested," Logan said, shaking his head indifferently. "I only work for the money; I don't care about anything else."
He was not a young man; almost two hundred years of experience had ingrained in him the habit of not meddling in others' affairs. Many things did not require an exhaustive review.
"Well, the truth is, we don't know what it is either," Samuel said, shrugging, putting the envelope in his pocket and mumbling: "But the pay is always so high; I guess whatever is inside must be special, maybe even contraband."
A three or four-day trip, but it brought in the equivalent of several months' salary for an ordinary person; even a fool would know that whatever was inside was no good.
However, although they were curious, experience had taught them that it was better not to get into trouble; many things are better left unknown.
Furthermore, Chris knew every detail of the itinerary afterward, which made Samuel realize that Chris must have had spies in the group.
"Perhaps," Logan said, shrugging indifferently, turning around and leaving the warehouse.
He was too lazy to waste his brain on such trivialities; once he had the money, he didn't plan to stay long.
Outside the warehouse, he found the Chrysler he had stored in the outdoor parking lot.
Santa Fe's sandstorms were intense; even after only a few days, the car was covered with a thick layer of yellow sand.
Logan gave it a quick wash at the parking lot's automatic car wash and drove straight to the supermarket.
Due to financial constraints, his expenses had been minimal, many necessities were scarce, and his daily meals consisted of simple buttered potatoes or cheap milk and cereal. Now, with a $20,000 reward, although it wouldn't make them rich, Logan felt the need to slightly improve their living conditions, at least enough to offer the Professor and Caliban a decent dinner.
At a nearby supermarket, Logan bought many things, including some foods he normally couldn't afford, as well as personal items for the Professor and Caliban.
After putting everything in the trunk, he crossed the border and entered the familiar, rundown factory.
Sunset was approaching, the sun setting behind the horizon, painting the sky crimson.
The evening wind howled in the desert, and fine sand moved like raindrops.
The abandoned factory looked exceptionally old in that environment; many wooden doors and windows were rotten, the surrounding abandoned buildings were covered in rust, and many structures, unable to bear the weight, had completely collapsed.
"I need to find a better place in the future," Logan murmured, looking at the desolate factory.
This place not only had a hostile environment but also suffered from extreme temperature differences between day and night.
The scorching daytime temperatures could reach almost fifty degrees Celsius; an egg placed on the sand in the morning would turn into a hard-boiled egg.
And the terribly low nighttime temperatures were comparable to harsh winter.
A young person could tolerate such a harsh environment, but the Professor was too old; such an environment was simply unsuitable for an elderly person to live in for a long time.
Fortunately, however, these days would soon end. Once Chris gave him another mission, he would have enough leverage to take the Professor out of that hell.
Just as Logan was imagining the future, two black sedans perfectly parked in front of the factory shattered his illusions.
"Damn it!" Logan exclaimed, his expression distraught. He quickly parked the car and cautiously got out to inspect the two sedans.
Those two cars were clearly expensive, obviously vehicles for wealthy people.
Why would rich people visit such a rundown factory?
Logan frowned as he focused on the license plates; they were from the city of Santa Fe.
Seeing them, he sighed in relief. "Thank goodness it's not Donald."
Muttering to himself, Logan hesitated no more and rushed into the factory.
The dim light was only provided by an incandescent bulb hanging from the ceiling.
Under the light, Caliban trembled sitting on the sofa, his neck hunched, his face distraught with terror.
Behind him, three sturdy bodyguards in black suits stood side by side, with impassive expressions.
In front of Caliban sat a familiar figure.
He sat comfortably on the sofa, arms outstretched and legs crossed, smiling as he looked at Caliban opposite him.
Only after Logan opened the door, did the man turn with a smile, squinting his eyes. "James, you're finally back. How was the mission? Everything went well, right?"
Logan frowned. "Chris, what are you doing here?"
Sitting on the sofa, next to Caliban, was none other than Chris Lawrence!
Logan did not expect the Lawrence family to find this place!
Since becoming an Uber driver, his car had been his permanent home; he rarely returned, except to resupply.
Even with so much caution, the Lawrence family had managed to find him!
And Chris appearing at his door was undoubtedly not a good sign.