The Wolf of Los Angeles

[Chapter 151: The Advantage Is Ours]

Century City, Beverly Business Club.

Hawke and Caroline arrived at the meeting room, waiting less than five minutes before Sarah Jessica Parker and her father, Stephen Parker, walked in one after another.

Sarah hurried over to Hawke, arms open for a hug.

Hawke, however, took a step back, pointing at her swollen belly. "Be careful."

Sarah laughed lightly, patting her stomach. "Wait until a bit later; I might just fall over."

Stephen Parker, however, saw it differently, approaching Hawke and saying, "She always listens to you; you should encourage her to have the baby."

There's no way Hawke could involve himself in such matters. He replied, "It's best you discuss it behind closed doors."

Caroline remained silent.

Hawke's purpose in meeting Sarah was singular: "Congratulations on winning the Golden Globe."

Sarah understood immediately, "I've already arranged the transfer. The final 800,000 in prize money will quickly be in your company account."

She was ambitious, saying, "When I aim for the Oscars in the future, I will definitely come back to you."

Hawke replied, "Wishing you all the best in realizing that dream."

After discussing for a brief moment, she turned to Caroline. "I heard you had a falling out with Rooney Chasen?"

"I'm now Hawke's assistant," Caroline explained. "It's easier here, and I get to learn some new things."

Sarah sighed, "What a shame you can't be my PR manager anymore."

Caroline had long since had enough of her. "Good luck with that."

...

Meanwhile, Hawke chatted a few moments with Stephen Parker and asked, "What's the current situation over at the prison?"

"Broderick's enjoying a dual delight of hot pepper and calming oils," Stephen said with satisfaction for his daughter. "However, a few of the inmates are a little rough; after New Year, Broderick had to be moved to the hospital, and someone from Ackerman Films called me."

Hawke asked casually, "What did they say?"

Stephen replied, "They told me not to push my luck." He shook his head. "For now, we leave it like that. Broderick has a lengthy sentence; there's more than enough time and opportunity ahead."

Hawke said no more, taking Caroline and leaving the meeting room.

...

Caroline followed closely behind, her palm-sized face full of desire. She opened her mouth to speak a few times, only to close it again.

Hawke knew what she wanted to say but feigned ignorance, keeping her in suspense.

Caroline had no choice but to take a step closer, whispering, "Boss, I just ordered a new car."

"What kind of car?" Hawke asked.

"A new Bentley Continental," Caroline replied.

Hawke turned to look at her. "You've already pulled in about 200,000 in commissions over the last few months, haven't you?"

Caroline waved her bag and extended her left hand, showing a watch underneath her sleeve. "I'm a fashion guru; I can't fall behind the trends."

Hawke didn't seem interested in her. "I'll transfer your commission soon."

Caroline's face brightened, and she asked, "Boss, what kind of calls do you want to hear? I can call it out for you."

Hawke stepped out of the business club, urging, "The work I assigned you yesterday, get to it."

"I'll go right away," Caroline felt fully motivated.

...

At noon, Hawke had lunch with Megan Taylor.

They met in a private room of a Chinese restaurant.

Megan set down her chopsticks, switched to a fork, and said, "I've been covering the Wagenen story for several editions, been right on top of things, and now it's marked with a red tag."

Hawke replied, "Currently, your focus is on social and political news; moving up while staying neutral is nearly impossible."

Megan forced a smile, "I didn't expect this day to come so soon."

"Didn't you notice? Society is slowly splitting apart," Hawke reflected. "If you're not on my side, you're on the enemy's, aligning with the evolving societal landscape."

Megan expressed, "I don't like that pig over at the Oval Office; his words are too extreme."

Hawke chuckled, "But that's how America operates, both internationally and domestically with the two parties."

Megan speculated, "Is it not just employment this time? Did you also make a choice?"

"It's not a choice," Hawke responded directly. "It's a case of political and business collusion, traditional networking."

He attempted to invite her, "I'm planning to go into online media. Want to jump ship? You'd be perfect as the editor-in-chief."

With Megan's abilities, she could easily turn celebrity scandals into sensational stories.

Megan didn't reply but stated, "Once the Wagenen incident news coverage ends, I've taken the position of assistant director at Channel 11."

Hawke understood. Raising his glass, he toasted, "Cheers to your promotion and aspiring to be the director soon."

Megan clinked glasses with him. "Thank you."

Hawke shifted topics, leaving the previous matter aside and delving into recent happenings in Los Angeles.

After lunch, as they exited the restaurant, Hawke drove Megan to the Fox Television Center.

After that, he headed to the supermarket to pick up some daily necessities to take to the Silver Lake community.

Erica had agreed to meet him tonight.

...

In the Silver Lake community, Hawke drove up to the entrance of the villa, preparing to use an electronic key to shut off the power.

The standalone security system lost power.

He remotely opened the door and drove into the courtyard, finding the interior barren and devoid of intruders, feeling a bit disappointed.

He parked the car in the garage.

The community management system here didn't compare to the renowned luxury areas like North Sunset Boulevard; it was a common semi-open luxury community.

It had security personnel, but not in great numbers.

...

At that moment, a Mexican man entered the security kiosk at the entrance from west to east.

Using money to charm anyone, Ayala quickly bonded with the two security guards.

The dealers were wealthy and generous.

Ayala slipped some stacks of cash to the two security guards and brandished a prepared ID, saying, "I'm a reporter from American Weekly and need a small favor."

During that era, monitoring was infrequent, and if the security guards allowed someone in, they had their reasons.

The two tucked the cash away, and the older white guard said, "Tell me."

There were at least hundreds of thousands of people who had worked in LA as informants. This guard likely had dozens of reporters' business cards in his drawer.

Once he finished that transaction, Ayala directly said, "I have a lead that LAPD's star officer, Erica Ferguson, has a villa here, and she often meets up with her boyfriend. I want to gather some news related to her..."

The younger guard said, "I saw her a few days ago. They had something delivered."

The noticeable FedEx cargo truck had rolled in; before entering the community, he made sure to have the delivery logged.

Ayala handed over his business card. "Help me out; if they show up here, give me a call, and I'll make it worth your while."

"Got it," the older security guard confirmed, aware of his responsibilities. He added, "Don't disclose our information."

"Of course! This is a wealthy area; more celebrities will likely move in. I want to work with you long term."

He gestured into the community: "I'll go take a look."

The older security guard waved him off. "Go ahead, but don't disturb the residents."

...

Ayala exited and drove on, entering the community while observing the surroundings. He quickly spotted the target.

It was a large detached villa located near Silver Lake, set back with front and rear yards, enclosed with high three-and-a-half-meter walls, double-opening metal gates shielding outside views.

The main house was a two-story structure with a loft layout.

Here, the villas had a decent amount of space between them and the neighbors.

Ayala slowed down a little, giving it a thorough look, and noted that the target villa had additional external locks; it seemed to be unoccupied.

He was cautious not to draw suspicion from nearby residents and drove away normally.

Ayala exited the community from the northeast, circling back to Santa Monica Boulevard, heading west toward Los Angeles.

...

It was dark when Erica concluded her work for the day, driving her usual Cherokee to the Silver Lake community.

The main road was well-lit as she passed the security kiosk. The young guard commented, "I think that just was Erica Ferguson's Cherokee."

The older one stepped out, still catching a glimpse of the tail end of the Cherokee.

The younger guard followed behind. "I remember there are very few people with this Cherokee model in the community; it should be her."

The older guard said, "Call it in now; that reporter was generous, and we might score a few hundred more dollars."

The young guard hurriedly made the call.

...

Erica entered the driveway, parked in front of the villa, and quickly dashed inside.

She caught a whiff of something delicious and headed straight for the dining room.

On the table lay braised beef with tomatoes and grilled lamb chops among other dishes.

There was still activity coming from the kitchen, so Erica ran over and peeked inside, only to be suddenly enveloped by an arm around her neck.

Hawke pulled her in and they shared a passionate kiss.

Moments later, Erica broke away, "Not now, first, let's eat. I've been out all afternoon, I'm starving."

"Let's fill up from the top first, then the bottom," Hawke urged, leading her out.

They sat at the table, and Erica had just eaten half when she felt a leg slide over from across the table, resting on her toned leg.

The meal quickly shifted to a different mode.

...

Westwood, a classic upscale neighborhood.

In a villa, Camila had just finished dinner and was considering dragging Ayala upstairs to release some pent-up stress when Ayala's phone suddenly rang.

Checking the number, Ayala answered. After a few exchanges from the other end, he hung up and said to Camila, "I got confirmation: Erica Ferguson and Hawke Osment went to the villa in the Silver Lake community."

Camila asked, "Didn't you say that would be a convenient spot for us?"

"The occupancy rate in that villa area is low, and patrols aren't dense," Ayala reiterated his earlier words, "No one is living beside them. For now, it's just the two of them. The advantage is on our side!"

Camila had waited long enough for this opportunity. "Gather the brothers; we strike tonight!"

Ayala made a series of phone calls, rallying cars from West Los Angeles to North Hollywood, all heading to an agreed warehouse in Hollywood.

The basement of this warehouse housed a stash of weapons for the mule gang.

*****

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