The Wolf of Los Angeles

[Chapter 212: Don't Let Anyone Get Hurt]

The Venice Beach Club had burned down, and the associated events had long since settled down. Everything seemed to have returned to normal.

Harley Wayne, disguised, arrived at Guerrero's residence, the very building where he had committed suicide. This was not her first visit in recent days; she had waited outside several times, encountering a woman who lived on the same floor as Guerrero.

As the woman approached a car, Harley followed her and greeted her with, "Hi, could we chat for a moment?" The woman paused, turned to assess her, and seeing Harley's harmless appearance, replied, "What can I do for you?"

Harley spoke softly, "I'm a reporter for The New York Times and I'm trying to learn about your neighbor."

Noticing the woman's slight impatience, she pulled some cash from her pocket and handed it over. "For wasting your time, this should cover it."

The woman took the cash and tucked it into her pocket. "Fire away."

Harley gestured towards the woman's car. The woman opened the door and invited Harley to join her.

Harley understood that time was limited and jumped right in with her question, "Was there anything unusual about your neighbor Guerrero before he committed suicide?"

"Nope." The woman shook her head. "I was out of town on business around that time, so I wasn't here."

Harley had only encountered this woman on her last visit. She decided to shift her approach. "Did Guerrero have any family living here with him?"

The woman pondered for a moment, likely for the sake of the cash. "Most of the time, he was alone, but a few times -- starting this year -- he brought a girl over. She looked a lot younger than him, probably under twenty."

Harley seized the opportunity. "Was it the same girl each time?"

"Yep, definitely same person." The woman was sure of it and added, "Let me think back."

She recalled, "About four or five months ago, I was in the elevator when she walked in. I remember asking her something, and she mentioned she was attending college at Pasadena."

Since Pasadena had many colleges, Harley inquired, "Pasadena City College? Or Caltech?"

"Caltech," the woman replied.

Harley nodded and asked, "Do you know her name?"

After a moment of thought, the woman responded, "It was something like Irene or Aileen. I can't remember exactly."

Getting this information was a lucky break. Harley pressed for a little longer but didn't glean any further useful details. The woman was ready to leave, and their brief interaction wrapped up there.

Harley noted the important details: Caltech and either Irene or Aileen.

Immediately after Harley left, Juan, disguised as a woman, approached the same woman.

...

On the highway, Edward drove a bulletproof Mercedes, heading north towards San Fernando Valley.

He asked Hawk, "Boss, should we keep driving north?"

Hawke was looking at a USPS map. "Cross through the canyon area and keep heading north to Santa Clarita."

Edward accelerated. "Someone mailed this from outside L.A., could it be related to our previous situation?"

Hawke pondered the same question.

Through the mail, he traced the originating mailbox. The notebook had Guerrero's signature, likely something he sent before his death or something sent by someone connected to him.

Guerrero's relatives lived in Pasadena, and Hawke had already instructed Campos to send someone to investigate. He also discreetly asked about any friends or girlfriends Guerrero may have had.

As they drove through San Fernando Valley and arrived in Santa Clarita, Hawke quickly located the mailbox based on the USPS map. The bright red mailbox stood out near a park, where few cars and pedestrians passed.

As for surveillance, public cameras were scarce even in the large city of Los Angeles at that time.

Hawke had Edward circle around a few times but, seeing no prospects, he said, "Drive back to Pasadena."

Edward turned the car around, returning to Los Angeles.

...

Upon arriving in Pasadena, they headed directly to a shooting range as per Campos' address. Hawke became a member, grabbed a gun, and entered the indoor range, casually choosing two lanes. He donned noise-canceling headphones and fired off a few magazines with Edward.

Not far away, Campos was practicing with a handful of others.

Hawke had previously discussed the business goals of Butterfly Consulting, stating that they weren't merely a free-agent reporting firm but rather a security company.

To those who had never experienced an information explosion, the world seemed almost idyllic; business rivalries were merely tit-for-tat struggles -- fighting to eliminate competitors within the confines of commerce and legality.

Surviving cutthroat competition wasn't merely about playing by the rules; it was about being stronger than your adversaries.

Hawke had learned this lesson: If Bella Sain had succeeded in framing him, Twitter would have been in someone else's hands.

After Campos finished training, he and key members Carlos, Garcia, Juan, and Fiona left together.

Hawke exited the training area and met Campos at a safe house in Pasadena.

...

"Boss!"

"Good to see you, Boss!"

One by one, the team greeted him.

Some were meeting Hawke for the first time, but from the constant sales of major news to Twitter, they had already speculated who he might be.

Hawke responded to each greeting and accurately addressed them by name.

Carlos and the others knew that their ability to obtain legal status and earn a high income in Los Angeles was largely thanks to Hawke.

Without beating around the bush, Hawke asked, "How's the investigation going?"

Fiona jumped in, "Guerrero's family, including his parents and siblings, have all moved away. They've listed their house in L.A. with an agency for sale."

Carlos added, "I confirmed with the agency; they have no clue where the family relocated."

Juan chimed in, "This morning I found Guerrero's neighbor in his apartment building. She mentioned that before I got there, a woman claiming to be a reporter from The New York Times had asked her about Guerrero, inquiring if he had any friends or a girlfriend."

Hawke frowned slightly. "A reporter from The New York Times? That identity must be fake."

"Looks like it," Juan continued. "I was wearing female makeup at the time, and the female neighbor told me that the woman's makeup was a little weird, but she was ten times prettier than me, and didn't have a trace of an East Coast accent."

Hawke nodded. Who else would be so persistent? Guerrero's family had left Los Angeles.

The chances of finding any friends were slim.

Hawke immediately thought of one woman: Harley Wayne.

Juan said, "The neighbor mentioned Guerrero had a girlfriend named Irene or Aileen at Caltech."

Hawke pointed at him, "Keep following that lead."

"Got it," Juan replied.

Hawke addressed the others, "Let's pause the investigation here for now."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Hawke pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Campos. "Find out who these people are, especially Fernando Crane and Andy Carroll."

He added a stern note, "It's better to not find anything than to alert anyone. You have plenty of time, so take it slow."

Meriel Kerridge, the woman Hawke had identified yesterday, was someone he'd already figured out. A poor soul drowned in her own bathtub after getting high.

Another case of apparent suicide.

The rest gradually left, leaving Campos alone.

He said to Hawke, "I've got the bodyguard candidates sorted. They've gone back to Mexico to collect their families and will be back soon."

Hawke reminded him, "Get a place ready, and sort out their identities. Make sure everything's squared away."

Campos understood that family was a critical factor.

Without a team member's family, he wouldn't dare bring them into Hawke's operation.

As Hawke prepared to leave, he remembered the female reporter and advised, "Keep an eye on Harley, just like before -- don't let anyone get hurt."

Campos acknowledged, "Understood."

For now, that was as far as things could progress. Hawke sought out connections and institutions, waiting for the right moment to strike decisively.

Since Schwarzenegger took office, California's political scene had calmed a bit compared to the earlier tumultuous battles between the red and blue parties.

...

On the way back, Hawke received a call from Brian, inviting him to dinner with Erica.

Besides Brian, Jennifer Huey, the new deputy director of the FBI, would also be attending.

Hawke and Jennifer had a history; she was among the few FBI heads in Los Angeles. It wouldn't hurt to strengthen their rapport.

He first texted Erica to confirm she wasn't on a mission, then called her.

Erica answered, "I'll try to leave work on time."

...

Upon returning to Twitter, the receptionist informed Hawke that director Eric Emerson had shown up.

Hawke made his way to the meeting room and greeted Eric with a smile, "Why didn't you call me?"

"I just got here," Eric said, pulling an invitation from his bag. "My new film Dark Journey is about to premiere, and I'm here to formally invite you to the screening."

Hawke took the invitation, saying, "I've been looking forward to your new film."

Eric pulled out another invitation and handed it to Edward. "The invite allows for two."

"Thanks," Edward noted, shrugging, "I'll go alone."

Curious, Eric asked, "Did this love expert suffer a heartbreak?"

Hearing this, Edward sighed, "Not officially broken up yet, but it's coming soon. I suddenly feel like being single could be fun."

He turned to Eric and asked, "When are you marrying Katherine? Or are you planning to break up with her?"

Eric sighed, portraying a righteous demeanor. "I can't just kick out the girlfriend who supported me once my directing career takes off."

Edward patted Eric on the shoulder, saying, "Directors who don't take advantage of actress resources are just wasting opportunities, not to mention unethical!"

Hawke interjected, "Don't give Eric bad advice when you can't even handle your own issues."

Edward instantly slumped in defeat, commenting, "Boss, I remember when we first met, I laughed at you for being clueless with women, and it turns out I was the one who didn't know anything. You're the real expert."

Hawke warned him, "If you need to break up, do it soon -- don't drag it out."

Edward resolved, "I'll take care of it as soon as possible."

*****

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