The Wolf of Los Angeles

[Chapter 255: Escape from Los Angeles]

East Los Angeles, Covina.

In the city hall's reception room, Brian, Hawke, and Steve had spent some time discussing. They decided to establish a brand-new social organization, with its headquarters located in East Los Angeles and Steve as the head.

Of course, such an organization couldn't just be formed overnight; it would require significant time, energy, and money for preparation. Steve vowed to set up a preparation committee as quickly as possible.

Once their agreement was finalized, Steve took his leave.

...

Inside the reception room on the second floor, only Hawke and Brian remained.

Brian stood by the window, watching an Audi pulling away, and said, "Do you really intend to get me into the Oval Office?"

Hawke replied jokingly, "I'm just a poor kid from Wyoming, and now that I've managed to create a somewhat valuable company, people are already trying to take a piece of the pie. Some even resort to physical destruction. They probably think I'm weak and once they deal with me, they can have it all. That's why I need a backup."

He walked over to the window and clapped Brian on the shoulder. "You are my greatest support."

Brian asked, "Did you say something similar to Erica?"

"Of course not! Erica's ambition is to shoot legally," Hawke said, speaking the truth. "Your goals are far more ambitious."

He added earnestly, "BlackRock is our arch-enemy. They're implementing a marginalized community plan for the Democrats, which means we need to take down those bastards. We need varied strategies, and using magic against magic is one of them."

He couldn't elaborate on that topic further, so he shifted the discussion. "You need a massive voter base moving forward. In California, we can't overlook the power of Latino and African American communities."

Brian recalled some past events. "Back in my grandfather's day, California was deep red. But after a wave of immigrants arrived, we messed up on immigration policy, and the state flipped to deep blue."

Hawke asserted, "We're the new generation. When the previous generation's path doesn't work, it's necessary to change it."

His actions were heavily influenced by his past life; practicality was key. 'Unite the normal crowd and gain their support.'

Brian chuckled. "I thought you were going to unite all those people."

Hawke replied, "Those guys will only become objects of exploitation. The so-called marginalized community plan is nothing but a push for equal rights, allowing these so-called vulnerable groups to voice their concerns in hopes of securing votes from those who thrive on chaos. But these individuals simply don't understand unity and will continuously ask for more."

He pondered the marginalized community plan. "With the right provocation and timing, if we keep fueling the fire, they'll inevitably turn on each other."

Brian grasped the underlying logic. "We need our own equal rights organization."

Hawke gazed into the distance; the Mexican immigrant population in Covina was vast, and Mexican Americans were seen everywhere on the street. "This may take time; beyond these marginalized groups, there are broader demographics, like African Americans and Mexican Americans."

"I've worked with many African Americans and Mexicans due to my job." Hawke's top aide was a black man from Compton, and the Savior had reached out to many rational thinking individuals for help.

As for the Mexicans, over ten people were currently with Campos.

Hawke slowly stated, "Many minority groups think quite logically. These ordinary folks work hard and rarely speak out; they seldom cause trouble unless pushed to their limits..."

Brian noted, "These individuals often show little interest in voting. Why would the Democrats support them? With just a little agitation, they jump into action."

"That's why we need an equal rights organization," Hawke understood the future's trajectory. "Keep adding fuel to the fire, let them dance absurdly, and turn on each other until society grows tired of it."

He emphasized, "What we need to do is accelerate this process as much as possible."

Brian nodded, "I'll mobilize resources to hasten the formation of this organization."

...

As lunchtime approached, Brian decided to call Hawke and Edward to join him for lunch at a nearby Mexican restaurant.

The last time they'd been out, they encountered an attack in Covina. This time, they each had three vehicles following behind.

During lunch, Brian brought up a shared enemy. "Douglas Coster from BlackRock has been hiding out at the Burbank Hotel, isn't he like a turtle with his head pulled in, refusing to come out?"

Hawke responded, "My people have been watching him, but he knows how to hide well."

Brian nodded. "I tried using a honey trap but couldn't draw him out."

"He can't hide at the Burbank Hotel forever." Compared to Brian, Hawke was more patient. "Douglas is the head of BlackRock's San Francisco branch. After spending some time in Los Angeles, he'll inevitably return to San Francisco. If we can't act in Los Angeles, we'll have to move in San Francisco instead."

Brian asked, "Is there anything you need from me?"

Hawke was direct. "My people aren't familiar with the San Francisco area. If there's a need, I'll reach out to you."

Brian replied, "No problem."

...

After lunch, Hawke left Covina, and Edward drove them to Pasadena.

At a shooting range over there, Campos was training with several subordinates.

Hawke didn't interfere with their session and went up to a platform where he observed the training ground through bulletproof glass.

Most of these people had escaped from Mexico. Among them was Campos, along with a few others who were the sole survivors of their families.

Hawke had seen an article online in a past life that listed the most dangerous jobs worldwide. One of those jobs was working in anti-drug enforcement in Mexico.

He remembered a former Mexican president had sparked a drug war, which the government ultimately lost.

The police like Campos, who sincerely wanted to combat drugs, faced grave dangers, often being hunted by drug traffickers or betrayed by former colleagues.

...

After a while, someone knocked on the door, and Edward went to open it.

Campos walked in.

Hawke invited him to sit. "Any news from Wyoming?"

Carlos and Garcia had been gone for quite some time, but Campos maintained contact. He said, "They disguised themselves as private detectives, found the person, and made contact. They're looking for the right opportunity to deliver the message."

He added, "That person's parents and a younger sister all vanished, with only the parents' bodies found. The sister is still missing and likely fell prey to wolves or bears."

Hawke directly asked, "Is he planning revenge?"

Campos answered, "Based on Carlos and Garcia's observations, this person has been hunting alone in the mountains recently, supposedly practicing his shooting. He's said to be a skilled hunter among the younger generation on the Indian reservation. He was guiding for a hunting company in Denver when the incident occurred, leaving him alone."

Hawke remarked, "He's lucky." He paused slightly and added, "I've been lucky too, to still be alive."

Campos understood the implication. When the car bomb approached Hawke, it would have been a deadly situation.

That wasn't luck; it was Hawke's emphasis on security measures.

He felt a heaviness in his heart; it was tough being the good guy.

While in Mexico, he had fulfilled his duties as an anti-drug officer but ended up escaping to California alone.

Campos voiced, "Those bastards deserve to die!"

Hawke said nothing more.

Edward, the Savior, suddenly declared, "What is the essence of this world? The strong oppress the weak; good people never get their due rewards."

Hawke responded, "We need to be worse than the bad guys."

Campos nodded.

Hawke decided to leave. "Make sure to notify me as soon as you hear from Carlos and Garcia."

"Sure," Campos said as he saw Hawke to the door.

Hawke and Edward stepped outside, ready to return to Santa Monica.

On the way back, Hawke made a call; there was still no movement from the Burbank Hotel.

...

Burbank Hotel, top-floor suite.

Assistant Reid received a phone call and walked into the study. He informed Douglas Coster, "Sir, the chartered jet has been booked and will take off tomorrow at 10 AM."

Douglas replied, "Book another one through the overseas foundation for 2 PM."

"Understood." Reid hurried back to arrange for the overseas foundation to charter the jet.

Douglas picked up a brand new mobile phone and dialed a number. "At noon, gather everyone using the best armored cars to escort me to the airport."

The response came, "Please make a prepayment."

Douglas instructed another assistant to handle the security fee payment.

Having stayed in Los Angeles for so many days, he'd lost track of how long it had been since he stepped out of the hotel. Most work was conducted via email and phone calls, and any matters needing face-to-face interaction were to invite individuals to the Burbank Hotel for discussions.

During this time, he even negotiated investments with several Hollywood studios.

Ang Lee's Brokeback Mountain was a high priority.

Originally, this project was to be funded step by step, likely taking until the following year to begin preparations.

But with funding secured, the studio had officially been established and the project was in full swing. Filming was set to begin in January or February of the upcoming year, competing for the 2005 Oscars.

This timeline was nearly a year ahead of what producer James Schamus had planned.

If at all possible, Douglas would have wanted Brokeback Mountain to participate in next year's Oscars.

Having arranged his work, he disclosed he'd be leaving Los Angeles tomorrow, and like usual, after lunch, Douglas went to his bedroom to rest. Instead, he quietly left the suite and took the freight elevator down. He joined the security convoy awaiting him, heading straight for Los Angeles International Airport.

During the journey, he remained anxious, fearing an ambush.

It wasn't until he entered the airport hangar and boarded the chartered jet that Douglas finally relaxed.

The plane underwent repeated inspections and took off smoothly.

Two hours later, the jet landed at San Francisco International Airport.

Douglas disembarked from the jet, climbed into the company vehicle awaiting him, and felt an entirely different zest for life.

*****

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