The Wolf of Los Angeles-Chapter 394: Frank’s Ex-Wife

[Chapter 394: Frank's Ex-Wife]

After dinner, Lola left the restaurant, got into her car, and waved goodbye as she drove off first.

Russell stood by the roadside, watching the champagne-colored BMW disappear before getting into his own Ford.

He buckled his seatbelt, pulled out his phone, and browsed through his contacts. After making a call that could not connect, he couldn't help but shake his head.

He had been living comfortably in Los Angeles for so long that he was almost forgetting that contact numbers became useless after just one use.

He thumped the steering wheel, increasingly feeling that this task was ludicrous. The pro-Western faction above seemed to want to prove their "innocence" to the West for political reasons, completely disregarding the hardships of their people who had been lurking for years.

Russell sighed and started the car to head home. In Hollywood movies, spies were all like 007, Bourne, or Ethan, seemingly glamorous, overly important, and capable of anything.

In reality, they were just tools manipulated by politicians, often meeting their ends due to nonsensical reasons. Russell still remembered the two female colleagues exposed by the newspapers; they were ordered to monitor a journalist who was anti-Russian propaganda 24/7 while pasting pro-Russian ads on a monument. They got caught because the equipment they were provided sent GPS signals along with the information.

Having spies who had been undercover for years pasting ads on a monument was nothing short of absurd. Connecting this to his current assignment, Russell envisioned a not-so-bright future. Yet, with orders given, even knowing it was impossible, he still had to go through with it.

Upon arriving home, he took a shower, opened his Nokia phone, and started chatting excitedly with Lola through Twitter's direct message feature.

---

Century City, Fox Television Center.

The door to the office of Channel 11 was tightly shut, with no sounds coming from outside, but it was chaos inside.

Megan Taylor was following the traditional methods of Roger Ailes, the chairman of Fox, as she sought assistance from Twitter's chairman, Hawke Osment.

Inevitably, the office turned into a battleground.

Not long after, Megan pulled Hawke into the suite's bathroom.

As they emerged from inside, Megan grabbed a hairdryer to help Hawke dry his hair while she stood in front of the mirror drying her own curly locks.

She turned to Hawke and raised her voice, saying, "So you've reached an understanding with James Murdoch, huh? All the print media under News Corporation are running wild with stories about Russian spies."

"That's just part of the reason," Hawke replied as he finished getting dressed. "The primary point is that attacking Russia has a strong market among the public in North America; it's a mainstream viewpoint."

Megan, having been in the media industry for many years, felt deeply about this: "According to the rules of America, there always needs to be a powerful external enemy to maintain a relatively healthy operation. The Soviet Union has collapsed, and Russia, which has inherited most of its legacy, is the perfect target. "

Hawke agreed: "I've visited several congressional representatives and senators in Washington; their attitudes are unanimously anti-Russian, differing only in temperateness and intensity."

Megan finished drying her hair and quickly walked over, extending a finger to playfully lift Hawke's chin, adopting a domineering executive pose as she asked, "Now that you've made your investment, what do you want, Chairman Osment?"

Hawke pulled her over to sit beside him, saying, "I just met with Jennifer Huey from the FBI before coming here; now that the evidence is conclusive, the case has been defined, we just need to fan the flames of public opinion. How about you create a special segment about the case?"

Megan inquired, "You mean keep blowing hot air, steering public opinion?"

Hawke explained, "As long as the case stays within a certain level of influence, BlackRock's investments or financing will become much more difficult and costly, all of which will deplete their resources."

He laughed, "Jennifer has already received approval from her superiors to leak some information; she'll give you exclusive insights that can boost your ratings."

Megan thought for a moment and replied, "Let's continue on Ace News."

Hawke added, "Here's a tip: next Monday, BlackRock's two top executives will come to Los Angeles for routine questioning at the FBI field office, and the Los Angeles U.S. Attorney's Office will be involved in the entire process."

Megan made a note of it.

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Hawke glanced at the time and said, "I need to be going; reach out if anything comes up."

Megan escorted him out and reminded him, "James Murdoch has a lot of conflicts with Roger Ailes; being too close to him could draw Roger's scrutiny."

"I'll be careful," Hawke said, slightly slowing his pace. "Roger Ailes sits comfortably in his position, known as the emperor of Fox Television Network, greatly supported by Rupert Murdoch for generating huge profits for News Corporation. James is Rupert's favorite son; in their conflicts, James's current ability falls short of being Roger's rival, yet Roger has never truly gained an upper hand in their struggles."

A smart woman like Megan immediately understood the implications: "One is the beloved son, and the other is the profitable subordinate. When the latter stops being profitable... or becomes a liability, the outcome will naturally be decided."

---

Hawke left the Fox Television Center and returned to the Coast Tower.

Upon entering the main entrance, he noticed Lola speaking to a big bearded man wearing a hard hat.

Seeing Hawke, Lola walked over to greet him.

Hawke's first acquisition when he founded Twitter was the company and website, Window blog, that led the way; one was now the head of the tech department's design division, Kasim, and the other was Lola.

Hawke looked at the workers busily pulling fiber optics for the new server group and asked, "Are you connecting fiber optics for the new server group?"

Lola simply replied, "Yes, to ensure smooth operations and security, each group of servers uses separate connections."

"Proceed, then," Hawke said as he headed upstairs.

Lola returned to oversee the work.

...

Russell adjusted his hard hat and curiously asked, "Is that Twitter's chairman?"

Lola nodded, "Yes, that's him, a legendary figure."

"It's rare to see images and reports about him," Russell took the opportunity to ask a few more questions, "Does he not do many media interviews?"

Lola casually responded, "Hawke is a doer who rarely appears in the media."

Russell didn't press further, saying, "The Oscars are coming up soon; how about we find a bar to watch the ceremony together?"

"Sounds good," Lola, who had worked hard to connect with Hollywood stars during Twitter's early days, had some interest in the entertainment scene, responding, "You book a place!"

Russell said, "I'll call you once it's booked."

Lola didn't say anything else and quickly got back to work.

---

Beverly Hills, North Sunset Boulevard.

Not far from Marlon Brando's former residence, a mansion comparable to Hawke's new home sat atop a hillside.

This was the home of movie star Jayne Mansfield from Hollywood's golden age.

At her peak, Jayne, known for her sexy appeal, earned the nickname "junior Marilyn Monroe"; she appeared on the cover of Playboy multiple times and withdrew from the entertainment industry after a car accident in the late 1960s, leading a reclusive life thereafter.

At that moment, Jayne donned a dress made entirely of bright red meat and was carrying a goat's skull as she walked down a long staircase into the basement.

In the vast basement, several men and women donned black goat masks and were naked, draped in black cloaks.

Beneath their waists, each had markings of inverted pentagrams carved into goat skulls.

In the center of the gathering, a fierce flame burned, with a branding iron resting in the flames.

A masked figure approached stiffly, reporting, "Your Highness?"

Jayne nodded slightly and declared, "Let the ceremony begin."

The figure picked up the heated branding iron and stepped deeper into the darkness of the basement.

Someone turned on the daylight lamps, illuminating the room.

At the far end of the room, a girl was bound to a pillar.

Jayne recited incantations, while others followed her lead.

They spoke an ancient form of Latin that most people today would find difficult to understand.

The masked figure drew closer, and the branding iron fell in place.

With a sizzling sound and the stench of burning flesh, the girl, with her mouth taped shut, let out desperate screams.

Her body shook with pain.

Including Jayne, everyone fixed their eyes on the girl.

Minutes passed, and the girl did not pass out from the excruciating pain.

Jayne stopped her chanting and nodded, satisfied: "Excellent, under Satan's pressure, she hasn't fainted."

Another masked figure approached, "The leader has reminded us several times."

Jayne tore a piece of raw flesh from her meat dress: "Make her eat this; if she survives Satan's blessing, she will be sent to New York tomorrow."

The masked figure handed the piece of flesh to an underling and followed Jayne back inside.

They shut the basement door behind them as he said, "The senator from New York has been waiting a long time for her next soul feast; regarding the leader's stance..."

Jayne raised her hand to interrupt him: "I will communicate with the leader. If this offering goes smoothly, we'll send it directly to New York tomorrow; her soul will be blessed by Satan, and that one will be able to indulge in the soul feast."

"Understood, Your Highness," the masked figure replied.

Jayne continued, "Your progress is too slow; the number of new recruits has been too few this past half-year."

The masked figure defended, "Due to the Ackerman Foundation's case explosion, all of Los Angeles is focused on the missing persons; we can only proceed cautiously to avoid compromising the church."

Jayne merely nodded casually and walked into the inner chamber. She was getting older, and wearing the heavy meat dress became increasingly tiring over time.

A nearby maid hurriedly brought her a robe and draped it over her shoulders.

Jayne walked deeper into the residence, heading toward the bathroom.

Before she stepped in, she turned to look at a wall where an old wedding photo hung from decades ago.

Gazing at the man in the wedding photo, Jayne whispered, "Frank..."

*****

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