The Wolf of Los Angeles

[Chapter 336: A Bunch of Scammers and a Client]

Century City, Fox Television Center.

Harley Wayne walked through the large newsroom and entered her own private office. Strictly speaking, it was a big cubicle designated for high-level reporters who went out into the field.

There were many chaotic issues and rules within the TV station, but the field reporters, capable and willing to think outside the box while delivering results, received generous compensation from Fox. Harley's job offered a good deal of freedom; not only did she have her own office, but she could also pursue the stories she was interested in. Following the Los Angeles wildfires, she had secured many exclusive reports.

Since the Venice Beach Club incident last year, Harley had developed relationships with several news informants and handed out numerous business cards with her cell number and email address throughout Southern California. Having valuable leads enabled her to launch investigations.

Harley opened her computer, logged onto Twitter, and browsed trending news. The current trends were still focused on the rebuilding efforts after the Los Angeles wildfires, along with news targeting the former mayor and several past Democratic Party lawmakers. She quickly noticed that the newly appointed Mayor Brian Ferguson had a uniquely favorable connection with Twitter; the platform was filled with positive news about him.

Sources from City Hall also leaked to her that Twitter was among the top two companies slated for subsidies in the mayor's economic development plan. While this was normal at the policy level, Harley felt it might be worth exploring.

Harley opened her email, finding several unread messages, and quickly became engrossed in one. It contained photos of various forms, which revealed many names followed by blood test records, blood draw times, and information on where the blood was sold.

Another form detailed an organ transplant list, meticulously recording the donor and recipient data, the timing of surgeries, and so on. The appendix attached to these forms included specialized descriptions from the Ackerman Charitable Foundation's medical center.

Harley pulled up the profile of a man named Guerrero, who had committed suicide by jumping off a building. He had a girlfriend named Irene, who attended Caltech. When Harley searched at Caltech, she discovered that Irene had gone missing.

Harley considered the possibility that the Ackerman family might be involved. The Ackerman Charitable Foundation was the family's biggest business.

...

Harley identified two local individuals in Los Angeles who had recently gone bankrupt and called one of them. "Hey, Bonte, can you help me look up two people?"

"Do you have names or social security numbers?" came the reply.

Harley provided the names and details of the companies they had run. "Thanks."

The response came quickly: "They went bankrupt and couldn't repay their loans, they couldn't pay child support after their divorce, and they've become homeless."

...

After hanging up, Harley contemplated contacting a friend at the Los Angeles Public Health Department to check the corresponding blood product batch numbers in the forms but hesitated, retracting her hand. If the content in the forms was accurate, such inquiries could easily alert the other party.

Harley made notes, downloaded the email, created a backup, and replied, "The news leads you provided are valuable. Can we meet to discuss? Plus, I'll throw in $500..." She deleted that and rewrote, "I'll give you $1,000 as an informant fee."

At the end of the email, Harley left her work phone number and clicked send. After a while, there was no response.

...

Harley decided to investigate; she wasn't familiar with blood products and organ transplants, so she looked up information online. In her search, she discovered the promotional website for the Ackerman Medical Center.

With numerous blood banks established in Los Angeles, Orange County, and San Diego, anyone in need could easily go to sell blood at any time. As a reporter covering social issues, Harley had some awareness of the stark realities in society. There were plenty of ordinary people in the lower social strata who relied on selling blood to survive.

Harley noted several blood bank addresses, grabbed a bag she could use for discreet filming, exchanged her clothes for a worn outfit, and left the office. She drove a plain Hyundai straight to Hollywood.

...

Not far from Century City, there was a shelter affiliated with the Ackerman Charitable Foundation in Hollywood, and in the same block, there was a blood bank operated by the Ackerman Medical Center.

Harley had a glimmer of recognition of the area; she recalled how homelessness had been skyrocketing in Hollywood, where many were living on the streets and the residents mainly belonged to the lower social classes.

Less than half an hour later, Harley found the blood bank, and there were many people selling blood inside. She prepared to go in; before leaving her car, she pulled out a wet wipe and removed her already light makeup, taking off her watch and bracelet to make herself appear more down-and-out.

Putting on her best forlorn expression, she walked into the blood bank alone. There were many people selling blood, with prices clearly displayed on the walls. This was a legal industry, with set prices.

Harley turned her body slightly to capture footage of the blood donation window.

...

A bearded Mexican man entered, grabbed a flyer, and seated himself on a bench to read. Garcia had followed her all the way from Century City.

...

Harley approached the blood bank staff to inquire about operations while filming and gathering information. When she exited the blood bank, she noted multiple violations, such as a complete lack of testing for infectious diseases among blood sellers; not even the most basic paper tests were conducted.

Among those she filmed, several appeared to have problems, evidently seasoned addicts. The chances of these individuals contracting AIDS or other blood-transmitted diseases were quite high.

Harley got back in her car and prepared to head to the next blood bank. Passing by the Ackerman charitable shelter, she noticed several medical vans parked out front, adorned with banners announcing free health screenings.

She recalled another organ transplant form in her email, stating that the sources of organs were primarily healthy homeless individuals and undocumented immigrants.

In front of the medical vans, people waited to get screened and claim free gifts. Harley saw a parking sign, circled around, and drove into the back of the shelter.

...

Trailing behind were Garcia and Carlos, who immediately pulled out their phones to make a call.

...

Upon exiting the parking lot, Harley spotted an older Mexican homeless man sitting by the door. Judging by his appearance, he had likely roamed the streets for quite some time.

She took out a dollar and placed it in front of the man's tattered hat, saying, "I'm here looking for someone, can I ask you about a few things?"

The old man looked at the bill, grabbed it, and stuffed it in his pocket, saying, "Go ahead."

Harley mentioned a name from the forms, "Do you know Ward Prowse? He's my cousin; he became homeless after a divorce last year, and I heard he was around here."

The old man thought for a moment, shaking his head, "No, I don't know him."

But Harley wasn't here just to find someone. Instead, she added, "He sent me a last message, saying he got a health report from the charity at the shelter."

The old man understood; fearing Harley might not realize, he interjected, "Is the health report indicating he has an illness? The charity will offer free treatment?"

"Yeah, that's right," Harley replied, recalling the email that said, "But after that, Ward disappeared, and I haven't been able to contact him since."

The old man glanced around, "There are many like that. I've been around here long enough to see that many who received free medical treatment after finding they had ailments never returned. I heard from those at the shelter that some people choose to return to proper life after regaining their health, while others leave Los Angeles altogether."

Harley said, "That's good for them, though."

The old man shook his head continuously.

"I really need to find him. His kids have been asking for their dad for a long while now," Harley said, putting on her best act of urgency, looking worried, "If you know how to find him, could you let me know?"

The old man replied, "Anyone who leaves here, never returns. What happens, I don't know." He pointed across the street, "You see that woman? You could ask her. Her brother got on a charity health care van earlier this year and hasn't been heard from since. The shelter said he went to work abroad; she's been looking for him since."

"Thank you." Harley left that spot and approached the woman, explaining her intention.

...

The Mexican woman said, "You shouldn't bother searching; you won't find him. I've been looking, I've checked all the places they mentioned, and couldn't find him. I even reported it to the police, but they said homeless cases weren't their issue."

Harley acted heartbroken.

The Mexican woman continued, "I started a family group on Twitter for missing persons to support each other. If you're interested, you can join." Harley thought back to the entire list of names and their details and replied, "Thanks."

They exchanged contact information, and the Mexican woman provided her with a Twitter group number.

...

Returning to her car, Harley immediately opened her laptop, accessed Twitter through her Wi-Fi card, and joined the group. The group already had over a dozen members, many comments about searching for people, and someone claimed to have infiltrated the Ackerman Medical Center, discovering serious issues inside.

Harley chatted with these individuals for a while, confirming that the credentials she received via email were genuine.

...

In the office of Butterfly Security Company, tech guru Hierro closed Twitter in his laptop.

The people in this group were real, but all were connected to Butterfly. A classic group of scriptwriters in the internet media era -- a bunch of scammers and a client. They were using this Twitter group to guide Harley's actions and help the Fox-protected, justice-seeking reporter achieve her ideals of justice.

They might even assist her in winning a Pulitzer Prize.

*****

/Sayonara816.