The Wolf of Los Angeles.

Inside the detached house in Brentwood, the sounds of playing cards drifted over, when suddenly a sheep bleated, eliciting a strange laugh from Megan Taylor.

She laughed as she said, "The lamppost war god has turned into a lamppost! My God, a sheep has climbed up the lamppost!"

Megan Taylor was then met with a mixed doubles match.

Once things had calmed down, the three of them went into the bathroom together and lay in the spacious bathtub chatting.

Megan's foot seemed to have touched something sensitive in Caroline's area, prompting Miss Sheep to glare at her angrily.

"Careful or I'll break it!" Caroline said through gritted teeth. "I've been working out lately, and I'm much stronger than before."

Megan looked at her thin arms and legs and said, "I'm just curious how such thin branches can bear such a lot of fruit."

Caroline raised her chin: "Am I proud?"

Hawke closed his eyes to rest and remained silent.

Megan stretched out her foot and tickled Hawke's sole. When he opened his eyes, she deliberately asked him, "Tired so soon? The night has only just begun."

Hawke shifted to a more comfortable position and said, "I'm thinking about something."

Caroline had just returned to Los Angeles from Argentina and knew that a lot had happened recently, so she immediately went over, reached out and hugged Hawke, using her breasts to support his face.

Not to be outdone, Megan leaned over and hugged Hawke's hands, asking, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Hawke recalled something and asked, "I remember you mentioned that Harley Wayne had some people in Little Rock to investigate the hidden secrets between Leddon and the Satanic cult."

Megan corrected, "Harley believes that LP used Satanist madmen to kill Sylvia."

Caroline, hearing this for the first time, deliberately asked, "Aren't they terrorists from the Middle East?"

"She believes that's just the surface, and the real mastermind is Richard Burton." Megan has had a good relationship with Halle in recent years and has been in frequent contact with her, so she understands her thoughts: "It's common knowledge that Richard Burton and Hillary Clinton have a bad relationship, and there are also widespread rumors that their daughter Chelsea's biological father is not Richard Burton."

Hawke asked, "Did Harley find anything?"

Megan shook her head slightly: "No, it cost a lot of money, but the actual gains were almost nothing. Since Sillaly's accident, Zipperton has stayed in Little Rock and has never left."

Caroline said, "Is it possible that the incident involving Seraphim had nothing to do with Lassoton, but that Lassoton was not only not saddened by Seraphim's death, but was actually very happy, yet unable to express it, so he hid in Little Rock and lived his good life?"

“It’s not just that.” Megan’s thoughts went further: “If Chelsea really isn’t Richard Lambton’s biological daughter, then there’s no point in Lambton actively getting involved in these power struggles…”

When women gossip, their imaginations run wild, yet there's always a semblance of logic.

Hawke's pillow was soft and comfortable, and he unconsciously closed his eyes.

Megan hadn't seen Hawke for a while and wanted to talk to him a little longer, so she added, "There's one more thing. Harley couldn't find any news from Laugh Tale, but she didn't want to give up, so she set her sights on Epstein."

Upon hearing Epstein's name, Hawke immediately opened his eyes: "Harley is still the same as before."

“Some changes have occurred; she’s learned to seek advantages and avoid disadvantages to some extent,” Megan said simply. “But a person’s character is hard to change; her pursuit of journalism remains unwavering.”

Hawke asked, "Did she know Epstein was in Los Angeles?"

Megan pressed Hawke's hand firmly: "It was because she knew that Epstein was currently being held in Los Angeles that she had the idea to interview Epstein."

Upon hearing this, Hawke perked up and began to seriously consider whether Harley, this rather stubborn reporter, might be of use.

In previous years, he cleverly used Harley's professionalism on more than one occasion, letting the tough female reporter take the lead and clear the way.

Hawke, of course, has principles and bottom lines when it comes to those who can help him. Every time he uses Harley, he has someone secretly provide protection for her.

Harley was able to emerge unscathed from those complicated events and reap considerable benefits precisely because of this.

Hawke thinks that Halle Wayne might still be a viable option this time.

Megan stared at Hawke and said, "Are you thinking of sending Harley to the front again?"

“I have that idea.” Hawke had a general idea and said, “Aren’t you friends with Harley? Tell her to submit an interview request through proper channels, preferably on behalf of Fox News, to the FBI’s Los Angeles branch and the U.S. Attorney’s Office.”

“I can talk to her.” Although she has very low standards when it comes to creating news, Megan still has some principles. She emphasized, “But there’s one thing I have to say first: don’t let Harley get into any danger. Make sure she’s safe.”

Hawke laughed: "She'll be fine. Epstein will be kept in Los Angeles for a long time. Harley just needs to interview him at the federal prison in Los Angeles."

Megan was relieved: "Okay, I'll take care of this."

Caroline was quite curious, but didn't ask any further questions.

Hawke closed his eyes again.

Ultimately, the issue stemmed from the fact that the Epstein Project did not develop as expected.

They know Epstein is a key target for next year's election, and the Democratic Party knows it too.

Hawke used new victim reports and legal procedures with the FBI and Tom Emmer to transfer Epstein to Los Angeles custody.

However, the influence of the Donald Party should not be underestimated; they also used legal procedures to send prosecutors to the area.

Hawke and the Los Angeles FBI branch office have not yet put too much pressure on Epstein, as the election has not yet begun.

The Middle Eastern militants sent by the Democratic Party have been under close surveillance by the Butterfly personnel. Due to the existence of relevant monitoring measures, Epstein has kept quiet and has not taken any rash actions, but instead has been familiarizing themselves with the local environment.

With the new year, 2012, fast approaching, Hawke is now free to apply pressure.

Even though the FBI often does things that go too far, there are still certain legal risks involved. After all, Jennifer will stand by Brian's side next year.

Therefore, Halle Wayne is still the most suitable person for such an important task as carrying the flag and charging forward.

Hawke was lost in thought when he suddenly sensed something was wrong, jolted awake, and opened his eyes.

Megan Taylor has disappeared, leaving only her long blonde hair floating on the water.

Caroline followed suit.

Doubles and mixed doubles matches were played throughout the night.

The next morning, after finishing breakfast, Hawke called Jennifer and discussed with her the things he had been thinking about the night before.

Jennifer agreed, saying the FBI would handle it appropriately.

…………

Two vans slowly moved forward and stopped in front of the iron gate of the high wall. Carvajal, in the passenger seat of the lead van, jumped out, handed his identification to the guard, and said, "Carol, do we have to do this every time?"

Carroll carefully checked the documents and paperwork, and said, "Serving the federal government, it's okay not to be serious, but working for a security company, you'll lose your job if you don't follow the procedures."

He waved his hand, signaling his subordinates to conduct a routine vehicle inspection, while continuing to talk: "Without a job, I won't be able to repay the loan, the bank will take the house and car, and my wife will divorce me and run away."

Carvajal hadn't expected his casual remark to elicit such a long-winded response, so he gave up and simply put on a formulaic smile.

Carroll pointed to the homeless people not far from the street: "Once the divorce is settled, I can go homeless on the streets and become like them."

Carvajal patted his arm: "It's not that serious."

“So, I won’t lose my job.” Carol carefully checked everyone’s documents, asked her subordinates a few questions, and only after confirming that there were no problems inside the carriage did she allow them to open the door and let them pass.

Two vans started up and drove one after the other into the gate.

In the car behind, Cody observed the security facilities and personnel at the prison's back gate, trying to memorize them.

The truck arrived at the prison kitchen area and parked in the designated parking space.

Carvajal took the order and called Cody over: "Come on, let me introduce you to the people here. Once you're familiar with the area, we can take turns working, and then things will be much more comfortable."

Cody smiled and said, "I still have a lot to learn from you."

The person in charge of the kitchen came out, and Carvajal took the order and handed it over to him.

Over at the vehicle, some people wearing orange prison uniforms began unloading.

Cody noted down the person in charge's reputation and mannerisms, and then quietly observed the prisoners, occasionally asking Carvajal a few questions.

The latter usually enjoys chatting with people, and he was quite talkative at this time: "Don't think that unloading trucks is just physical labor. In prison, it's a reward. Only those who have good daily behavior over a long period of time can come to help in the kitchen. Whether you're helping in the kitchen or cooking, you can take some food without anyone saying anything. Anything you bring back to the prison area is a hot commodity in the prison."

Cody showed a keen interest: "Do serious offenders get this kind of opportunity too?"

“It’s difficult. Murderers and rapists, unless they’ve served decades in prison, are quite old, and have exceptionally good behavior…” Carvajal pointed to the prisoners unloading the truck in orange uniforms and said, “If each of them has several lives on their hands, would you dare to deal with them casually?”

Cody shook his head repeatedly: "I'm afraid they'll kill me."

Carvajal chuckled: "They'll be unloading for a long time. Come on, let's find a place to have a smoke."

The two went to an empty room nearby, lit cigarettes, and stood in front of the window, where they could see many prisoners across the street.

Carvajal exhaled a puff of smoke, one hand resting on the steel bars outside the window, and casually said, "See that over there? It's a special ward in the prison. It's full of the most vicious criminals. There are serial killers, torture and dismemberment cases, and I heard there are even cannibalism cases. The death penalty in California is practically abolished. They can only keep those scum in jail for a long time."

Cody had been with the company for a long time and often visited the prison. He asked, "I heard that the person who created Lolita Island is also imprisoned in this prison?"

Carvajal nodded: "That's right, that scumbag is also being held in that special prison area over there, let's call him Epstein. He's a real bastard, but also an enviable one."

He looked at Cody: "Are you envious of him?"

The two men were talking privately. To gain Carvajal's trust, Cody gave a knowing smile that all men understand: "It would be a lie to say I'm not envious."

“Haha…” Carvajal said, “Everyone hates Epstein, yet hates that they are not Epstein.”

Cody laughed along with them, but he also memorized the terrain.

By the time the two men finished their cigarettes and came out, the truck was less than half unloaded; these prisoners were not very efficient at their work.

Just like before, this trip took more than two hours to get back.

During this time, Cody observed carefully that the kitchen area was relatively enclosed, and apart from a limited number of guards, almost no one came here.

Although the prisoners here aren't very motivated, none of them are causing trouble.

The guards were slacking off most of the time, a stark contrast to those at the entrance.

If the people in the kitchen area can be controlled, they have two hours to operate.

When the convoy set off, it was inspected by Carroll again, who even checked under the chassis of the cars.

Cody determined that launching an attack while Carroll was on duty was not a good option.

This wasn't his first time here; he knew that the prison had three shifts that rotated, and the supervisors for the other two shifts weren't as strict as Carol.

As the convoy returned to the company headquarters, Cody sat in the passenger seat of the back car, his gaze fixed on the scenery outside the window, where a number of homeless people had gathered on both sides of the road.

Omran, sporting a messy, bird's-nest hairstyle, opened a trash can, rummaged through it, found two cans, and tossed them into the bag he was carrying.

He dragged his bag toward the back gate of the prison.

It was getting late, and it was almost time for their shift to change.

At this time of year, the trash generated at the gate is collected and disposed of in the trash cans on one side.

There will be a lot of jars and bottles inside.

Omran used this opportunity to observe the changing of the guard at the gate and, incidentally, rummage through the trash for any useful information.

Currently, the homeless services on the two nearby streets have been taken over by his gang.

After much effort, he finally managed to secure a scavenging job here.

After changing shifts, Omran went to the trash can, rummaged through it, and stuffed several bottles and jars into his pockets.

He found some scraps of paper, picked them up while using his body as cover, unfolded the crumpled paper, and found several people's names and phone numbers written on it, as well as some names of alcoholic beverages.

"Someone sent them alcohol?" Omran had been here for a while and wasn't surprised. Some prisoners' families would often send things, hoping their loved ones could have a slightly more comfortable stay inside.

But the alcohol and cigarettes they brought never reached the prisoners; they were usually divided up at the gate.

This looks like a list of people to be divided up.

Omran quietly put it away. Having the names and contact information of some guards made things much easier.

After collecting all the cans here, he dragged his bag back, searching all the way back, and entered a nearby alley.

There's an abandoned house here, which has been occupied by this group of homeless people.

The big boss, Marcelo, sporting an afro, was here every day tallying up the profits. (End of Chapter)