HBWnovel Chapter 43: Stir-Fried Squid with Peanuts
Chapter 43: Stir-Fried Squid with Peanuts
Chapter 43: Stir-Fried Squid with Peanuts
From less than five meters away, Hawk crouched behind a sturdy streetlamp pole, extending the lens of his camcorder to record the entire scene.
He was stunned—something had obviously gone wrong. Downey actually pointed a gun at the LAPD.
The plan had gone off course.
Despite his surprise, Hawk felt a rush of exhilaration.
Downey, the kind-hearted guy, had wanted him to jump off a building. So, the "good-hearted" Downey grew himself an extra "kind heart."
Although the expected outcomes of "black cannon squid" or "cream puff squid" didn’t pan out, he still got "stir-fried squid with peanuts."
But things had definitely gotten messy.
Hawk wasn’t panicking. When entering Los Angeles, he had already set up escape routes.
He always prepared for the worst. This time, before making his move, he’d done extensive prep work, even disguising himself for a trial run to Tijuana.
Hawk’s hands remained remarkably steady as he quickly weighed his options while continuing to film everything happening on-site.
A male officer arrived from the other side and checked on the female officer. He immediately reported to command, "Shots fired at the intersection of Santa Monica Boulevard and 20th Street! Suspect down! Requesting backup and medical assistance!"
The female officer, though shaken, stayed composed and didn’t panic.
She recognized Downey but wasn’t about to risk her life over it. Fame was his, but her life was her own—and she only had one.
When someone points a gun at your face, gambling isn’t an option.
The man convulsing on the ground clearly wasn’t going to make it. The two officers holstered their weapons.
People from afar began to crowd closer. Watching drama unfold was the same everywhere in the world.
Hawk approached with his camera, focusing on Downey. He zoomed in for close-ups of the extra "kind-hearted" chest wounds and the bloodstained face.
He then shifted the lens through the open passenger door, capturing a clear shot of the black bag on the armrest and the scattered powder.
The male officer noticed him. Hawk raised his press credentials hanging on his chest and identified himself, "Fox News journalist!" Then, he added, "This scumbag attacked the police. I saw it. I can testify for you!"
Hearing the name "Fox" and those words, the male officer warned, "Stay away from the crime scene."
Hawk didn’t approach any closer, keeping a few meters’ distance as he continued filming.
In the distance, patrol car lights flashed one after another as more LAPD vehicles arrived.
This was Los Angeles' premier armed violence squad, notorious for covering their own. It wasn’t yet the era when Black leaders publicly revealed LAPD undercover lists.
Hawk glanced at the male officer again. This type of situation was a headache for the LAPD too.
But the LAPD’s stance was easy to predict. It wasn’t just the LAPD—police anywhere in America would back their own.
Unless they were dealing with big financiers or high-profile figures, but Downey wasn’t one of those.
Hawk had thoroughly re
Hawk quickly left the area while deep in thought.
As for Jacqueline, without Cole, the risk was minimal.
A fake pregnant woman provoking a celebrity’s wife to stir up fake news—that was all.
---
In Tijuana, at the motel, someone knocked on the door of Cole’s room.
Cole opened the door slightly and saw a beautiful Mexican woman standing outside.
The woman smiled charmingly and said in halting English, “Sir, need service? Only fifty dollars.”
Cole sized up the woman. She had a pretty face, a sexy figure, and bore a strong resemblance to Hollywood actress Jessica Alba.
As she leaned forward slightly, her curves were hard to ignore.
Cole opened the door.
From both sides of the doorway, four Mexican men rushed in.
Before long, the five of them left with a large suitcase and Cole’s bag.
In Tijuana, people disappeared every day, and the chances of being found were negligible.
---
In Sherman Oaks, at a standalone house.
Deborah received a phone call informing her that Downey had been shot and killed by the LAPD during an armed assault on the police.
Her face changed dramatically. She rushed to the bar in the living room, grabbed a bottle of champagne, and poured herself a full glass.
One big gulp later, she felt an inexplicable sense of joy.
It was f***ing fantastic.
Estranged spouses held grudges as deep as the ocean.
Deborah wouldn’t need to go to court to fight for the inheritance, saving tons of lawyer fees.
How many women had every Hollywood star messed around with? Ten or twenty was considered modest—Downey had probably been with dozens. Whether or not there were illegitimate children, there was no longer a chance of them splitting the inheritance.
This was simply too wonderful.
Deborah had the urge to set off fireworks, but on second thought, she decided to maintain an extremely sorrowful appearance.
She could celebrate with fireworks after inheriting the estate.
---
At dusk, in Century City, Hawk parked his Mondeo. He took out his everyday Nokia phone and glanced at it—no missed calls.
He dialed Claire from Channel 11 directly and got straight to the point: “This is Hawk Osmond, the source of the Gandalf-hunting-doorstep news.”
Claire, who dealt with numerous reporters daily, immediately recalled the story and person. “Got any big news?”
Hawk quickly said, “I’m giving you a free tip: not long ago, Robert Downey Jr. was shot dead by the LAPD at the intersection of Santa Monica Boulevard and 20th Street.”
Claire, an entertainment news veteran, replied, “I already got word. Anything else?”
Hawk replied calmly, “I recorded the entire incident on video.”
“You recorded it?” Claire practically shouted. After taking several deep breaths, she solemnly asked, “Mr. Hawk Osmond, are you certain you have the entire incident on video?”
Hawk’s tone was unusually serious: “The footage is right here on my laptop.”
Claire didn’t hesitate: “Where are you right now? I’ll send a car to pick you up immediately. Please don’t contact any other media outlets before we formally quote a price. Our offer will be the highest in the industry.”
Hawk said, “No need. I’ll drive over myself.”
They hung up. Claire immediately left her desk, knocked on the producer’s office door, entered, and shut it tightly. She informed Megan, “Hawk Osmond, the freelance reporter who provided us with news about The Lord of the Rings crew, just called. He claims to have recorded the entire incident of Robert Downey Jr. being shot by the LAPD.”
Megan shot up from her seat: “Where is he? I need to see him immediately.”
News about a living Robert Downey Jr. might not be too attention-grabbing, but a Hollywood star killed in a shootout? That was a whole other level of value!
“He’s on his way,” Claire said.
Megan instructed, “Go wait for him at the building entrance. This isn’t just entertainment news; it’s also social news. We can’t let anyone else take the story.”
Every tabloid scandal reporter dreamed of making it in mainstream social news.
“I’m on it,” Claire replied as she turned and left.
Megan picked up the phone on her desk and dialed a number. “What’s left of our budget this month? What? Not enough? Get an application to upper management immediately. Use the top-tier breaking news channel. If anyone gives you trouble, I’ll handle it!”
Once they secured exclusive footage of the scene, it wouldn’t matter who reported the story first. All eyes would be glued to Channel 11’s Midnight Entertainment.