The Wolf of Los Angeles.

In the reception room on the fourth floor of Twitter, Emma Bateson and her assistant sat on the sofa, looking at Hawke and Edward across from them.

She asked her assistant to hand the draft plan to Hawke, saying, "We invited a third-party professional organization to value Twitter, and the valuation was $12 billion."

Without even looking at the plan, Hawke said, “The valuation is too low.”

Emma said: "Twitter has a large number of active users, but it has only been established for half a year and has not yet found a stable revenue channel. It will be operating at a loss for many years to come."

Hawke countered: "Users represent all the possibilities in the future."

"But we can't calculate it this way for investors. We also have to measure the investment returns." The plan in Emma's hand was drawn up by BlackRock's San Francisco branch. She was only responsible for serving as a bridge of communication: "Hawke, how about you listen to the offer first?"

Hawke nodded slightly: "Okay."

Emma said: "BlackRock San Francisco Branch is willing to buy half of your Twitter shares for $5 million, and you will continue to serve as Twitter's CEO and will not interfere in Twitter's daily operations."

"I still say the same thing, the valuation is low." Hawke added: "Does it not interfere with daily operations, including the direction of public opinion on Twitter?"

This is a topic that cannot be avoided, and it will also be reflected in the contract between the two parties. Emma cannot give a wrong signal and said: "Of course, Twitter must maintain consistency with BlackRock Group on major public opinions."

Hawke said bluntly: "I cannot accept this because Twitter will lose its independence."

Emma said: "But Twitter can get the full support of BlackRock and all its company platforms."

Hawke couldn't help but shake his head: "Twitter's independence is a key point. I won't give up."

Since they couldn't reach an agreement on the most critical point, Emma could only raise the price: "BlackRock can raise it to $6 million."

Hawke still firmly refused: "This is not a question of price, but a question of principle."

"Please take a look at the plan first." Emma said goodbye at the right time: "I will communicate with San Francisco later."

Hawke stood up and shook her hand.

Emma left in a hurry with her assistant.

The two of them went downstairs and got into the car. The assistant said, "It's going to be hard to go through the normal channels."

Emma agreed: "Disagreements over principles are difficult to handle."

The assistant suggested: "Should we try some other methods..."

Although Emma is very confident about her appearance, she is not blind: "In a transaction worth hundreds of millions of dollars, even if I participate in it, how much can I play a role?"

She laughed: "Don't be ridiculous, with hundreds of millions of dollars, you can find dozens of people like me."

The assistant said no more.

Emma added, "You've overlooked one thing. This is Los Angeles, not San Francisco. This is not our home turf, but Twitter's. Some methods that can be used in San Francisco cannot be used in Los Angeles. If something really happens, not many people will help us."

The assistant responded, “I understand.”

Emma asked the driver to drive: "Let's go back and continue communicating with San Francisco to see what they want to do specifically."

Upstairs, Hawke returned to his office, opened the document and checked it carefully to make sure there was nothing unusual before looking at the investment plan inside.

The specific content is exactly the same as what Emma Bateson said. As for the so-called platform and resource support, it is meaningless if Twitter loses its independence.

It was not difficult for Hawke to judge that the other party wanted to use hundreds of millions of dollars as bait to deal with him, a Wyoming country bumpkin who had never seen the world, and thus take control of Twitter.

At least we need to keep Twitter consistent with Blue Party public opinion.

Hawke picked up the phone and called Mary Ferguson, told her about the meeting with Emma, ​​and faxed the plan over.

When it's time to curry favor with someone, he won't hesitate.

It was partly because of these troubles that the Ferguson family invested together.

Now that Twitter has become a big piece of cake, the Ferguson family will naturally not let anyone get their hands on it easily.

…………

Long Beach, highway to San Diego.

Tim, who rushed over from 20th Street in Santa Monica, came under a highway bridge accompanied by private detective Coulson.

Two Mexicans were already waiting here.

When they saw a strange car approaching, they all grabbed the guns under their clothes.

Coulson made a phone call. When the phone rang, he got out of the car holding the phone and said loudly, "It's me. Chrissy introduced me. Codename: Rattlesnake."

The bald Mexican shouted, "Get out of the car, hurry up, everyone get out."

Tim followed him out of the car.

The two walked towards the Mexican side.

Tim also patted the black plastic bag in his hand: "This is money."

The bald man shouted, "Open it."

Tim untied the bag, revealing the dollar bills inside.

The bald man was very satisfied: "Come here."

Coulson and Tim went over together and placed the bag of money on the hood of the car.

The bald man signaled his younger brother with his eyes.

Another tattooed man ran into the car, brought out a bag and handed it over: "You guys check the goods." Coulson took it.

The bald man checked the money and he checked the goods, both sides were carried out at the same time.

Tim took a look and saw that the bag was full of high-quality plastic explosives. As long as the detonator was connected, it would be a ready-made bomb.

This thing is extremely powerful and is the best choice for sending the target flying into the sky on a homemade plane.

Coulson checked it and nodded to Tim: "The goods are fine."

The bald man quickly counted the money and said with a smile: "If you need anything, please feel free to contact us."

Coulson responded, "I'll call you if I need you."

The two shook hands and left.

Tim followed Coulson into the car, put away the plastic explosives, and returned to Los Angeles along the same route.

Coulson asked, "Do we really need to use these things?"

"What are you afraid of? It's not like I haven't used it before." Tim said casually, "I won't let you do it."

Coulson thought of Miller Collins behind the Ackerman Charity Shelter.

He asked, "Hawk Osmond is different. Once a person dies..."

Tim shook his head. "It's troublesome when a person is alive. Once a person dies, the forces behind him don't think about revenge, but what kind of benefits they can get from it. As long as the benefits are big enough, just throw a murderer in front of them, and things will eventually settle down."

Coulson smiled and said, "Your competition is too complicated. I just want to make money."

Tim and him were old friends, so he specifically said, "Right now, the higher-ups haven't decided to do it yet. If they do, and it succeeds, you can go on a trip overseas to relax and come back in a few months."

"I just want to take a vacation." Coulson understood what this meant: "When I come back from overseas, I will plan to retire."

Tim pointed to where the plastic explosives were hidden: "You have to modify these."

Coulson snapped his fingers: "No big deal."

The car arrived in Culver City, near the Sony Studios, where Tim changed his car and drove back to Santa Monica alone.

On the way, he received a call from his immediate superior, Douglas: "What's going on over there?"

"All necessary preparations have been made," Tim said as concisely as possible, "We can start anytime."

Douglas warned: "Don't move rashly, follow my instructions."

Tim said, “I understand.”

The person on the other end hung up the phone quickly.

As it got dark, Tim's car turned onto 20th Street and arrived near his home, just as Jet Brown's Volvo drove over.

The latter honked the horn, pulled over to the side of the road, lowered the window and greeted him: "Tim, I haven't seen you in the past few days. Are you busy with work?"

Tim also rolled down the car window and said with a smile, "I went on a business trip out of town and just got back."

Jeter's job is to call people directly. Those who can live in this community are not ordinary people. He took the initiative to invite: "Are you free tonight? Let's have a drink together. Invite Hawke to join us. Let's have a men's party."

Tim declined: "I've been out for several days and have been busy working. I'm so tired and I urgently need to rest. How about I treat you another day?"

Jeter didn't force anyone: "Okay, call me another day."

Tim nodded in his direction, used the electronic key to open the garage door, started the car, and turned inside.

Jet also backed the car into his garage.

He entered the house and went to the second floor to change clothes. He found that Hawke's Mercedes Benz and Erica's G-Class entered the garage next door one after another.

Erica is coming over, and Hawke definitely doesn't have time.

After being neighbors for a few months, Jet discovered one thing: the couple next door were extremely energetic and often made love twice a night.

Then think about my small body, even one Diana can’t satisfy me.

Jet shook his head and sighed, the gap between people was too big.

Next door, Erica offered to cook dinner for Hawke herself using the ingredients she had just bought at the supermarket.

Hawke leaned against the kitchen door frame to watch and asked, "Can you do this? Do you want me to help you?"

Erica smiled back and said, "Don't underestimate me, I've taken cooking classes, not the crappy American cooking classes."

Hawke pretended to be horrified: "Isn't this a British cooking class? Honey, that kind of food would kill you."

"Of course not British food." Erica seemed to understand the power of British cuisine and said, "I studied Italian and Spanish cooking. Although I am not very skilled, I can make simple barbecue and pasta."

She pointed outside: "You can go to the living room to watch TV. Please be patient."

Hawke stopped disturbing her and went back to the living room, turned on the TV, watched the news, and even switched to the entertainment channel.

It just so happened that the entertainment channel was broadcasting news about Tom Cruise and his relationship with Scientology.

Tom Cruise wore the uniform of a senior Scientologist and stood on a podium to give a speech, calling on more people to embrace Scientology.

This is not a recent video, it should be from a few years ago, Tom Cruise looked younger than he does now.

Hawke sighed, this guy's negatives are endless. (End of this chapter)