The Wolf of Los Angeles

Chapter 14: George Goes Down

As daylight broke, chimneys that had been dormant overnight began puffing smoke again, one emitting a noticeably thicker plume.

By the fireplace, Hawk was burning the clothes and other items they had used the previous night, reducing them to ash.

“You’re sure you cleaned up everything?” came Brandt’s slightly muffled voice from the bedroom. “No evidence left behind?”

Hawk stirred the flames to ensure thorough combustion. “I’ve checked carefully. Even if someone concludes it was sabotage, it won’t lead back to us.”

Brandt emerged from the bedroom, fully dressed.

When Hawk turned to look, he almost dropped the fire poker. He pointed to the corner of Brandt’s mouth and asked, “What the hell did you do?”

Brandt, gingerly touching the small wound at his mouth’s edge, winced as he spoke, “Talking too much makes it easy to slip up. I don’t want to end up in jail, so I scratched myself with a thumbtack. Every time I speak, it hurts—a reminder to keep my mouth shut.”

Hawk suddenly felt like he’d either ruined this man or turned him into something tougher.

After dumping the ashes into a public trash can, the two headed out to the hotel, where they updated Katherine and Eric on the situation. Katherine left shortly afterward for the airport to meet Castle Rock Entertainment and Rob Reiner.

Hawk and Brandt made their way to a glass-walled fast-food restaurant across from the Crystal Theater. Picking a table near the window, they ate while watching the theater. Brandt only ordered a milk carton with a straw.

During breakfast, Hawk called Larson and the four deputies, arranging for them to gather. Then he had Brandt contact Lewis and Damian to join them for breakfast.

About ten minutes later, the two arrived.

The group hadn’t finished eating when the theater owner came to open up.

Remembering being insulted as "stinking dog sh*ts" the night before, Brandt couldn’t resist muttering, “That damned—”

But the pain in his injured mouth shut him up quickly.

Across the street, the theater owner unlocked the door and discovered there was no power. Calmly, he headed to the breaker room, where he fiddled with the circuits but couldn’t restore electricity. ṛá𐌽O͍ʙÈṨ

Unable to find the issue, he made a call for repairs.

Next, he went to the toolshed to try starting a generator that hadn’t been used in over a year, but the machine wouldn’t run.

“Damn it,” he grumbled, kicking the generator in frustration. “Indian-made junk! It’s only been unused for a year!”

Without power, the theater couldn’t screen films, which would certainly anger the productions and force him to refund the rental fees.

The first scheduled film of the morning was Lemon Street. The owner hastily dug out the director’s number.

George was in the middle of breakfast when he heard the news about the power outage. He exploded, tossing his utensils aside and rushing to the theater.

Far more anxious than the owner, George barged into the building and yelled, “How is there no power? When will it be fixed?”

The owner spread his hands helplessly. “I don’t know. I’ve checked, but nothing works. We’ll have to wait for the repair crew.”

George roared, “Where are they? Are they here yet?”

“When I called, they were having breakfast,” the owner explained, exasperated. “After that, they need to clock in at the office, attend the morning meeting, and then head over.”

With a loud bang, George slammed his fist on the counter. “Damn it! Damn it!”

He glanced at the clock, trying to reassure himself. “There’s still time.”

The owner, not wanting to breach his contracts, kept calling to urge the repair crew to hurry, even trying unsuccessfully to borrow another generator.

George stepped outside, pacing the theater steps as he made calls. He had spent a fortune hiring intermediaries to connect with Castle Rock Entertainment. If the screening fell through, his reputation among Hollywood buyers would be ruined.

Inside the restaurant across the street, Hawk and his team finished breakfast.

Lewis peered through the glass at the Crystal Theater. “You’ve treated us to two meals. Helping out is the least we can do.”

Young and loyal to their friendships, Damian readily agreed, “Keeping an eye on their wiring isn’t just help—it’s protecting Park City’s safety.”

Hawk spoke quietly, “Besides that, there’s a small task that carries some risk.”

He nudged Brandt.

Brandt pulled out cash and handed it to the two, gesturing wordlessly to his injured mouth.

“We can’t let you take risks for nothing,” Hawk explained.

Lewis and Damian exchanged glances before pocketing the money and shrugging. “A little risk is no big deal.”

Hawk pointed at George, who was pacing outside the theater with his gold-rimmed glasses. “Keep an eye on that guy. Wait for my call, then deliver a message to him.”

“That’s too easy,” Damian said, feeling overpaid.

Hawk nodded. “Thanks. This side is in your hands now.”

As the two left, Hawk and Brandt headed to Alpine Pizza.

Brandt, mindful of his injury, remained unusually quiet unless necessary.

At the pizzeria, the theater group members began trickling in, including Larson and his deputies.

The bearded man from before clapped Hawk on the shoulder and grinned, “Buddy, you still owe me a black coffee!”

“I’ll grab one for you.” Hawk got a cup from Bill and handed it over.

“You’re a good guy,” the man said cheerfully.

Nearby, a ten-year-old girl tugged on Hawk’s sleeve and asked, “If I watch the movie, do I get ten dollars too?”

“Of course!” Hawk said. “But keep it to yourself, okay?”

The girl nodded eagerly. “Got it!” She ran off to tell her sister, “I’ve got ten bucks for the week!”

The crowd grew, creating some chaos. Hawk checked the time and had Larson organize the group, splitting them up and heading toward the Great Salt Lake Theater.

At the theater entrance, Eric’s heart finally settled halfway as he saw the stream of attendees.

“Are they ready?” Eric asked Hawk.

“They’ll be fine. Everyone will stay focused and watch the film without interruptions.”

Eric hesitated. “Didn’t you say the audience would have emotional reactions?”

“Immersion and attentiveness are emotional reactions,” Hawk replied.

The real fireworks, of course, were saved for after the screening.

Inside the auditorium, Hawk noticed the audience was clustered too closely. Calling over Larson and the deputies, he instructed, “Leave the first two and last two rows empty. Spread out the others. This isn’t a group viewing.”

Larson, eager to learn, nodded. “Makes sense.”

Hawk added, “Distribute yourselves among the crowd to keep them focused. After the film, make sure they stay seated until I signal. If there’s a scoring session, don’t give all perfect scores—stick to three or four stars.”

Five stars was the maximum.

“Understood. Everything’s ready,” Larson assured him.

Hawk left the auditorium briefly, scanning the concession stand before summoning Brandt. “Call Bill and have him deliver the same instant black coffee here. Stock the concession stand with it.”

Brandt endured the pain as he made the call.

Hawk then found Mason, the theater owner, and gave him additional instructions.

Eric ran in from outside. “The plane’s landed.”

Hawk took out his phone and called Lewis. “It’s time.”

Eric, puzzled, asked, “Time for what?”

Hawk didn’t answer, instead asking, “You have a DV camera, right? Can I borrow it?”

“Sure,” Eric said, sending someone to fetch it.

When the camera arrived, Hawk was surprised to see it was a semi-new professional-grade model. After Eric showed him the basics, Hawk turned to Mason.

“Get some temporary security agreements ready,” Hawk said. “I’ll find people to maintain order until the screening ends—for free.”

“Listen to him,” Eric told Mason.

The added bonus from Katherine made Mason agree after brief consideration.

At the Crystal Theater, an electric company van pulled up, and two repair workers got out to inspect the situation.

George breathed a sigh of relief. He’d just been informed the plane had landed.

“There’s still time,” he muttered, following the workers.

But soon, he received the worst news.

“The issue is highly complex,” one worker said. “Further inspection is needed. This won’t be resolved anytime soon.”

“How long?” asked the owner.

“Earliest by afternoon, but possibly not until tomorrow,” the worker replied.

“What? Afternoon? What kind of shoddy work is this? It needs to be fixed in half an hour!” George raged.

The workers, unimpressed, shrugged. “Feel free to fix it yourself.”

“Just hurry,” George said, barely containing his temper before turning to the owner. “What about the generator?”

“It’s from an Indian supplier,” the owner said. “I called for repairs, but they’re backlogged for a week.”

He added professionally, “Since your film can’t be screened, I’ll refund you in full.”

“Refunds? Is that the issue here? F***! F***!” George felt his future slipping away. How had things fallen apart overnight?

Before he could say more, the owner casually picked up a stun baton. George immediately fell silent.

“I’ll transfer the money,” the owner said.

George, dazed, found himself back at the theater entrance. His phone’s ringtone snapped him out of it—it was the intermediary calling.

Just as he answered, a young man dashed over. “This is what you deserve, you sick pervert!”

With a crash, George’s phone shattered on the ground.

Jumping down the steps, Lewis flashed George two middle fingers.

“Eric Isen, this isn’t over!” George shouted as he scrambled into a black car and sped toward the Great Salt Lake Theater.

With his Crystal Theater plans ruined, he had nothing left to lose. But he vowed to make Eric suffer.

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