[Chapter 336: A Bunch of Scamrs 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 nurous 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 forr 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 developnt plan. While this was normal at the policy level, Harley felt it might be worth exploring.
Harley opened her email, finding several unread ssages, and quickly beca engrossed in one. It contained photos of various forms, which revealed many nas followed by blood test records, blood draw tis, and information on where the blood was sold.
Another form detailed an organ transplant list, ticulously 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 dical center.
Harley's right hand, gripping the mouse, trembled slightly as she opened an encrypted hidden folder containing findings related to the Venice Beach Club incident. Although the club was nominally founded by Broderick, an executive at Ackerman Films, it was actually owned by the Ackerman family. The fire had destroyed all traceable evidence, and with two supposed suicides to take the bla and the upper echelon's conspiracy, everything had quickly returned to normal.
Harley pulled up the profile of a man nad Guerrero, who had committed suicide by jumping off a building. He had a girlfriend nad 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 look up two people?"
"Do you have nas or social security numbers?" ca the reply.
Harley provided the nas and details of the companies they had run. "Thanks."
The response ca quickly: "They went bankrupt and couldn't repay their loans, they couldn't pay child support after their divorce, and they've beco holess."
...
After hanging up, Harley contemplated contacting a friend at the Los Angeles Public Health Departnt 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 et 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 dical Center.
With nurous blood banks established in Los Angeles, Orange County, and San Diego, anyone in need could easily go to sell blood at any ti. As a reporter covering social issues, Harley had so 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 sa block, there was a blood bank operated by the Ackerman dical Center.
Harley had a glimr of recognition of the area; she recalled how holessness 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 xican 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 fild, 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 dical 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 holess individuals and undocunted immigrants.
In front of the dical 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 imdiately pulled out their phones to make a call.
...
Upon exiting the parking lot, Harley spotted an older xican holess man sitting by the door. Judging by his appearance, he had likely road the streets for quite so ti.
She took out a dollar and placed it in front of the man's tattered hat, saying, "I'm here looking for soone, 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 ntioned a na from the forms, "Do you know Ward Prowse? He's my cousin; he beca holess after a divorce last year, and I heard he was around here."
The old man thought for a mont, shaking his head, "No, I don't know him."
But Harley wasn't here just to find soone. Instead, she added, "He sent a last ssage, 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 treatnt?"
"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 dical treatnt after finding they had ailnts never returned. I heard from those at the shelter that so 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 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 xican woman said, "You shouldn't bother searching; you won't find him. I've been looking, I've checked all the places they ntioned, and couldn't find him. I even reported it to the police, but they said holess cases weren't their issue."
Harley acted heartbroken.
The xican 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 nas and their details and replied, "Thanks."
They exchanged contact information, and the xican woman provided her with a Twitter group number.
...
Returning to her car, Harley imdiately opened her laptop, accessed Twitter through her Wi-Fi card, and joined the group. The group already had over a dozen mbers, many comnts about searching for people, and soone claid to have infiltrated the Ackerman dical Center, discovering serious issues inside.
Harley chatted with these individuals for a while, confirming that the credentials she received via email were genuine.
...
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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 dia era -- a bunch of scamrs 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.
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