King of Hollywood
Chapter 502 - 223 How did you find me?

Chapter 502: Chapter 223 How did you find me?

Doing this kind of thing in a car is very dangerous, but at the same time, it’s also thrilling. Adrian had tried it before, the first time he was caught dating Julia. As long as he drove at the slowest speed and focused his mind, there wouldn’t be too much of a problem, and it could also last longer.

Halle Berry, although Black, had one-quarter Caucasian ancestry, so her appearance and physique were quite impressive. The advantages of being mixed-race were particularly evident in her. Plus, her haircut for the movie was short and refreshing, yet sharp, and her red dress added a special flavor, which made Adrian enjoy himself even more.

Of course, he could play this game with her because he had already taken care of her beforehand. The process was simple, a few years while producing "Bad Boys," Adrian had chatted with her on the set, and at the end of last year, just after her three-year marriage had ended, he met her unwinding in a nightclub, so they simply talked it out there.

Ironically, her few ex-husbands had all been peculiar, either having affairs or being prone to violence. One of her ears had even lost 80% of its hearing during one beating. Of course, none of this had happened yet, but that didn’t stop Adrian from saying nice things, guiding the conversation deliberately. After several talks, Halle began to open up about her distress, eventually talking nonstop regardless of whether Adrian was listening, and the drinks flowed one after another.

In this situation, alcohol quickly took over her body, and Halle became increasingly unrestrained, while Adrian, who was polite and likable, began to overtly flirt with her. Adrian was not bashful; after getting intimate in a dark corner of the nightclub, they embraced and went to the men’s restroom, thereafter, they returned together to Halle’s place to continue.

Halle didn’t mind when she woke up the next day; she even made breakfast for Adrian and then agreed to play the leading role in "Swordfish." After that, they had a few more passionate encounters, but Halle didn’t make too many demands, knowing that some things couldn’t be expected from a playboy. Although Halle didn’t have the best judgment in choosing husbands, she was quite sensible in this regard.

Adrian was quite content; the beautiful Black Pearl, especially her slender waist—enjoyable whether held in his hands or swaying—was delightful, but he had no plans to keep her, unless Halle could lower her stance like Yukie and focus solely on Adrian. Hence, occasional friendly matches were preferable.

Leaving that aside, as time entered May, the Cannes Film Festival was just around the corner. "Mulholland Drive" was almost finished—it relied on editing tricks, so post-production wasn’t particularly complex. In a few more days, the sample reel would be complete and then sent to France for the festival. But before that, some matters needed to be addressed.

The sun hung high in the sky, and although it was only just May, the weather in dry Los Angeles was nearly like midsummer. People on the streets had already switched to summer clothes, and the ladies in sheer miniskirts became a stunning sight.

Finally locating a spot, the white Saab parked in the parking lot. A balding old man around sixty opened the car door, dressed rather formally—a white round-neck t-shirt inside and a dark coat outside, out of place compared to others on the street and wearing a pair of large sunglasses on his nose, he looked rather imposing.

After walking out of the parking lot, he looked around, checked the time, then headed to the planned location—a quite stylish coffee shop near the parking lot. Pushing open the door, the old man walked in, glanced around; it wasn’t crowded, very quiet. His gaze quickly settled on a middle-aged man sitting by the window in the third row, reading a newspaper. The man sensed his gaze, lifted his head, and after a slight smile, gestured for him to join.

The old man approached and sat down, then told the approaching server, "A cappuccino."

Meanwhile, he silently examined the man sitting across from him. His age was indistinct, could be over thirty or even over forty, a very ordinary face. If he left now and went back to the office, he’d probably forget what he looked like soon after. However, this obscurity was precisely what their line of work demanded; it allowed for closer access to the target without being recognized.

"This is what you requested, Mr. Martin," the old man said, pulling a thin document folder from his briefcase and sliding it across the table to the other man.

The other party didn’t say anything but smiled slightly and, after accepting the document bag, opened it and began to carefully read the contents. The old man also said nothing, quietly sipping the cappuccino the waiter had brought as he began to wait. It took about twenty minutes before the middle-aged man, whom he referred to as "Mr. Martin," finally finished reading the document in his hands and then looked up with an apologetic smile, "Sorry to have kept you waiting."

"It’s okay, I hope this has satisfied you," the old man suppressed his impatience and frankly said. He didn’t like dealing with people of this sort—always smiling politely, seemingly humble and harmless, it made it difficult to discern their true thoughts. For people in their line of work, not being able to grasp the other’s emotions could make one passive, and this was somewhat related to the slight disadvantage he found himself in this time.

"Yes, I’m very satisfied, more than I had anticipated, Mr. Anthony Pellicano," Martin nodded, then pulled out two copies of documents and handed them over, "These are not needed."

This made the old man somewhat surprised, but he kept his composure and placed the returned documents back into his briefcase, then asked, "And what about what I need?"

Martin immediately pulled out an envelope from his pocket and slid it across the table to him. Pellicano frowned but didn’t ask further, opening the envelope right in front of the other. Inside was a check and a neatly folded piece of paper. Pellicano glanced at the figures on the check without much concern, as he had seen large numbers over the years, but he opened the piece of paper with slight confusion.

The message was brief and printed, showing the cautiousness of the sender. Pellicano quickly read through it, then pondered for a moment before revisiting it several times, slightly moved as he arched his eyebrow.

"My boss said that this exchange of information is warranted since you’ve also been a major figure in Hollywood for decades, and we can’t let you suffer too much loss," Martin spread his hands, even using honorifics.

"Alright then, I won’t make a fuss. Please thank your boss for me." After considering, Pellicano pocketed the check, "No matter, you’ve won this round, you’re a formidable person, Martin. After so many years in Hollywood, this is the first time someone has managed to trick me using industry tactics—Martin Modimmer isn’t your real name, is it?"

"It doesn’t matter. I am Martin Modimmer now," Martin shrugged, "Actually, you are undervaluing yourself. You should know, the boss calls you the ’Eye of Hollywood.’ He says that almost nothing that happens here escapes your notice. My ability to win this round is not only because I am new here and you don’t know me well, but also because I had access to more resources."

Pellicano raised an eyebrow, "Intervening in the divorce of Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, and being so knowledgeable about public reactions, with someone of your caliber at his disposal and considerable support, I can almost guess who your boss is."

Martin chuckled softly, drained the coffee in his cup, and then stood up, patting his shoulder before picking up the document bag and walking out. The old man continued to drink his cappuccino at an unhurried pace and it was quite a while before he finally sighed. Though he had such a premonition after accepting Cruise’s commission, he didn’t expect it to actually involve them.

To be honest, he could deal with Kirk Kerkorian just as easily, but those other guys were a real pain. It wasn’t that he was afraid of them, but tangling with them was undoubtedly very problematic. These people controlled the media, which halved the effectiveness of his best strategies. More importantly, criminals, no matter what, are illegal, but these people, these real rich people, are experts at making illegal things legal!

"Sorry, Tom, I can’t help you much." Pellicano shrugged indifferently, finished his coffee, and left. Might as well drop out—it wasn’t worth offending a big shot over Cruise, right?

Walking briskly, Martin soon arrived outside his boss’s office. He glanced at the adjacent transparent glass office; the beautiful assistant secretary wasn’t at her post. Where could she be now? Martin tapped his forehead with his finger, pondered for a moment, and then decided to knock on the door.

After a series of knocks, he waited a moment before the door clicked open. Charlize Theron, the beautiful and sexy South African Beauty Diamond, appeared in front of Martin. Indeed, South African Beauty Diamond—a nickname widely circulated in their company, reportedly coined by the boss, just like Pellicano’s ’Eye of Hollywood.’ But the women in the company privately preferred another nickname.

"Mr. Adrian, Mr. Modimmer is here," she turned and called out.

"Let him in," the boss’s voice came from inside, and Charlize made a gesture to invite him.

"Thank you," Martin smiled and nodded, taking two steps before turning back. "By the way, Miss Charlize, your collar..."

He made a gesture, and Charlize looked down, then slightly furrowed her brows and quickly adjusted the tucked-in collar, fixing a misplaced button before raising her head and saying in a cold tone, "Thank you."

Whenever she was in the company, she always kept this distant demeanor, indifferent to the men who tried to pursue her or the women who gossiped behind her back; it was unknown if she behaved the same under the boss’s authority. Martin quickly shook his head upon realizing his wandering thoughts but had to admit the boss’s women all had strong personalities. It was no wonder he liked chasing beauties; if not for that, he wouldn’t...

"How is it going, Martin?" Adrian Cowell, sitting in the high-backed chair and adjusting his tie, asked with a smile. He wore only a shirt, and though his jacket hung on the rack, its wrinkled state revealed much; he was just in time. It would have been troublesome if they were a few minutes later, at the point of entering practical steps.

"Everything went smoothly," Martin said as he sat down and handed over the document bag.

"Very good," the boss briefly scanned the documents and nodded, "Pellicano is a smart man. Having been in Hollywood for so many years, he knows when to reach out and when to pull back."

"Well done, Martin," he said looking up, "Do you want me to reward you with something?"

"That won’t be necessary," Martin shook his head, "This matter was actually quite simple. Pellicano’s best tactics are essentially using various illegal means to obtain significant leverage on others and then blackmailing them. With your support and being hidden behind the scenes, his tricks were hardly effective, not even mentioning the wiretapping software. Like you said, he’s a smart person; anyone else could have achieved the same results."

"But they wouldn’t have done it as beautifully as you," Adrian shrugged, "You are really great, Martin, I didn’t make a mistake with you."

"Let’s leave it at that, we’ll talk about these things next time when I fully demonstrate my capabilities, otherwise, I might be charged with fraud," Martin spread his hands.

Adrian burst into laughter, "You know, Martin, I really wish I could call you Vincent Price."

"That name is outdated; I am now Martin Modimmer," Martin said calmly, yet he sighed inwardly; it had been years since someone got a hold of him like this.

Several months ago, when that European private detective and his team cornered him in a hotel in Athens, he was quite surprised. Although he had failed a few times at the beginning, he hadn’t made a mistake in the last decade for many reasons, such as conducting a job that could take several years to spend the money—he never splurged, the work was not only lucrative but also thrilling—or perhaps because he had an utterly forgettable face. Of course, the rich moguls who were deceived didn’t dare or bother to report to the police either.

Unexpectedly, he was caught red-handed this time, and as he planned to escape—although he had failed before, he had never been caught, boasting considerable expertise in escaping—the other party indicated that they were not hired to arrest him but that the employer wanted to talk to him.

Half-skeptical, Martin watched as the other party made a phone call, then handed the receiver over to him. With just two sentences, he realized who it was, that American media upstart he had swindled out of 2 million in London, who was also a major director and producer, known as the "Miracle Director," Adrian Cowell! Martin’s memory was excellent, which otherwise wouldn’t have allowed him to thrive as he had.

On the phone, the other party revealed a surprising piece of information. After being duped, the person had begun hiring people to investigate him and had persisted until now. However, the person didn’t want to prosecute or deal with him, rather, they admired him and wanted to hire him for a job, inviting him to come to the United States to discuss further.

After much thought, Martin agreed to this request. He didn’t believe Adrian was playing him. Besides, a mogul who had gone to such lengths to find him and could easily dispose of him if he wanted to.

Soon, Martin arrived in Los Angeles and then met with Adrian in the CEO office of AC Media, where Adrian formally extended an invitation.

"You have a smart mind, a versatile demeanor, a steady mentality, and... a quite mediocre face. I need someone like you to gather intelligence for me," he said earnestly.

"I don’t think I’m suited for this. I prefer a thrilling life. If you’re asking me to oversee intelligence gathering, it quite possibly might end up misplaced trust," Martin said, declining politely.

"No, it won’t. Even those seeking thrills cannot live in constant excitement. A properly mundane life can make you more committed to taking on challenges. What those challenges might entail is something to discuss, whether dazzling people with eloquence at high-society parties or fooling those who usually look unattainable, or meticulously gathering target information from a myriad of intelligence. I will take care of any issues for you, providing you with a stable and respectable job, and with my support, you can fully utilize your talents without having to hold onto unspeakable affairs in your old age," Adrian explained.

Admittedly, the man was persuasive. At least, he had truly ignited some interest in Martin, but he couldn’t help but struggle a bit more: "Why... choose me?"

"Because you successfully deceived me. Though it may have had something to do with my impatience and irritation at the time, being deceived is being deceived; there are no good excuses. I’m a confident, even arrogant, person. If someone can deceive me, that shows they are qualified to work for me, and indeed must work for me," Adrian revealed without any concealment, followed by a chuckle, "If you refuse, then I will sue you for fraud. I am not like some people who care too much about losing face; American prisons aren’t so nice to be in."

Even though Martin knew there was a joking element to these words, he understood that it was very likely Adrian would do as he said. The bit of rascality revealed in that instant also evoked some memories from his younger days, so the decision was already pretty clear.

Still, before that, he had one more question to ask: "How did you find me?"

"Very simple. I have a photographic memory, and I’m also quite good at sketching. I drew your appearance that very day, then got some help from the police station, asked private detectives to search across Europe with your sketch. Whenever they encountered someone similar, they took a photo and sent it to me for identification. I’m quite good at noticing details, and chasing women starts with details," he said, spreading his hands, "See, I’m very sincere, aren’t I?"

"Alright, you win." Martin said after a long sigh. (To be continued. If you enjoyed this work, feel free to vote for it at qidian.com. Your support is my greatest motivation.)