Chapter 148 — You'll Open Fire
Bang. Bang. Bang…
Along the streets of Koreatown, Korean immigrants fired back with their own weapons, exchanging gunshots with looters rampaging through the neighborhood.
Burning buses. Shattered buildings. Stores stripped completely bare.
That night, on the balcony of the Bel-Air estate, Aaron held a pair of binoculars to his eyes. In the distance—Koreatown and South Central Los Angeles—flames lit up the sky.
"The police have essentially abandoned those areas," Jack Wells explained over the phone. "They're concentrated in wealthy neighborhoods now. South Central and Koreatown are taking the worst losses."
Jack was stationed near East Hollywood and had a clearer picture of the situation.
"Koreatown's different, though," Jack continued. "The Korean communities are fighting back. Curfews are in effect—from 7 p.m. to 6 a.m."
"Are you safe over there?" Aaron asked.
"Don't worry. Not many troublemakers around here. There's a large shopping complex nearby, plenty of security. You stay put in Beverly Hills for the next few days. L.A. is basically in chaos."
Jack lowered his binoculars, staring out from his window.
"This isn't just protest anymore—it's retaliation."
In South Central, rioters claimed they were avenging Rodney King.
When they reached Koreatown, the slogan changed to "Justice for Latasha Harlins." Years earlier, Harlins had been killed during a robbery attempt at a Korean-owned grocery store.
After ending the call, Jack noticed a group approaching down the street—rioters facing off against police officers and armed local residents.
"Fuck," he muttered.
Grabbing an automatic rifle from the corner, Jack hurried downstairs.
"Sheriff Billy, looks like they're getting restless," Jack said.
Several members of Angel Security were already positioned nearby.
Billy looked tense. Police cars formed a barricade, weapons raised. Burning trash cans flickered just ahead of the approaching crowd.
"For now, they're holding back," Billy said. "Hopefully they won't push closer."
Officers shouted warnings through loudspeakers, ordering the crowd to disperse.
Jack's expression hardened. "This should've been shut down with force. Where the hell are the National Guard? The Marines?"
"These people cause destruction and expect sympathy," he said coldly. "God knows how much damage the city's taken today alone."
The core of the unrest came from a mix of Black and Spanish-speaking Latino groups.
Billy placed a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Reinforcements are coming. By morning, the National Guard and the Marines will be on the streets."
---
Back in Bel-Air, after finishing his call with Jack, Aaron made several more—to Nicole Kidman, Sophie Marceau, and others—making sure they were safe.
Returning to the living room, he found Jennifer Connelly watching the news.
"Is Los Angeles collapsing?" she asked quietly.
"Collapsing?" Aaron chuckled and dropped onto the couch.
"Relax. We're safe here. The police are everywhere around this neighborhood."
"And even if they weren't," he added calmly, "the private security guarding places like ours could handle far worse."
Not to mention the weapons stockpiled in homes like his.
---
The following day, tens of thousands of National Guard troops and U.S. Marines entered Los Angeles, working alongside local police to restore order.
With the military present, the riots subsided quickly—but the damage was immense.
And among all those affected, the Korean community had suffered the most.
A few days later, the unrest finally came to an end—yet it left 850 families homeless, 58 people dead, and more than 2,300 injured.
Over 3,000 buildings were burned or destroyed, 3,000 businesses were affected, and an estimated 20,000 to 40,000 people lost their jobs.
The economic damage to Los Angeles was estimated at around one billion dollars.
On May 4, the citywide curfew was lifted. Public transportation resumed normal service across Los Angeles, and Los Angeles International Airport returned to regular operations.
The White House announced that the federal government would provide $600 million in aid to help rebuild the city—half in Small Business Administration loans, and the other half in direct grants.
---
"Bush really picked the worst possible time for reelection," Aaron remarked.
Inside the Angel Theater offices in West Hollywood, Aaron and Jack Wells sat together watching the news coverage.
"Only that many deaths?" Jack frowned. "Doesn't seem believable."
After a pause, he added casually, "By the way, Aaron—I'm heading to the Soviet Union next."
"It's not the Soviet Union anymore," Aaron corrected him with a sip of wine. "It's Russia now. The place is short on supplies, the economy's shrinking."
"Yeltsin's pushing aggressive privatization—shock therapy," Aaron continued. "For people bold enough, there are endless opportunities."
Jack smiled awkwardly. "You know me—I don't understand economics or finance. But if you ask me about firearms, I can talk all day."
Aaron chuckled. "Alright, I'll keep it simple. The ruble is going to depreciate. If you borrow large amounts of rubles now to buy U.S. dollars—"
"When the ruble drops later, you'll only need a small amount of dollars to repay the same amount of rubles. That difference is pure profit."
He set his glass down.
"There are already plenty of American investors over there, and they know what they're doing. The U.S. is effectively buying decades of Soviet wealth at bargain prices."
Aaron handed Jack a business card.
"Omega Advisors. Leon Cooperman—this hedge fund was founded just last year. He's focused heavily on Russia. I've put ten million dollars into Omega."
Jack took the card. "Alright. I'll talk to him when I get there."
Truthfully, financial speculation didn't excite Jack much anymore—especially after the Jordan Belfort fiasco.
His real ambition now was expanding Angel Security and pushing into the arms trade.
"If you need money while you're in Russia," Aaron said with a shrug, "just call me."
Jack nodded.
---
After leaving West Hollywood, the two deliberately drove to Koreatown, the area hit hardest by the riots.
"I used to live here," Aaron said quietly as he took in the smoke-stained ruins. "Good thing I moved."
Jack laughed. "If you hadn't, you probably would've gone on a killing spree."
Aaron curled his lips slightly.
Not impossible—he had always believed in ruthless retaliation against anyone who crossed him.
"One of our theaters had a Molotov tossed at its entrance," Jack added. "Want to check on it?"
Aaron blinked. "Which one?"
"The Hollywood location. South Central and Koreatown took the worst of it, sure—but Hollywood, West Hollywood, Culver City, Mid-Wilshire, even parts south of Beverly Hills all saw violence."
Aaron nodded. "Let's go take a look."
"Looks like we took some losses too."