The Best Movie Actor In Hollywood!

Chapter 396

(Translator's Note: I made a mistake; this chapter should have come before yesterday's.)

Vast grasslands stretched out, broken only by the occasional low-lying tree that momentarily obscured the view. A convoy of more than twenty SUVs roared across the landscape, their engines sending startled antelopes and zebras scattering in a panic.

Matthew slipped off his sunglasses and gazed out the window, his eyes catching the faint outline of several lions concealed in the tall grass. They were powerful, majestic creatures.

"This is a nature reserve in Kenya," Brown Williams, the bodyguard clad in camouflage, explained. "It’s full of wild predators, like lions and cheetahs."

Helen tore her gaze from the window, took a sip from her water bottle, and turned to Matthew beside her. "Be careful," she advised. "Don’t wander off on your own."

"I know." Matthew nodded, then turned to Brown Williams in the passenger seat. "Ever been here on a mission?"

Brown’s expression grew distant as he recalled. "I’ve been to Kenya twice. Once when I was serving with Delta Force, and again as a bodyguard about a year and a half ago."

Matthew’s curiosity was piqued. "How did you go from Delta Force to being our instructor?"

He remembered how Brown Williams had trained some of the actors, including himself and James McAvoy, before filming began on Black Hawk Down.

"Serving as your military instructor was just a temporary assignment, back when I was still with Delta."Brown paused for a moment, hinting at confidential matters he couldn’t discuss, then continued, "I wasn't looking for a promotion, and I’d grown tired of the army, so I put in for my discharge."

He sighed. "Besides my military skills, I don't know how to do much else, so I ended up in personal security."

Matthew nodded. He’d heard that while members of elite units like Delta Force or the Navy SEALs were masters of combat, they often struggled to transition back into a normal civilian career.

"How's the pay?" Matthew asked. He recalled the military expertise Brown had demonstrated during their training, and an idea began to form in his mind. "It’s decent, I assume?"

Brown offered a vague smile. "Not too bad. Better than my army pay. I just travel the world, earning a living to support my family."

"You're married?" Matthew asked.

"Yeah." Brown seemed to open up a little, perhaps because they had a history. "Got kids, too. It’s a shame I have to be on the road so much."

Helen glanced at Matthew, then calmly studied Brown Williams. Having worked with Matthew for years, a quick thought was all it took for her to guess his intentions.

She had hired Brown as a temporary bodyguard and knew his basic details. Seizing the opportunity, she asked, "Are you looking for more work?"

Brown shrugged. "We’ve got a mortgage on our house in Santa Monica. I can’t afford the payments if I’m not working."

"Mortgage payments are a killer," Matthew said, feigning deep sympathy.

Brown nodded. "Yeah, the interest rates are brutal."

After that, Matthew steered the conversation back to their training days, reminiscing with Brown about the experience.

After a long, bumpy ride, the convoy finally halted before a sprawling expanse of tents. Matthew stepped out and surveyed the scene. Tents and simple structures were packed together, stretching farther than the eye could see. Blue-helmeted peacekeepers stood guard at the entrance and other key points, while the people moving in and out of the camp were predominantly black.

Helen averted her gaze from the scene. "This is it," she said.

Brown was instantly at Matthew’s side. "The peacekeepers here only maintain a basic level of order," he warned. "Camps like this are rife with thieves and looters. Whatever you do, do not leave my line of sight."

Matthew wasn't a fool; he nodded in understanding.

Just then, the UNHCR official in charge of the convoy, a man named Filippo Grandi, approached and offered a similar warning to Brown's.

Matthew was here for the photo op, not to save the world. He knew perfectly well what he was supposed to do and, more importantly, what not to do.

Once a man has money, he starts valuing his life, and Matthew was no exception. In his eyes, everything in this camp combined wasn't worth as much as his own safety.

The reporters around him readied their equipment, eager to capture the 'reality' of the camp. Matthew, for his part, finished speaking with Filippo and, flanked by several UNHCR staff and his bodyguards, headed into the camp. The press followed closely behind.

The camp had clearly been here for a long time. What struck Matthew most was the sheer squalor. The slums he had once lived in were a palace compared to this. As he walked from one ragged tent to the next, one thought resonated deeply within him.

He felt it profoundly: reincarnation was a true stroke of luck, and it was a blessing beyond measure not to have been born in a place like this.

He imagined that if he’d spent a few years in this part of the world, he would have truly appreciated the stability and prosperity of the country he now called home.

Matthew walked along a relatively smooth dirt path between the tents. The people he passed were gaunt, their eyes vacant, as if they had lost all hope. It was as if the war had stripped away everything—including their very spirit—leaving only empty shells behind.

War had been a constant throughout human history. And though Matthew lacked a formal higher education, he understood that the conflicts fueled by religion, faith, nationality, and ideology were impossible to eradicate.

"This is the spot," a UNHCR staffer murmured, reminding him. "The one we planned for your visit."

The press surged forward as Matthew entered the designated tent. He shook hands with a slender man inside, recited his prepared lines, and even pulled the man into a hug.

The entire exchange was meticulously documented by the swarm of photographers crowded behind him.

Just as Helen had arranged, Matthew offered no actual aid, only words and gestures. Every handshake, every hug with a refugee, was carefully captured by the journalists' lenses.

Helen had already informed him that he had an interview with Time magazine scheduled for the next day. The result would be a cover story on the second issue of the new year.

With his current fame and status, the first cover of the year was out of reach, but the second was still a major coup.

Landing the cover of Time's second issue was no small feat; it was the result of a concerted effort from multiple parties.

Throughout the tour of the refugee camp, Matthew simply followed the script provided by the UNHCR. They had a comprehensive plan, which meant Matthew didn't have to worry about a thing.

With the media documenting his every move and the UNHCR paving the way, their safety was all but guaranteed. The camp was in Kenya, one of the more socially stable and secure countries in East Africa.

Besides posing for photos with the refugees, Matthew also made a point of observing Brown Williams. True to his military background, the thirty-year-old former Delta Force operative never let his guard down, his eyes discreetly tracking every local who approached Matthew.

The trip to the refugee camp went off without a hitch—no shootouts, no robberies.

After leaving the camp, Matthew got back into his SUV. The convoy, filled with journalists and UNHCR staff, headed north. They drove for nearly two hours to the outskirts of the nearest town, where a large orphanage housed hundreds of refugee children who had lost their families.

The children here were treated far better than the adults in the camps. They received a basic education from volunteers and were regularly supplied with aid from the UNHCR. As Helen had put it, this place was the UNHCR's showcase for the outside world.

Everything at the orphanage was perfectly arranged, designed to make any visitor feel that the UNHCR was doing good work and that every donated penny was being put to excellent use.

Charity was never simple; it required just as much careful planning and execution as any other business.

Matthew remained at the orphanage until the sun began to set. For the grand finale, he picked up a little girl, sat down in the middle of a group of children, and posed for a group photograph.

In that moment, he looked like an angel who had descended to Earth.

But the moment he returned to his hotel, Matthew went straight to the bathroom. He soaked in the tub for nearly two hours, scrubbing until even the calloused skin on his palms was wrinkled and pruned.

****

The next day, he gave his interview to the Time reporter with the orphanage as his backdrop. As soon as it was over, he returned directly to the Kenyan capital, Nairobi, and boarded a flight back to Los Angeles.

Of course, Matthew hadn’t forgotten about Brown Williams. He immediately asked Helen to find out everything she could about the veteran.

The rest of 2005 passed quietly. Then, in the second week of 2006, the fruits of his trip to Africa appeared: Matthew Horner, angel to the refugees, graced the cover of Time magazine.