Author Notes:

The city is on the brink of an all-out gang war as a group of men dressed in Green Hornet emblems hit organized crime haunts and businesses! Thomas 'Tommy Gun' Brogan, the crime lord that ordered a hit on Britt's mother and helped ruin his father is secretly behind it all, using the Green Hornet's anonymity and a mysterious Pact (GH helped broker), that keeps the five crime families in check against themselves.

The Green Hornet

In

"The Color of Hate"

by R. Cruz

The following is an original story by this author employing characters

created and copyrighted by George W. Trendle.

Based (in part) on the T.V. show

The Green Hornet 1966 Ó 20th Century Fox Television – Greenway Productions

Another challenge for the Green Hornet, his aide Kato and their rolling arsenal the Black Beauty! On police records a wanted criminal, the Green Hornet is really Britt Reid, owner publisher of the Daily Sentinel, his dual identity known only to his secretary and the District Attorney. And now to protect the right and lives of decent citizens --- rides the Green Hornet!

Chapter Ten

"Gray Areas: A Brief Interlude"

Gray Areas

Pop's Liquor Store was a staple in the eastern part of town. Talk around the neighborhood of apartments and low rent houses was that you could chart a map using it as a reference point. Everybody who said they were from this part of the city knew its exact location. Although the simple corner store with brick walls and two large glass plate windows had passed hands several times during the decades, the bright orange neon sign had accidentally become an untouchable example of continuity that no proprietor ever changed.

Within the one story structure, past the seemingly endless aisles stocked of spirits and varieties of beers and beyond a black door marked "Employees Only" lay the true reason the store had survived good economic times and bad. Pop's was also a front.

This innocuous looking store had been a hot bed for criminal activity since the original owner (not named Pop) lost it due to his severe gambling addiction. The store always legally sold liquor but its main purpose was an off-track betting center for the Latino mob.

Miguel spat out a loose tooth, while he rose gingerly on his elbows from the floor and suddenly realized the place had always been a sanctuary. Neither he nor his crew had to be strapped while working here. There was no need. It had never been raided before. Not even by the cops. Nobody was that brave or that foolish. The manager focused as best he could through his good eye, ignoring the pain and swelling from his right.

The entire back room was now a shambles. Tables and chairs strewn about in pieces, television monitors and blackboards smashed. The leader of the five burly men that had charged in and wrecked the room strode casually over to him, the thick soles of his shoes cracking bits and pieces of glass. As he sat on his haunches, black eyes glaring through his mask's eye slits, he brushed over dust and debris from Miguel's blood stained shirt, feigning concern. "It didn't have to be this way," the anonymous face behind the full mask with a green hornet emblem purred. "All you had to do was give the Hornet's his cut."

"I…I…tried to… to…tell you," stammered the battered manager, "I didn't get any confirmation from…my…my people."

"What do you think this was?" he replied coolly. "A social call?" The other five masked men chuckled. "Remind your 'people' that the old way of doing business is over. This city belongs to the Green Hornet gang. And everybody has to pay to play."

Nodding to his men and saying, "Let's go", the leader rose as they began to swiftly file out the door that led to the store's parking and left. Allowing some time to pass, as he gathered strength, Miguel frantically searched for and found his cell phone and with shaky fingers, placed a call.

"A Spy"

Tommy Gun has a spy in your office," said Britt.

Frank met with him and Kato shortly after their nocturnal escape from the police at Britt's apartment, concluding that it was the only explanation on how the news of Brogan's release from prison had been kept from him. Scanlon had thought that when he had taken office he had thoroughly transferred or fired those that had been a part of the corrupt administration before him. It seemed he was wrong. A trap had been set and now it was only a matter of time before the person or the "leak" revealed him or herself.

Scanlon removed his glasses and wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose. The past few days had been a strain all around. As his tired eyes scanned the now deserted courtroom his eyes brows shot up suddenly. "Omigod," he whispered softly, this had been the courtroom he had tried his first case as a lawyer fresh after passing the bar. A million years and a few less wrinkles ago, he thought sadly.

To describe the city's District Attorney, Frank Scanlon, you wouldn't be faulted if you avoided his physical appearance (stern looking, thin, middle aged man with thick rimmed glasses and just a hint of gray in his dark brown hair) and said simply, "He's old school." For in essence you were correct. Frank Scanlon fiercely believed in the legal system, which he admitted wasn't perfect, but the best legal system in the world, bar none. He also firmly believed in the letter of the law, and that crime and punishment should be applied to everyone fairly: That a person is ultimately responsible for his or her actions.

But if by "old school" you meant he viewed everything in stark contrasts of black and white then you couldn't be more wrong. Frank Scanlon knew the real world was comprised of many gray areas. While it was certainly populated with hardcore criminals, there were also good people who made bad decisions leading them into crime. His office spy would fall into that category he mused sadly. At least he hoped so.

Good people were also capable of committing unlawful acts, when no other option was available, to stop crime. That level of reality was driven home one fateful night, a few years back, when he a contract on his life failed due to the swift intervention of a publicly known "master criminal" who was actually his friend and confidant Britt Reid.

Scanlon rose from the prosecutor's desk and strode slowly towards the tall window that gave a view of the wide, cement courthouse steps. Smack in the middle of a gaggle of reporters, video cameras and flashing bulbs Anthony Manzanetti was smiling like the proverbial cat that had just eaten a plump and juicy canary. And of course he would since his high priced defense team had been able to punch a hole into the People's argument as to Manzanetti's degree of culpability in the charge of conspiracy to smuggle drugs.

His client, as Anthony's lawyer argued, "Was simply at the wrong place, at the wrong time. The true criminal was the Green Hornet, who – let the record show -- the police allowed to escape." Scanlon shook his head; forget that he had proven that the "Moving Van Company" existed only on paper and that Manzanetti had a rap sheet as long as his arm filled with all types of crimes and with a reputation of drug smuggling in other cities. Anthony's defense lawyer successfully highlighted to the judge that there was no physical evidence that Manzanetti was in reality the owner of said moving company.

The judge ruled insufficient cause on the conspiracy charge, however, due to the amount of illegal substance involved and the fact that Manzanetti had not given a credible reason for being at the warehouse during the shipment, there was enough circumstantial evidence to allow the DA's motion for a postponement. Allowing the prosecution more time to better gather more evidence.

At least the drugs didn't reach the streets and were now under heavy guard in the evidence room. Got him but just barely, Frank thought.

"Dapper Don"

As Anthony emerged from the venerable courthouse and descended on the spacious stone steps he briefly took stock of the cacophony of reporters. All of them were vying energetically to get a reaction from him, in a frenzied search for a quote or anything to accompany the newscast images of him surrounded by bodyguards and lawyers, while coolly smiling in his three thousand dollars tailored suit. To his credit Manzanetti kept his mouth shut but it was against his better nature. He was feeling like the infamous "Dapper Don Gotti" and he didn't mind that people knew who he was. In fact, he relished it!

The door to an immaculate black Lincoln Continental parked at the foot of the steps opened and his guards and lawyers stood back as he sat himself inside. "C'mon, let's get outta here!" he motioned to them. They silently shook their heads and closed the door grimly. If they weren't coming, it meant only one thing: He was going to see the man! Anthony's smile evaporated his sense of revelry filled now with dread.

"Waiting in the Dark"

Dinah couldn't hold it back any longer and finally said, "Answer it, please, Uncle Mike."

Axford was embarrassed as his eyes shifted from his goddaughter and the two tall brown bags of recently purchased merchandise and his vibrating cell phone. For the past few days it had been clamoring for his attention but Mike had all but ignored he had it.

"It's just the office or one of my sources," he replied. "Nothing important that can't wait until we put these groceries away."

"Nonsense," she insisted. "You've been with me all this time. In fact, between you and the occasional visits from Casey I've been well taken care of especially since leaving the hospital. It's time you got back to your life."

"But…" he pleaded.

"No buts, Uncle Mike," she added softly. "Please, I have to go the rest of the way by myself now."

"Are you sure sweetie?"

"Positive," she replied with a genuine smile.

"Remember, we still have that follow up with the doctor on Thursday."

"Yes," she nodded. Then Mike swiftly but reluctantly flipped open his cell phone and answered. He mumbled into the phone before his eyes opened wide with shock, "I'll be right there!" As he leapt for the door he paused to kiss Dinah in the cheek and left.

For awhile Dinah kept staring at the door as Mike's footsteps echoed into silence. Then she calmly strode over to her bedroom, flipping aside the frame of a Monet print of a blue sky she favored, to reveal the face of a stainless steel safe behind it. Dialing her combination she moved the lever, extracting a nickel-plated forty-five-caliber handgun with its barrel exposed. She gave a quick cursory check that the magazine had bullets, before inserting the clip and sliding the barrel back into place, loading the chamber. Then she sat in a chair, in front of her bed, and waited in the darkness.

"Kill You Later"

It was a majestic view he sighed wistfully. The glass and steel building that was Brogan Tower was located in the heart of the business district. It was one of the reasons why Brogan kept the penthouse office, not just as a luxury. From here he could almost feel the tension the entire city had been under. All that intense pressure clamored for a release. One he would gladly supply but all in due time, all in due time.

A flat screen monitor, on the far wall, the twenty four-hour news channel replayed Anthony's exit from the courthouse. "That has always been your weakness," Brogan announced. "Your ego, your vanity thrives for the spotlight."

Anthony Manzanetti sat quietly in a plush leather chair across Tommy Gun's massive oak desk. "Me? They never see me coming. Never! That's my secret."

"Getting caught in your abortive attempt to begin a drug franchise forced me to accelerate my plans," Tommy Gun continued with his back towards Anthony looking across at the city, while the receding sun disappeared and it slowly draped itself in the cool evening shadows. "Luckily I was able to use your distraction to hide under the radar and return. However, you still must pay for your stupidity."

"You're gonna whack me?" Anthony said with a hint of panic.

Brogan chuckled lightly, "Still thinking too small. Of course not, despite your flaws you still have your uses. No, your punishment for now is exile." He motioned to two guards standing at attention by the doorframe. "Take him to the farm with the boys and keep him there until I call for him."

"Thanks boss, really, thanks –"

"Get out of here!" Brogan said suddenly. "Just because I can't kill doesn't mean I don't want to!" Anthony bowed his head and left without a word.

Brogan as he continued to soak in the view, he received a phone call minutes later from his source at customs baring good news. "That outside contractor you were waiting for arrived, just now," announced the voice over his speakerphone. "He won't have any problems entering the country, as per agreement." Finally, thought Tommy Gun, with that last bit of business taken care of he could tie up one last loose end.

"Facing the Inevitable"

"Batten down the hatches!" was the code given by Britt to Casey, which meant the doors to his office at the Daily Sentinel were shut and off limits. No one was allowed in, his agenda and appointments had been cleared until further notice and he was only taking calls from a specific list of people. Working from his flat was not an option. He needed to be near the Sentinel to avail information from its files and sources. For as long as it took he would operate out of his tiny studio next to his office with the only access to the outside world stemming from a private elevator that led to a secluded and separate section of the parking garage.

Britt Reid grinned when he recalled Casey's astonished reaction as he asked to speak to the paper's food critic. He would explain his motives later and then it would all be clear to her. For now he had to continue to concentrate on anticipating on all the angles of his plan to not only defeat Tommy Gun but to do so without the loss of his credibility as the Green Hornet but more importantly by preventing any possible loss of life.

So engrossed was he that he failed to register Kato's arrival via his private lift. As soon as he saw the expression on his friend he felt ashamed. Crumpled empty wrappings of different fast food restaurants surrounded Britt's living quarters and floor.

"This will cost you," Kato said solemnly.

"Can't we postpone --" Britt began.

"No." Kato said with a tone that brooked no further argument. "We are late already. Follow me." Britt rose reluctantly from his desk and went to face the inevitable.

"Unacceptable Situations"

"I want him dead, y'hear me! The only way I will live down this attack on my Family is for the Green Hornet to be unmasked and dead!" roared the Latino leader from the southeastern part of the city. The image from a huge wall mounted flat screen was divided into four sections and the head of the Italian Family could see other heads nodding in agreement with the Hispanic man's angry outburst.

"We agree that this situation has become unacceptable," the Russian mob boss interjected, "but what are suggesting? That the entire five families go to war against one man? How do you think that makes us look?"

"I suggest – No! – Demand a sit down," the Latino boss continued. "And not this videoconference bull#&! Up close and personal!"

"That is against our pact," the Asian leader allowed, "It is strictly forbidden that we all meet in the same location."

"Then # the Pact!"

"The Pact has allowed us to operate in this city, peacefully for years," calmly highlighted the Italian Don. "It has been good for business. Making an exception, going against the Pact to settle this situation --- is that how all of you feel?" Once again, all the participants in the conference nodded in agreement.

"Then we've reached a consensus," he continued reluctantly. "Let's iron out the details and agree on the arrangements."

"Waiting for you"

Dinah caught the sound but just barely. It was a faint scraping of the door's bottom edge against her plush living room rug. In response she released the gun's safety, and holding it in both hands, aimed it towards the bedroom door. A few seemingly endless seconds later the dark silhouette of a man appeared. His left arm searched for and found the light switch.

A click and the bedroom light immediately illuminated her intruder. It was Thomas "Tommy Gun" Brogan!

"I've been waiting for you," Dinah said as her finger tighten around the trigger…

TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter Eleven

"The Enemy of my Enemy is my Friend"

Final Author's notes:

First, I must apologize for taking sooo long to post a new chapter, especially beyond my own deadline. I approach writing this Green Hornet fan fiction as a labor of love but, frankly, my schoolwork comes first. (I'm happy to report that I have an "A" in all my classes except that damn Algebra! Damn you Pitagoras, damn you to Hell!)

I hoped to post during Thanksgiving vacation but I found what small amount of free time studying for a state license exam (which I took in Dec). Now that I finished this first chapter in awhile, baring any unforeseen accidents, the next one should be up in a few more days after some work (grammar and plot-wise).

That's the other thing I wish to address. THIS chapter was originally titled "The Enemy of my Enemy is my Friend". I chose to post this brief interlude instead to not only focus a little on Frank Scanlon (hoped you liked my take on this unsung character) but to tie up some plot threads I left hanging. For example: the reason of Tony's appearance in Chapter One before we begin Chapter Twelve "The Green Hornet Strikes Back" (the beginning of the final arc).

"The Pact" is something I came up with to address the reason why Britt can function the way he does in this city filled with corruption and crime. I've touched on it before in previous chapters. So far I've written enough that you can get a gist of what it is but I'm leaving the majority of it out in case, some future date, I post a sequel to "The Color of Hate".

Finally: Here's a shout out to Marilyn Clark. My thanks and appreciation for your interest and comments on the story so far!