Chapter 3
A Bet and a Bat

Simon might have sped slightly out of anxiety, but he made good time in getting to the marina where he was supposed to meet Britt. And to his great relief, he arrived at the yacht club to find Britt in a phone box, deep in conversation.

"Mike!" Britt barked as Simon walked up. "The longer you argue with me, the less time the composing room will have to do the replate."

Simon knocked against the window with one knuckle. When Britt looked at him, he smiled.

"Simon's here," Britt said into the phone. "I'd better be going." He paused, and his expression softened. "We'll be home in an hour or so, darlin'…. Love you, too. Bye." He hung up, sighed, and opened the door, then handed Simon the jar with the acid phial as he came out. "Perfect timing."

"Problems?" Simon asked as they started back to the car.

"Oh, Mike just doesn't want to run with the 'missing, feared dead' headline. He's worried about what it'll do to people, especially at the paper. I tried to point out that it's better than risking another attempt, but…." Britt shook his head.

"Yes, you did tell me you weren't going to miss having to dodge him when we went after the Marquise. How's Casey taking it?"

"Not as mad as she woulda been if you hadn't called. Thanks for doing that."

"You're welcome. Of course, some of the credit goes to Kato—I left it to his discretion as to what to tell her and when."

"She told me. Kato said he trusted her to be able to behave normally. They didn't tell Frank or Mike until after the police left, though."

"Ah, then the police have already been?"

"Yeah, Frank told 'em he'd stay until you got back. Kato hinted that you might have been going to meet with the Green Hornet, which gives both of us an alibi."

"Good."

They both got in the front seat this time, and Simon let Britt drive until they had to stop for gas halfway back. Britt got a snack while Simon filled up; then Simon drove while Britt dozed off in the back seat. The moon was rising above the rooftops when they reached Britt's house, but Simon couldn't tell whether the watchers were still present. He waited until they were in the garage and the garage door was closed before waking Britt, just to be safe. He also remembered to retrieve the jar with the acid phial, which was mercifully still intact, before leaving the car.

Kato met them at the door. "The others are all in the study," he reported while Britt was in the middle of a yawn.

Britt finished his yawn and sighed. "Thanks, Kato. They're not gonna kill me for this, are they?"

"No, but Miss Case is still pretty upset."

"Yeah, I figured. Let's go."

They went together to the study, where Scanlon and Axford were sitting on opposite sides of the fireplace and Casey was pacing. She looked like she was preparing an epic tongue-lashing—until the moment she turned and saw Britt.

"Hi, honey," Britt said in a quiet, rueful tone.

Casey burst into tears and ran to hug him.

"I'm sorry, darlin'," Britt whispered as he hugged her close. "I didn't have much choice."

"Why couldn't you have waited for the police?" she sobbed.

"Because right now, the only people in this city I trust… are in this room."

There was a sober silence at that for a moment. Simon was glad Kato was still beside him to be included in that pronouncement; it went without saying that Britt trusted Kato with his life, but Kato might have been offended if Britt had accidentally implied otherwise.

Scanlon spoke first. "You mean you don't trust the bomb squad?"

"Not with a bomb like this one," said Britt and started leading Casey over to the loveseat near the study door. "Show him, Simon."

"Firstly," said Simon, handing Scanlon the jar, "this was sitting in a niche on the top, primed to break and trigger the bomb if it were moved. Obviously, whoever planted the bomb had to place the acid last; otherwise they couldn't have brought the bomb on board. That's the only reason we were able to get at it and remove it before devising a way to get the bomb off the boat."

Scanlon hummed thoughtfully as he examined the phial in the jar. "I'll have this analyzed. There may not be any readable prints on it besides yours or Britt's, but the acid itself might give us a lead if we can work out where it came from."

"It won't have our prints on it. Britt wore gloves, and I haven't handled anything but the jar."

Scanlon nodded. "That'll help."

Simon took the sketches out of his pocket next and spread them on the coffee table someone—presumably Kato—had moved in front of the fireplace. "These are the best sketches I was able to make by torchlight," he said as Kato brought the desk chair around for him to sit in. "Not a complete circuit diagram, I admit; there were parts of it I couldn't see and couldn't get at. But they'll give you a sense of how limited our options were." He sat down and used a pencil to point out the features of interest as he explained them, while Scanlon and Axford leaned closer and Kato watched over Simon's shoulder.

"Diabolical," Axford breathed as Simon finished. "You don't think the Green Hornet—"

"No," Britt and Simon interrupted at the same time.

"There's a good chance that bomb was meant for me as much as it was for Britt," Simon continued. "The Hornet and I are friends—we've saved each other's lives. He wouldn't do such a thing."

"But that's one reason I insisted on the story I gave you, Mike," Britt added. "Only the people in this room knew we were going to the yacht tonight—but there's a chance that someone who was in the city room or the lobby this morning and heard us talking about going fishing is in league with whoever planted the bomb. Until we can find out more, it's best that you and Casey be the only Sentinel employees who know for sure that I'm still alive."

Axford looked hurt. "Boss, do you really think one of the city crew would try to kill you?"

"I dunno what to think. I wasn't paying close attention to who was there as we were leaving. The leak might not even have been intentional. If the wrong person called looking for me and heard that I'd gone fishing with Simon, that might be all it would take."

Axford hummed thoughtfully and sat back.

Scanlon picked up the sketches and looked over them again. "Well, whoever it was, this bomb was clearly the work of an expert. I'll check through our files and see if I can connect the design to any past cases. If not, it might be someone new to town, maybe someone who's ex-military—or ex-CIA."

"Oh, wonderful," Simon snarked. "This will be a great little party if we have to get the Agency involved."

Britt chuckled wryly in agreement.

"Oh, that reminds me, Templar," said Scanlon as he put the sketches in his own jacket pocket. "The lead investigator on the case insists that you're his prime suspect."

"An unfortunately common attitude," Simon noted dryly.

"When he sees these sketches, he may well want to know where you were before you arrived in Century City."

"Immediately before, I was on a plane from London. What I was doing before I left London is subject to the UK Official Secrets Act. However, if he persists in asking questions, tell him to call Whitehall 897-896 and ask for Maj. Carter. If the prospect of an international incident doesn't put him off, he'll have to accept whatever scraps of information or official stonewalling Maj. Carter sees fit to give him."

Scanlon wrote down the number and nodded. "Thank you."

Axford looked intrigued in spite of himself. "You work for British Intelligence?"

"Occasionally," Simon replied. "That's off the record, of course. I really can't say any more about it than that. I'll be taking most of those stories to my grave with me."

"This whole conversation's off the record, Mike," Britt added.

"I figured," Axford admitted grudgingly.

Scanlon checked his watch and sighed. "Well. It's late, and we've got a press conference scheduled for 10. Templar, do you mind coming by my office before then to give a written statement?"

"I'll be happy to," Simon agreed, "provided we can keep the detail of Britt's survival under wraps."

"I'll do what I can." Scanlon stood, as did Axford.

"Oh, and Axford," Simon continued, "I'll plan to come by the paper about 10:30 so we can stage a reveal about the diamond shipment."

Axford nodded. "I'll be in the city room." Then he turned to Britt with an apologetic shrug. "It just doesn't feel right to use your office unless I'm working on something that needs to be kept confidential."

Britt smiled. "That's okay, Mike. Thanks for keeping things running while I'm out of pocket."

Axford smiled. "Sure. I'm just glad you're all right."

"So am I," Britt admitted, and he and Casey tightened their grip on each other.

After a round of farewells, Axford and Scanlon left, and as Kato got drinks, everyone else adjourned to the living room. Casey had cried herself out, but she was still clinging to Britt like a lifeline. Nobody seemed to feel like talking as they settled on the sectional; instead, they simply drank in weary but companionable silence.

Finally, when his glass was empty, Britt asked Casey softly, "You do want to stay tonight?"

Casey nodded against his shoulder. "I don't think I could sleep if I went home."

"Okay." He kissed the top of her head. "I am sorry, Casey. Every other option looked worse, but… I hated the thought of what you'd be going through. So I guess you do have a right to be mad at me."

"I'm not as mad as I was," she whispered. "Just hearing Simon explain… I understand a lot better now."

"How can I make it up to you?"

She kissed him, and Kato and Simon silently left the room and went to bed. Yet when Simon came down for breakfast a few hours later, he found Britt and Casey just as he'd left them, fully clothed but having fallen asleep sitting up. With a sad smile, he left them there and ate breakfast in the kitchen with Kato and the morning paper, which was blazoned with the headline Massive Explosion at Bayshore Marina and the subhead Britt Reid Missing, Feared Dead. Kato had already read it, so after Simon read the story itself, they quietly discussed its implications and likely effects until a groggy Britt and Casey joined them.

When they all had sufficient food and coffee in them to be coherent, Britt read the story for himself and nodded. "Mike did a good job on the parts I didn't dictate myself."

"I'm just glad I'm reading it with you," Casey said. "It was bad enough to read that story about Mike when he got mixed up in that case with Phil Trager and Steve Gant and you had to fake his death and didn't tell me. If I didn't know you were fine today…."

"I know, honey. That's one reason I came home rather than trying to find somewhere else to hole up. I didn't want to be away from you any longer than I had to be."

"For my sake or yours?"

"Both."

She finally smiled.

After coordinating schedules with Britt, Simon went to Scanlon's office to give his statement, which was followed by a shouting match with a police lieutenant who made Col. Latignant look open-minded. Simon finally referred him to both Maj. Carter and Chief Inspector Teal, and Scanlon threatened to call the commissioner if the lieutenant kept badgering Simon; that effectively ended the conversation. Next, Simon went to Casey's apartment to pack a bag for her and watch the press conference on DSTV. Scanlon played his cards close to his vest, and the lieutenant grudgingly admitted that Simon was cooperating and was no longer a person of interest in the investigation. Simon's last errand of the morning was his promised visit to the Sentinel, where Axford was trying to coordinate Britt's three-ring circus of a media empire from his usual desk in the city room.

As Simon strode into the city room, Axford turned and saw him. "Oh, good morning, Templar."

"Axford," Simon said gravely with a nod. "Has there been any word from the police?"

Axford shook his head. "Not since the press conference a few minutes ago. And even that didn't reveal much new information. I don't suppose they're telling everything they know, but…."

Simon sighed. "Then that leaves it up to me."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not prepared to name names quite yet," Simon began, aware that other reporters were beginning to take an interest in the conversation. "There are still pieces that don't fit. But the DeLukens Diamond Company expect a large shipment of gemstones tomorrow night, and Britt was kidnapped yesterday with a view to keeping me from stealing them. I got Britt out and promised the kidnappers I wouldn't interfere so long as they didn't go after Britt again. Now, I can't be sure whether the bomb was planted by the same bunch or by somebody else, but…."

"You plan to interfere now?"

"Not only am I going to interfere, I plan to see to it that those stones get to Jaap deLukens and no one else. And you can quote me!" With that, Simon stormed out, leaving Axford and half the city room staring after him in various degrees of open-mouthed astonishment. He was still genuinely fuming when he got down to the car and drove away, but the drive back to Britt's house gave him time enough to cool off. Casey had gone upstairs for a nap by the time Simon arrived, so he let Kato take her bag and went to the study to find Britt on the phone.

"Oh, here's Simon now," Britt said as Simon walked in. "Let me put you on speaker." As he set the handset down on the desk, he told Simon, "It's Mike."

Simon nodded, and Britt switched on the speakerphone.

"Hullo, Axford," Simon began. "How did the audience like our little performance?"

"Performance?" Axford echoed. "I didn't think you were acting."

"I wasn't."

"Well, it did get people talking. I came in here—into Britt's office, I mean—to make a few phone calls where it was quieter. And I got hold of Jaap deLukens. Seems Scanlon's had his people over there asking questions this morning."

"Any results yet?" Britt asked.

"Not that he knew about," Axford replied. "He's convinced that Romero's source can't be an insider, and he's not worried about anyone hijacking the shipment between the harbor and the vault because the security company is reliable."

"Someone who knows his business can still construct an ambush that can overcome even a reliable security company's precautions," Simon noted, thinking of several examples from his own experiences. "Who knew about the shipment before this morning, other than the people we know about?"

"It's a limited circle," Axford said, and Britt grabbed a notepad and pencil. "The only people with full details are the vice president, Anthony van Zandt; the president of the mining company, who's traveling with the stones from Africa; and the lead customs agent here in town, who's supposed to check the shipment as soon as it arrives at the harbor. The only other people who know that a shipment is coming are the chief of security for DeLukens, a Mr. van Voort; the chief of the harbor police; and the president of Meriweather Security, which is the company that supplies the armored van. DeLukens said Meriweather assured him they'd treat his delivery as a special detail—the van will have a three-man crew, travel empty to the harbor, and make no stops between the harbor and the vault. That'll be the only assignment that van has for the night, too."

"But the crew won't receive the assignment until they clock in for the night?" Britt asked.

"That's what it sounds like," said Axford. "Meriweather promised to send their best, though."

Britt nodded. "Good security."

"Yes, but it's still not insurmountable," Simon noted. "Phony detours and fake accidents have worked before on experienced crews who weren't expecting them. And I know of a case where Scotland Yard took over responsibility for a shipment of gold bullion, knew enough of the details of the planned robbery to anticipate an ambush, and still fell straight into the ambush because the robbers got a man into the local radio dispatch disguised as a policeman." He wasn't going to tell Axford that he was the one who'd drugged the coffee at the station, led dear old Claude Eustace Teal into the ambush, and then told him where to find the stolen gold and collect the robbers. That had been one of several solved cases in the past two years for which Simon had happily let Teal take the credit—so long as Simon himself got his usual 10% reward.

"Do you think deLukens is in on it?" Axford asked before Britt could do more than shoot Simon an amused look that meant he'd guessed what Simon hadn't said.

"No, I don't," Simon replied. "Britt tells me deLukens is thoroughly honest, and thoroughly honest men who haven't made a study of the criminal mind often fail to recognize the tiny cracks in a security plan that a devious person can blow wide open. But I can hardly expect him to give us any more information at present—for all he knows, I'm planning to steal the jewels myself, despite what I've said publicly."

"Any ideas, Simon?" Britt asked.

Simon considered. "Yes. Call deLukens back. Tell him I'll bet him $10,000, payable to the Century City Children's Home, that I'll personally deliver his shipment to his vault before dawn."

He could almost hear Axford's jaw drop.

"The Elliot Vascoe gambit?" Britt wondered.

"Well, a mix of that and my bet with Contessa Christina Rovagna, at least as regards the beneficiaries," Simon admitted. "Once the word gets out, every crook on the East Coast will come flocking to Century City, and it's likely that a good many of them will end up getting in each other's way, making it easier for the police to pick them up. But more than that… I think we'll draw out the man on the inside. The ungodly can never resist the chance of framing me for crimes they intended to commit anyway."

The scratch of a scribbling pencil came over the speaker before Axford whispered, "Whaddaya think, Boss?"

"Do it, Mike," Britt decided. "If deLukens agrees, run the story on page 1 of the evening edition, and splash it in the local section of DSTV Evening News. Simon can even come back to the paper for photos."

"Okay," Axford agreed. "I'll call you back in a few minutes and let you know what deLukens says."

"Thanks, Axford," said Simon, and they hung up at the same time.

Then Britt turned to Simon. "You really think it'll work?"

"The ways of the ungodly are usually predictable," Simon noted. "In the meantime, I think the first order of business for us is getting ourselves assigned as Meriweather's delivery crew."

Britt hummed thoughtfully. "Meriweather's headquarters are here, but they've got branches all over the country. Maybe we can arrange for Bruce to have us supposedly sent down from the Gotham branch."

"Yes, and see what information Scanlon can provide. A sample personnel record would be ideal, as would the exact docking location, but we may just have to steal those ourselves tonight."

They set about hashing out their cover identities while waiting for Axford to call back, which he did with the news that deLukens had laughed but accepted. After that, they got out a city map and plotted out routes between the harbor and the headquarters of DeLukens Diamond.

"The deLukens family estate is out here, near Danforth," Britt noted, pointing out its location on the map. "But to my knowledge, the only time a significant quantity of diamonds has been kept there was when Yolanda was storing Prof. Miller's synthetic diamonds there, away from unreliable employees. I don't know of any reason why Jaap would want them delivered anywhere but to the corporate vault."

Simon nodded thoughtfully. "That building is right downtown, and every route to it is through urban streets that are heavily built up. That limits the options for ambush, but that doesn't mean an ambush is impossible. Have you got another view of this area?"

Britt checked his files and found a map from City Planning that showed the locations of all the buildings in the area and the identities of many of them. Simon found a magnifying glass, and the two of them started discussing options, including helicopter support.

They were still deeply focused on the problem when the doorbell rang. Kato answered and admitted someone, who spoke earnestly first with Kato and then with Casey. Simon couldn't make out much of what was said, but he did hear Kato say, "Mr. Templar is in the study."

"Thank you," the newcomer said and rushed through the living room, only to stop dead just as suddenly as he'd arrived. Britt and Simon looked up at the same time to see Bruce Wayne standing in the doorway to the study, frozen in open-mouthed shock.

"Hi, Bruce," Britt said with a grin. "Wanna help us plan how not to steal $10 million in diamonds?"

Bruce tried and failed to reply. Then, still staring at Britt but seemingly sensing Kato's presence at his elbow, he managed, "Er, Kato—"

"Scotch and soda, Mr. Wayne," Kato interrupted and handed him a glass, having anticipated his request.[1]

"Thank you," Bruce murmured, gulped down a large swig of his drink, and coughed.

Britt and Simon had just managed to get Bruce over his shock and up to speed when Kato announced both lunch and Frank, who'd come with the latest on the investigation but was understandably reluctant to talk in front of Bruce.

"I would like to know, Mr. Scanlon," Bruce stated as they went to the table. "I rushed down here on the assumption that Britt was dead and that Simon would need help with the investigation. I'm glad that's not the case, but I still want to help. If nothing else, I could ask Commissioner Gordon to relay the details of the case to Batman, should there be any connection to the criminal element in Gotham."

"I've already talked to Commissioner Gordon," Frank admitted. "Unfortunately, there's very little we can prove so far except that the big names in Gotham don't seem to be involved. Romero and Hamill met in prison, but we can't connect either of them with any of the people who officially knew about the shipment or with anyone known to be capable of making the bomb. We haven't been able to trace the bomb, either. The dive team hasn't recovered enough fragments to work with, and there are no prints on the acid vial."

"What about the acid?" Simon asked.

Frank shook his head. "Sulfuric acid—could have been purchased anywhere. It's more concentrated than standard battery acid, but it wouldn't take much skill to take a dilute solution and evaporate most of the water out of it, as long as someone had the equipment to deal with the acid fumes."

Britt looked at Bruce. "Hey, remember that time in chemistry…."

"That was an unforgettable lesson in lab safety," Bruce agreed.

"Some of the other guys at our boarding school broke into the chemistry lab one night to do some unauthorized experiments," Britt explained to the others. "They got into the chemical cabinet and got out the sulfuric acid for whatever they were messing around with, but they didn't turn on the fume hood because it was loud and they didn't want anyone to know they were in there. They got busted by the laundry workers because the fumes from the sulfuric acid ate holes in all their clothes."

Bruce nodded. "The teacher brought in one of the shirts the next day to demonstrate not only what the acid had done but also what washing a shirt that had been exposed to sulfuric acid would continue to do to the fabric. It was a lesson for all of us but a particular punishment for the boy who owned the shirt—that was the third uniform he'd ruined that year, and his parents were very unhappy about it."

"How unhappy?" Casey asked.

"They withdrew him and sent him to a military school instead," Britt answered. "We didn't exactly keep in touch after that."

"Well, even if you had," said Simon, "it's not likely he could have answered the question at hand, namely why someone who knew enough to buy an untraceable acid would get mixed up with someone who wants to steal very traceable gemstones."

"Speaking of traces," Frank added, "there's been a change of plans. The ship had engine trouble off the coast of Barbados. DeLukens said it doesn't sound like sabotage, but they've lost enough time that the mining company president, a Mr. van der Berg, has gone ashore and is chartering a private plane to bring himself and the gems to Century City tomorrow. We're in the process of arranging security to get van der Berg from the plane to Customs—including exhaustive background checks on anyone who'll get within fifty feet of him or the plane. We learned a lot of lessons from that caper Abel Marcus organized three years ago, and we're not gonna risk it happening again."

"Has deLukens informed anyone else, especially Meriweather?" Britt asked as Kato began serving.

Frank frowned a little. "He hasn't said so. Why?"

"One, this gives you a chance to monitor the flow of information. A limited number of people knew about the shipment to begin with, so watching those people may lead you to the leak."

"If the leaker tries to make contact," Simon noted. "He may decide it isn't worth the risk and either give up on the robbery altogether or eliminate the middleman and do it himself."

Frank shrugged. "They've been under close surveillance anyway. Whether they realize it yet or not, I don't know. What's your second point?"

"If the leaker does make contact," Britt continued, "the only unauthorized people who'll know about the switch are Romero and his gang, and possibly whoever planted the bomb if we're right that it's a second gang with the same idea. So we might want to arrange with Meriweather for one van to travel empty along the original route to act as a decoy. There might still be some outsiders drawn by Simon's bet who'll set ambushes along the route from the airport to the vault simply because they assume the stones are coming by air anyway, but there should be fewer if word about the switch stays close."

Frank hummed thoughtfully. "We might be able to arrange for the original team to drive the decoy route and keep the original plan for police protection for them, maybe even have some police officers in the van in case one of the ambushes succeeds. But how would we make sure we get the right team in the van that goes to the airport?"

"Perhaps Batman could contact Mr. Meriweather this afternoon," Bruce offered. He shot Britt and Simon each a quick glance before adding, "He might even be able to arrange for an experienced team to come down from Gotham to make the actual delivery."

Britt took a drink to stop himself from crowing that he'd thought of that even before Bruce had arrived. They hadn't discussed that side of the case in Bruce's presence yet. Simon similarly took a bite to hide a smile.

Frank, the only person in the room who didn't already know that Bruce was Batman, didn't miss any of those silent clues as to what wasn't being said. His chin raised slightly as he put the pieces together. But all he said was, "Yes, well, I'll, uh… let you talk that over with Commissioner Gordon yourself."

Bruce nodded, and the talk turned to lighter subjects—mainly the wedding—for the rest of the meal. This was the first time Britt and Casey had had all the groomsmen except Mike together in person, after all, and Casey seemed glad both to get her mind off the immediate crisis and to go through some details that would otherwise have been left on the to-do list until the rehearsal. Then, after Frank went back to work and Simon and Casey helped Kato make short work of the cleanup, they all went back to the study.

"It's a pity Dick isn't here," Bruce said as they settled in. "I know he'd want to help out somehow if he could—maybe even drive the van. But he'd promised Mrs. Cooper last week that he'd assist with a charity fundraiser she's running today, and I told him to keep that promise."

"Just as well," said Britt. "Mrs. Cooper would have kittens if we rooked Dick into this non-caper."

"Besides," added Simon, "for all his experience, he is only seventeen. It would be rather a hard sell if we're supposed to be the best Gotham has to offer. You, on the other hand…."

Bruce's eyes widened. "Me?!"

Britt grinned. "You brought it up to Frank first."

"Although Britt did think of it first," Simon noted. "About an hour before you got here. We were going to call you about now."

"But surely there's some other role I can play," Bruce protested. "After all, I am a duly deputized officer of the law."

"We're not in Gotham, and you're not in costume," Britt countered. "It makes more sense for you to be our third man than it does for Kato to do it—three white men in uniform won't attract any attention at all, and van der Berg will be lucky to remember our hair and eye color.[2] And Kato can provide backup in the Black Beauty a lot more easily than you can because he knows what everything is and what it does."

"He could give me a tutorial," Bruce grouched with an air of knowing he'd already lost the argument.

"Bruce."

"Oh, all right." Bruce sighed and started making phone calls as Batman while Casey began drafting fake employee information and Britt, Simon, and Kato went back to silently plotting out potential ambush points along both the original route from the harbor and the route from the airport. By the time Bruce was finished, they'd moved on to plotting ambush points between Meriweather's headquarters and both the harbor and the airport.

They waited until Bruce was out of the room to plan how to get into Meriweather's headquarters that night, though.

Britt took a nap while Casey and Kato worked on dinner, Bruce worked on a gadget in Britt's secret lab, and Simon went to the paper to finalize the bet with deLukens and provide pictures and video for the evening news cycle. No sooner had Britt woken up and gone back to the study, however, than the Hornet's radiophone began to ring.

"Yes?" he answered once the scrambler was on.

"Hornet?" replied a nervous male voice he didn't immediately place. "It's Carlos Romero."

"Yes, Romero?"

"You gotta get Templar to call off this bet."

"I don't have to do anything. He said himself our deal was off if you went after Reid again, remember?"

"That wasn't my doin', I swear. And it wasn't nobody who works for me, neither." Romero's grammar was getting worse, and so was his audible anxiety.

Britt decided to use that to his advantage. "Prove it."

"A-ain't my word enough? You know I wouldn't cross you!"

"Ten million dollars is a powerful motive."

Romero gulped audibly and lowered his voice. "Look… I don't know from nothin', but my boys have been askin' around. Nobody knows for sure who done it, but they say the target was Templar, not Reid. Nobody in town is crazy enough to go after Reid anymore, not after what happened to Henry Dirk when he tried to kill Reid. Some say it was Russians; some say Chinese; some say mobsters from Gotham or Sicily. I dunno what to believe, except it wasn't nobody local. But that's the whole truth of what I do know. I swear, Hornet."

Britt sighed. "I believe you. I'm afraid it's too late to call off the bet, but if Simon really was the target, it's a cinch whoever planted the bomb will try again—and they'll do it tomorrow night unless you can get me more information."

"But what about the diamonds?"

"Romero, if there are enemy agents in this city, and especially if they're after Simon, the diamonds mean nothing to me. Understand?"

"Sure," Romero said, audibly disappointed. "I'll see what I can find out."

"Fine. Call me back as soon as you know anything more."

Romero agreed and hung up. Britt hung up the radiophone and buzzed Frank just as Simon came in.

"Problems?" Simon asked, pointing at Britt's watch.

"Romero just called," Britt answered. "Word on the street is that the bomb was planted by someone from out of town—and you were the target, not me."

Simon hummed thoughtfully. "Any suspects?"

"Take your pick—Russians, Chinese, gangsters from Gotham or Sicily."

"That hardly narrows it down. I've offended all of them at one time or another. In fact, I think I've offended all of them in the last year."

"Seriously?"

"Well, not the Gotham mafia directly, but I did help the Italian government either capture or kill all the leading Sicilian dons, including a cheap little crook named Dino Cartelli who's been masquerading as Alessandro Destamio for the last twenty years. Hoppy tells me the Gotham dons were none too happy about that."

Britt's eyebrows shot up. "I can see why. The American mafia doesn't owe direct loyalty to Sicily, but they still have ties, and Destamio was a big racketeer before he was deported."

"Then we have the foreign government that tried to steal an Osprey,[3] the African colonialists who took exception to my saving Jack Liskard's life, the other African colonialists who lost out when I helped Jason Douglas put a permanent end to Walter Faber's embezzlement of American aid money, the organization funding Vogler and his university assassins—they took exception to my killing Vogler twice—the criminal elements who'd been doing business with Eugene Patroclus until he made the mistake of trying to con me, the revolutionaries being funded by ex-king Boris of Slavonia's campaign of cheating at baccarat, and any or all of Jonathan Roper's clients. And those are just the possibilities from the last two years I can tell you about."

Britt whistled. "Impressive list of enemies."

"I'm sure yours isn't much shorter."

"True, but at least mine are all local."

As Simon conceded the point with a tilt of his head, the conversation was interrupted by the elevator chime. Surprised, Britt got up to tilt the books and let Frank in. "That was fast!" he exclaimed as the cab reached the bottom and the steps unfolded.

"I was almost here anyway," Frank replied, brandishing a roll of blue paper. "I got those blueprints you wanted."

"Thanks!" Britt accepted the roll of paper and laid it on his desk. "These'll help."

"What's up?"

"I just had a call from Carlos Romero."

"Oh? What did he want?"

"He all but begged the Green Hornet to convince Simon to call off his bet. And he said word on the street is that the bomb was planted by someone from out of town, possibly Russian or Chinese agents or mafia hitmen, and that the target was Simon. I told him to find out more if he possibly can."

Frank hummed thoughtfully. "That gives us a direction, but it doesn't narrow things down much—and we don't have the resources to do a full background check on every out-of-town visitor, even if we assume that the would-be killers aren't operating under deep enough cover that we wouldn't be able to connect them to an enemy government. We can't even be sure they haven't already left town."

"If they have left town," said Simon, "they'll certainly come back to try to finish the job once the story about the bet gets through their channels."

Frank sighed. "Yeah. I was going to ask you to reconsider myself, but if Romero's information is accurate, even as vague as it is, the bet's the most efficient way of drawing out the killers along with the other would-be thieves and the leaker. You know, the bet hasn't even made the DSTV Radio news yet, which means either Romero's got a mole at the Sentinel or the leaker made contact without our surveillance catching it."

"Either's possible," Britt admitted. "But if the leaker did make contact without being caught, that says more about him than about the surveillance. I remember seeing a Western once where a mole in the Army passed information to an outlaw in front of an undercover agent who knew the exchange would be happening and was watching for it carefully. He still missed it because the code used seemed so innocuous that only the mole and the outlaw had any idea it was a code."[4]

Simon nodded. "I saw that one. The agent had to contrive the outlaw's death to force the mole to reveal himself." He looked at Frank with a small wry smile. "On the whole, I prefer the publicized bet for setting traps."

Frank raised his eyebrows. "When you put it that way, so do I. What'd you think of deLukens?"

"The best sort of Dutchman," Simon said without hesitation. "I like him immensely. Bluff, jolly, friendly, shrewd, but not a devious bone in his body. He told me straight he wouldn't have agreed to the bet if it weren't for charity. We clarified the terms privately, but he insisted that the cameras be rolling before we shook on it. Then afterward, when we were back in Britt's office, he asked how the investigation was coming and also asked that I give Casey his regards. Oh, and it turns out we have some mutual friends, like my old pal Ben Mercy in Brussels. DeLukens said he called Ben to make sure he'd done the right thing, and Ben had told him that even to lose the bet would be to win greater things than the shipment itself."

Britt nodded. "He's got a point. Not only will we be rounding up a bunch of criminals, whether foreign agents or not, but we'll be taking out someone who's actively trying to harm deLukens himself."

"Precisely. I told deLukens that I don't normally do this sort of thing unless the person I make the bet with deserves a lesson in manners, which he doesn't, and that I wouldn't have gotten involved at all if Romero hadn't assumed I already was. It's rather like the time I went to Florida on a fishing trip with absolutely no other aim in mind and ended up catching a ring of smugglers who assumed I was already after them and tried far too hard to throw me off their trail."

"I remember reading about that," said Frank. "The Uckrose case in… Bimini, wasn't it, in '62? Several thousand dollars' worth of jewelry stuffed in a dead fish?"

"Which had been on ice in the beer cooler for three and a half days by the time I got back to Miami and turned them over to the Coast Guard."

"Phoo!" said Britt, imagining the smell. "Talk about a case that stinks to high heaven!"

Frank chuckled. "Oh, incidentally, I talked to Meriweather about half an hour ago. The night shift normally clocks out at 2. And he agreed to the decoy plan but said he wouldn't have if he hadn't gotten a call from Batman. He said he expects to get the files on the Gotham team by special courier first thing tomorrow."

Britt nodded. "He will. The courier's meeting Bruce at the airport."

"But what happens if Meriweather calls the Gotham office for confirmation?"

"Batman's arranged that, too. Wayne Enterprises is making a large donation to the fund for widows and orphans of guards killed on duty. The Gotham branch manager will confirm anything Meriweather asks."

Frank huffed and lowered his voice. "How'd Wayne sell that one?"

Britt smiled and lowered his own voice. "He called Alfred first and told him what to say if anyone called. Then he told both Meriweather and the Gotham manager that Commissioner Gordon had contacted Bruce Wayne. He also told Meriweather that Wayne Enterprises was paying for the Gotham team's expenses."

"Has he figured out that I've figured it out?"

"We haven't asked," Simon answered at the same volume. Then he added with a wink, "It seems a pity to spoil his fun."

Britt's smile grew. "He told me once that King Tut had learned his identity a couple of times but forgotten it thanks to a combination of concussions and Batnesia. Apparently the only other person who's ever come close to guessing is Col. Gumm, and that's only because he didn't consider the possibility of the Hornet having bugged the shop he was running as Boris Sevaroff. But he did at least mix up which of us went with which mask."[5]

Frank shook his head. "Well, I'd better be going. I'll stop by after the 6:00 press conference, just in case you hear from Romero."

Britt nodded. "Thanks, Frank. We'll see you later."

Simon got the books this time, and Frank left. The fireplace slid back into place just as Bruce came up from the lab with a gadget in each hand.

"What have we here?" Simon asked.

"Some devices that I hope will be useful," Bruce replied, handing one to Simon and the other to Britt. "This one will detect the radio frequency used to control the gate and allow you to open it from the Black Beauty, and this one will allow you to copy thirty minutes' worth of footage from the security camera tape, erase what you don't want seen, and record the copied footage over it." He then pulled a third device out of his pocket and handed that to Britt. "And this timing device will switch the recorder on again after you leave."[6]

"Hey, thanks!" Britt said, impressed. "Hornet Gas only lasts twenty minutes, but that should give us plenty of margin to cover our presence and the moment the guards wake up."

"That still means we'll want to be out in fifteen or less," Simon noted. "Can you handle the tapes in that time?"

Britt nodded. "The only items stored at the headquarters building are the vans, uniforms, and paperwork. Money and valuables go to a maximum-security facility outside of town that most people don't even know exists. So the headquarters building has cameras and guards covering only the front gate and the rear entrance. Since the fence is electrified and the parking lot is brightly lit, they don't need much more than that… at least for ordinary thieves," he concluded with a wink.

Simon chuckled, but Bruce looked troubled. "Britt, are you sure…."

"That we ought to go through with this? Yes, I am. Romero called—word on the street is that whoever tried to kill Simon is from out of town."

"To kill Simon? I thought the bomb was on your yacht."

"It was," said Simon. "Evidently the killers either followed me to the Sentinel Building and overheard us talking about going fishing or heard from someone at the paper that we would be. But that does bring up a point. Romero said one of the rumors was that the killers were from Gotham."

Bruce raised his chin and looked more sure of himself. "Ah, that may be something we can check with the Batcomputer. I'll call and see if Dick is home yet—I'm sure he'll be glad to have something to contribute."

Britt nodded. "Thanks." And he left with Simon to bring Casey and Kato up to date while Bruce made his call.

.

[1] Bruce doesn't drink in costume, but at least in the final scene of 1.4 "The Penguin's a Jinx," he appears at a cocktail party at Wayne Manor holding a tall glass with a small amount of liquid in it. It's clearly not champagne, which Commissioner Gordon and most of the other guests are drinking, so after a bit of digging into what's served in tall glasses, I've guessed that Bruce's cocktail of choice is scotch and soda.

[2] Adam West was also at Warner Brothers during the period when, according to Sir Roger, all the Warner stars looked alike "except for James Garner and Clint Walker." He didn't have a show of his own, but he did appear as a guest star on most of the major Warner shows of the time, including Maverick (before Sir Roger's turn as Beau), and provided an uncredited radio voice on Van's show Bourbon Street Beat. Of course, we as fans could recognize all three actors in a scene on TV—but how readily would even we recognize them in real life when they were in uniform and we weren't expecting them?

[3] For readers unfamiliar with the color seasons of The Saint, the "Osprey" in question is a fictionalized version of the Harrier Jump Jet, which hadn't yet entered full RAF service when 5.13 "Flight Plan" aired in 1966. (The V-22 Osprey didn't exist until much later.)

[4] Springfield Rifle, remade as Cheyenne 2.11 "Test of Courage."

[5] I know on a Doylist level, this is a plothole introduced by the writers' desire to make the jokes about Col. Gumm jumping to the wrong conclusion in "Batman's Satisfaction," but honestly….

[6] Inspired by The A-Team "The Taxicab Wars" and Mission: Impossible "The Glass Cage."