Seeds Of Destiny

by pat weakley

Book One-Britt Reid has accepted long ago that he could no longer be the Green Hornet. Now Kato's son comes into his life demanding that Reid become the Green Hornet one last time to avenge his former partner's death.

5. Attack

Chapter Five

Attack

I

"Britt," Casey whispered into her husband's ear, "I think we should answer the phone."

Britt gently moved her hair out of his face. "Maybe if we ignore it, they'll go away." A few moments passed as they impatiently listened to the insistent jangling of the telephone, wishing that it would stop so they could return to their lovemaking.

"I knew we should've put an answering machine on this line," Casey said. "I don't think it's going to stop. It could be an emergency," she added.

Britt reluctantly untangled his legs from hers. "I guess you're right," he grumbled. He lightly caressed her naked back and thighs as she leaned across him to reach the phone on his side of the bed.

"You're impossible," she said. "You know you could get it yourself."Casey grabbed the receiver, dropped it and had to pull herself half off the bed trying to retrieve it.

"Nah," he said. "I'm enjoying watching you get it too much. You know whoever it is will probably hang up before you pick it up," Britt remarked, watching the curve of her body contorting after the slippery receiver as it tumbled just out of her reach.

Finally winding up on the thickly carpeted floor, Casey breathlessly spoke into the phone, "Hello?"

"Mrs. Reid? Sorry to wake you up, but I got to talk to the Boss. Is he in?" Lowrey said from the other end.

Casey smiled at Lowrey unintentional double entendre. "You might say that he's both in and out."

"Huh?"

"Never mind, Ed. He's here. Just a moment and I'll give the phone to him." She handed the phone to Britt as she climbed back into bed. "It's Ed Lowrey," she whispered.

"Yeah, Lowrey, what do you want?" Britt growled.

"I got the suff you wanted, Mr. Reid. And more."

"Great, but why are you calling me in the middle of the night?"

"Well, uh, you see, I ran into some trouble."

Instantly alert, Britt pulled himself to the edge of the bed. "What kind of trouble?"

"It's a long story."

"Just hit the high spots, Lowrey."

"The cops are after me. They think I killed a sheriff and his deputy. I'm up on a drug rap too."

"Nice combination. Are you innocent?"

"Of course I am. You know I'm clean."

"Yeah, right," Britt said dubiously. "What do you need?"

"I need a lift home and a place to lay low until things get straightened out. To lose the cops I had to get rid of my car. I've been walking all night and my feet are all blistered."

Britt sighed wearily. "Where are you?"

"I'm at a closed down gas station near the Lakeview cutoff. It's about 100 miles out of town. I'm sorry about getting you out of bed, but I think you'll find it worth the trouble."

"I hope you're right," Britt warned.

After slamming the receiver down, he turned to Casey, "Lowrey's in some kind of trouble. I'm going to have to fly down to the Lakeview cutoff to get him."

Picking up her nightgown from where it had been discarded at the foot of the bed, Casey threw if over her head and followed Britt as he began pulling clothes from his bureau. "Why don't you take Lee along? He could give you a hand."

Britt shook his head. "Nah, let him sleep. That is if that damn phone didn't wake him up already. He's been up late every night working on the Black Beauty. I think he deserves a rest."

"Britt, I really think you should take him along. Just in case . . . , you know . . . " she said worriedly as she watched him getting dressed.

"I'll be fine," he insisted. "I don't need a babysitter, especially one that's a mere child himself."

"I didn't mean it that way. It's just that I worry. I want you to be careful," she said, resting her hands on his shoulders.

He smiled, lifted her chin and kissed her tenderly. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself. I'm not expecting any trouble. I'm just going to pick Lowrey up and bring him directly here. I'll be back before you know it," he calmly reassured her.

As he listened to the whine of his helicopter's engine warming up, Britt looked up to Casey's slender figure in the window backlit by the light in their bedroom. "Damn," he thought, "I hate making Casey worry like this. Maybe whatever Lowrey has will mean the end of this business and we can get our lives back to normal."

The sun was just starting to come over the horizon when he finally spotted the gas station where Lowrey had said he would be. From the air he couldn't see the reporter, but perhaps the man was keeping out of sight. He decided to land and check it out.

"Mr. Reid!" Lowrey shouted as he stepped out from behind some bushes. "I'm sorry I wasn't out to meet you. It's just lately I've been kind of gun shy about helicopters. If you know what I mean." He bent down, pulling out an old red leather briefcase. "Here's the stuff I told you about."

Britt strode quickly to Lowrey and grabbed the briefcase. "I'll take this while you climb in. I don't waste any more time than I have to. You can tell me everything on our way back to my place in Valley Grove."

Lowrey watched the ground slipping away with misgivings as Britt eased the helicopter back into the sky. He began digging into the briefcase on his lap, trying to keep his mind off how far up in the air they were and how fragile the craft felt to him. "I'm glad you were able to make it out here. I didn't much like the idea of walking the rest of the way."

"I hope it'll be worth it, Lowrey. I left a nice warm bed to fly out here. I don't usually provide taxi service for my reporters," Britt replied as he kept his eyes firmly ahead. "Tell me what happened."

"I found your pick up point. It's an old deactivated weapons depot, Fort Bradford. It's being used for some kind of research project. Sounds like the same kind of thinking behind that place near Wolverton. I saw the helicopters fly into there and drop off their cargo. I also saw a lot of trucks haul the stuff toward the city."

"Do you have any idea where they might be dropping it off?"

"Nope. I'm hoping the location will be in these papers," Lowrey answered as he drew out a handful of papers, scanned through them and then discarded for another handful. "In this light I can't see much yet. There's some names of different companies and a lot of numbers. I think once we land, we can spread everything out and try to make some sense of it." Lowrey looked up, and asked hopefully, "Uh, Mr. Reid, how long until we land?" The sight of the air rushing past them beneath his feet was making him airsick.

"Not much longer. We'll go over those at my house and I'll try to straighten out that mess you're in," Britt absently assured Lowrey, his mind not totally on their conversation. Since he had picked the reporter up, he had felt an uncomfortable itch between his shoulder blades. "What about the drug rap and the murders?" he asked.

"After I had seen what I felt was enough, I tried to call you at the Sentinel from a diner, but you weren't there. Then I tried to call your house, but before I could get through, a pair of state cops rousted me out of the diner. They searched my car and found a brick of coke in it. I never saw it before, Mr. Reid. It must've been planted there."

"Do you think the cops put it there?"

"That's the way I figure it," Lowrey felt the helicopter abruptly change direction. "What going on?" he asked.

"There seems to be something between us and the sun. I want to find out what it is," Britt answered.

Lowrey gulped nervously as he squinted behind them into the orange glow of the newly risen sun. "I don't see anything," he murmured hopefully. "Geez, Boss, what're you doing?!" Lowrey exclaimed, clutching wildly at the open briefcase, trying to stop it from flying off his lap and spilling its contents as Britt suddenly slammed his small craft into a tight climbing turn. "Good God!" the reporter yelped as they came face to face with a squat, boxy helicopter that began firing at them as they turned to face it. "Let's get out of here!" He screamed, ducking as a bullet pierced the windshield.

"I intend to," Britt answered grimly as he charged directly into the path of their attacker and on into the bright glare of the sun. The enemy copter frantically pulled up out of their way, hung motionless momentarily in the air and then dived after them. Relentlessly it clung to their tail as they skimmed along only a few yards above the heavily wooded ground, frequently barely dodging the taller trees. White-knuckled, Britt prodded his smaller and faster craft as low as he dared, hoping that their attackers would be too busy trying to follow their wild, weaving flight to get a good aim. Lowrey yelped again as the window next to him starred as a swarm of bullets ripped through and buried themselves in his employer's door. Reid violently jerked his craft around and dove for the low rounded hills framing the pass into Valley Grove.

Spotting the multilevel cris-crossing overpass feeding from the north and south, Britt slid his craft beneath it. Slipping neatly behind an eighteen-wheeler, Reid swooped beneath the underpass as the enemy craft screamed over it, narrowly missing a DSTV helicopter on early morning traffic watch. The DSTV copter swung dizzily, then righted itself. Forgetting its morning duties, it charged after the two helicopters speeding down into the valley. Lowrey peeked, groaned and began silently praying. This is another thing to remember not to do with the boss, he thought.

"Do you see them anymore?" Britt gritted through clenched teeth.

Lowrey nervously craned his neck around, almost spilling the briefcase he was holding in a death grip. "Nope, no sign of them, Boss. Must be getting too much traffic for them. Guess they don't want any witnesses around," he replied, trying to keep his voice from breaking. He could not believe how calm his employer was. The man must have ice water in his veins, he thought.

"Good. I'm going to have to take her down, before she comes down on her own."

"Wha . . . ?" Lowrey choked out, suddenly realizing that their helicopter's bucking was not under Reid's control.

"We've been hit. I can hardly keep her under control," Britt gritted as he fought the barely responsive collective.

Lower and lower they plunged toward the ground. Almost scraping a skid on a wall, they landed with a bone-jarring jolt in the middle of a well-manicured yard. Lowrey, panicked by the black, billowing cloud of smoke from the rear, jerked open his door.

"Lowrey, don't," Reid warned as he grabbed the reporter's shoulder, pulling him back just before a snarling mouthful of teeth grazed his feet.

"Geez!" Lowrey exclaimed as five massive Rottweiler dogs leapt at his door.

"Better stay in here until their owner calls them off."

"What if this thing blows up first?"

"It won't," Britt replied calmly.

At a sharp whistle the dogs melted away from the disabled craft and Britt climbed out of his side of the helicopter. He pleasantly greeted the tall, white-blonde man striding to meet them. "Sorry to disturb your morning, Hans. I had a little engine trouble. I had to land where I could."

From the DSTV copter overhead, a voice shouted down to the men on the ground, "Are you okay?"

Britt looked up at them and waved. "We're fine," he shouted back. "Don't release that film until I give the word. I want to see it first."

"Yes, sir!" the voice responded as the traffic copter headed back into the air. On board the cameraman poked the pilot in the ribs. "See, I told you that was the boss." The pilot just shook his head in amazement.

Back on the ground the owner of the yard Britt and Lowery had landed in, examined their craft critically. "Looks to me like you've had a little more than engine trouble here, Reid," he said, noting the bullet holes in its metal skin. "One of these days your luck is going to desert you," he said in a thick German accent. "I don't see how your wife tolerates it."

Britt shrugged amiably. "That's part of my luck, I guess. Can I use your phone?"

"Go ahead. You know where it is. You've used it often enough."

"Uh, could I use your john, Mister . . . ?" Lowrey asked in embarrassment after climbing out his side of the damaged aircraft.

Britt smiled graciously. "Sorry, forgot my manners. Hans, this is Ed Lowrey, one of my reporters. Ed, this is Hans Klaus, one of my neighbors."

Hans acknowledged Britt's introduction with a curt military nod. "Unfortunately, Mr. Lowrey, I am beginning to regret being your employer's neighbor. He has a very bad habit of dropping at the oddest times of the day. If it were not for his lovely wife, I would have moved away a long time ago. I keep on hoping that some day she will come to her senses."

Britt clicked disapprovingly, "Dream on, Little Cowboy. After me, she'd find you very boring."

"Uh, Mr. Klaus, the john?" Lowrey asked insistently as he shook a leg uncomfortably.

"Of course, Mr. Lowrey, I understand. Flying with Reid can be most unnerving. Please follow me," the German said leading the way to his house.

After he had finished, Lowrey wandered around until the butler found him and escorted him to a large room cluttered with aircraft memorabilia. "Ah, Mr. Lowrey, Britt has just finished telling me all about your adventure," Hans said as the reporter entered the room.

"Hans has agreed to forget that you were with me when I landed in his backyard," Britt explained. "Hans and I go back a long way. He was the one that taught me how to fly."

"That must have been interesting," Lowrey said drily.

The tall German laughed. "Actually Britt, I am quite impressed. You did very well for someone who has never seen actual combat."

Britt shrugged off the compliment, "I've studied military tactics a bit when I was younger. What I did was nothing."

"Nothing? Britt, you out flew a well-armed military helicopter in a mere civilian aircraft. By rights you should not be alive."

"We're only alive because I was willing to take more chances than they were. As it was, if they hadn't been so worried about witnesses, Lowrey and I would be dead now," Britt pointed out.

Hans shook his head in amazement. "You will never make a good fighter pilot. You have the guts, but you're far too modest."

"I think I'll leave the flying to professionals like you. I have enough on my hands just trying to run the Sentinel."

Hans turned to Lowrey, "Perhaps Mr. Lowrey would like to learn how to fly. I would be most happy to teach him."

"No way, Mr. Klaus, I think from now on I'm going to stay on the ground where I belong. That way I don't have so far to fall."

Before Hans could reply, his butler entered the room and cleared his throat. "Sir, the car for Mr. Reid and Mr. Lowrey has arrived," he announced.

"Hans, thank you for your hospitality. I owe you. I'll send someone over to take care of the helicopter later," Britt said, bidding his goodbye.

"Yeah, thanks," Lowrey said, echoing his employer's sentiment as he shook Hans' hand. "Maybe one of these days we can get together. I'd like to hear something about Mr. Reid's early days. I'm finding out all sorts of things that I didn't know before."

"I'm sure he could tell you much better than I could."

Lowrey looked sideways at Reid. "Yeah, but he'd probably leave out all the juicy stuff. You know, the employer-employee relationship being what it is," he said with a wink.

As they walked out the front door, Britt could feel the reporter's eyes on him. He was worried about what was on the man's mind. Lowrey's sharp, that's why I haven't fired him before even though he's a pain in the ass. But he could be too damn sharp for his own good. And mine.

II

When he saw Lee at the wheel of the Cadillac convertible, Britt frowned. "Where's Casey?" he asked, settling into the back seat after Lowrey had climbed into the back.

"She's at home. She said there's some kind of problem at the paper. She told me to drop Mr. Lowrey off at your house and drive you on to the Sentinel," he explained. "There's a suit for you on the back seat." Lee looked back at Lowrey. "Uh, Mr. Lowrey's sitting on it," he remarked as Lowrey hastily slid off the plastic wrapped clothing.

Ignoring Lowrey's mumbled apology, Britt demanded, "What kind of problem?"

"I'm not sure. Mr. Dunigan said something about a bunch of picketers in front of the building. They're getting in the way of the paper delivery trucks and are stopping people from coming in to work."

"Damn," Britt cursed. He was sure that De la Culebra was behind this. The man was moving faster than he had expected. "Lee, I'll drop you off at the house with Lowrey. I can drive myself into the city."

" Mr. Reid, Mrs. Reid said I was supposed to stay with you," Lee objected.

"I'd feel a lot better if you stay with her. Just in case there's any kind of trouble at the house."

Lowrey interrupted their argument, "Mr. Reid, maybe I should turn myself in to the cops. I don't want to get you and the Missus in any trouble."

Britt violently shook his head. "No way. You might just be our only ace in the hole. I don't want you to reappear until I'm ready. Turning yourself in won't change anything. Not as long as we have that stuff in that briefcase."

"Then why don't you print what's in those papers? That way everything will be out in the open. They'll be too busy defending themselves to bother you," Lowrey suggested.

"I may do that, but I haven't had a chance to look them over yet. I want to keep them, and you under wraps for now. I need time to make some plans of my own."

"You might not have the time . . . "Lowrey countered.

"I'll make the time," Britt said with determination.

Casey came to the car as they pulled up to the front door of the Valley Grove house. Britt got out of the car and went over to the driver's side. "Lee, you stay here with Casey and Lowrey. I'll go on to the paper alone," he ordered.

Lee looked at Casey in confusion. He didn't want to go against either of their wishes. Casey came to his rescue. "Britt, I had asked him to stay with you," she said firmly.

"I don't need him along," Britt protested. "I can take care of things myself."

"I know, but I still want him with you. You're only one man and there might be serious trouble. You can't be everywhere at once. He's been stuck in the house too long. I think he could stand to get out a little bit."

"Casey . . . " Britt began, but stopped when she placed her fingers on his lips. Although next to him she seemed small and delicate, she could be as stubborn as him.

Britt hesitated, wanting to disagree, but he noticed the worry in her eyes. Instead he kissed her. "Okay, you win, but I want you to call me, or the police, at the first sign of trouble here."

"Don't worry, I will. Ed and I will get along just fine," she said confidently.

Britt looked sharply at the reporter. "Hands off the boss' wife, Mister," he warned in jest. "You and Casey can go over those papers. See if there's anything in there I can use. I also want you to stay out of sight, until we can find a better place to hide you."

Britt returned to the car and opened the driver's side. "Okay, young man, you can go with me, but I'm driving," he ordered as Lee slid to the passenger side.

While he drove into the city, Britt filled Lee in on his and Lowrey's hair raising flight, but his mind kept on wandering while he spoke. "Mr. Reid," Lee asked, "What do you think those people down at the Sentinel are protesting about?"

"I don't know. I don't think it really matters. I'm willing to bet it's a set up."

"A set up? Why?"

"A peaceful demonstration can turn into an ugly riot very quickly, especially if that's someone's intention."

"There might be trouble then?" Lee asked eagerly, looking forward to the possibility of action.

Britt shot a quick look at the younger man. "Hold on to your horses. This isn't a game. In a riot, somebody, maybe even you or I, could get very badly hurt," he said grimly.

As they turned off the freeway and headed toward the Sentinel, the traffic slowed to an arthritic crawl. "Must be some kind of accident," Lee remarked.

"I doubt it," Britt said, impatiently tapping a forefinger on the steering wheel. "This is crazy. I can't wait here all day. There's no telling what's going on at the paper."

A few blocks from the Sentinel he abruptly pulled the car over. "I'm going to walk the rest of the way."

"I'm going with you," Lee volunteered as he opened his door.

"No. Stay with the car. When the traffic opens up, you can bring it to the paper."

"You're not planning on going there alone, are you?"

"I am," Britt responded sharply. He was not used to someone questioning his decisions.

"It could be dangerous. What if somebody recognizes you? You might need some help."

Britt began to retort that he didn't need any help, but caught himself, realizing that lately he had been too sensitive about needing help. He could not allow his stubborn pride to overcome his common sense. "Okay," he agreed, "you can come along, but you must do as I say."

"Right!" Lee agreed, eagerly leaping out of the car and grabbing Britt's suit.

Britt picked up the car phone and rang up the Sentinel. "I'm going to see if they can send some security men. If there is trouble we might need some reinforcements." After he had finished the call, Britt climbed out of the car. "We'll start walking and meet them on the way there."

Lee had a hard time keeping up with Britt as he quickly strode to the Daily Sentinel. While the publisher threaded through the lunchtime crowd without a single pause, Lee found his way constantly blocked. Although he managed to safely cha-cha around a large woman laden with department store bargains, he barely escaped a fistfight with an angry father after nearly falling over an oversized stroller carrying sleeping twins. He had to frequently run just to keep Britt Reid in sight.

"Mr. Reid," he said breathlessly, "Wait up. I can't keep up."

For a moment Britt stopped. "Okay, but try to move a little more quickly," he said impatiently, looking ahead of them. "I can see the security men coming toward us."

After the security men, both of them built like fullbacks, arrived Britt asked them what was happening at the paper. "How bad is it?"

"Not too bad yet, Mr. Reid. So far they're pretty peaceful except that they have all the entrances blocked with junk. Except for the front door that is."

"Yeah," said the other guard, "They're not going to make it easy for you to slip in, Mr. Reid."

"Has anyone been hurt yet?"

"Nope, not yet, except we had to bulldog Mr. Axford before he slugged on of them. Some of those signs are mighty insulting, sir."

"How is the rest of the staff handling it?"

"A lot of people are calling in saying they're too scared to cross the picket line. Most of the reporters though are having a field day. They're interviewing anybody who'll stand still long enough to talk."

"What about the police?" Britt asked, "Why haven't they done anything about this?"

"Every time we call them, they say that they can't get through the traffic jam. They say that we'll just have to hang tight until they can get through."

"We won't be able to get the paper out today if I don't stop this now," Britt said angrily.

"Mr. Reid, maybe you should forget about coming in today. They're waiting just for you."

"Yeah," agreed the other man, "They have boxes of rotten tomatoes and fruit stashed behind the line, but they haven't done anything with them yet. If you show up, there's bound to be trouble. Why don't you go home? Things will cool off by tomorrow."

"I won't be barred from my own newspaper by a bunch of hoodlums. I'm going in." Britt turned to Lee. "Are you sure you still want to come along? Things could get ugly. It's not too late to back out," he offered.

"If there's going to be a fight, I'm ready for it," Lee answered boldly. "Just lead the way."

"Okay," Britt said, wishing that the young man had decided otherwise. Noticing that the security men were armed, he warned them, "Under no circumstances are you to draw your guns, even if you don't intend to fire. I won't have a massacre on the Sentinel's doorstep."

"We understand, sir," both men said in unison.

A large crowd of curious onlookers had formed a dense ring around the front of the Sentinel building. The four men were forced to elbow their way through until a few people recognized the newspaper publisher. A surprised murmur spread through the crowd like a silent wildfire and people began to move out of their way, parting before Reid like he was a modern day Moses- or a leper.

Finally Britt faced the line of chanting picketers holding signs proclaiming him a racist and the Daily Sentinel an Imperialist tool, among many far worst things. He motioned for Lee and the security men to stop and went a few paces ahead of them. In the tense silence that fell over the claustrophobic space between the building and the street Britt raised his voice, but kept his tone calm and commanding, "Please leave the premises immediately."

"What if we don't?" challenged a young woman, defiantly striding to face the much taller publisher. Despite the shapeless camouflage pants and pea green T-shirt, she would have been considered exotically beautiful, but for the fact that her bronzed aristocratic features that may have come from a Mayan codex were distorted into an ugly snarl.

Britt looked down at her. "Are you in charge of this?"

"I am," she stated, looking Reid directly in the eye. There was something in the depths of his stormy, grey eyes that frightened her. She quickly looked away.

"I'll make a deal with you. Tell your people to leave now, and I'll allow you and some of your friends to air your grievances on my television station."

Considering his offer, the woman looked back at her fellow protesters and the surrounding onlookers. As the protesters had expected, most of the networks had sent their crews to cover the demonstration while the police still had not arrived. The plan would fail if she was not able to maintain control of the protesters who were already commenting on the fairness of the publisher's proposal. She needed some time to think.

"I am making a most reasonable offer," Britt prodded. "You and your people will have the chance to reach millions of people. That is the purpose of your demonstration, isn't it?"

"And of course, you can then go about publishing your precious rag."

"Right. We will both benefit. What is your answer?" he pressed.

"I'll give you my answer after I have talked to the others. Unlike the way you Imperialist pigs run things, they have the right to be a part of the decision making," she said contemptuously. "But," she added, "We will allow you to enter the building unmolested."

Britt bit off a sarcastic remark and instead bowed slightly in agreement. "Thank you. When you have made your decision, you can come up to the eighth floor and I will put you on the air." He signaled for one guard to lead and for the other to follow, while Lee moved to his side.

The normally short walk to the front door seemed to be taking forever. The air crackled with tension as they passed through the narrow gap opened by the demonstrators. Britt tried to ignore their barely audible curses, but he could sense Lee's frustration beside him. One of the demonstrators spat at Lee's feet and he had to restrain him with a sharp word.

Out of the corner of his eye Britt could see the demonstrators closing behind them. The only way open was forward. Suddenly the lead guard, struck unconscious by a stone buried in a rotten tomato, fell heavily backward against Britt, knocking him to the ground. Britt snatched at the man's shirt and pulled him off, but not in time to stop Lee from chasing the fleeing attacker.

Lee swept through the picketers like a harvester's scythe as rotten missiles rained down over him. He kicked and punched anyone who got in his way, not noticing that as he advanced they flowed around him like an amoeba, separating him from Britt and the remaining guard.

After ordering the remaining guard to stay with the fallen man, Britt dove after Lee, but quickly lost him as the protesters flowed between them. Trying to clear a way through the crowd, Britt jammed the end of his sturdy cane into the soft belly of one man and then slammed it into the face of another. He tried to parry a sign aimed at his head, but his shoulder was struck a glancing blow form behind by the edge of another one, sending pain shooting through his arm and back. Fruitlessly trying to stay on his feet, Britt smashed his fist into the face and body of anyone within his reach, but under the steady onslaught of signs and fists, his knees buckled. He landed under the stomping feet of his tormentors. Not yet defeated, he continued kicking and pulling at legs, trying to get back to his feet.

Britt caught the brilliant glint on the long blade of a knife, but could not move fast enough to bring his good arm up to shield his chest from its ripping impact. Suddenly his attacker screamed and clutched at his own arm, dropping the knife moments before it reached its target. Gasping for breath, Britt watched a short, stocky man melt back into the crowed which was beginning to slowly dissipate, their enthusiasm for the demonstration oddly forgotten.

Lee trotted to Britt's side. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered, still trying to catch his breath. "How about you and the others?"

"I'm okay. I got a few scratches and bruises, but I gave as good as I got," Lee said proudly. "One of those security guys might have a concussion, but he's being taken care of." Absently he began kicking at some of the debris at his feet. "I guess I kind of got in over my head," he remarked glumly.

"More like you lost it completely."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It's just that I couldn't stand it anymore. And after they hit that guy . . . " He forcefully kicked an upturned crate that was still half full, spilling its contents into the air.

"Looking for something?" Britt remarked wryly.

"Yeah, I kind of lost something. It should be around here somewhere."

"Did you notice where it fell?"

"No. There were too many people around."

"It was one of your father's darts." Britt said, knowing even without asking that it was.

Lee nodded unhappily. "I didn't mean to use it."

Tired and sore, Britt blew up, "You didn't mean to? Damn it, Lee. You're always doing things you didn't mean to. You have got to learn to use your head."

"I'm sorry I goofed."

"Sorry's not going to cut it anymore. It won't get this mess cleaned up, and it won't fix those damn broken windows. It's about time you start using your head for something other than keeping your ears from sticking together."

"I saved your life!" Lee shouted defensively. "Doesn't that count for anything?"

Britt looked evenly at him, his voice deathly quiet, "At what cost, Lee? At what cost?"

Lee couldn't answer and dejectedly watched Reid walk back to the Sentinel. He felt horribly lost and alone. He had no idea what he could do or where he would go, if he could not heal the rift between him and the older man.

Britt looked back at Lee as he opened the front door. "Are you coming?" he asked.

Brightening instantly, Lee hurried to the door, but a glimpse of thin plastic caught his eye. "Wait a minute, sir." He kicked away a broken discarded sign and proudly held up his prize. "Here's your suit. It looks okay to me," he said hopefully as he examined it.

Britt nodded and looked down at his stained and torn clothing. "I certainly hope so. What I'm wearing now is only good for the rag pile, if that."

Far off in the distance Britt could hear the wail of police sirens. "Great timing," he commented. "After all the damage has been done, they finally decide it might be a good idea to get here."

"Shouldn't we wait for them?" Lee asked, following Britt into the building.

"No. If they want to talk to me, they'll have to come up to my office. They took their own sweet time getting here. They can cool their heels until I'm ready to talk to them, and not before."

When the elevator reached their floor, Britt stepped out first. "I don't feel like answering questions right now. We'll go through the anteroom's door instead of through the City Room."

Lee almost stepped on Britt's heels when the older man stopped abruptly just inside the door. "Who are you?" Britt demanded, "Where's the girl that's usually here?"

"I'm Linda Travis. I was just hired yesterday. Jennie had called and said that she was too scared to come in. Since I was one of the few secretaries who did come in, I was sent up here," she explained as she grabbed the phone that was ringing demandingly. After answering it, she pushed the hold button. "It's been ringing like that all day long, sir. It's Mr. Rather from CBS. He wants to talk to you about the footage showing you fighting the demonstrators."

"Tell him I'll call him back in a few hours."

"There have also been calls from NBC, ABC, CNN and just about everybody else in the media."

The other line rang and she moved to grab it, but Britt laid his hand over hers. "Let me take this one." He lifted the receiver and listened a moment. "Police Commissioner Smith, just the person I want to talk to. I have something to say about how late your people were today. What do you mean they couldn't get here any sooner? All the networks were able to make it. I find it hard to believe that the police couldn't. Their job is to protect everyone, not just the people City Hall gets along with. If you think I've embarrassed you before, just wait until I get to the bottom of why the police took their time getting here."

He listened angrily for a moment at the Police Commissioner's heated denial. "If anything ever happens like this again, I'll turn City Hall completely inside out and I'll shake out everyone that is even the least bit shady there. I know how to find the skeletons and when I do I'll show them to the entire world. No, Commissioner, I'm not making a threat. I'm making a goddamn promise. Good day!" he growled, slamming down the receiver. He dialed the operator. "This is Mr. Reid. I won't be taking any more. Give them to Dunigan or PR. I don't want to be disturbed for the rest of the day." He slammed down the phone. "Now about you, Miss Travis . . . " he began.

"Mr. Reid? What about Mr. Rather?" she interrupted.

Britt glanced down at the phone and watched the blinking hold button. It blinked twice and then went dark. "It appears that we don't have to worry about Mr. Rather. Now, Miss Travis, do you have any experience in the newspaper business?"

"Yes. I worked as Mr. Crawford's personal secretary for five years."

"Five years? You must have had the patience of a saint to work for Crawford that long." Britt regarded her, eyes narrowing as he searched his memory. "Travis? Now I remember why your name sounded familiar. You're a friend of Ed Lowrey's, aren't you?"

"We dated a few times," she said nervously.

"Then you must be Ed's connection at the Clarion."

"I've done a few favors for him in the past." She shrugged her shoulders unhappily. "That's why I got canned a few days ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm glad to see you were able to find a job here."

"I'm glad too, Mr. Reid."

"Good." Then becoming all business, Britt said, "Get out your steno pad. I have a lot of things for you to do. A research group has set up shop at a place called Fort Bradford. I want you to find out the name of the director there and make an appointment for me to speak to him tomorrow. Also, call our morning traffic copter pilot and reporter. I want to talk to them in about an hour, and remind them not to show anyone the film they took this morning."

"Film, Mr. Reid?"

"They'll know what I'm talking about. I also want you to put out a memo that I will be having a staff-wide meeting in the commissary in about an hour and a half. Also, my young friend here needs a change of clothes and a shower. Has anyone shown you the employee locker room yet?"

"No, sir," she replied.

"Okay, well, ask one of the reporters in the City Room to help him out. Now is there anything else that needs to be taken needs to be taken care of before I take my shower?"

Linda hurriedly searched the stack of notes on her desk. "No . . . , Wait. Yes, here's a note from the Philo Rivers show. They want to have you on their show tomorrow. It's on integrity in journalism."

"Call them back and tell them I wouldn't be on that show even if God was going to be on with me," Britt said acidly.

"In those exact words, Mr. Reid?" she asked.

"No, better not. I'm sure I can trust you to phrase it more politely."

"Britt," Mike Axford said as he stormed in the anteroom, "You better rethink about going on Rivers' show."

Britt shook his head tiredly. Mike was all he needed right now. "Miss Travis, this is Michael Axford. He is one of the people you must bar from my office at all costs."

"Aw, Britt, this is serious," Axford protested, "You got to listen to me."

"Why?" Britt demanded.

"'Cause it's about the Green Hornet."

"Mike! I have had it up to here about the Green Hornet. I don't want to hear one more word about him."

"But Britt!"

"Not one word!"

Axford flashed open the newspaper he held in his hand. "I'm not the one bringing it up. The Clarion's doing it. They got a full spread on the Hornet. They're claiming that you're him!"

"What?" Britt exclaimed, snatching the luridly illustrated tabloid out of Axford's hands.

"They're claiming that they have proof that the Hornet's not dead and that you're him 'cause you were wounded on the same night he was. Rivers going to have a live show on it and he's going to have Crawford and De la Culebra on with the proof. Britt, you got to show those damn liars that they're full of bull, that you're not the Hornet. If you don't go on, they'll have you convicted in front of millions of people."

"Damn," Britt cursed. Today was not his day. "Okay, Miss Travis, go ahead and find out what Rivers wants and get me all the necessary information I'll be needing. Mike, leave me that rag and I'll look through it, and why don't you make yourself useful and help Lee, here, round up some clean clothes and show him the showers."

Axford stared at Britt and Lee, noticing for the first time that their clothes stank like a garbage can. "Looks like the old days all over again," he remarked wryly. "The boy's got the same talent for getting you into trouble that his old man did. C'mon kid, I got my orders. Let's see what we can do."

Britt watched Lee reluctantly walk out his office behind Axford. Linda caught the tiredness flash across his solid features before he could hide it from her. "Mr. Reid, I think I understand everything you need me to do," she said helpfully.

"I appreciate your willingness to take care of a very difficult task on your first day," he said. "I'll leave everything in your capable hands while I get cleaned up."

Many hours later, Britt watched the sun setting from his office window. It had been a very long, hard day. He was glad to see it end. He rolled his head, trying to work out the ache in the back of his neck and shoulders. Earlier, when he had called Casey to tell her that he was safe, she had wanted to come down to the paper, especially after hearing that a newcomer had been given the assignment of serving as his secretary for the day, but he had convinced her that she should stay at the house and keep an eye on Lowrey. Now he wished she had let him change his mind and had allowed her to come in. Her strong fingers always were able to work out the worst kinks. No matter how bad they were.

"Mr. Reid?" Lee said quietly, not wanting to disturb Britt's contemplation of the scarlet sunset. "I'm ready if you are."

"Then let's go. There's no point in hanging around here. I've done everything I can do today," Britt said, wearily reaching for his cane. "Tomorrow's another day and it's going to be a rough one. I might as well grab what rest I can now."

"Have you figured out what you're going to do on Rivers' show?"

"Not a thing. I wish I knew what kind of proof Crawford has that he's been boasting about in that rag of his."

"Crawford sure has it in for you."

"We've been serious rivals ever since the Clarion failed as a daily and was turned into a weekly tabloid by the people who bought it."

"But why the big push now?"

"I think the honorable Senator De la Culebra is egging him on. Just like those demonstrators today."

"You could bring in that film your traffic reporter took of that copter trying to shoot you and Mr. Lowrey down. Along with those papers Mr. Lowrey has, you could silence Crawford and De la Culebra very quickly," Lee suggested.

"I wish it was that simple, but what I have may not be compelling enough. It won't be enough to draw the attention away from Crawford's and De la Culebra's suggestion that I might be the Green Hornet."

"Your talk with the staff went over really well."

"It would look like it, but I could see that all concern about the riot had taken a back seat to those rumors being spread by the Clarion. I didn't have any answers for the questions I saw in their eyes. And I won't have any for Rivers' show."

He picked up the tabloid on his desk. It was opened to a large full color spread showing the frozen, contorted bodies of the gangsters that had tried to kill the Green Hornet. There was also a photo showing a bloodstained trail that led to a large boulder. A thickly outlined sidebar on the same page described the seemingly coincidental attempt on the Daily Sentinel's publisher's life. No connection was explicitly made between the two events, but what it implied was obvious. "I thought I had put my past behind me. I had hoped that if I ignored it long enough, it would just go away. Now, it's coming back to haunt me."

"I'm sorry I ever came here. You and Mrs. Reid don't deserve this."

Britt crumpled the paper and threw it into the wastebasket. "It's too late for regrets. All we can do is make the best of it. Look at it this way. If you hadn't come to me, De la Culebra might have continued his crooked scheme undetected until it was too late."

"Maybe it's too late already. You and your paper will probably be destroyed even if Crawford can't positively prove that you were the Hornet. And De la Culebra will become President."

"Don't give up yet, young man. I'm not ready to throw in the towel, yet."

"The Black Beauty's almost ready . . . "

"We've been over that before," Britt warned, "I'm too tired to have to go all over it again."

"Yes, sir. It's just that I thought . . . "

"I know what you thought and you're dead wrong. I don't need the Green Hornet to stop De la Culebra. I have plenty of other resources at hand. I haven't needed the Hornet for a long time and I don't need him now."

"I guess you're right," Lee said, not totally convinced.

"Of course I'm right."

Dropping the subject for later, Lee said, "Mr. Reid, I'm afraid that with all the excitement, I forgot to bring your car to the newspaper. If you want to wait a few minutes, I can go get it."

"Don't worry about it. It looks like a pleasant night for a short walk. I've been sitting in that damn chair all day. I need to get out and stretch my legs a little."

It was a softly warm night. The kind of night found when the weather is momentarily poised between the oppressively humid heat of midsummer and the bitter cold of late fall. Britt gazed wistfully at the park across the street as he and Lee left the Sentinel building. There had been many nights when he and Casey would walk through it, talking about nothing in particular, just being happy to be together. Britt felt lonely even with Lee beside him. He wished that Casey was with him instead.

They were almost to the car when a harsh voice barked from the shadows of an alley. "Get inta here you two. And no funny stuff either." Two men holding guns edged into the light of a nearby street light. Britt could see more silent, threatening figures waiting further back in the dark. He recognized the leader as the bogus ranger, Martinez, the same man that had tried to kill him during the riot.

"What do you want?" Britt demanded. His answer was a sharp blow against his jaw from the butt of the leader's gun, slamming him to his knees. Lee yelled, snatching away the other gunman's weapon. Before he could aim it, he was roughly grabbed by the other thugs in the alley.

"Cool it, Lee!" Britt ordered the struggling young man. He gingerly touched his bruised jaw. "This isn't a mugging, so what do you want? Besides roughing us up, that is."

"You're real smart, aren't cha old man," sneered Martinez. "An' if yer really, really smart, you'll listen real hard to what I have to say to ya." He threw down an envelope. "Take a good look at these, old man."

Britt pulled out some photographs. Some of them were of a young blonde man with the streets of a bombed out city in the background. The photos had been taken with a telephoto lens. Across each was drawn a crude set of cross hairs. Britt's hands began to shake with suppressed anger as he pulled out another set of photos. Similarly drawn with the crude cross hairs these showed a pretty dark-haired girl curled in a chair in an apartment. "You recognize 'em, old man? They're yer kids."

"I know that," Britt interrupted heatedly.

"Yeah, an' ya know yer boy's in a real dangerous part of the world. A stray bullet from nowhere and the world would be short a pesky news hound. Happens all the time. Now yer girl. She's a mighty good lookin' chick. Shame if somebody took it inta their head to have a little 'fun' with her." Martinez laughed obscenely, "'Course from her point of view, it might not be so much fun."

"What do you want?" Britt gritted.

"Just this, old man, you keep yer nose outa things. Yer walkin' on thin ice, an' disturbin' people who don't want to be bugged. So lay off. Yer man by the name of Lowrey took some stuff. We don't want it made public. So why don'cha be real smart an' be a good daddy an' burn them papers."

"And if I don't my children will be hurt."

"Yeah, an' maybe yer pretty wife too. She's a little old fer my taste, but there's guys who like older dames," Martinez threatened. "I think though you need a little lesson. Ta see we ain't kiddin'." Martinez slammed a thick knee into Britt's face. Before the publisher could roll out of the way, Martinez landed heavily on his stomach. He grabbed Britt's right wrist and slammed his hand sharply against the rough asphalt, forcing it open. "Come 'ere Joey. I need yer cigar fer a minute." Martinez held the cigar's glowing tip in front of Britt's eyes. "Drop yer' investigation or a lot worse is gonna happen," he said, rubbing out the burning tip in Britt's open palm. Britt screamed and thrashed under Martinez' heavy weight. He could hear Lee's curses echo somewhere out of his sight.

"Shut that damn kid up!" Martinez shouted as he rose from his victim's abdomen.

"How?"

Martinez drew out his gun, aiming it at the outraged Lee. "Do I have ta do everythin'?" he said as his finger tightened on the trigger.

"No!" Britt screamed, hurling himself at Martinez' knees. The two men fell down together in a tangle of arms and legs. Taking advantage of his captors' shock, he threw one against the wall and elbowed another in the stomach and then quickly dispatched him with a sharp chop to the neck. Britt had Martinez beneath him and was tuning the man's face into hamburger with one hard-fisted blow after another. The remaining thug retrieved a fallen gun, but before he could fire, Lee grabbed his gun hand and threw him into the street like a sack of garbage. Lee turned to help Britt, but was amazed to find him on his feet, lifting his captive against the wall with his injured hand.

"I want some answers. Now!" Britt growled, slamming Martinez' head forcefully against the rough wall. "Is De la Culebra behind this?"

Martinez' bloody mouth set into a tight line. "I ain't talkin'. Ya can't make me."

Britt's eyes narrowed. "You see him?" he gestured with a tilt of his head toward Lee. "Some of your pals killed his father, who also happened to be a very good friend of mine. But that's not the point. What is important is that orientals take it very seriously when you kill a relative of theirs. You see, it becomes a matter of honor. I've heard of people waiting decades until they could get their revenge. Now this young man, this 'boy' he doesn't have to wait. I could stand aside and let him take his revenge or I could stop him. It's all up to you, but I am warning you that I am seriously thinking about letting him do whatever he wants. He could kill you with a single blow, or do it so slowly that you'd be begging to be killed. It's up to you, but I'm hoping you don't talk. I don't like my family being threatened. I might even help him."

Martinez' eyes darted from Reid to Lee. He saw no mercy in either man's eyes. Not in Reid's arctic blue or the stygian depths of Lee's dark eyes. "I...I'd be killed if I talk," he whimpered.

Lee picked up a discarded knife and threw it so forcefully that it buried itself up to its hilt in the window sill next to Martinez' head. "You'll be killed if you don't," Britt growled, again slamming the thug's head against the wall.

"You can't!" Martinez squeaked fearfully.

"Why?" Britt demanded harshly.

"'Cause yer ah, yer ah . . . It ain't the way it's supposed to be. Yer supposed to be a solid citizen. Yer supposed ta turn me in ta the cops or somethin' law abidin' like that. 'Sides there's witnesses. The guys would talk," he protested.

Britt snorted in derision, "It'd be my word against theirs. Who do you think will be believed?"

Martinez stank in fear. He was used to being the victimizer, not the victim. Reid was not acting the way he should. "Okay, okay. I'll talk," he gurgled as Reid tightened his hold on his throat.

"Who sent you?" Reid demanded.

"Miles. Matthew Miles sent me."

"Senator De la Culebra's brother-in-law?"

"I dunno. I don't know who's his fucking relatives are."

"You're telling me that Miles is in charge of this entire scheme?" Reid demanded, slamming Martinez' head against the wall with each word as emphasis. "You lie!" he growled. "Miles doesn't have the brains to get out of the rain, never mind running an operation this size."

"I swear. I'm tellin' you the fuckin' truth!"

"Tell me about the South American."

"South American?" Martinez squealed as Reid tightened his grip meaningfully. "Okay, okay. He's some kind of general from Columbia. He has the bright idea that he's gonna free his country from the drug lords with the guns that he's buyin' with the coke he's givin us."

"So you use the money from the marijuana you grow to buy the guns which you turn around and sell to the general for his coke," Reid prompted.

"I dunno," Martinez began. Reid's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, yeah, I guess that's the way it's run. I dunno," he squeaked, "I'm nothin' but a fuckin' flunky. They don't tell me nothin'."

"They!" Reid growled. "You said they. Who else besides Miles?"

"Miles and the General . . . "

"And who else?"

"Some dame!"

"What dame! What's her name?"

"I dunno. I ain't seen her much. I don' know nothin' about her 'cept when she's around Miles listens real close to her like she's runnin' things. Maybe he's her lover. I dunno. They seemed real sweet on each other."

"What does she look like?"

"A real class dame. A real looker. She's got this red hair, it's like it's on fire. She's got this pale skin like she never goes inta the sun. And she's got a bod . . . "

"Enough. I know who she is," Reid interrupted impatiently. Finally satisfied, he released the frightened thug. "Don't tell your bosses a word," he warned.

"I ain't gonna tell them nothin'. They'd kill me. I ain't gonna talk. I swear."

"Good," Britt said smoothly, giving an imperceptible nod to Lee. With blinding speed Lee's hand flashed and Martinez crashed to the ground like a lightning struck oak.

Lee gazed at the fallen men at their feet. "Looks like a good catch for the cops."

"The cops aren't going to get them."

"What? Aren't you going to turn them over to the police? With what they know, you should be able to connect De la Culebra with that drugs and guns scheme."

"It wouldn't work. The only one who knows anything is Martinez. He won't talk to the cops, and he'll be out on bail before we even get home."

"But you can't just let them go," Lee protested.

"What do you think I should do?"

Lee shrugged. "I don't know. It's just not right to let them go scott free. Especially that Martinez. He's trouble, Mr. Reid. He's afraid of us now, but once he's free he could make a lot of trouble for you."

"I know, but there's nothing else I can do. Let's go home, I'm beat," Britt said tiredly, turning his back on the fallen thugs.

Lee remained silent as he drove Britt home. He could see that something was deeply troubling the older man. Occasionally he would see Reid study the ugly burn in his palm and then slowly make a fist. "Mr. Reid, don't you think you should have somebody take a look at that. That burn looks bad."

"I'll take care of it at home," Britt said quietly. "They're getting too close. They've threatened my family now. I have to draw their attention away, make them think about something else," he said, more to himself than to Lee.

"Sir?"

Very quietly, almost too low for Lee to hear, Britt said, "You said the Black Beauty is almost ready."

Lee gulped nervously. "There's just a few things I need to do and she'll be as good as new."

"Can you make it ready for tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow?" Lee croaked.

"That's what I said."

"Sure I can. It's just that I don't know if I'm ready."

"Not ready? Are you having second thoughts after all this? Isn't this what you've been pushing for all this time? You weren't fixing the Black Beauty up just so that you could take joy rides in it, were you?"

"No. I wasn't. It's just that your decision is so sudden. Maybe it's not necessary. Like you said earlier, you have plenty of other resources. Maybe you don't need to use the Green Hornet."

"Afraid?"

Lee swallowed hard, making a painful admission, "Yeah, I guess I am. When I first got here, I thought it was going to be so simple. I'd just get the Black Beauty and blast those guys out of existence. But now, because of me, you've been hurt, your family been threatened and all I've managed to do it foul things up. I haven't done a single thing right. How can I even dare think of filling my father's shoes? I'll never be as good as he was. I don't have the guts you have, or that my father did. Once you told me to never question your courage until I had someone point a gun at my gut. Tonight that happened to me. I was scared to death. What if we got out tomorrow night and I fail? I could get killed or worse, you could get killed and it'd be all my fault."

"You're underestimating yourself. You did very well back there. You're improving all the time."

"Not fast enough to be any good to you."

Britt sighed, looking again at the painful burn in his palm. "I was wrong. I need the Green Hornet. He the only one who can distract De la Culebra from Britt Reid. All the proof I have against him is useless. Right now it only serves as a weapon against me. If De la Culebra's attention is not turned away from Britt Reid; Casey, and my children could be killed, or worse. The Hornet's the only thing I can think of. If you don't think you can handle covering my back like Kato did, I'll have to go it alone."

"You could get killed!"

"That's all together possible," Britt said calmly.

"I want to help you. I really do, but I'm not brave like you or my father. I'm afraid to die," Lee confessed.

"Being brave doesn't mean you're not afraid to die. A brave man fears dying as much as a coward. It's a lot more than being without fear. It's about doing what you have to do even though you're afraid. You just don't let fear stop you from doing what you must. Years ago, I almost died. I don't care to come that close again, but if I have to face that possibility again to protect my family, to stop De la Culebra, I will."

"Maybe you're right. I don't know. I need some time to think about it," Lee said.

"Here's the house now. After you park the car, why don't you get some shut-eye? Casey and I have a lot to talk about tonight."

"You're going to go through with it no matter what I decide?"

"Yes."

"Then I would be honored to act as your driver," Lee said very formally.

"I am honored to accept your gracious offer," Britt said equally formally, but the bright glint in his eyes belied the formality. The boy's going to do just fine, Britt thought to himself. Now if he could just get past the next big obstacle, Casey.

"Have you gotten much out of those yet?" Casey asked softly as she entered the study. Most of the room was dark except for the single lamp on Britt's desk and the flickering flames in the fireplace.

"It confirms what I knew all along that Matthew Miles is involved in a drugs and guns scheme. Unfortunately Kato and Sheriff Tankowski weren't able to find positive proof of De la Culebra's involvement," Britt answered, pushing his chair back and reaching for the brandy snifter near his right hand.

"So there's nothing you can do with them," she asked.

"I can't see how I'd be able to put them to use. There's nothing else yet I can find that will support what these papers describe. If it was somebody else besides a U.S. senator, a presidential candidate at that, perhaps I could do more with them, but right now my hands are tied."

Spotting a set of photographs on his desk, Casey picked them up and began shuffling through them. "These are of the kids," she said, shocked at the cross hairs drawn on them. "Where did you get them?"

"A bunch of thugs jumped us. Their job was to deliver those photos. And a threat."

Concerned, Casey watched him pour more of the amber liquid into his glass. "What are you planning on doing about it?"

"There's not much I can do, at least not as a newspaper publisher."

"But there's a lot you could do as the Green Hornet," she said quietly, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

Britt nodded reluctantly. "I have no choice. I keep on trying to think of some other way, but I keep on hitting a dead end. Anything I do as Britt Reid will be noticed by the Senator and his people. You or the kids could get hurt." He drained his glass, feeling the sharp warmth of the expensive brandy burn his throat as it went down. He reached for the bottle again.

Casey placed her hand over his, stopping him from pouring another glassful. "That's not going to help you think, dear."

"I haven't drank that much. I can handle it. It helps me relax a little."

"When are you planning to go out?" she asked, holding his hand in hers. Suddenly she gasped, noticing the dark burn in his palm. "Where did you get this?"

"That was part of the message," he said grimly as he gently removed his injured hand.

"You should've told me. I'm going to get some salve and gauze and take care of that right now."

"Don't bother. It's fine." He clenched his fist. "See it doesn't hurt at all."

"After all of that 'pain killer', small wonder," she said dubiously, her eyes measuring what was left in the decanter.

"You don't seem that surprised that I've decided to become the Hornet again. I would've expected you to be furious, or afraid. Something."

"I've been expecting it ever since Lee showed up at the Sentinel." She bit her lip, and softly added, "Ever since that doctor said that you would live, I kept on expecting it to happen. It was only a matter of time."

"Then have I been fooling myself all these years? Have I been that transparent?" he said bitterly as he rose from his chair and began to pace before the fireplace. He gazed up at the painting of the masked rider. "He never had any problems like this. All the decisions he had to make were simple and straightforward. He never had to worry about a business or a family. He didn't have either. He was completely free to do whatever he felt he needed to do."

Casey grabbed him and looked deeply into his eyes. "I remember you once told me that he said that your coming to live with him at his ranch after your mother died was the best thing to happen to him in a very long time. That your coming there brought new life into what was a very lonely existence."

Britt looked down into her warm brown eyes. "I have been lucky, haven't I? I got you and I got the kids. I would die to protect you all." He took a deep breath. "I should be grateful that you're so understanding. I don't think most women would be. They'd be terrified of what might happen."

"I didn't say that I wasn't afraid. If anything ever happened to you, I'd just die. I don't think I could live without you, but I know I can't stand in your way. I know you wouldn't be doing it if there was another way. I'm not going to make it any harder for you than it already is. Whatever you do, I'll help you anyway I can." She hugged him with all her strength. "At least we have tonight."

He gently lifted her chin and kissed her. "Yes, we do have tonight," he said, slipping the straps of her nightgown down her shoulders. With a soft sigh she melted into his strong arms and slipped her hands beneath his shirt and across his broad back.

Moments later his clothing joined the nightgown in front of the fireplace as their growing passions burned as hotly as the flames that lit the room with a flickering light. Like first-time lovers they explored each other's body, rediscovering the curves and valleys that they had come to know as well as their own. In perfect harmony they moved together, becoming one in their love as they climbed from one orgasmic peak to another. Each one was higher than the other until the pleasure became almost to great to bear. Then with a single primal scream they soared to the greatest climax and fell together into an exhausted, panting heap.

"You're incredible," Britt panted, trying to catch his breath.

"You're not so bad yourself, Mr. Reid," she laughed. She took his right hand, turned it palm up, and examined the burn. "How does it feel?" she asked worriedly.

Britt retrieved his hand, and flexed it slowly, trying not to grimace at the pain. "See? Doesn't hurt at all," he lied. "Making out is a great painkiller."

She laughed gently. "Wasn't that what you told the doctor when he found us together in your hospital bed?"

"Yeah, and he said that considering the change in my attitude, he was going to prescribe sex for more of his patients." He ran a finger lightly down her belly. "The twins got something of an early start that night."

"The day-counters sure got upset when their birth date didn't quite mesh with the date of our wedding," she remarked, remembering the glares she had received from the self-appointed guardians of society's morals. She rolled to retrieve her nightgown, bringing it between them. "Why don't we go to the bedroom. The bed's a lot softer," she suggested.

Britt gently took the nightgown out of her hands and wrapped his arms around her. "I don't know about that. I kind of like it here," he said as he nibbled on her shoulder and began working down to between her breasts.

She twined her fingers into his unruly silver-grey hair, bringing his head up so that she could gaze into the smoky depths of his pale eyes. "You're impossible."

He rolled onto his back, bringing her up on top of him. "Now aren't I a lot softer than any old bed?"

"Not all of you," she teased, grasping his narrow hips between her legs.

III

Hours later, Casey pulled the cover over her shoulder with a shiver. She was surprised that Britt had carried her to bed after she had fallen asleep. She propped herself onto an elbow and gazed fondly into her husband's face as he laid peacefully sleeping. How strange, she thought, how much younger he looked when the lines of care that etched his rugged features were relaxed in sleep. Running a finger along his sandpaper rough cheek, she thought about the first time they met so very long ago.

Her enthusiasm for her new job was quickly waning. It had been a very long month, what with moving into a new apartment in a new city and starting a new job at the same time, she was thoroughly exhausted. She was trying to grab what little rest she could during her lunch break when a deep masculine voice broke through her mental fog. "Mind if I join you? Most of the other tables are full."

She looked up into the most compelling eyes she had ever seen. They were a clear Caribbean turquoise framed with thick black lashes. Why, she thought as she made room for the tall dark-haired man, was it always men that had lashes that most women wold kill for. "Well, I guess so. I'm almost done though."

"Please don't hurry for my sake," he said, settling his tray on the table.

She looked at her watch. "My lunch hour is almost over."

He placed a big brown hand over hers. "I'm sure it's okay if you stay a few minutes over."

Quickly removing her hand, she replied icily, "I'm sure you can arrange it with the boss. Right?"

"As a matter of fact I can," he admitted with an easy smile. "As the boss' son I do have a little leverage."

"I can imagine how much, Mr. Reid," she said as she rose to leave.

"Whoa, wait a minute, Miss. Please don't go off angry. Especially since I have no idea what I did wrong. Besides you have the advantage over me. It's obvious you know who I am, but like a fairy tale prince, I have no idea who you are," he said, trying to stop her from leaving.

"Okay. My name is Lenore Case. You did nothing wrong and I mean to keep it that way. I am a new secretary here and while I am fully aware that you are Henry Reid's son, I would prefer to keep things on a strictly professional level. If you don't mind," she said as she tried to get past him.

"I think you got me all wrong, Lenore."

"Miss Case, Mr. Reid. I don't think I have you wrong at all. I've seen your type before and considering what I've heard about you, you're no different from all the others."

"Perhaps, Miss Case, you should try to find things out for yourself, instead of listening to office gossip all the time," he said sharply.

"And if I don't, will I be fired?" she asked equally sharply.

"No, you wouldn't be fired. I don't have that kind of power. Even if I did I wouldn't use it to push myself on the female employees. I don't operate that way," he said firmly. "Somebody hurt you very badly, little lady, but I'm not him, so don't blame me for what he did."

"Maybe not, but I do have to get back to work."

"Okay, go back to work, but I would like to talk to you later. I like to personally know everyone who works for the Sentinel."

"Wouldn't Anita mind you talking to other women?" she asked acidly.

"Anita? Oh. The rumors again. Look, Anita and I have been dating quite a bit lately, but despite what she might be saying, we're not engaged. She doesn't own me, nobody does. I'm free to speak to and date, anybody I want to."

"Then you better tell Anita that."

"I have. Several times. But she still insists on saying that we're an item."

"I can't help you there, Mr. Reid," she said coldly. "Now Good Day, sir. I really must get back to work." She left him standing at the table, but she could feel the eyes of the other diners watching her as she left the lunchroom.

Anita Cravens approached Lenore as she sat down at her desk. "I saw you with Britt Reid in the lunchroom today," she said. "What were you talking about?"

"He noticed that I was new here. Not that it's any of your business," she answered as she began putting a piece of paper into her typewriter.

Anita angrily tore the paper out with enough force to send the roller spinning. "Now look here, little Miss know-it-all, you better keep you claws out of Britt, or so help me, you're going to be very, very sorry," she threatened in a low voice.

Lenore grabbed the sheet of paper back. "I have no interest in you dear Britt Reid. You can have him, with my blessings. Now leave me alone, I have work to do."

"You little snip. Just watch your step," Anita hissed, whirling away as their supervisor entered the room.

Lenore could barely stop herself from shaking from the shocking encounter with Anita and after mumbling that she was fine to her supervisor's question she shakily walked to the ladies room for a good cry. She could not get over Anita's anger. That on top on a very difficult week made her think about repacking her things and go back home where she belonged instead of this big frightening city.

Except that she wasn't about to show that horrid woman that she had won. After all hadn't Reid, himself, said that she didn't own him, that their relationship wasn't serious. She dried her tears, washed her face and reapplied her makeup. Some wit had once called it war paint, she thought as she critically checked her appearance in the washroom mirror. Well, that's what is was going to be, war paint. She would give that hussy a run for her money. She'd show that woman, that playboy Romeo and everyone else that nobody was going to take advantage of Lenore Case. Not it she had anything to say about it.

She took a deep breath and walked out of the ladies room, prepared for anything except for Britt Reid waiting outside for her. "Mr. Reid! What are you doing here?"

"I heard about what Anita said to you," he answered, moving to block her path. "She had no right to say those things."

"I didn't realize that gossip moved so quickly here," she remarked, making no move to avoid him.

He snorted derisively. "It moves fast here, but not that fast. Anita told me all about it herself."

"Nice girl," she said, her voice dripping with contempt.

"My feelings exactly, Miss Case." He dug into his coat pocket. "I was going to ask her to go with me to the Van Cliburn concert tonight, but all things considered, I've changed my mind. Would you like to go with me instead?" he offered.

Sorely tempted, she searched his eyes for a few moments, perhaps he was sincere and yet . . . "I'm sorry, I can't."

"Then you have other plans for tonight?"

"No. I don't have any plans for tonight. It's been a very long week. All I want to do is go back to my apartment and get some rest. I'm sure you can take someone else."

"I could, but I don't want to. We've gotten off on the wrong foot. I want to make it up to you somehow. Surely the idea of going out with me isn't that distasteful, is it?"

No, she thought to herself, going out with him wouldn't be distasteful at all. Just like every girl's dream man, he was tall, dark and handsome. Very handsome. That and tickets to a Van Cliburn concert. Those were rare and expensive. Still . . . "I really wish I could go, Mr. Reid, but even if I wasn't so tired, I don't have anything right to wear to a concert." She gently placed a hand on his. "I'm sorry. I truly am," she said sincerely. He looked so downcast, one part of her brain wondered it he had ever gotten turned down before. She almost changed her mind.

Then his face brightened. "How about a shopping trip?"

"What?" she said in disbelief.

"I'll help you get what you need. My treat."

"Are you serious?"

"Sure!"

"But that's not proper."

"Not proper? Why?"

"A gentleman doesn't buy clothing for a lady. It's just not done."

"Why don't we consider it as overtime pay?"

"For what?" she asked sharply. Perhaps her first feelings about this man were right.

"I'm going to have to write an article on the concert for the Arts section and I don't think it would look right to go stag. I need an escort. That escort can be you." A broad smile appeared on his face as if he was enjoying the cleverness of his own idea. "And of course, your ideas, your perspective from the feminine point of view will be invaluable. We can just consider the cost of getting you ready as a necessary expense."

"Besides my opinion, what else are you considering as part of my evening duties?"

"Nothing at all," he said charmingly, "Your honest opinion is all that I require. I won't even ask for a good night kiss. That would be unprofessional."

She was beginning to weaken, after all what better way to show that Anita woman that she had not been scared off. And an evening with Britt Reid would be pleasant and to get some new clothes out of it as well . . . "It does sound okay, but . . . "

"But what?"

"The concert will probably be about seven and I get off around five. To go shopping, get my hair and makeup done, that will take more than two hours."

"I'll arrange it with your supervisor for you to get the rest of the day off."

"Oh, Mr. Reid, I don't know . . . "

"Nonsense. R.H.I.P., you know. That's one of the few advantages I do have as the boss' son."

The rest of the afternoon went by in a whirl as Britt Reid escorted her to the best dress shop in town, on to the hairdresser's and finally to a professional makeup session. With the city's most eligible bachelor as her escort, she felt like a fairytale princess.

She had been nervous at first when they drove to his townhouse, but he was right. He had to get properly dressed as well. The house was immaculately kept and furnished in sleek Danish Modern. As she gazed at the books in the well-stocked bookcase, she sipped a light aperitif served by Reid's silent valet. A strange one, she thought, watching the oriental leave the room. She had never seen a real servant before but this young man was not at all what she had pictured. Although he was soft-spoken and perfectly mannered, his dark eyes had a feral gleam to them and he moved with panther-like grace. There was something about him that frightened her.

"Sorry to take so long, Miss Case," Britt said as he came down the stairs into the livingroom.

"That's okay, Mr. Reid. You have quite a selection of art," she said pointing to a primitive statue of a young girl wearing an enigmatic smile that stood next to a large brick fireplace that dominated the room.

"It's a Kore, from the Greek Archaic period, around 600 B.C. I helped dig it up on a dig in Greece when I was in college. Well," he admitted candidly, "Actually it's a copy. The real one's in Athens, but it's a nice reminder anyway." He guided her to the front door. "I've borrowed my father's limo especially for the concert. My man, Kato, will be driving us there."

"Oh, so that's his name?" she said lamely. "Uh, Mr. Reid, I hate to say this, I know it makes me sound silly, but he makes me uncomfortable," she admitted nervously.

Britt laughed. "Don't worry about him, Miss Case. I'd trust him with my life. And I have, several times. Around him you're as safe as if you were in Fort Knox. Sometimes though, I think he likes to frighten my dates, just for the hell of it. He has a wicked sense of humor, so don't let him get to you."

Kato smoothly opened the door of the long, white Lincoln Continental limousine for her. "Thank you, Kato," she said while she tried to check him out more thoroughly.

His eyes flashed momentarily in amusement and then he was again the perfect manservant. "You're welcome, Miss," he said with an elaborate bow before trotting over to the other side to open the door for his employer.

The concert was like a dream and Casey felt herself lost in the magic spell woven by the music. As they walked out, Britt quietly broke the spell, "I'm glad we went."

"So am I," she murmured dreamily as she leaned against his shoulder.

"Are you hungry?" he asked solicitously.

"Why, yes, as a matter a fact now that you ask, I am," she replied, suddenly aware that her stomach was growling in a most unlady-like manner.

"How about Dante's Palace?"

"That place? I don't know. I've heard that it's terribly expensive and that it's supposed to be a front for an illegal gambling den."

"The cost is well worth it, Miss Case. The food there is terrific. As for those rumors, they haven't stopped the cream of society from going there," Britt said convincingly.

"No, I guess they haven't," she admitted reluctantly.

He laughed. "Where's your sense of adventure, Miss Case? You'll enjoy it," he teased.

"Okay, it's your quarter, "she said despite her misgivings.

"Kato, Dante's Palace," he ordered through the limousine's intercom.

"Yes sir, Mr. Reid," came the driver's voice. Lenore was not sure if she had really heard the excitement in the chauffeur's voice or not. She wondered if it was too late to back out and ask to go home.

As they entered the door held by the uniformed doorman, she noticed the room was crowded for such a late hour. "Do you think we'll be able to get a table?"

"We have reservations, or we will after I speak to the maitre d'."

She watched disapprovingly while Britt pressed some money into the maitre d's hand. "Is that the way you always do things?"

"Not always, but sometimes you have to grease somebody's palm to get what you want."

"In other words, what's important is the result, not the means."

Britt looked at her, his pale eyes flashing a moment in irritation. "For some results the only way to accomplish them is the unconventional," he answered, a slight harshness in his voice.

Unfazed by the hardness in his voice, she pressed, "Even if they're illegal?"

"If that's the only way."

Suddenly frightened by this unexpected side to him, she quickly looked for a way to change the subject. "Oh, there's Mr. Scanlon, the new District Attorney."

"I thought you were new in town," Britt remarked in surprise.

"I am, but I read all about his campaign. In the Daily Sentinel, if fact. He's just the man to clean up this city. Maybe then it won't require doing things illegally to get results."

"All he can do is prosecute. He doesn't do the arresting or the judging of criminals. If he doesn't have the evidence, they go free."

"I see," she said. "Why don't we go talk with him for a minute?"

"No."

"Why?" she demanded.

"Because here's our table. Let's not keep our waiter waiting."

The meal as Britt had suggested was excellent. She quickly lost her initial discomfort under the influence of the expensive wine and Britt's sparkling conversation. He certainly knew how to carry on a conversation, making sure not to talk too much about himself and to ask her plenty of questions about herself. He was surprisingly knowledgeable about a wide variety of subjects. There were few lapses in the conversation except for when they were busy enjoying their dinner. As the empty plates were being cleared, Britt suggested, "Would you like to see what this place is so infamous about?"

"I don't know," she said and found that she was giggling for no reason. The bubbling champagne had made her feel dizzy and perhaps more than a little reckless.

"It could be fun," he said with a sly grin.

Giddy with the wine and heavy from the rich meal, she nodded a little too enthusiastically. "Okay, but I don't have very much money."

He pulled out a heavy wad of bills. "My treat, remember?" he signaled over the maitre d'. "My lady friend is curious about the entertainment in the backroom."

The man's eyes slid over her and he smiled lecherously. "Of course, Mr. Reid, that should be acceptable to Mr. Dante. It is always a pleasure to host ladies as lovely as your date. I admire your taste."

"Britt, that man leered at me." She blushed, trying to cover her cleavage with her light wrap.

"Hasn't anyone ever leered at you, my dear?" Britt said in amusement.

"Not outside of high school," she replied with a tipsy giggle.

Britt laughed. "C'mon. I'll show you where all the swells blow their money."

The hazy air on the room they were escorted to was filled with drunken laughter, the clatter of a roulette wheel and the droning spiel of the dealers. "Do you come here often?" she asked Britt, her eyes wide at the sight.

"Nope. I usually fly to Las Vegas whenever I feel like gambling. At least there I have a chance of winning."

"You mean people don't win here?" she asked, scandalized.

"Only when the house wants them to."

"Then why would anyone ever come here?"

"I wish I knew why. Maybe people enjoy it because it's illegal."

"There's so much stuff here. I can't see why the police haven't been able to raid this place."

"They're very well organized. They have an informant on the police force. As soon as they get the word, everything disappears and the whole place turns into a private dining room."

"So nothing can be done about it?"

Britt's eyes glittered. "The police can't do anything without a can opener."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Here's some money. Spread it around a little and don't worry about losing."

She thumbed through the bills he handed her. "Uh, Mr. Reid?" she began, but he was already heading for the craps table before she could tell him that he had given her far too much money.

The craps table looked too complicated for a beginner like herself she decided, but the wheel of chance looked simple enough. Unfortunately she won much less than she lost and became quickly bored. She watched the people pulling away at the dollar slots, but the idea of gambling away a week's pay in a few minutes was not her idea of enjoyment. She threaded her way to Britt's side at the craps table. "How are you doing?" she asked as the dealer handed him the dice.

"Losing no more than usual," he replied under his breath. In a louder voice, he said, "Say honey, why don't you blow on these for good luck?" He grinned stupidly at the rest of the players. "Haven't had anything but bad so far."

She looked at him quizzedly. "Blow on them?"

He demonstrated by cupping the dice in a closed fist and blew through the hole where his thumb was. "Like this."

She shrugged at the odd behavior and blew as he had shown her. Britt grinned again and threw the dice hard against the back wall of the table. They rebounded almost back to them and a pair of sixes rolled up on the dice. As the dealer pushed a large pile of bills and chips to him, the other players roared their approval. "Finally made my point," Britt told her when she started to ask him a question. "Tell the house thanks," he said, grabbing the money off the table and tossing a five-dollar chip to the dealer. "I think I'll keep my winnings and try my luck somewhere else."

"You won!" she said in surprise. "Why didn't you keep on playing?" she asked as the players they had left began to scream and roar their encouragement to the next dice shooter. "It sounds like they're starting to win there now."

Slyly Britt looked back at the table and whispered, "Probably the first time that table has ever seen honest dice."

"You mean you switched the dice?"

"Yeah, the old ones were loaded."

"Oh. Then why didn't you stay there?"

"It would've made them suspicious. Are you tired of playing already?"

"Like you said, losing is very boring."

Britt laughed. Leaning down to her, he said conspiratorially, "How about a little excitement?"

"What do you mean?"

"Stick with me and do like I say and you'll see. Or, if you're afraid, you can go out and ask Kato to take you home."

"No. I want to see what you're up to."

"Good girl. That's the spirit." He moved to the roulette wheel and placed some money on the table. The dealer spun the wheel and the watched as the released ball bounced on the spinning wheel until both came to a stop, not on Britt's number nor on anyone else's

"Is this crooked too?" she whispered in his ear.

"Yeah. Stay close to my side as I lean against the table," he said in a low voice as he placed some more money onto the table. "Let's try her again, Charley."

Again the wheel was spun and again no one won. Then Lenore felt Britt's hand on her hip, but as she was about to protest his forwardness, she saw him slip a silver box beneath the table. She came closer until their hips touched. "Is that the cure for a crooked table?" she asked, feeling deliciously daring.

"Now you're catching on, Miss Case." He tossed some more money on the table and again the wheel was spun. He didn't win, but to everyone else's surprise, including the dealer's, another player did.

Britt moved on to the slots. "You know, I'm getting tired of calling you Miss Case all the time. It doesn't quite work on a date," he said, pulling out a gold cigarette case.

"I thought I was on duty."

"If you want to keep it that way, okay, but I still feel uncomfortable being so formal. It doesn't feel natural to me. You can call me Britt, if you like."

"No. I think I'll keep calling you, Mr. Reid. Like I said before, I want to keep things on a professional level." She placed a hand on his forearm, feeling the iron muscle beneath the tuxedo's expensive material. "But you can call me Lenore, if you want."

"Lenore . . . " he said the word slowly, like he was tasting it. "That reminds me of a poem by Poe. A dreary one, if I remember correctly." He studied her closely as he thought. "No, I can't think of you as a Lenore. Something else perhaps? Do you have a middle name?"

"Evangeline."

"Ugh, another name from another dreary poem. Were your parents English teachers?"

"My mother is," she replied.

He cocked his head thoughtfully. "How about another poem?"

"Excuse me?"

He grinned broadly. "I know just the one. 'Casey at the bat'," he said, proud of his own cleverness.

"Excuse me?"

"Casey? Do I look like a baseball player?" she said aghast, "I thought I was quite fetching in this dress."

"My dear, you look most fetching in that dress. Enough to make me regret my promise not to ask for a goodnight kiss."

"Then why Casey of all things?"

"Because you're a lot of fun, and game for anything. That sounds like a Casey to me. Besides, don't you get it? Case...Casey."

"I get that, but still, I don't know."

"You'll get used to it, Casey," he replied as he began walking away from the slot machines.

"Mr. Reid, you forgot your cigarette case," she reminded him.

"Don't worry about it, I'm planning to quit tomorrow anyway," he said pulling her away before she could retrieve it. He pulled out a heavy antique pocket watch and checked the time. "I think it's about time for me to take you home."

"What about the excitement you promised me?" she playfully teased.

He winked at her as he placed a hand on the lever of a fire alarm box. "Don't worry, it's just about to begin," he said, suddenly pulling the lever as a loud bang and blinding flash erupted from the slot machines. A heavy black smoke engulfed the crowded room. Panicked patrons began running for the single exit where Britt and Casey stood. He quickly lifted her clear of the door, as frightened people rushed for the outside air. Above the screams, she heard police whistles and demands that everyone hit the deck.

"My God!" she exclaimed, "It's a raid. And Mr. Scanlon is leading it. But how?" She stared open-mouthed at Britt Reid. "Did you have something to do with this?"

He grinned back at her as he hurried her to the waiting limousine. "Let's move, Kato!" he ordered the driver as they scrambled into the back seat. The big car leapt out of the parking lot, narrowly missing a red Corvette. Bullets from the sports car ripped into the limousine's rear. "Damn!" Britt cursed. "Dante's made us. Lose 'em, Kato!"

The oriental driver smiled grimly, relishing the excitement. "I'll give 'em a run for their money, Mr. Reid."

Lenore screamed as bullets ripped across the windshield. Unfazed, the driver gunned the Lincoln ahead of the Corvette, but it easily kept up with them and edged closer as they slid around a tight corner. Lenore screamed again as she heard gunfire above the squealing tires and buried her head into Britt's shoulder.

"We can't lose them this way, Kato," he said. "Head for police headquarters. We'll make a special delivery."

"No way, Mr. Reid. This rig won't make it that far. It's pig iron already."

"Damn!" Britt exclaimed as another spray of bullets hit their car. "Dad's going to have our hides anyway, ram the SOB," he ordered.

Kato grimly nodded his answer and eased off the gas, allowing the Corvette to come beside them again. As it came near, he gave the steering wheel a hard twist. The heavy Continental swerved against the smaller car, shoving it up onto the sidewalk, and smashing it against a brick wall.

"She's finished, Mr. Reid," Kato said as the big car shuddered in its death throes.

Britt opened his door and lifted Lenore out onto shaky legs. "Go across the street, Casey, while we pull Dante and his man out of their car before it blows."

She watched from the safety of the other side of the road as the two men pulled their attackers out of the crushed sports car. Somebody must have called the police, she could hear sirens coming toward them. Never had a siren sounded so sweet to her.

After the police had arrived, Britt talked briefly with them before returning to Lenore's side with his man following close behind him. "I'm going to have to find a pay phone. Got a story to call in to the paper."

"A story? Is that all you can think about? We were almost killed!"

"I promised you excitement. Remember?" he said, completely unrepentant.

"Excitement? Excitement! My God, Britt Reid, you're completely insane! And so is your friend here! I'm going home and if I ever see you again, it will be too soon!"

"I'm afraid you will see me again. You work for my father's paper. Remember?" he said reasonably, seemingly unable to understand why she was so upset.

"Don't remind me!" she screamed, walking away.

"I'll take you home," he offered.

She stared back at him, open-mouthed. "How? You destroyed your car!"

"Uh, that is a problem, isn't it?" he said innocently.

"A problem? You're impossible!"

"Does that mean you're mad at me?"

She screamed at the top of her voice.

Casey smiled. It had been so long ago. She did finally forgive him, although it took a lot of flowers and candy to accomplish it. After a time, she was even able to laugh at that adventure, especially since she found out that it was more typical of him than the playboy act. They became steadily closer until everyone, including the elder Reid, expected them to marry.

Then Britt unexpectedly left for Europe, perhaps because they had become too close. Then Henry Reid was framed and Britt arrived barely in time to watch his father die in prison. Britt became the Green Hornet, but even after she discovered his secret, a wall seemed to exist between them. Instead of the passion of lover, all that was left was an easy friendship like that between an older brother and a younger sister. It was like he had tried to put some distance between them so that he wouldn't lose someone dear to him ever again.

Only after he had nearly died did their relationship began to heat up again, and that was only after she had crawled naked into his hospital bed in a very successful attempt to shake him out of a deep depression.

Britt stirred and drew her close to him. "What're you thinking of," he asked huskily.

"Do you remember Anita? Whatever happened to her?" she asked, trying to ignore what his hand was doing.

"I don't know. She's probably fat, with forty kids and forty grandkids. Why?"

"I was thinking about our first date," she said, caressing his arm. "I was wondering if you had originally planned to take her to Dante's"

"Yeah. I thought it would be a good way to make her mad enough to dump me."

"Then why me?" she asked.

"I wanted to see what you were made of."

"Oh! And did I pass?"

"With flying colors." He pulled her closer. "How about I give you something else to think about?"

"Oh, Brit," she said kissing him deeply, her body responding to his touch.