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.

6. The Return of the Green Hornet

Chapter Six

The Return of the Green Hornet

I

A loud insistent ringing disturbed the morning quiet. Without rolling over, Britt snatched up the alarm clock and threw against the wall before drawing the covers back over his head. The ringing did not stop.

Casey, sleepily raising her head, gazed at the shattered remains of the clock on her side of the bed. "I think you threw the wrong one, dear."

"Damn," he said as he rolled onto his back and grabbed the telephone. "Yeah, who is it?" he demanded grumpily. He listened for a few moments. "It's Frank," he told Casey as she tried to find a comfortable spot to rest her head on his chest.

"Scanlon? Tell him to go away," she answered, playfully twirling some of his chest hair around her finger.

"Go away, Frank," he growled into the phone, before reaching to put it down, thinking that a shower for two would be a great way to start the morning.

"Britt!" Scanlon shouted, "It's about your reporter, Ed Lowrey!"

Britt cursed and brought the phone back to his ear. "Okay, Frank, what is it?"

"A friend of mine at police headquarters just called. They've gotten a search warrant to search both of your houses and the Daily Sentinel for Lowrey. If you have anything you don't want them to find, I suggest you get on the ball right now."

"Thanks for the warning."

"Britt, I've been hearing some rumors about the Green Hornet. Are they true?"

"Depends on the rumors," Britt said evasively.

"Is it starting up again?" Scanlon demanded.

"Probably."

"Britt..."

"I'm afraid so," Britt sighed tiredly. "It's something I have to do for an old friend.

"Isn't there some other way?"

"No. There isn't," Britt answered, remembering how often he and Scanlon had been through this same argument before. Only grudgingly, and with more than a little guilt had Scanlon ever gone along with Britt's nighttime excursions as the Green Hornet.

"And afterwards?"

"Then everything will be back to normal."

"As if anything is ever normal with you," Scanlon muttered. "You know I can't help you very much these days. Ever since I retired from public office, I've been on the outs with City Hall. Just like you."

"I know that, Frank."

"Be careful, Britt. I don't know what you're into, maybe I don't want to know, but for God's sake, watch your step. You have a lot to lose these days. You've got a family now..."

"You don't need to remind me," Britt answered testily. "Thanks for the warning. I'll take care of everything before the police arrive."

"Casey..."Britt began reluctantly after he had replaced the telephone.

"I know, I overheard," she said unhappily as she got out of bed, drawing a thick terrycloth robe over her slender figure. "There may not be too much time. And don't forget you have that Rivers show today too."

"I wish I could forget it. I'm going to have to rely on you to cover for me. I might have to leave before the cops get here."

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, throwing Britt's robe to him.

"I want you to wake Lee up. Tell him what's happening and help him get the Black Beauty out of the garage. I don't like moving it out of the house in broad daylight, but we don't have much choice. He can't take it to the townhouse, the cops are going to be searching that too. He'll have to find a place to hide it somewhere away from this house. You can call him when it's safe to come back."

"What about Ed?"

"I'll take care of him. I'll keep him too busy to notice what you and Lee are doing. We can't afford to have him spot the car."

Lowrey, temporarily confused as to where he might be, stumbled out of his bed and wobbled to the door, trying to figure out who could be banging on his door so early in the morning. He was surprised to find his employer standing outside his door, unshaven, wearing nothing but a bathrobe and holding in his hands a large black garbage bag and an old straw hat. "The missus kick you out?"

"No, Lowrey, she didn't," Britt answered, shouldering his way into Lowrey's room. "Dig through this bag and see if there's anything that'll fit you."

"Huh?"

"The cops are coming over here with a search warrant to look for you. I don't have any time to hide you, so I had to think of something else to do with you. Do you know how to drive a tractor mower?"

"No." Lowrey said absently, trying to figure out what Reid had in mind. The reporter drew out a pair of worn out blue jeans out of the bag. From their length he guessed they were Reid's, but the waist was smaller that he had expected. "Where'd you get this stuff?"

"It's Casey's ragbag,"Britt answered as he pulled out a shirt and examined the large hole cut out of it. "It should be easy enough to teach you how to use the mower." He pulled out another shirt. "We're about the same height. You might even be a little taller, but that shouldn't be any trouble. Most of my shirts are going to be too large for you though. Maybe there's something of Casey's in here that might fit you," he said digging deeper into the bag.

Lowrey groaned, hoping the boss wouldn't find anything in there with flowers and lace on it. "Are you planning on hiding me in a circus, Boss?"

"Nope. You're going to start earning your keep."

"Mind telling me what you have up your sleeve?"

"It's very simple," Britt said as he pulled out another shirt and critically sized up the reporter's thin frame. "This one should fit you," he said tossing it to Lowrey. "With these old clothes, that hat and maybe a pair of sunglasses, you're going to become our new gardener."

After quickly dressing Lowrey presented himself to Britt. "What do you think?"

"Not too bad at all," Britt remarked as he checked the reporter's appearance. "Those jeans are a little roomy but I think I can dig up some suspenders to keep those up. It's not perfect, but I think if you can keep them from looking very closely at you, they won't realize that you're the man they're looking for."

Lowrey grinned. "I think I can see where you're coming from. I can forget about brushing my teeth, and putting on my deodorant, and maybe even eat a few onions, and I'll smell so bad they won't want to come close to me."

"Right, and make sure you don't turn off the mower, maybe even act a little deaf so they'll give up asking you questions. But go easy with it," Britt warned. "Don't overplay it, or they'll take you in just because you ticked them off."

"Sure, Boss," Lowrey agreed. "What about that mower?"

"I'll show you it right now."

"Shouldn't you put something on besides that robe?"

"I don't want to delay any longer than I have to. After you're set up, I'll get dressed."

Casey joined them as they walked out the back door. "Lee's taking care of that errand like you asked," she said, wrapping an arm around her husband's waist.

"Good," Britt responded. "Everything is moving along well now. Why don't you fix a little breakfast for us all." Britt smiled. "And make sure you give Lowrey a few of eggs in his onions. Sounds good to you, Lowrey?"

"Sounds great, Mr. Reid," Lowrey said, watching enviously as Casey gave Britt a long kiss, seemingly oblivious to his presence, before she returned to the house. As he watched the slow sway of her hips, he commented admiringly, "You're a mighty lucky man. She's the kind of woman a lot of men would kill for."

"I know I'm lucky. That's why I'm doing all this. And yes, I would."

"Would what?"

"Kill for her," Britt replied before turning around and walking quickly to a large storage shed behind the house.

Lowrey scratched his head for a moment, trying to decide whether Reid was serious or not. He decided he wasn't the one to find out. Britt Reid, for all his years was one tough customer. He wasn't about to test the man's sincerity, especially when it came to his wife.

Britt heard Casey answer the phone as he returned to the house. "That was somebody from the Rivers show," she told him. "They've pushed up the taping back a few hours. Something's wrong with their equipment."

Britt frowned suspiciously. "Casey, call them back and confirm that they have the time right. I'll start dressing right now anyway."

Hearing the crunch of tires out front Casey peeked through the kitchen curtains. "Just like I figured," she sighed. "It's the police."

Disgustedly, Britt shook his head. "Casey..." he began.

"I know, I'll take care of everything while you get dressed. You just concentrate on Rivers and his pack. I'll take care of the police."

"I'd rather you take care of Rivers, and I take care of the cops. You'd probably do a better job than I would," he said glumly.

Britt tried to get ready as quickly as possible, but he had to make sure his appearance was faultless. He remembered that in the Nixon/Kennedy debate all it took was a poor makeup job and a less than close shave to make Nixon look like a crook. Britt ran a hand against his own cheek, checking the closeness of his shave. He ran the shaver over one more time just to make sure and as a final touch used enough hair spray so that his haircut would stay neatly in place. At least he was experienced enough in television to know how to get ready and not have to rely on someone else's work to make him presentable for the air.

Not knowing what Rivers had in store for him, he had to be ready for anything. Still, he could feel the screws slowly tightening around him. It was like he was fighting underwater with both of his hands tied behind his back. Perhaps tonight as the Green Hornet he would be able to turn the tide in his favor. That is if he made it through the grilling on Rivers' show.

Casey smiled welcomingly as Britt entered the livingroom. "Oh, Britt, this is Detective Morrisey," she said introducing a tall cadaverous man with small cynical eyes that had seen too much over a too long career. By the sourness of his expression, Britt guessed that the detective was determined not to be impressed with either the Reid's position or power. "And this is Detective Weston," she said, introducing a young, fresh-faced kid. Weston jumped suddenly to his feet at the sound of his name, spilling the cup of coffee he was holding in his hand. A real eager beaver, he had a hard time listening to their conversation, distracted as he was by the fact that Casey, who had not had the time to dress, wore nothing under a robe that had strategically slipped to show more than enough cleavage.

"Are you gentlemen finding everything to your satisfaction?" Britt asked, overly politely.

Morrisey spoke up, "Your wife has been very helpful, Mr. Reid, but now that you're here, I'm sure she will be glad to have a chance to get dressed." Casey's charms had not had any impact on him.

She slowly walked to Britt's side, swaying suggestively as she brushed against the younger detective. Weston promptly flushed nervously under Reid's direct gaze. That was one detective, Britt thought, who wasn't going to remember anything from this visit. The other one was a hard case, and a dangerous one, depending on how willing he was to see what he was told to see. He was going to be difficult to distract. Deciding to take the bull by the horns, and get it over with, Britt asked, "Have you gentlemen had a chance to search the grounds yet?"

"No. We haven't," Weston replied.

"I don't have much time, but I'll show you around while my wife gets dressed," Britt offered.

Outside Morrisey immediately spotted Lowrey running the mower at the north end of the lawn. "Who's he?"

"He's our gardener."

"I see," said the detective, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "I want to talk to him. If you don't mind," he added.

Britt shot a quick glance at his watch. "Of course I don't mind. You can talk to anyone you want to," he answered. "But I do have an extremely important appointment to keep, so we'll have to keep this as short as possible." He led the detectives at a rapid pace across the lawn's broad expanse until the sour-faced Morrisey was left far behind.

"Shit!" Morrisey yelped as his left foot fell into a muddy hole up to his knee.

"Sorry about that, Detective. We've been having a little trouble with gophers," Britt said unapologetically as he waited for Morrisey to catch up.

Morrisey glared viciously at Britt and growled, "No problem, Mr. Reid. No problem at all."

"Jack!" Britt yelled, waving the spurious gardener down. "These two police officers here would like to ask you a few questions."

"Sure, Mr. Reid," Lowrey shouted back as he turned the mower toward them.

As he drove up beside them, he asked above the clattering racket of the mower, "What do you guys want?" Purposely, he landed a wad of chewing tobacco at the detectives feet, barely missing Morrisey's clean right shoe.

"We have some questions to ask you," Morrisey began as he pulled out some photographs. "Have you seen this man before?" he asked giving them to Lowrey. As Lowrey reached out a grimy, oil-covered hand, the detective grimaced at his foul body odor. "You mind shutting off the mower, please?" Morrisey demanded sharply.

"Huh?" Lowrey asked.

"I said, shut the mower off!" Morrisey shouted more loudly.

Cupping a hand to his ear, and leaning closer to the detective, Lowrey shouted back, "I can't hear you. Can you talk a little louder? I can't hear you over the mower."

His face turning red and gagging from Lowrey's bad breath, Morrisey screamed, "Shut that goddam thing off!"

"Can't, the thing's a bitch to get started," Lowrey replied as he tried to wipe the oil from his hands, but still managing to get the photos covered with black fingerprints. "Whoops!" he said as a stray breeze snatched the photos from his hand and sent them under the mower's moving blade. "Damn, there goes your pictures. Sorry." He grinned stupidly at Morrisey's growing annoyance.

"I oughta . . . " Morrisey muttered.

"Huh?" Lowrey shouted, "Can't hear you."

"Forget it," Morrisey growled, raising his voice even higher. "Did you ever see the guy in the pictures before?" he demanded, vainly trying not to lose his temper in front of the publisher standing behind him.

"I didn't see those pictures too good before they got chewed up, officer," Lowrey said, scratching himself. "If I see him though, I'll let him know yer lookin' for him."

"That won't be necessary. We'll do fine without your 'help'," Morrisey growled.

"Anything else I can do for you fellas? Otherwise, I got to get back to my work."

"No, there is nothing else. Go back to what you were doing," Morrisey said, dismissing the gardener.

"Okay," Lowrey said, pulling the mower around the three men.

Britt again checked his watch, "Gentlemen, I must be going, but I'm sure my wife will have finished dressing by now. She'll be happy to show you the rest of the house," he said, escorting them back to the house.

Casey greeted them at the house with a broad smile. She was wearing unusually tight pants which with the blouse tied across her breasts showed every curve of her figure. "Did you find everything okay?" she asked, addressing the younger detective.

Morrisey grumbled, "Your gardener is a complete idiot. I don't see why you hired him."

"I'm very sorry. Jack had come highly recommended, but I guess after today, we may have to find someone else. It's very hard to find good help these days," Casey replied apologetically.

"That's a problem working stiffs like us don't have," Morrisey answered unsympathetically.

"Then, I envy you, Detective." Britt glanced at his watch meaningfully. "Now, I must leave you in my wife's capable hands. I have an appointment I must get to."

"Of course, Mr. Reid," said Morrisey.

Leaving the detectives at the front door, Casey followed Britt out to his car. He grasped her around the waist and beyond their hearing whispered into her ear. "Aren't we overdoing it a bit?" he asked.

She mischievously tossed her red-gold hair that fell unrestrained over her shoulders. "The whole idea is to distract them, isn't it?"

"It is, but you're going to distract that young detective back into puberty."

She laughed. "To look at him, you wouldn't even think he's out of puberty yet. I don't see how he could even be old enough to be a detective. That Morrisey though, he's the one that might be trouble for us."

"He could be," Britt admitted. "But he's going to have so much to do trying to keep Weston in line that he's going to have very little time to notice anything else," he commented wryly. He kissed her gently. "I'll try to get free as soon as I can." He patted her rounded buttock playfully. "Try to behave yourself and stay out of trouble."

II

An hour later Britt found himself alone on the first floor of the Emerson Communications building except for a janitor mopping the floor. Perhaps he was too early after all. "Where's everybody?" he asked the janitor.

"Everybody's at Studio Six. Didn't anyone tell you?"

"No," Britt said grimly. "Where is it?"

"Take the elevator to the next floor, turn left, then right and there you are," the janitor said helpfully.

"Thanks," Britt said, turning on his heel. He'd have to move quickly, or the way his luck was running he'd be late. He took the stairs up to the next floor in two's and three's, not trusting that the elevator would deliver him in time. Slightly out of breath, he shoved his way through the double doors leading into a large television studio. The audience had already been seated, but as yet the show was not on the air. He was on time, just barely. There would be little time for him to gather his thoughts.

"Mr. Reid," said a trim, grey-haired woman carrying a large pile of papers in her arms. "I am so glad that you finally made it. I was afraid that you weren't going to get here on time."

"What happened to the equipment problems?" he demanded sharply. "I was told the show was going to be delayed."

"They were just fixed a short time ago," she answered.

"Then why wasn't I called about it, and the change in studios?"

"I'm so sorry about that, Mr. Reid, but after the equipment was fixed, Mr. Rivers decided that because the audience was so big to move the show to a larger studio. By the time the decision had been made, we couldn't reach you."

"I have a cell phone. I could have been reached at any time," he pointed out.

"We weren't aware of that. Please forgive the oversight. I promise you, it won't happen again," she said.

"I'm sure it won't. How soon are you going on the air?"

She checked her watch. "In about fifteen minutes," she replied. "Why don't I take you back to the Green Room? You can get a cup of coffee and have a chance to catch your breath before air time."

"No. I'll stay here. Just in case someone 'forgets' to tell me the show has started."

"That wouldn't happen, I assure you," she said, trying to follow Britt as he began wandering around the cameras. "You really shouldn't be among the cameras. They are very delicate and could be easily damaged."

"I'm fully aware of that. I've purchased quite a few of them for my own television station."

"I'm sorry. I should have remembered that you own DSTV. So of course, you would know all about this kind of equipment."

"Miss, why don't you go back to what you were doing, instead of trailing me around? I know my way around a studio. I promise not to touch anything."

"But . . . "

"Please," he insisted politely.

"Okay, if you insist, but please don't get into any trouble. That would mean my job," she pleaded.

"I understand. Look," he said pointing to a harassed-looking middle-aged man. "See that cameraman. He's an old friend of mine. I'll stay in one place and talk with him until the show starts."

She doubtfully thought about his suggestion. "Okay, but please stay in one place. Please," she begged.

Britt smiled warmly. "Don't worry, I promise to behave myself," he assured her as he urged her on her way.

After she left, he headed toward the cameraman. "George! How's it going?"

"Fine, Mr. Reid, though it isn't like working for the Sentinel."

"Pay should be better though, since you're now the head cameraman."

"Yeah, that's the only reason I left your place, because he promised me the sun and the moon to get him to work for him. To tell you the truth I'm starting to have a few second thoughts about the whole thing."

"Why's that?"

"Rivers' a tyrant. He runs the whole show like he was some kind of god."

"Seems to me some people have accused me of the same thing."

"Well, sometimes you were a real SOB, but you were usually right, and when you weren't, you were willing to admit it. Besides you always were square with everybody. This Rivers guy, he'll screw anybody to get ahead."

"So I noticed. They first call to tell me that the show's been delayed because of technical problems and then they 'forget' to call back to say that everything's been fixed and that they've moved to a different studio."

"Sounds like they were trying to make sure you wouldn't show up in time."

"That's what it looks like to me."

"That's not going to be your only problem," George said looking furtively around, hoping they weren't being watched too closely.

"Oh? What else is there?" Britt asked, dreading what other unpleasant surprises were in store for him.

"Well, we've been ordered to make sure you don't come off very good on the screen."

"Like if I pick my nose, you'll be sure to catch it in living color. In close up."

"Exactly, and they cooked up some kind of surprise for you."

"What kind of surprise?"

"I don't know," George said uncomfortably. "But I don't think it's good. They got something behind the set and nobody's been allowed to look at it."

"Could you manage to let me see it?"

"Wish I could, Mr. Reid. I really do, but I can't. The show's going to be starting real soon. I don't have any time to sneak you back there."

Britt nodded his understanding. He could only push so far. "If you ever tire of working for Rivers, let me know. I think I can arrange something for you at the Sentinel."

"I sure will think about that, sir."

Britt watched the restive audience for a few moments, noticing for the first time that Senator De la Culebra was moving among them. "He's performing like a real pro," he commented.

"Yeah, he's got them eating out of his hand. They're going to be a tough crowd for you," George said.

"I've handled worse before," Britt said confidently.

"Like that crew that demonstrated in front of the Sentinel?"

"Things did get a little out of hand there," Britt admitted. "Do you think things might get out of hand here?"

"If you're not careful, yeah." Noticing a man of medium height with a tennis-bum tan and shoe polish black hair coming toward them, George turned quickly away. "Here comes Rivers. I can't talk to you anymore."

"I understand," Britt said in a low voice. He strode in Rivers direction, intersecting his path toward the presidential candidate. "Mr. Rivers, I believe?" he began.

"Mr. Reid? I'm glad you could make it to our humble show," Rivers said distractedly, surprised to find the publisher on the set.

"I've heard that your show is anything but humble. You have quite a following," Britt observed, nodding toward the filled seats in the studio.

"Maybe the next time our show is offered for syndication you'll be more willing to pick us up."

"No. I don't think so. Your show is not quite compatible with the rest of DSTV's programming."

"My show is too sensationalistic for you, isn't it?"

"We do have certain standards . . . "

"You mean you have certain standards. Your's are the only ones that matter at DSTV."

"I don't usually like to put it that way, but yes, since I do own it, I believe it is my right," Britt said tightly.

Rivers was pleased to see that he had managed to irritate the newspaper publisher. "Let's not get off on the wrong foot, Mr. Reid," he said solicitously. "I see that we are about to begin. If you'll please follow me, I'll show you to your seat," Rivers said smoothly as he grasped Britt's elbow. "Watch your step. It wouldn't do for you to miss the show because you tripped over some cables and hurt yourself."

Britt roughly withdrew his arm from Rivers' grasp. "I can fully manage by myself," he growled, knowing in his gut that this whole thing was going to be a complete disaster.

Lowrey breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped out of the shower and began drying himself off. It felt good to be clean again. He had been worried that the cops were going to take all day, but they had driven off shortly after Reid had left the house. After leaving a note for Lowrey, Casey had followed them to the townhouse in the city. As he dressed in the clothes Casey had brought from his apartment earlier in the week, Lowrey heard the clattering hum of the garage door opener. It was too soon for Casey to be returning, Lowrey thought, but maybe she had forgotten something.

After finishing dressing, he padded downstairs to the kitchen. The quick breakfast he had eaten earlier had not been enough to fill him up and now his stomach was growling mightily. He rummaged through the Reids' refrigerator and pantry until he had a sandwich that Dagwood would have been proud of. As he popped the top of his second beer, Lowrey realized that whoever had driven into the garage still had not come into the house. Maybe, he thought, it wasn't Mrs. Reid after all. Could be the boy, Lee, though, back from some errand. The kid had been spending a lot of time in the garage behind a locked door. That locked door was an open challenge to his professional curiosity. Especially since it was obviously being done with Reid's blessing since he was always fended off Lowrey's not too subtle probes into what was going on behind that door.

Sipping on his beer, Lowrey peered into the lock. It wasn't anything special, nothing different from what was found in everyone else's house. All it needed was a little convincing from the narrow eyeglass screwdriver he had found in a kitchen drawer. He would have tried a lot sooner, but this was the first time he had been left alone in the house. He probed and prodded until he heard a satisfying click. The loud blaring of a television set assaulted Lowrey as he entered the garage. He could have stormed the door with a battering ram and the owner of the pair of legs sticking out from under the car would have never noticed.

And what a car. Lowrey whistled softly as he looked down at the big black car that dominated the garage. He had seen a lot of black cars before and a lot of big ones as well. He had even seen more than a few big, black cars, but this one was bigger and blacker than anything else he had ever seen. It was black with a capital 'B'. It was not a high-gloss, patent leather black, but neither was it a dull black. Instead it had a soft, light swallowing quality like a moonless night sky. The thin strips of chrome along the upper edges of its sides and the dart of chrome on the nose of its hood did little to relieve the blackness, serving only to made it seem blacker still by the comparison. True, it was no bigger than some of the limousines that he had seen many high and mighty politicians ride around in, but there was a sinister muscular quality to its size. This machine was not built for showy display. It radiated a frighteningly barely restrained power.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something hauntingly familiar about the car. He walked around it until he came to the legs poking out from under the car. The parking lights were folded down to reveal a set of pods with eight holes in each of them. "What're you doing?" he asked, crouching down to look under at Lee who was setting something that looked suspiciously like missiles or rockets into a panel behind the pods.

"Mr. Lowrey, what're you doing here?" Lee exclaimed in shock as he slid out from under the car, bumping his head on the lower edge of the grille. "That door was locked!"he said, rubbing the sore spot on his head.

"I know," Lowrey said, twirling the thin screwdriver in his fingers. "I just can't stand to see doors locked. I always have to find out what's behind them. That's a nice rig," he said nodding toward the car. "Is it Mr. Reid's?"

"Uh, no, it isn't," Lee stammered.

"Oh? Whose is it? It looks expensive, so it can't be yours."

"Well, in a way it is. I, uh, inherited it from my father. It was a, uh, custom job for a costume party."

"Damn fancy for a costume party. Those missiles look mighty realistic."

Lee slid the rockets back under the car with a foot, trying to get them out of the reporter's sight. "They're just, uh, toy rockets. You know, the kind people use for fireworks. They smoke and spark a lot, but they're harmless."

Lowrey ran a finger along the vinyl-covered roof, still trying to remember where he had seen the car before. Some old pictures, perhaps? "This baby's got to be over twenty years old. That costume party must've been a long time ago."

"It was," Lee said as he went over to put the sound down on the television set. "The Philo Rivers show is going to be on soon. I want to see how Mr. Reid does."

"Yeah, me too. So you think that business about having a show on media responsibility is just a cover so that they can put Mr. Reid on the spot, by claiming that he was the Green Hornet?"

"Uh huh," Lee agreed, wishing that Lowrey had not mentioned the Green Hornet.

"The Green Hornet . . . " Lowrey said softly as he turned around to face the car behind him, only now fully noticing its unusual lines and the big shield-shaped grille. "The Green Hornet! That car is the Black Beauty, the Green Hornet's car!" he exclaimed. "That means Mr. Reid really was the Green Hornet! Doesn't it, Kid? My God, what a story!" Lowrey said as he began pacing the garage. "Britt Reid, the fighting publisher of the Daily Sentinel was the Green Hornet, the most dangerous criminal this city has ever seen."

"You're not planning on exposing Mr. Reid, are you?" Lee asked, shocked.

Taken aback by Lee's question, Lowrey thought for a moment. "I don't know. I guess I shouldn't. At least not until I have a chance to talk to him about it. Mr. Reid can be a hard man to work for, but I've always known him as an honest guy. Whatever his reasons, they must have been good ones." His eyes widened, struck by a sudden realization. Lowrey stared at the Black Beauty. "Wait a minute. What am I doing saying 'was'? You're loading that car up. You're getting it ready. That means you and Mr. Reid are planning on using it. Mr. Reid is reviving the Green Hornet. Isn't he?" Lowrey demanded excitedly.

"Yeah, he is," Lee admitted miserably.

"I think I know why. Your father's name was Kato. He was the Green Hornet's chauffeur. Right?"

Lee silently nodded agreement.

Lowrey continued, "You came here to get Mr. Reid to avenge your father's murder, but not as Britt Reid, but as the Green Hornet. That's it, isn't it?"

"Yeah, basically."

"Boy, Kid, you sure stirred up a hornet's nest, pun intended. Rivers, Crawford and De la Culebra are right on the money. They're planning on springing something about the Green Hornet on Mr. Reid today and he doesn't have any way to defend himself. That story about not remembering who shot him isn't going to wash, especially since the Green Hornet was supposedly killed that same night. They have something up their sleeves and they're going to destroy him in from of millions of people." Lowrey regarded the Black Beauty, thinking, "Can that thing run?"

"Yeah," Lee answered slowly, not quite sure what the reporter had in mind. "I was just checking out the rockets' firing mechanism. They're very sensitive and tend to jam or short circuit at the wrong time."

"But is it drivable?"

"Sure it is. Why?"

"I have a brilliant idea on how to get the boss off the hook," Lowrey said, laying a brotherly arm on Lee's shoulders.

"Philo," said Crawford, the editor of the Clarion, "Everyone complains how bad tabloid papers are, but they have never explained why they're so popular. Our circulation, if it was for a daily like Mr. Reid's Daily Sentinel would make the Clarion the top paper in the country. Everybody is reading us. We are serving a need that dailies, which happen to be going under in almost every city across the country, are failing to meet. No one ever mentions that. As for the complaints from public figures such as politicians and actors. Why is it that they go out of the way to get publicity, and yet are the first to complain when that publicity is negative? Then they start demanding that controls be put on the press, something that endangers our First Amendment rights. The very thing that keeps our country free."

"I agree," Senator De la Culebra responded. "A free press is the greatest achievement of a free country, but the press must realize that it is responsible to the American people. Otherwise, it becomes a danger to everyone's freedom. Every day we see local newspapers and other types of media being bought out by massive national, even international, corporations. If this trend continues, the American people will be only fed a diet of news that is filtered by the agendas of these corporations. That is something that threatens everyone, not just public figures." De la Culebra nodded toward Britt Reid. "Mr. Reid's Daily Sentinel is part of that dying breed, being as it is owned by only one man. But even in this case, because of the Sentinel's power in this community and its connection with DSTV, people in this city essentially see the world through Mr. Reid's eyes." The senator smiled smoothly. "Fortunately, Mr. Reid is known for his high standards and his demands for factual, unbiased reporting. He is to be commended for that."

"Thank you," Britt murmured during the audience's polite applause. He wondered where the thorns were in the senator's rosy compliment. The show was going far too smoothly for his taste.

"No," De la Culebra continued, "What has been disturbing me lately is the media's increased fondness for digging up the slightest big of dirt, no matter how old it is, and blowing it all out of proportion, without regard for what the person has done with their life since. Never has anyone ever brought up the past of those same newsmen. Like yourself, Mr. Reid."

Uh oh, Britt thought, straightening up in his seat, here it comes.

"You, yourself had a very wild youth, Mr. Reid."

"True, I was somewhat wild when I was young. I went through a period of rebellion when I felt my father took it for granted that I was going into the newspaper field just like he and his father before him did. I ran with fairly fast group of jet setters, but unlike you, Senator, I was never arrested for armed robbery and gang related violence."

De la Culebra's eyes narrowed. "I was not convicted for those crimes, Mr. Reid. I have never tried to hide my youthful mistakes. Everyone knows about them. However there are parts of your past that you have hidden from the people of this city."

"I never lied about the excess of my youth . . . "Britt began.

The senator smiled coldly, his small black eyes glittering like a snake's. "Perhaps I did not express myself clearly. I am not talking about your youthful indiscretions, but rather later, after you had inherited the newspaper. A time when you played the public and the law for fools, when you betrayed the trust that was placed in you." He nodded to someone offstage. "Maybe this will refresh your memory," he said as a set of curtains were swept aside to show a mannequin dressed in a badly stained dark green topcoat, snap brim fedora and a green mask. The mannequin's flesh colored plastic could be seen through the many bullet holes in the coat. "Does this happen to job your memory?"

Trying to hide his shock, Britt nodded. "I take it these clothes are supposed to have belonged to the Green Hornet? Or at least that's what you want everyone to believe. How did you get them?"

"It was simple. They were found at the gravel pit where the Green Hornet was taken to be killed. Apparently the Green Hornet's man, Kato, had taken the coat off so that he could do some first aid. The coat, mask and hat were collected by the police as evidence and remained at police headquarters until I asked to borrow them for this show. A thought just occurred to me. Didn't you once have a valet named Kato? Didn't he disappear after bringing you in, seriously injured, to a local hospital on the same night that the Green Hornet was supposed to have been killed?"

"Exactly when the Hornet was killed was never established," Britt answered.

"You have never given a believable explanation as to how you were wounded," the senator pressed. "Saying that you had amnesia is just too far fetched to believe. I would've thought that you could have been more creative, especially considering the work you're in."

"You've been in politics too long, Senator. You've lost all ability to tell fact from fiction. You should know that the more 'creative' a story is, the more likely that it is a lie. The simple truth is that I don't remember what happened. That's common in cases of severe trauma like mine was. As you said, if I was lying, I surely would have come up with a better story."

The senator gazed at the coat. "I wonder if those holes would line up with the scars from when you were wounded."

"You want me to strip right here?"

"No. I don't think that's necessary. I'm sure a simple check of your medical records could give the same information. But I am forgetting myself. Those records are private. I wouldn't dream of invading your privacy. However I'm sure you've heard of DNA testing. A bit of dried blood from that coat, a tiny bit finger prick of blood from you and the whole mystery would be solved. One way or the other."

"Done, of course, by a laboratory of your choice," Britt bit out through clenched teeth. "I'd be a fool to consent to something like that. It would be quite a feather in your campaign hat to unmask the Green Hornet. Even if you have to destroy an innocent man to do it. No thanks, I've been through that twice, I don't care to go through that a third time."

"You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Reid," De la Culebra said soothingly, "You are free to examine the credentials of our experts, or even find those of your own choosing to do in-tandem testing. And of course, you'll observe the collection of both specimens to make sure that no errors have been made. After all, we are only interested in the truth. As I know, you are. Think of it this way, if the specimens don't match, you will be completely in the clear, free of all suspicion."

Britt was cornered. If he didn't go through the testing, it would be as good admitting on national television that he was the Green Hornet. But he could not, dared not, be tested.

A loud clatter from the rear of the darkened studio interrupted Britt's grim thoughts. A gruff voice said, "You something that belongs to me."

At Rivers' command the house light went up to show two men walking toward the front of the audience. Britt almost slid out of his seat when he saw that the taller of the two men was wearing a topcoat identical to the one on the mannequin. The other man wore a black chauffeur's uniform and black mask.

"The Green Hornet!" Rivers sputtered helplessly, his eyes darting between Reid and the newcomer.

One of De la Culebra's guards hurled himself at the intruders. With a catlike yowl, the chauffeur sent the burly man flying against a video monitor which exploded into a shower of sparks. The man in green raised a slender green pistol toward the rest of the senator's guards. "Do exactly as I say and no one else will get hurt. You, Reid, take that stuff off that dummy and throw it to my man."

"No!" shouted Crawford, moving between Britt and the mannequin. "You can't do this. You can't give those things to him. That man is an imposter."

"Whether he's real or not, I suggest we do exactly what he says," Britt said calmly to the distraught tabloid editor.

"You're behind this, Reid," Crawford hissed too softly for the fearful audience to hear. "I know you're the Green Hornet. I know you are. That coat is the only way we can prove it. I won't let you give it to him."

"Crawford, get out of the way!" ordered the man in the green mask as he stepped onto the stage.

"No! You're a fake hired by Reid to discredit us!" Crawford screamed, lunging for the masked man, his hands clutching for the mask. "I'll prove it to the entire world!"

Neatly sidestepping the charging Crawford, the masked man slapped him down with the butt of the green pistol. Crawford gathered himself and threw himself again at the masked intruders, but before he could reach them he fell to the ground gasping as a green mist fired from the pistol enveloped him.

Pandemonium broke out among the audience as screaming people rushed for the exits behind them. Britt roughly grabbed the microphone from Rivers' frozen hands, "Everyone, please return to your seats. Mr. Crawford has not been injured. That green mist is merely a sleeping gas. You are in no danger. The only danger is in everyone panicking. Please return to your seats," he ordered in a calm voice. A murmur of indecision echoed through the crowd. "Please return to your seats," Britt repeated firmly, "Allow these men to get what they want and no one will be hurt." He pulled the coat, hat and mask from the mannequin. "Here is what you came for. Take it," he said, peering into the face of the chauffeur as he handed over the clothing. The chauffeur, without changing his grim expression, winked.

"Thank you, Mr. Reid. You have been most cooperative," said the green masked man, avoiding Britt's narrow eyed examination of his face. "Don't anyone follow us," he threatened as he and the chauffeur left the studio.

"That was very brave of you, Mr. Reid," complimented De la Culebra who had cooly watched the entire episode without leaving his seat. "Crawford was sure that you were the Green Hornet. It appears that he, and I, were mistaken."

"Thanks," Britt answered, his racing mind running over who was in the green mask.

After the police had finished their investigation of the morning's events, Britt drove home like a madman. "Lee!" he shouted, slamming the front door behind him. "Where the hell are you?"

"I'm right here, Mr. Reid," Lee answered, coming down the stairs with Lowrey following close behind him.

"What the hell was the idea of showing up at Rivers' show today?"

"Uh, Mr. Reid, that was my idea," Lowrey interrupted.

"I'll deal with you later, Lowrey," Britt said icily. He turned on Lee. "How the hell did Lowrey find out about the Green Hornet?" he demanded.

"I was working on the Black Beauty when he came into the garage."

"Didn't I tell you before not to work on that damn car when Lowrey's in the house?"

"Yeah, but when I took her out this morning she was making some funny noises. I wanted to make sure that I had installed the rockets okay. I didn't want them to foul up if we needed them tonight."

"Are you going out tonight? As the Green Hornet?" Lowrey asked, butting in.

"That is none of your damn business," Britt snapped at the reporter. "Lee, this has got to be the most hair-brained thing you have ever done!" he said advancing on the much smaller young man.

Roughly grabbing Reid's arm, Lowrey pressed himself between the enraged man and the boy. "Mr. Reid, lay off the kid! I told you it was my idea. So lay off him."

"Your idea! That figures. I should've known that Lee would've had more sense than to pull an idiotic stunt like that!"

"That's gratitude for you. Here we risk life and limb to get you off the hook, and instead of thanking us, you're ready to tear our heads off."

"Dammit, didn't it ever cross your puny mind what would've happened if you had been caught?"

"You're going to be taking the same chance tonight . . . "

"I prefer to put my own neck in the noose, if you don't mind, not have somebody else do it for me," Britt growled menacingly as he advanced on the reporter.

Lowrey glared back at Reid, "Go ahead, hit me. You're older than me, but I'm no fighter. If it makes you feel better to beat the hell out of me, go ahead," he dared. "But you got to admit that my idea worked. We got the evidence that could convict you of being the Green Hornet and millions of people saw the Green Hornet and Britt Reid together. Nobody will ever believe that you and the Hornet are the same person. That's it, isn't it? You're mad because you didn't think of it."

"Okay, Lowrey, I'll admit your scheme worked. That's all that I'm going to admit," Britt said, slowly cooling off. "But, I would've appreciated some kind of warning."

"You're a hard man to reach sometimes, besides you were so obviously shocked that nobody could've claimed that you were pretending."

Britt nodded reluctantly. "I can see your point. Now that you know my secret, what are you planning on doing about it?"

"It is the story of the century," Lowrey said thoughtfully. "My name would be right up there with Woodward's and Bernstein's, but . . . "

"But . . . " Britt prodded, wondering what sort of deal the reporter wanted to cut, and what he would do if he couldn't consent to Lowrey's demands.

"The kid told me your reasons for originally becoming the Green Hornet. Knowing you like I do, I understand why you did it. Sometimes you can't take the straight and narrow. You have to try another way instead. The Green Hornet was your way. You know, I kind of admire you for being the Green Hornet. Few people would've had the guts to put his life on the line like you did. I know I don't. You're welcome to the Green Hornet, I wouldn't put that mask back on for a million bucks."

"So . . . "

"So what I'm saying is that your secret is safe with me. Except for one thing."

Here it comes, Britt thought. "What?"

Lowrey grinned crookedly. "Maybe the next time you see your daughter, could you put in a good word for me? I'd sure like to get a date with her."

Britt shook his head, laughing with relief. "Danielle has a mind of her own, but I'll try to talk to her about you. That is if I can find anything good to say about you."

III

It was nearly midnight as Britt was gazed out his bedroom window. On the cool night air he could smell the roses growing on the gnarled rosebush climbing the wall under the window. As the last roses of summer their scent was especially sweet. In another month or so they would be covered under a blanket of snow. His mother had planted the bush the morning before he was born. She used to joke that because he had been born at midnight, the night had always held a special attraction for him. It was calling to him now. Sensuously warm, sweetly scented, and excitingly dangerous like a forbidden lover. The night called for him to run with it, like he had done when he had been so much younger. However, he felt an odd uneasiness.

Everything was ready. A new coat tailored to his current measurements was hanging on the open closet door, and on the bed was a green mask, a silk scarf and a dark green snap brim hat with a broad, black hatband, but he found that he was delaying getting dressed.

From the kitchen downstairs he could hear the contented growling of the dishwasher cleaning supper's dishes, and somewhere in the house he could hear Casey humming to herself as she was puttering around doing whatever a woman does to get ready for the next morning. He was tempted to reject the nighttime lover that had once betrayed him. He had lived like a normal human being for a long time, working in the day, sleeping and making love at night. It didn't make sense to throw that all away because the son of an old ally had come to him for help. No, it didn't make any sense at all, but the night was calling to him and his blood ran hot with the thought of running with it in a big black car.

Sighing, he turned away from the window and picked up a dark green tie hanging from the bed's headboard. He tightened it around his throat, taking care that it wasn't too tight. He could little afford any kind of constriction. Next, he placed the silk scarf about his neck, not wrapping it, just placing it across his shoulders so that a thin strip of white would show from under the topcoat. Then he lifted the midnight green topcoat off the hanger and slipped into it. He shrugged his shoulders, and crossed his arms across his chest, checking for any tightness that might restrict movement. The coat came to mid thigh and the vent in back was cut high enough not to hinder his legs. Gazing at his reflection in a large standing mirror, he noted that the cut was perfect. It was nipped in slightly at the waist and lightly padded in the shoulders, emphasizing the width of his shoulders without making him look like a poorly dressed fullback. There was enough room inside the coat for his weapons without showing their presence.

Satisfied with his appearance, Britt returned to the bed and picked up the green mask. It was the only thing original from the past. His hands began shaking uncontrollably as the memories of his final night as the Green Hornet flooded over him. It all came back to him in a waking nightmare. His race for life, the agony of bullets tearing through his flesh, the desperate fear and the hopelessness, the certainty of knowing that he was going to die a slow, painful death. He thought he had put it all behind him; that the weeks of reliving the horror, night after night was over after all these years.

Britt swore fiercely, throwing the mask forcefully against the wall. He was a fool, he thought, he could never wear that cursed mask again. No matter how hard he tried, the Green Hornet was dead and would stay dead. It didn't matter how hard Lee pushed, it was impossible for him to resurrect the Green Hornet. He no longer had the edge, the fearlessness that being the Green Hornet required. Knowing that he could die, that he almost had, he no longer had a young man's faith in his own invincibility. His enemies had won, reaching across the years they still had the power to destroy him.

Britt stared at himself in the mirror on Casey's bureau. He saw an old man foolishly trying to recapture the youth that had been so violently ripped away from him. He had responsibilities now. In silver framed pictures his family gazed out at him. Responsibilities. Over their smiling faces he saw red cross hairs. They were still De la Culebra's targets. He could knuckle in to De la Culebra's demands, drop the investigation, give his enemy the papers he wanted. He could bow his head in defeat, all his brave talk to Lee about courage and fear, an old man's lie.

He couldn't do that, he wouldn't give De la Culebra the satisfaction. Pride, stubbornness, a sense of duty, whatever it was, he still had to do what he could to protect his family, to avenge the death of a friend who had always stood by his side. A cool, calmness came over him. Taking several deep breaths, he cleared the last vestiges of panic from his mind, a sure determination replaced it. He had come too far to back out now, and even if he could, he didn't want to.

Calmly, he bent to the floor, picked up the mask and fitted it to his face, adjusting the earpieces so that they fitted snugly and pressed the molded nosepiece firmly in place. Surprisingly it still fitted comfortably. Lastly he placed the hat on his head and stepped again before the full length mirror to critically examine his appearance. Not too bad, he thought.

A soft gasp spun him around to see Casey staring at him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude," she whispered shakily. "It's just the way you look. It's like walking back into the past. There's not difference, none at all. You look just the way you did then."

Britt regarded his reflection. "Well, the outfit does manage to hide a lot of clues to my age. The hat hides the grey hair, and the coat is well-tailored, so it's hard to tell that I've gained a lot of weight since then."

She smiled, lovingly wrapping her arms around his waist. "You haven't gained that much. It's all muscle anyway."

Britt snorted. "That's what I keep on telling myself," he said, lowering his head to place a kiss on her lips.

From behind them, Lee cleared his throat, interrupting their embrace. "Uh, Mr. Reid, are you ready?" he asked, nervously fingering the black chauffeur's cap in his hands.

"I'm ready. You look good in that uniform."

"Thank you, sir. You look a lot better in that outfit than Mr. Lowrey did," Lee commented. "The Black Beauty is ready to roll."

"Good. Then we better get going before we get a chance to change our minds."

Lee shrugged. "I've been changing my mind all day long. I'm still not too sure, but I'm ready anyway."

Lowrey greeted them at the foot of the stairs. "Are you going out now?" He stopped suddenly struck speechless. The man he faced in the topcoat was no longer his employer, but the Green Hornet. The man who had once terrified the entire underworld. He groaned inwardly, this was the same man he had dared to hit him. He must have been temporarily insane.

The Green Hornet slightly inclined his head. "Yes, Lowrey, we are leaving now. What do you want?"

"Uh, nothing, sir, nothing at all. Except, Good Luck," the reporter said, reaching out his hand. As the Green Hornet grasped his hand, Lowrey said, "I'll say goodbye to you and the kid here. Mrs. Reid will probably to see you off without me hanging around."

"Thanks, Lowrey."

Inside the garage, on the landing above the Black Beauty, the Green Hornet remained with Casey while Lee trotted down the stairs. "We've reactivated the billboard and the rear garage door earlier today, so we'll be returning the Black Beauty to the townhouse. Have Lowrey follow you in my car and you can leave it there at the townhouse. We'll take it back home when we're done," he instructed.

"We'll do that." She gazed down at the car below them. "Uh, Britt," she said, "I'll say goodbye here."

"You don't want to come with me to the car?"

"No. I want to watch you from here," she said quietly, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.

He gently lifted her chin. Her eyes shone with held back tears. "It's not too late for me to change my mind."

"It is too late. It has always been too late. You have to go ahead with this or you'll never forgive yourself. Or me." She bit her lip. "I'm still afraid for you. Please, please," she pleaded as the tears began to flow down her cheeks against her will, "Please be careful. I don't know what I would do without you."

He wiped the tears with the heel of his gloved hand. "I'll be back. Not even hell itself could stop me from coming back to you."

Feeling frighteningly alone, Casey wrapped her arms around herself as she watched him do down the stairs. She felt like there were miles between them instead of just a few yards.

Standing beside the Black Beauty, the Green Hornet placed a hand on Lee's shoulder, "Lee, this may be very hard for you, but while you're in costume, I would prefer to call you 'Kato'. I can't call you by your own name while we are out, just like you can't ever call me by mine. That's the whole idea of wearing a mask, to keep our true identities secret."

Lee nervously fingered his mask. "I understand, but it makes me feel kind of funny," he said doubtfully.

"I know, but I have to call you something besides 'hey you'."

Lee put on his mask. "The mask fits and so does the name," he said. "I will carry my father's name with pride."

The Green Hornet smiled. "Good man. Now let's get going."

The Green Hornet settled himself into the Black Beauty's back seat and blew out the tension he felt deep in his gut. Lee had replaced the badly stained carpet and leather seat covers, but it still felt so comfortably familiar that it was like the intervening years had never happened. He opened a locker behind the front seat and drew out a slender black, gold-banded collapsible rod and flipped the domed butt aside. A loud buzzing filled the air. "Hornet Sting, check," he said before placing it in a pocket inside his coat. Next he drew out of the locker a streamlined green pistol, flipped open the pistol's butt and inserted a fresh gas cartridge. Satisfied with the reading in the pressure gauge he snapped the butt closed. "Hornet gas gun, check. Kato, check the Hornet scanner."

Kato lifted the lid of the armrest between the front seats to reveal a set of switches and buttons, and flipped a switch. A set of double doors set in the middle of the trunk popped open as a small satellite lifted up on a platform. It beeped its readiness. "Hornet scanner, check," Kato said, flipping the switch back. The miniature flying TV camera settled back into its resting place.

The Green Hornet nodded with a slight smile. He could feel the old rush of excitement run through him. "Let's roll, Kato," he ordered. "You are acquainted with Fort Bradford's location?"

"Yes, sir. As you instructed, I reviewed all the maps of its grounds and the surrounding countryside."

"Good. When we're two miles away from Fort Bradford's outer fence, I want you to buzz me. I'll give you further instructions then. Keep within the speed limit. We don't want to attract the police's attention."

"Yes, sir," Kato responded as he checked the milage on the odometer. He would have preferred to stretch the Black Beauty out, but this was the Green Hornet's show. He was the one calling the shots. Orders were orders.

Satisfied that everything was in order, the Green Hornet leaned back and closed his eyes, not to sleep but to compose his mind and to go over his plans again.

The drive went quickly as the Black Beauty whispered through the night, the miles flowing beneath its wheels like water. Kato glanced at the odometer. "Two miles, sir," he said.

The Green Hornet stirred, opening his eyes. "Good. Pull off the road here."

"Yes sir."

"Activate the Hornet Scanner generator," the Green Hornet ordered as he leaned forward in his seat, his eyes glittering in anticipation.

A flip of a switch, "Scanner generator activated."

"Send her up, Kato."

Another switch flipped, "Scanner aloft."

The Green Hornet watched through the narrow back window as the Scanner flew up from its platform. He swung back a pair of doors set behind the front seat and turned on a small TV screen. "I'll take her from here," he said, guiding the scanner off on its mission to observe the nighttime activities of the old weapons depot.

The light-sensitive camera flew silently over the darkened weapons depot. Most of the buildings of the once large installation had been allowed to decay back into the earth, but the low brick administration building was still well maintained as was one of the old barracks buildings and a huge metal-clad warehouse. The Green Hornet guided the delicate instrument past each buildings, searching for signs of activity. All of the buildings were dark, except for the barracks building. He sent the Scanner along the side of the building and up to the single lit window. Inside several men were laughing at a sitcom on a television.

"Once I get in there, I shouldn't have any trouble getting done what I need to," the Green Hornet said.

"How are we getting in?" Kato asked, not noticing that the Green Hornet had not used 'we'.

"I'm not sure yet. There's only one guard in the guardhouse . . . "

"That would be a snap. We just drive up there, and when the guy gets out to check us, you give him a whiff of the Hornet gas, and we're in."

"We could do that, but I don't trust appearances. That guard might not be as careless as we think. They could have become careless, or the apparent laxity could be just a front." The Green Hornet continued as he guided the Scanner along the depot's outer fence, "I can't go through the fence either. It has sensors all along its length. Trying to cut through it without setting them off would be impossible."

"How about going over it?"

"No. That won't work either. The fence is too high to try to jump over and there aren't any trees close enough to use to climb over it. It's electrified so I can cross off trying to climb it."

The Green Hornet spotted a large refrigerated delivery truck pass by them and sent the Scanner trailing after it. The truck came to an intersection where the smooth asphalt of the highway crossed the rough macadam that led to the depot. The truck slowed to a near halt with an earsplitting clash of the gears and turned toward the depot. "That's the key," the Green Hornet said triumphantly as the activated the Scanner's return signal.

"What are you planning on doing?"

"That truck had to come to a near stop to make the turn off to the road leading to the depot. It might be possible to hitch a ride on a truck before it comes to the guardhouse."

"It could be difficult, but I think I could manage it," Kato said, volunteering for the hazardous job.

"Sorry, but you're staying with the car."

"You don't mean you're going to try that? You've got to be kidding," Kato said in disbelief.

"No, I'm not kidding. You have to stay with the car in case I need you. We can't take the Black Beauty in there and if there's any trouble it'll be the only way to get out."

"But climbing up on a truck? That's damn dangerous, even for somebody my age."

"Are you suggesting that I'm too old to try it?" the Green Hornet said sharply as he watched the Scanner settling into its stall.

Kato avoided answering the Green Hornet's question. "Isn't there some other way? I still think driving through the front gate is the best idea," he insisted.

"No can do. I don't want them to know we've been there. I want to make sure that they have no reason to search the trucks. I don't want them to find the bug I'm going to plant."

"I still think you're taking a big risk. You could be hurt or killed."

"That's the chance I'll have to take. Enough arguing," the Green Hornet said firmly as he snapped the TV screen off. "Drive to that intersection up ahead where I saw the truck turn. There's some brush and trees that'll provide enough cover for the Black Beauty."

Kato wanted to argue further, but decided against it. "As you wish, sir," he answered reluctantly as he started the Black Beauty. Following the Green Hornet's instructions, he guided the car under silenced engine and polarized headlights, until they reached the intersection the Green Hornet had spotted.

"There it is," the Green Hornet pointed. "Pull off under those trees. You'll be safe from any accidental discovery there."

The Green Hornet climbed out of the car and leaned down to give Kato his final instructions through his window. "Before I turned off the screen, I saw another truck coming this way. I don't have much time to lose. I'll signal you if I run into any trouble."

"I understand," Kato said, not daring to ask what would happen if the Green Hornet was unable to signal him.

The Green Hornet moved silently through the wild undergrowth until he found a good spot to hide. He did not have long to wait. He crouched low in his hiding place as a lumbering truck clumsily turned off the highway, its blinding highlights sweeping across the road. As it lurched onto the rough side road, the Green Hornet charged out of the bushes behind the truck. Unexpectedly the driver gunned the truck forward, forcing the Hornet to run faster while trying to dodge the rocks that spat out from under the tires. With a final burst of speed he launched himself up at the back of the truck, frantically grabbing for the two vertical bars securing the rear doors. Praying that the driver could not hear him over the road noise, he scrambled hand over hand up to the top of the box.

The wind pulled at him, trying to force him from his precarious perch. There was nothing for him to hold onto. If the truck stopped suddenly, or made any sudden moves, he'd have to learn to fly quickly or wind up as a bloody smear on the roadside. Spotting the bright glow of the guardhouse's light, the Green Hornet pushed himself carefully to the rear of the truck, trying to secure his feet over the edge so that when it stopped he would not be propelled forward.

The truck stopped and above the rumbling engine he could hear the guard boredly speak with the driver. "C'mon Mac, get out and open up the back. You know the boss' orders."

"Shit," the driver cursed. "I'm running late already. Can't you forget the search just once? I don't have anything in there."

"No way, man, that would be the time a bunch of cops would be hiding inside. Now, open up or turn around," the guard demanded, pulling a revolver out of his holster.

"Okay, okay," said the driver, "There ain't any need to get so damn touchy."

Alarmed, the Green Hornet pulled his feet up and pushed himself up to the front of the truck, hoping that searching the roof was not part of the security check.

The rear doors were pulled open and then slammed shut nosily after the guard was satisfied that no one was hiding inside. "Okay, get a move on," he ordered. The truck started fitfully and set off with a groaning of gears with its unseen passenger still on its roof. It bounced rapidly along the ill-kept roadbed until it stopped in front of the large metal building. Large doors opened, allowing the truck to enter.

"Why are you guys to damn late?" a man demanded as he shut the huge doors behind the truck.

"Didn't Joe tell you?"

"Nah, as soon as he drove in, he headed for the john. What happened?"

"Joe ate something that didn't agree with him at the Choke and Puke down the road a ways. I had to hang around 'til he was able to drive."

The man snorted derisively. "The guy's got the stomach like a pregnant broad. Okay, help me get the forklift. You and Joe are the last guys in. Everybody else is already loaded."

The Green Hornet carefully slid forward to watch the men head to the back of the building. From his vantage point he could see that the trucks inside the building were not all the same. Many of them were large delivery vans, but there were also some 18-wheelers, as well as several much smaller minivans. None of the trucks were marked the same, but all of their markings had something to do with agricultural or nursery businesses. Seeing no one near, he carefully slid down from his perch. It was higher than he thought. To break the force of his fall he had to curl and roll as he landed . Barely in time he rolled under a nearby truck as a forklift growled its way toward him. The fit was almost too tight. He painfully hit his right hip on the undercarriage. Continuing to slide on his back he reached the other side of the truck where he was safe from view of the men walking beside the forklift loaded with plastic wrapped bales.

While the men were busy loading the truck he had just left, the Green Hornet crept between the other parked trucks, heading for the front doors of the building. He was trying to quietly ease the door open when he heard voices from the other side. He rapidly moved away until he was backed up against a small panel van bearing the sign of a florist shop. He inched the back door barely wide enough to squeeze through. There wasn't much room inside, filled as it was with large bags of peat moss up to the roof. Only by crouching down was he able to hide just below the back windows. He made himself as comfortable as the cramped space allowed. He would have to bide his time until the loading of the last truck was finished. With a finger he idly dug through one of the bags next to him. The material inside was soft, brown and smelled like the floor of a pine forest, peat moss as labeled. He reached further back and poked into another bag. The material looked much like the peat moss, but had the faint aroma of oregano, or marijuana.

He had not been watching outside and was caught off balance when the van's front door was slammed shut and the engine started. The Green Hornet grabbed at the back door handle, planning to jump out before the van left the warehouse, but through the windows he could see other men climbing into their own vehicles. It was too late, he'd have to go out with the van or chance being seen leaving it. He didn't like not having the chance to conduct a thorough search of the depot, but he had no choice. He hoped that searching the interior of exiting vehicles wasn't part of security.

The van slowed at the guardhouse, but did not come to a full stop. The bales shifted violently to the rear as the van rounded the corner from the guardhouse, almost crushing the Green Hornet against the back door. Disgusted at his bad luck, he glanced outside. He was out of the depot and would have to keep a close watch for the Black Beauty's hidden position. So far there were no other trucks behind the van. He hoped that none would come up until he had the chance to get out when the van slowed at the intersection.

Spotting a landmark, he pressed down on the door's handle. It wouldn't budge. It had been jammed shut by the shifting bales. He shoved his shoulder against the door but it refused to open. Peering out, he could see another truck approaching the guardhouse. He had to escape now or risk being caught in the lights of the next truck's headlights, or worse, caught under its wheels before he could get out of the road.

He hurriedly pulled the Hornet sting and stretched it out to only half its full length. There wasn't enough room to pull it to its complete length, but for the low power he needed to shake the door loose it should be enough. The inside of the van was noisy as it ran along the rough road, loud enough to cover the low hum of the Hornet sting. The door rattled fiercely as the ultra sonic beam of the Hornet Sting beat at it. The Green Hornet bit his lower lip as he felt the van accelerate onto the highway. If he didn't get out soon, the van would be going too fast for him to safely jump out. Finally the door gave way. The Green Hornet replaced the Sting, slid out onto the back bumper and closed the door behind him. He didn't want a banging to alert the driver that he had an unwanted passenger aboard. The van was almost traveling too fast. It was now or never.

He leaped from the van and struck the asphalt too hard, but he instinctively went limp and rolled with the impact of his fall. For several minutes he laid unmoving on the ground, his breath knocked out of him.

Kato ran in panicked alarm to his side. "Mr. Reid, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," the Green Hornet gasped shakily as Kato helped him get to his feet, "But never, never under any circumstances use my real name. Do you understand?" he said angrily.

"I understand. It's just that when I saw you fall from the van, I was afraid that you had been killed."

"Okay, but it must be an absolutely firm rule to never call me Mr. Reid. I am the Green Hornet. Remember that," he said firmly.

Chastened, Kato asked as they walked back to the Black Beauty, "You weren't in there very long. Did you get a chance to get what needed to be done?"

The Green Hornet nodded. "Yes, but just barely. I had to hide in that florist van to avoid being spotted, but before I could get out, the damn thing was driven off with me inside. I would've like to have gotten a better look around, but at least I managed to hide a tracer on the van."

"Then we better get going before we lose it."

"That won't be necessary," the Green Hornet said, checking the time on his watch, "the tracer's range is enough that we can afford to wait for a little while. I want to see how long it is between each truck. I don't want us to be spotted if we're caught between their trucks."

"Then there will be more?"

"Yes, quite a few more. They have trucks of all shapes and sizes in that building. All of them are filled with bales of marijuana disguised as peat moss, along with a few bales of the real stuff."

"That would explain them using a florist truck."

"Yes, and all the others have sign from different agricultural businesses."

"But why would they go through all that trouble? Different sizes of truck, different companies, that's a lot of work."

As a large semi rumbled past them, the Green Hornet checked the time, 15 minutes had passed. "Too many trucks from the same company, on the same road, and at the same time would be too suspicious. That's why they're also spacing their departures. A little used road that suddenly becomes filled with trucks would be noticed by the locals."

Another truck passed them, this time a delivery truck much like the one the Green Hornet had ridden in on. He checked the time, again 15 minutes.

"Are you still planning on visiting here tomorrow morning?" Kato asked.

"If I have the time, yes," the Green Hornet replied. Another fifteen minutes passed, but no truck, then half an hour passed and still no trucks. At forty-five minutes, Kato said, "Do you think they might be holding off because they suspect something?"

"Could be, or more likely they send off a few, then wait a while before sending of another group. It's about time we leave."

"Yes, sir," Kato responded, pulling the Black Beauty out of its hiding place. "There's a lot of miles between us and that van. Will you be able to pick up the tracer's signal this far?"

"No, but his road doesn't intersect with anything until forty miles from here. That van wasn't going very fast, only about 65 or so. I'm sure the Black Beauty can make up the distance easily. Don't you?"

Kato smiled eagerly. "You bet!"

"And Kato."

"Sir?"

"Keep the lights polarized and the engine silenced until we catch up with the last truck. That way we'll be almost invisible to any prying eyes."

The Black Beauty eagerly ate up the distance. They had they had the delivery truck framed in the pale green glow of their polarized lights in less than half an hour. "Switch to normal lights and switch off the silencer," the Green Hornet ordered. "Pass him, but not too easily. Don't go any faster than a normal car would go."

"Yes, sir," Kato replied as he pulled around the truck.

"Very good," said the Green Hornet. "Keep going until we're out of his sight, then switch back to silent running and polarize the lights again. Then resume high speed."

"Why wait until we're out of his sight?"

"I don't want them to see us doing anything out of the ordinary. If they get suspicious about us word will be passed between them by CB and the night's run will be shut down. I want them to dismiss us as a normal car. That's why the Black Beauty's designed the way she is. As long as we act normally, no one will bother to take a second look at us."

Once out of the truck's view, they moved back up in speed until they overtook the semi that was moving slowly up a large hill. "Pass him?" Kato asked.

"Yes, but don't pull ahead of him very far. I want him to pass us on the way down. We'll stay behind him except when he's climbing a hill. Then we'll pass him and then let him pass us on the downhill side."

"Why don't we just pass him and keep on going until we reach the van?"

"No. I want the semi's bulk between us and the van," the Green Hornet said as he opened the double doors behind the back seat. He clicked on a small circular screen on which was displayed a grid with distances and directions marked on it relative to the Black Beauty's position. A bright pulsing point showed the location of the van ahead of them. A slow beeping filled the car's interior. "The signal from the van is coming in loud and clear. Once we're in the city, you'll pass the truck and follow the homing signal as we run a parallel path to the van's."

"Gotcha."

For the rest of the way they played a leapfrogging game with the big 18-wheeler up and down the hills and valleys between Fort Bradford and the city, never going more than five miles over the posted speed limit, always keeping the semi just in sight. When they reached the city's outskirts the semi remained on a straight path, but they turned to the right for a block and then turned to the left so that they were on a parallel route with the tracer's path. They wound through town, occasionally crossing the van's path before resuming their course. After passing through the city center, they entered the theater district and were caught up in the traffic from the exiting playgoers. Slowing down to a crawl, they became one more black luxury car among many.

The signal continued on past the bright lights of the theaters and their blithe fur-clad patrons and on into a seedy part of the city were even the police traveled in well-armed pairs, and never far from their units. The signal did not stop there but continued on to the warehouse district that served both the rails and the heavily laden barges that plied the great lake that had made the city a major hub of commerce.

The Green Hornet grinned wolfishly as the read the legend on the warehouse that they had followed the homing signal to. "Valle Verde agricultural products, Incorporated," he read aloud.

"You know the place?"

"No, but I do know who sits on the board of chairman."

"Who?"

"Our old friend, the honorable presidential candidate, Senator De la Culebra," the Green Hornet replied sarcastically.

"Are we going in?"

"No, not yet. I'm satisfied with I see here. The senator left town today on a campaign run, but his wife and brother-in-law are on their estate just outside of town. I think they are due for a new partner."

IV

Senator De la Culebra had come a long way since his humble beginnings. His mansion with its red tiled roofs and white stucco exterior was reminiscent of the grand hacienda of a Spanish Don. The Green Hornet guided the Scanner over the estate's grounds for possible routes of entry, and rapid escape, if necessary. He would have enjoyed meeting with the Senator face to face, but since he was out of town, his brother-in-law, Miles, would have to do. Miles, who had arrived back in the city a few days ago, could be the weak link in the Senator's organization.

The Green Hornet recalled the Scanner. "There are only a few guards patrolling the grounds. It doesn't look like any dogs are being used," he told Kato. "There's a service entrance in the back. It looks like it's locked but there's no guard on duty there."

"Do you want to use the rockets on the gate?"

"No, that would make too much noise. The Hornet sting can take care it."

Kato drove the darkened Black Beauty around to the service entrance. The Green Hornet climbed out of the car and walked to the wrought iron gate. He gave them a slight shake. They were, as he had guessed locked, but there were no alarms attached to them. He moved back a few paces, brought out the Hornet sting and expanded it to its full length. He twisted the gold collar a few notches, setting it for full strength. The lock was small, and would not take much time to destroy, but its case hardened steel was tough enough to require the higher setting. He brought the powerful ultrasonic weapon to bear on its target and pressed the trigger. A loud, high-pitched hum filled the air, steadily rising in tone as the sting began bucking in the Hornet's hands. A few moments lapsed before the lock gave way with a soft clunk and a small puff of smoke. He quickly swung the gate open.

He remained at the open gate until after Kato had driven the Black Beauty through and then carefully closed the gates behind the waiting car. "There's some cars parked behind the house. We'll park the Black Beauty there. One more limo shouldn't be noticed."

"Will I have to stay with the car again?" Kato asked, starting to worry that he'd never get a chance to see some action.

"Not this time. You'll follow me to the guest wing, but I want you to stay outside, out of sight. I'm not sure exactly where Miles' room is. It's better if there's only one of us wandering around inside."

Their dark clothing provided excellent camouflage as they slipped away from the Black Beauty's parking space and headed toward the house's guest wing. The click on claws on a cement path was the only warning before a pair of Doberman dogs charged. Barely in time, the Green Hornet fired the Hornet gas gun as one of the dogs leapt for Kato's back. Another short whiff of Hornet gas subdued the other dog before it could even growl.

"I thought you said there weren't any dogs on the grounds," Kato commented wryly, surveying the sleeping dogs.

"I didn't see any. They must've been hidden by some of the landscaping. Goes to show you can't always go by first impressions," the Green Hornet said. He frowned as he studied the building in front of them. During the many parties held there he had been an occasional visitor to the mansion as Britt Reid. He knew the floor plan of the first floor very well, but he would have to search the bedroom wing carefully to find Miles' bedroom. "You stay here while I go inside. If I'm not back in half an hour, come and get me," he ordered before entering a pair of French doors into an unoccupied room.

Matthew Miles awoke with a start as a thin beam of light was shone in his face. "Wha' he mumbled sleepily."

The light flashed off, but being extremely nearsighted, he still could see very little of the intruder's features. He reached for his glasses on the bedside table, but a gruff voice lashed out, "Don't make a move."

"Who, who are you?" Miles stammered fearfully.

"Who I am is not important, Miles. I have a message for the Senator . . . "

"You're the Green Hornet!" Miles exclaimed when his weak eyes finally made out the mask. "But you're dead."

"I am? Your brother-in-law is sure that I'm alive. Didn't you see me on the Rivers show?"

"That couldn't have been you. That was just some guy Reid hired."

"Are you sure?"

"That's what Marcus said."

"And you believe him?"

"Sure. Besides the outfit didn't fit the guy right. You're a lot bigger. I can tell that even without my glasses."

"Then I must be the real Green Hornet."

"I guess so," Miles said uneasily, wondering if someone was playing an elaborate trick on him.

"Then either I must be alive, or I'm a ghost. Do you believe in ghosts, Miles?"

"No. I don't. So you're alive. You didn't die after all."

"That's right. I'm still alive."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to give the Senator a message. I've been watching his operation for a long time. It's very well run and I'm impressed, but you've gotten sloppy lately. Too many people are getting killed. You're due for a new partner. Me."

"You?"

"Yes, and of course there is a matter of my cut."

"How much?"

"Fifty percent."

Miles swallowed painfully. "That's too much," he protested.

Pale green eyes narrowed behind the mask. "My services are well worth it. So is my silence."

"I have to discuss it with Marcus . . . "

"Fine."

"He'll be in town tomorrow," Miles volunteered. "Why don't you come here tomorrow to discuss it with him?"

"No. I would prefer we meet at 'our' warehouse."

"Warehouse?"

The Green Hornet snapped impatiently, "I'm growing tired of your act. You know perfectly well what I mean. The Valle Verde warehouse, where the marijuana si shipped in and distributed to the rest of the country. I want to inspect it. Tomorrow at 10 P.M. will be satisfactory."

"Ten o'clock at night?"

"Yes," the Green Hornet answered sharply, "at night."

"I'll tell him, but there's no guarantee that he'll show up."

"If he doesn't show, I'll reveal your entire scheme to the Feds and to the press."

"Okay, I got your message," Miles said unhappily.

"Good, "the Green Hornet said softly as he raised the gas gun under Miles' nose. "I think you need of some more rest," he said as the pale green mist covered Miles' face.

"Drop the gun," a rough voice demanded behind the Green Hornet. Slowly he tossed the Hornet gas gun to the floor. "Now put your hands up real slow. Don't try any funny stuff or I'll plug you where you stand."

The Green Hornet turned slowly around, keeping his hands high up in the air. He saw that there were two men in the doorway, both holding guns on him. There was no way out.

"Move aside," ordered one of the men, warily waving the Green Hornet aside with the point of his gun. The gunman walked past his captive and shook Miles. When he didn't awaken, the gunman shook him harder. Miles still did not stir.

"Is he dead?" demanded the other man, keeping his gun trained on the Green Hornet.

"Nah, I don't see any sign of blood, unless he was poisoned," the man answered as he checked Miles' body. He pressed a hand to Mile's neck, "Pulse is still strong."

The Green Hornet spoke, "He's asleep. I've used a sleeping gas on him. He'll wake up in a few hours, feeling none the worse," he explained.

"You better be right," the gunman growled. "We better take him to Mrs. De la Culebra. She'll want to decide what to do with this guy."

The Green Hornet had seen Shannon De la Culebra before and had always regarded her as a very beautiful woman. Her fresh, fragile beauty entranced everyone who met her. Everyone thought of her as the ideal of simple feminine grace, so beautiful that she needed no makeup on her delicately freckled features.

The woman that stepped into the sitting room of her boudoir, was indeed Shannon De la Culebra, but for the mane of flame red hair and alabaster skin, she was unrecognizable as the Senator's wholesome wife. Her hips swayed alluringly as she moved into the room. Her peignoir did nothing to hide her lush body's nakedness. It was thin enough that the Green Hornet could tell that her red hair was completely natural. Before the door closed behind her, he spotted a naked man slipping out through another door.

The leading gunman cleared his throat nervously. "Sorry to disturb your, ah, sleep, ma'am, but when I thought I heard something in your brother's room, we checked it out and found this guy."

"Is my brother all right?" she asked, not even bothering to feign concern.

"I guess so, except he won't wake up. We shook him real hard, but he still won't wake up. This guy said he gave Mr. Miles some kind of sleeping gas."

She smiled. "Don't you believe him?" She continued at the gunman's puzzled frown, "Surely you know who this is," she purred as she circled the Green Hornet, her fingers lightly touching his coat. "You have done something all the police and all the hitmen in the country have failed to do. You have just gotten the drop on that fearsome master criminal, the Green Hornet."

She walked her fingers up the Green Hornet's arm. "I thought Marcus' claim that the Green Hornet was still alive was just a campaign ploy to get Britt Reid. I saw what happened on Rivers' show, but I figured Reid had managed to outmaneuver my husband. Now I'm not so sure." She ran her hands down his chest, outlining the weapons under the coat with her fingers.

"Then you believe that I am the real Green Hornet."

"Marcus and I had quite an argument. He showed me that gruesome souvenir of his. I couldn't believe that anyone could have survived those injuries." A delicate hand traveled up to touch the Green Hornet's cheek.

"Perhaps I am an imposter then."

With a light flick of her hand she knocked the Green Hornet's hat to the floor. Her eyes gleamed hungrily as she ran her hand through the thick grey hair above his mask. "If you looked younger, probably, but you're about the right age. Are you the real Green Hornet?"

"I am"

"Then that coat with all those bullet holes was a fake? Was it all a trick to make everyone think that you were killed?"

The Green Hornet shrugged slightly. "Why don't we discuss that after your husband and I have finished out business together?"

Her laugh was as light as the ringing of a silver bell, but it sent a shiver down the Green Hornet's spine. "No, I think not," she said, running her hand along the earpiece of his mask. The Green Hornet pulled his head away from her touch reflexively.

"I suggest you don't make a move or my men will shoot you. At this range you will be truly dead. But let us not talk about dying," she said, moving her hand down the slope of his neck, and on down his chest until she had reached the top button of the topcoat. "You may even find what I have in mind enjoyable," she said as she began slipping each button free. "I remember hearing about you when I was a little girl. I used to read comic books all the time. I was fascinated by all those super heroes in brightly colored, and tight, costumes. So tight that they showed every rippling muscle."

Slipping the coat from his shoulders she continued, "And here in my own hometown there was a real live masked master criminal who dressed like an ordinary person in a green overcoat, and rode around in a plain black car." She ran her hands down his chest, feeling the hard muscle under the fabric. "I used to fantasize about what might be under that coat."

"I would hardly call the Black Beauty plain," the Green Hornet commented drily.

"No, I guess you're right. It is amazing that so much power could be concealed under such an ordinary exterior," she said as she slipped the silk scarf from his neck. She caressed her cheek with it. "Pure silk," she murmured, enjoying the scarf's smooth softness and the male-scented warmth that radiated from it. "Very expensive. You have excellent taste, "she said, wrapping the scarf's white length around her ivory throat.

"Thanks," he responded, his voice coldly formal.

"You're welcome," she said with equally extreme formality as she began loosening his tie. "Did you know that the tie has been considered by some as having originated as a phallic symbol?" She removed the tie from his neck with a quick flick of her wrist, held it between her fingers for a moment. "Silk again, 100% I'd say." She carelessly dropped it to the floor.

She moistened her full crimson lips with a lingering movement of her tongue. Her emerald eyes gleamed with a bright internal fire. Slowly with exaggerated care she unbuttoned his shirt, until she had reached the last button above his belt. Tilting her side wise, she playfully studied his face, wondering how he would react if she slipped her hand lower. Daringly she loosed his belt and reached for the button of his pants. She saw the tensing of his jaw, the subtle flaring of the mask-covered nostrils. Not yet, she decided, she didn't want to push him to dangerous rebellion. No, it would be more pleasurable to prolong things a bit longer, to ignite the fire that she knew smoldered just beneath the cold dispassionate exterior.

She pulled the shirt free and undid the last button. Her fingers trembled as she gracefully and achingly slowly removed the shirt from his body. Her hands, pale against his deeply bronzed skin, caressed the concavity of his flat belly, fingering teasingly the silver hair that led tantalizingly lower. She continued upward following the narrow trail of silver strands, up over his ribs and across powerful pectoral muscles, seductively circling brown nipples. Slipping the shirt from his broad shoulders she ran her thumbs delicately across his collarbones while briefly kneading with her fingers thick neck muscles, feeling a momentary, involuntary release of tension in them. Down her hands flowed, caressing hard biceps as she pushed the shirt down his back and along his arms until she came to his gloved hands. Hands that were still balled into tight fists. She smiled, studying green eyes that were paler than her own, and undid the buttons at his wrists. The shirt joined the hat and tie on the floor at their feet.

Her full breasts heaved with barely restrained desire as she stepped back to study the Green Hornet. "No man has ever affected me more than you have," she breathed. "I want you more than I have ever wanted any other man before."

"What about your husband?" he asked, seeming not to be affected by her actions.

She laughed contemptuously, tossing her hair from her shoulders. "What about him? He doesn't care what I do or who I have in my bed. All he cares about is his precious campaign."

"And financing it with an elaborate scheme involving drugs and weapons," the Green Hornet said harshly.

She came closer and began running a crimson fingernail up and down a ragged path from his sternum to his navel. "What makes you think he's running it or even knows anything about it?"

"An operation that size, the money that's coming from it. He'd be a fool not to suspect anything."

"He is a fool. He knows nothing at all. He doesn't care where the money comes from, just as long as it keeps on pouring in."

"The connections in the Justice Department, Forestry, State and local police. They're all yours?" the Green Hornet asked skeptically.

She smiled slightly. "Like I said before, my husband doesn't care who I sleep with. There have been a lot of men who are willing to trade favors for my 'favors'." She circled him, tracing the scars that criss-crossed his body in crazy quilt fashion. "So your being shot wasn't a lie. So many scars . . . " she said, feeling a sadistic thrill as she pictured the proud man standing in front of her writhing in agony. "A lesser man would have died."

"I almost did," the Green Hornet answered grimly.

"Ah, but you didn't! You're a survivor. Against all odds you triumphed over death. All the men I had before were just boys playing at being men. Those so-called brave athletes, those sportsmen pretending they're so tough, they're nothing compared to you. They have sculpted their bodies until they are works of art, but they would not have been able to go through what you did and lived." She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her hungry mouth against his. His mouth was momentarily hard, resistant, but softened and she felt his hands slip down her back. She pressed her broad hips against his. "Admit it, you want me as much as I want you," she breathed. She slipped her hand along his stomach, past the waistband of his pants.

Roughly grabbing her hand, the Green Hornet stopped its downward movement. "I don't believe a word you said," he said harshly. "De la Culebra is behind the entire operation. Maybe you're pretending you are, or maybe he's using you, just like you're using him. I don't care. I'm here to set up a business arrangement with him, not sleep with his wife."

She slapped him angrily as the gunmen cocked their guns, "Do you dare to reject me?"

"No, I'm not rejecting you." He allowed his eyes to slip along the curves of her body. "Regardless of what my own desires might be, I want to settle the business with De la Culebra before I consider anything between us. I don't want to endanger delicate matters by fooling around with a partner-to-be's wife."

She came close again, pressing her nails against his chest, drawing small points of blood with their tips. "Wouldn't you like just a small taste of the pleasure you could find in my arms?"

The Green Hornet glanced at the guards behind him, "Well, when you put it that way, maybe a little sampling of the goods wouldn't hurt," he murmured, his voice a deep, velvety purr. "But this must be just between us." He nodded meaningfully toward the guards. "Get rid of them. I don't like having an audience," he said, placing his hand on her breast, fingering its erect nipple.

She dismissed the guards with an aristocratic wave of her hand. Then she playfully freed herself from the Green Hornet's grasp, and walked toward her boudoir. "Come with me and I will show you pleasures beyond your wildest imaginings."

The guards stood uncertainly where they were. The man she was inviting into her private chamber was no ordinary lover. "Uh, ma'am, er, Mrs. De la Culebra," one of the guards said, "You shouldn't be alone with that guy."

"I can handle things from here. Return to your duties," she firmly ordered.

"Uh, maybe you should take off his mask, or tie him up, or something," the guard suggested uncomfortable, "He looks too dangerous to leave loose with you."

"No," she answered. "The mask will stay where it is until it is given to me willingly. She smiled slyly. "As for tying up, that is something that will have to be explored."

"But ma'am . . . "

"Enough!" she said angrily, "Leave us!"

She turned her attentions to the Green Hornet as the door closed behind the guards. "Good help is so hard to get these days." She placed his hand on her breast. "Now where were we?" she said huskily.

Kato, beginning to chafe, checked his watch worriedly. Half an hour had already passed. Everything might be going as planned, but the Hornet's life could be endangered if he delayed too long. Slipping through the French doors the Green Hornet had earlier entered, he passed through the empty room and opened the door into the hallway. Hearing some voices, he froze.

"Do you think it was a good idea to leave him alone with her?" an armed man said to another as he holstered a pistol and began rummaging through his pockets. "I mean, with those scars and all, he's a tough customer. Damn big, too. He could kill her without us hearing a thing."

The other man pulled out a package of cigarettes and offered them to his companion. "Nah, she's got that guy wrapped around her little finger," he gave a short dirty laugh. "Right now he's probably so damn busy humping her that he wouldn't notice if every cop in the city was in the same room."

"I don't know. She was putting all her moves on him and all he did was stand there and talk about some kind of business with the Senator."

"I don't think you're so much worried about her as you're disappointed because you wanted to see them do it right in front of you." Laughing obscenely, the men continued down the hallway.

Kato crouched furtively behind the cracked door as they walked past him, then he slipped out of the room. The door gave a betraying creak and the guards spun around fumbling with their cigarettes as they snatched at their holstered weapons. Kato lit into them, hitting the man on the right with a flying kick, following through with a rapid chop on the neck. The other man had already drawn his gun as Kato was finishing the first. With a single smooth flowing movement Kato flashed a dart into the man's gun hand before he could fire. A quick kick into the groin followed by a chop at the neck sent him to the ground beside his unconscious partner. Momentarily Kato crouched like a black tiger over his prey, listening for any alarm.

Finding there was none, he pulled the men into a room and tied them up with swags pulled from a window. After hearing the guard's conversation, he hesitated about disturbing the Green Hornet, but he had been ordered to come in after half an hour had passed. He shrugged. Orders were orders, he reasoned as he headed for the room that the guards had just left.

He was puzzled to find the room empty and was about to leave when he heard a quickly silenced feminine yelp behind another door. Throwing the door wide open, he was surprised to find the Green Hornet struggling with a beautiful naked woman beneath his own half-naked body on a round red satin sheeted bed. "Do you need any help?" he said sardonically.

"Yes, dammit, I do!" the Green Hornet growled, trying to stop the woman from digging her nails into his eyes. His left shoulder already bore red welts from her raking fingernails. He was having trouble keeping his footing on the long white fur that covered the entire floor while trying to keep a hand over her mouth. "Get something to tie her up with!"

Kato raised his eyebrows under his mask, wondering exactly who he should be helping. The room was like something out of a stag film. Hundreds of votive candles provided the only light as sandalwood incense heavily scented the air. A large mirror above the bed reflected the Green Hornet's deeply tanned body entwined with the woman's pale form. "How about this?" he asked, lifting up a complex arrangement of leather straps and buckles from a long table near the bed.

"No! Dammit! Find something else!" the Green Hornet demanded angrily. "Shit!" he yelled, drawing his suddenly bitten hand away from the woman's mouth.

"You goddam fucking bastard!" she screamed. "I'm going to cut your fucking balls off and feed them to the goddam dogs!"

The Green Hornet forced her back down, clamping his hand back over her mouth, while trying to avoid her fierce kicks aimed at his crotch. "Damn it! Find something before she turns me in a damn soprano!"

Kato searched the devices strewn on the table. There were things that looked like they came out of a porno catalog. The woman had kinky taste. He couldn't figure out how most of the things were used. Finally finding something, he held up a set of hand and foot manacles. "Will these do?"

"Yes! Bring them over here."

Kato tilted his head, regarding the tangle of bodies on the bizarrely shaped bed. "Wouldn't it be quicker just to slug her?"

"Kato . . . " The Green Hornet glared menacingly.

Spotting a flash of color, Kato pulled out several scarves and brought them with the manacles to the Green Hornet. "Put those manacles on her feet and hands while I hold her." the Green Hornet ordered. After her limbs were safely secured, he removed his hand from her mouth and roughly tightened a scarf across her mouth before she could spew out more obscenities.

"What took you so damn long?" he demanded as he pulled the struggling woman to a hook set near the head of the bed, or at least what passed for one on a round bed. "These manacles are a little too large for her wrists and ankles, but they should keep her here long enough for us to get the hell out of here."

"I heard some guys talking about you and her in the hallway. I got the impression that you might be enjoying yourself," Kato commented as he searched the room for the Green Hornet's clothing. "Who is she?"

"She's Shannon De la Culebra," the Green Hornet replied as he headed for the sitting room.

"The Senator's wife? Are you crazy? What's the big idea of messing with her?"

The Green Hornet found his shirt and threw it on. "I wasn't 'messing' with her. I didn't touch her."

"It sure looked like you were doing a lot of touching back there."

"Dammit!" the Green Hornet snapped angrily. "Those two men you spotted in the hallway, caught me in Miles' room. They brought me here and she practically climbed into my pants."

"So you were protecting your virtue?" Kato said doubtfully.

"I don't have to justify what I was doing to you," the Green Hornet gritted. "I'm going to have to go back to Miles' room and find my gas gun."

"I have it right here," Kato said quietly as he handed over the green gun. "I'm sorry for what I said."

"Apology accepted." A smile slowly spread across the Green Hornet's face. "I guess it did look bad back there." Placing a firm hand on Kato's shoulder, he added, "Don't say a word to 'you know who'."

"You want to keep it a secret? How are you going to explain those scratches on your shoulder?"

"Just let me take care of explaining things. Okay?"

"Sure," Kato agreed, glad to be relieved of the responsibility of telling Mrs. Reid what had happened.

They quickly slipped out of the house, keeping close to the plantings near its walls. Above their heads, every window in the house suddenly lit up. "Somebody must've discovered the Senator's wife," Kato said, pausing on the walkway, exposing himself in the moonlight.

"Then we better get moving instead of standing around for them to find us," the Green Hornet said, pulling Kato back into cover barely in time as a bullet narrowly missed his hear. They ran quickly to the Black Beauty as several men shouted after them to stop. The Green Hornet dived into the back seat as Kato climbed into the front. "Get us out of here!" he ordered.

The Green Hornet watched behind them as Kato threw the big car into reverse and backed it rapidly out of its parking space beside a Rolls Royce. He became increasingly puzzled as he saw the guards get into some of the cars, only to get back out and mill around in confusion. "Something's strange going on back there."

"Not so strange, sir," Kato said with a big grin as he held up a fistful of wires. "I made sure that nobody's going to follow us."

"Very good, Kato. Very good," the Green Hornet said in approval.

"What about the gate?" Kato asked.

"Blast it. We have no need for subtlety now."

Kato lifted the lid of the armrest between the front seats. He flipped a switch and heard a low-pitched whine. The whine stopped and a tell tale lit indicating that the parking light hatches had fully opened and locked in position. Kato firmly pressed the button next to the switch, sending a pair of small rockets flaring out from the Black Beauty. The rockets skimmed along the driveway until they struck the gates, blasting them free from their hinges. With its way no longer barred, the Black Beauty roared off into the night.

The Green Hornet removed his mask and silently gazed at Casey as she slept on the living room couch in the townhouse. The sheet that kept the couch free from dust and sunlight was pulled up over her shoulders. He gently grasped her shoulder, hating to wake her. "Time to go home, Casey," he whispered as she stirred.

"Oh, you're back," she yawned. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"Why didn't you go home with Lowrey?" he said sitting down beside her on the couch.

"I couldn't wait at home," she answered, stretching leisurely. She crinkled her nose, "What is that smell? What you been into?"

"I had a short ride in a truck with some peatmoss, and marijuana," Britt answered evasively.

She shook her head, her forehead furrowed in thought, as she tried to figure out the odd scent that saturated his clothing. "No, that's not it. It smells like sandalwood, or something. Musk, maybe?" She took a long sniff. "Smells like you wound up in a cheap whorehouse."

Britt took a deep breath. "No, not exactly..." he began reluctantly.

"Uh, Mr. Reid, Mrs. Reid," Lee interrupted, "If you need me, I'll be in the garage. The Black Beauty needs a little cleaning up."

Frowning, Casey watched Lee leave. "What did you two get into?" she demanded.

"I went to De la Culebra's house to talk with him."

"Isn't he out campaigning?"

"Yes, he is, I saw his brother-in-law instead."

"The man you saw near Wolverton?"

"The same."

"And?" she pressed, feeling like she was pulling teeth. "What else happened?"

"A pair of guards caught me and brought me to Shannon De la Culebra's room."

"Her bedroom?"

"Right."

"I see," Casey said, "And what went on there?"

"Apparently when she was very young, she had a crush on the Green Hornet."

"And she decided to indulge her fantasies with you?" she said in a tight voice. "I've heard a lot of things about her. Like, whatever man she sets her sights on, she gets. How far did she get with you?"

"I managed to keep my pants on. The Green Hornet's 'virtue' remains intact," he assured her.

"You rejected her? She's very young and very beautiful."

"That kind of beauty is only superficial. Inside, she's not a very attractive person," Britt answered. Casey frowned doubtfully. He took her hands into his own. "Before I met you, I wandered all over America and most of Europe looking for someone I could really care for . . . "

"And slept in most of the beds . . . " she interjected sarcastically.

"Okay, I admit it. I slept with a lot of women and sometimes I was so damn drunk that I didn't know, or care, whose bed I was sharing," he said bitterly. "But for all that I never found what I was looking for. Not until I met you, right in my own backyard." He tenderly ran his hand through her coppery gold hair. "And then I was to damn blind that I didn't realize it until it was almost too late. No matter how difficult I was, you were always there for me. Casey, do you honestly think I'd ever risk losing you, just because some redhead shook her backside at me?" he said quietly.

She studied his eyes, trying to find deception in them, but could only find a deeply abiding love. "No, I believe you," she said softly.

She picked up the mask and placed it on his face. "I can see why she was so attracted to you. There is something sexy about a masked mystery man." She began loosening his tie. "You know, I never had sex with masked man before, "she said huskily.