V



Joe rushed out of his apartment. He was hoping he wasn't too late, but the feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he was. The presence of the evil-looking black limousine confirmed his worse fears. He angrily pounced on the green-masked man stepping out of the car. The force of his charge slammed the man back against the car.

Wildly grabbing the lapels of the man's coat he screamed, "What have you done to her, you bastard?"

Roughly pulling Joe's around behind his back, Kato pulled him away from the Green Hornet. No matter how hard he struggled and cursed, Joe could not get free from the iron grip.

"Calm down a minute and tell me what's going on," the Green Hornet demanded when Joe had finally run out of steam.

"You know damn well what's going on. You're working with Mr. Wrightman. You've been spying on us and now he's kidnaped Lenore."

Feeling Kato's grasp momentarily loosen, Joe pulled free. Instead of running away he threw a punch at the Green Hornet's face, only to find that the masked man easily dodged the blow as if it was moving in slow motion. Kato quickly grabbed him again and held him in an unbreakable neck lock.

"That's the only free punch you're getting, Brown. The next time you try something like that, I'll show you what a real punch is like," the Green Hornet warned with a growl.

"I don't care what you do to me. Just don't harm Lenore," Joe pleaded helplessly.

"Tell me what happened," the Green Hornet asked.

"You're not working for Mr. Wrightman?" Joe asked as he continued to pull at Kato's arm around his neck.

"No, I'm not. I don't work for anybody."

"Then why are you interested in us?"

"Let's just say I'm protecting my turf," the Green Hornet answered sharply.

Joe struggled for a few more moments, then gasped, "I can't talk like this."

The Green Hornet nodded slightly and Kato released his hold. Joe noticed that the chauffeur stayed close by, just in case he decided to attack the Green Hornet again.

"Out with it," the Green Hornet demanded.

"Uh, Lenore, uh, Miss Lenore Case, that's the pretty woman you've been seeing me with . . . "

"Get to the point, Brown."

Joe took a deep breath, ordering his thoughts. "Okay. We were having dinner when I realized I had forgotten to buy some ice cream for the cake. When I got back from the store, she was gone and my apartment had been ransacked. I found a note from Mr. Wrightman. It says he wants the books in return for her safe return."

"Do you know what books he's talking about?"

"Yes, I used to work for Mr. Wrightman as his accountant."

"Did you know he was involved in illegal gambling?"

"No, not really, although I did have my suspicions," Joe admitted.

"But you never told the police about them?"

"I thought about doing that, but the pay was very good. It allowed me to work out of my home and take care of my invalid mother. Besides, I always thought gambling was a victimless crime. Just like in Las Vegas, except there the state gets its share of the money as taxes. Either way, the people who lose a lot of money deserve what they get for acting so foolishly in the first place," Joe explained, suddenly realizing how self-righteous he sounded.

"You haven't seen what people like Wrightman do to those people who can't make good on their debts," the Green Hornet said grimly.

"I guess you're right. Especially after what has just happened."

"Why did you run off with the books?"

"I didn't actually 'run off' with them. Or at least not with Mr. Wrightman's copies. I always make copies of everything I do. It's mainly for security. They would be extremely difficult to replace if there was a fire or some other kind of destruction, so by making copies I can have a way to replace them if I had to."

"I see, so what Wrightman's really after are your copies of his books."

"I guess so, but what am I going to do? I can't trust him to let Lenore go after I give him what he wants. I know he'll try to kill us both."

The Green Hornet smiled grimly. "That's where I come in," he said, "I'll act as a go-between. I'll see to it that Wrightman gets what he wants and that you and your girlfriend get out of this in one piece."

"But what will you get out of this?"

"Simple. I stand to make a very quick and easy profit for a short night's work. Wrightman will have to pay me a finder's fee for the books and you will pay me a thousand-dollar insurance fee."

"Insurance?"

"Insurance that you and your girl won't get hurt." When Joe seemed hesitant, the Green Hornet added, "I have been known to ask much, much more for my services, but in your case I'm making allowances. I have a soft spot for romance."

"But I don't have a thousand dollars handy. Uh, you wouldn't take a check, would you?" Joe asked.

The Green Hornet shook his head.

"No, I didn't think so." Joe sighed. "I'll have to go to the bank to get the money, but tomorrow's Saturday and that's when Wrightman wants me to turn over the books."

"No problem, you can pay me after the bank opens on Monday. It's not so much I trust you, it's just that I know you wouldn't be so stupid as to try to double-cross me," the Green Hornet replied.

Joe realized that even though he had the uneasy feeling he could not trust the Green Hornet, he had no choice but to do so. Forcing himself to look square into those disturbing green eyes, Joe offered his hand to the masked man. "It's a deal."

Joe thought he saw a trace of approval in those eyes as the Green Hornet took his hand. "Very good, Mr. Brown. It will be a pleasure working with a man who has the guts to take a chance for the girl he cares for."







Even though they weren't supposed to meet until after sunset, Joe had been pacing worriedly in the parking lot for at least an hour, and the sun was just starting to touch the horizon. He was not about to chance angering the Green Hornet by arriving late for their meeting. He could not risk losing his one chance of rescuing Lenore. As much as he hated the idea of dealing with the masked criminal, he realized he could not have picked a better man to deal with Wrightman.

Using Joe's phone the previous night, the Green Hornet had alternately cajoled and insulted Wrightman into the best possible arrangement. Of course, the Green Hornet had managed to cut himself in for a very tidy sum. Even standing two feet away from the phone, Joe had heard Wrightman's roar of protest at the fifty thousand dollar 'fee' the Green Hornet had proposed. Wrightman had quickly quieted down when the Green Hornet had threatened to take his offer to other, higher paying, buyers.

Finally the Black Beauty showed up. Despite his normally cautious manner, Joe felt a wicked surge of excitement as he slid onto the butter-soft leather seat next to the Green Hornet. During the day Joe had done some checking up on the masked criminal. He had found out that the man possessed an impressive array of weapons, including the very car they were riding in. Joe knew that he had every right to feel confident of success, but he felt a deep foreboding. The Green Hornet and his man were grimly silent during the ride to their destination. That worried him even more.



A big fat yellow moon, the color of cheddar cheese, had just risen above the horizon when the Green Hornet said his first words on the drive out. "Kato," he said into the intercom, "Activate the Scanner."

Joe was fascinated as Kato opened the top of the armrest to his right and flipped a switch. From the rear of the car he heard a low hum as a miniature satellite rose from the center of the car's trunk. The device lifted off in gentle spiraling flight. The Green Hornet opened a pair of doors behind the front seat, revealing a small television screen, various dials, switches and a small round screen marked with cross hairs.

"Amazing," Joe murmured, watching the image from the airborne television camera, "You could make a lot of money if you sold that technology you're using. I bet everyone would love to have a color television that size with the kind of clarity you're getting there. And the military would probably pay you a lot for that flying spy camera, too."

"Why would I want to do that?" the Green Hornet asked as if the idea had never occurred to him.

"Well, then you wouldn't have to be the Green Hornet anymore."

"Who said I'm in this for the money?"

"Oh," Joe said lamely. Wondering what kind of man the Green Hornet really was, Joe hunched more deeply into the seat.





The scanner flew over the broad salt flats where their destination, the small airstrip owned by the Robertson Brothers Wilderness Expeditions was located. Moon-dappled, restless waves were beating against a small dock where an amphibious aircraft was moored. Riding on the moisture filled winds were thick black clouds, but there was still more than enough light for the Scanner's sensitive lenses.

"They're there already," the Green Hornet told Kato. "There's two cars and a 10-seat Cessna business aircraft near the hanger. We may have at least twenty people minus the pilot to worry about."

"Could be unless they're planning on leaving on the plane. Then we won't have no more than twelve to deal with," Kato commented.

"Let's hope so. The less people we have to deal with the better."

"Any signs of trouble yet?" Kato asked.

"Not that I can see, but that doesn't mean there won't be any." The Green switched the television screen off. "Recall the Scanner and put it to bed," he ordered. "Hit the silencer and polarize the lights. They'll be watching for us, but there's no need for them to let them know we're here any sooner than we have to."

The Black Beauty silently rolled to a stop in front of the airstrip's sole structure, a weather-beaten hanger from which hung a too bright fluorescent light. The Green Hornet stepped out of the car and asked a man standing guard in front of the building. "Where's Wrightman?"

"Inside," the man gruffly answered.

"I have Brown and the books. If he wants them, he'll have to come out where I can see him."

"What's the matter, Hornet? Don't you trust me?" Wrightman said, stepping out of the hanger. A mid-level gangster aspiring to become number one, he was dressed like a modern banker in a dark suit, white shirt and a medium-width navy tie. His blonde hair was neither too modish nor too old-fashioned, just barely brushing the top of his collar. His sideburns and dark blonde mustache were neatly trimmed, just long enough to be fashionable, but not so long as to be considered radical.

"No, I don't," the Green Hornet answered coldly.

Wrightman smiled, his glacial blue eyes shining in good humor. "Hey, Hornet, we're both professionals here. I want the papers and you want the money and the girl. Why don't we go inside where we can conduct business in a more civilized manner?" He nodded toward the gathering clouds. "Weather's turning right nasty," he commented.

The Green Hornet looked toward the Black Beauty, then turned back to the gangster. "Open the door so we can drive in."

Wrightman considered the car for a moment. "Is what I heard about it true?"

The Green Hornet shrugged, "Depends on what you've heard."

Wrightman's smile grew wider. "Like to cover all your bases, don't you?"

The Green Hornet merely nodded his reply before stepping back into the Black Beauty.

At Wrightman's signal, his man slid aside an opening in the door barely wide enough to allow the big car to pass through without scraping its sides. After they had entered, a heavy steel bar was slid home into the concrete with a loud schunk.

Joe looked uneasily behind them. "What are we going to do? We can't get out now," he asked worriedly.

"No problem," Kato assured him, "With the Black Beauty there's always a way out. Feels like a trap, Boss," he told the Green Hornet.

"I wouldn't doubt it."

"You mean you're expecting Mr. Wrightman to try something?" Joe asked.

"I'd be surprised if he didn't," the Green Hornet answered. "Brown, I want you to do exactly as I tell you. If there is any trouble at all, get back to the car. It's bulletproofed. You'll be safe inside it."

"What about Lenore?"

"I'll take care of her," the Green Hornet said as he pulled out an antique pocket watch and pressed a button, setting off a high-pitched hum.

Wrightman stood smiling like a cat who had just eaten a canary in the center of the hanger a few feet in front of a card table. Two metal folding chairs stood on either side and a large ice chest sat on the floor behind the table. Only a single row of the lights hanging from the building's high ceiling was on, leaving most of the interior in the dark. The dim outlines of boxes and crates and other kinds of miscellaneous equipment provided more than enough cover for an ambush. There could have been a small army laying in wait or a single very good sniper.

"I hate people who smile so much," the Green Hornet commented. "Take him down a notch, Kato."

"I aim to please," Kato answered.

He eased the Black Beauty forward toward the gangster. Wrightman's grin began to droop as he started to wonder if the car was going to stop or not. Still trying to maintain his dignity, he took a step back and then another and another until he was trapped between the card table and the Black Beauty's prominent grille. Trying not to be too obvious about it, he pushed the table back a few inches until he was able to squeeze out from in front of the car. Fussily brushing at the front of his suit jacket, he went to greet the Green Hornet.

"You don't need to worry about any dirt," the Green Hornet commented wryly as he stepped out of the car, "Kato keeps the Black Beauty spotless."

Wrightman quickly stopped brushing. "Of course. It's a nice car. I'd like to have one like it one of these days. Maybe we can make an arrangement for you to build me one like it."

"Not even in your dreams, my friend," the Green Hornet growled.

Wrightman shrugged. "Too bad. Now isn't this much better," he said as the grumbling of thunder could be heard overhead. "It wouldn't do to conduct business in a driving rainstorm." He stepped over to the ice chest and flipped its lid open. "A little nervous, aren't we?" he commented when the Green Hornet pulled out the Hornet gas gun.

"Let's just say I don't care for any tricks."

"Of course not. No one does. But we're all friends here." He bent down and pulled out two long-necked brown bottles and a pearl handled bottle opener. "What'll you have? Heineken? Michelob? Dos Equis?"

"Nothing. Where's the girl?" the Green Hornet demanded. "If she isn't here in five minutes, we'll be leaving through those doors whether they're open or not."

Wrightman gave a short, barking laugh. "All business, aren't we?" With a shrug he placed the bottles back into the ice chest and closed the lid. "Have it your way then."

"I believe in business first. We can celebrate over a cold beer later," the Green Hornet said smoothly. "If that doesn't agree with you . . . " He moved back toward the Black Beauty. "We'll be leaving."

Wrightman raised his hand. "No, that won't be necessary. See, here she is now," he said as one of his men came from behind him, leading a blindfolded Casey into the open and carrying an attache case. "As you can see, she is quite all right."

"Remove the blindfold," the Green Hornet demanded.

Wrightman gave a signal and the blindfold was removed. Casey tossed her head, blinking in the light.

"Are you all right, Miss Case?" the Green Hornet asked.

She nodded. "I'm fine."

"I have done my part," Wrightman said, "Now please turn over the materials that I have asked for."

"Brown, out," the Green Hornet ordered. Joe climbed out of the Black Beauty as Kato did the same behind him. "Show Wrightman you have the stuff, but don't let him have it all yet."

Joe moved cautiously past the Green Hornet and handed a black account book to the blonde gangster.

Wrightman flipped through the pages. "Okay, this is one of them. There should be four more. Where's the rest of them?"

"They're in the car," the Green Hornet said, "You'll get them when you hand over the money."

"Whatever you say," Wrightman said as he took the attache case from his man. He opened it and showed the Green Hornet its contents. "Fifty grand, just like you asked for."

"Give it to the girl," the Green Hornet ordered.

Wrightman handed the attache case to Casey and escorted her to the Black Beauty. He stopped when Kato stepped in front of him, barring his way.

"Okay, okay, I can take a hint," Wrightman said. "Hey, no harm meant. Can I have my stuff now?"

The Green Hornet nodded to Joe. "Give him the rest," he said.

Joe removed from the Black Beauty's back seat a battered tan briefcase and handed it over to the gangster.

"Do you mind if I check it out?" Wrightman asked.

"Go ahead," replied the Green Hornet.

Wrightman placed the briefcase on the card table, forced its balky catch open and pulled out four black account books. He looked up at the Green Hornet. "Everything's here. Now how about a little celebration?" he said crouching beside the ice chest and lifting its lid.

"Some other time . . . "

The rest of the Green Hornet's words were lost in the thunderous roar from the whippet in Wrightman's hands. The blast from both barrels of the small shotgun caught the Green Hornet full in the chest, flinging him backwards several feet.

"No!" Casey screamed in horror. Never had she intended this to happen. She ran toward the Green Hornet's too-still body.

Joe roughly grabbed her arm, pulling her away. "Let's get out of here," he yelled, hoping they could get away before the Green Hornet's man could react.

Kato, cursed under his breath, idiot. Joe was supposed to make sure he and Miss Case got into the Black Beauty. Instead they were running away from the car. And safety.

"Get them!" Wrightman screamed as he fired on the chauffeur. The blast from the whippet struck the driver's side door just as Kato opened it. Pellets pinged and bounced like metallic hail against the door but did not make the slightest dent.

Bullets zinging out from behind the crates and boxes bit the concrete at Brown's and Casey's feet as they ran. Joe had spotted the outlines of a small plane on the other side of the building and barely visible behind it, a door.

Wrightman smiled as he pulled out a battleship-grey .45 automatic. He still kept the whippet under his arm as he checked the automatic. The chauffeur was stuck in the car, safe, but unable to do anything. If he dared get out of the car, Wrightman would blast him. He sauntered over to where the Green Hornet laid unmoving. There was no way the man could have survived the blast, but he wanted to make absolutely sure.

A slight frown appeared when he noticed that there was no blood. Should've been splattered everywhere, he thought. Oh well, a bullet in the brain will make sure of things. He aimed the automatic at the Green Hornet's head. Right between the eyes. His fingers squeezed the trigger. Suddenly the Green Hornet twisted. One foot lashed out, striking Wrightman's hand and sending the gun spinning into the air. Before the surprised gangster could bring the whippet forward, the Green Hornet launched himself at the man, burying a fist into his unprotected belly. All fight taken out of him, Wrightman fell to the ground, cursing and groaning from the pain.

The Green Hornet took a few precious moments to get his bearings. The impact from the shotgun had been almost too much. Kato had started the car, but Casey and Brown were not in it. Then he spotted them running toward the back of the hanger. They were literally in a shooting gallery. Unaware their leader was out for the count the gunmen were firing on the escaping couple from several directions. Without cover there was no way they were going to make it.

The Green Hornet pulled out several flare bombs and lobbed them out into the center of the open space. The gunmen would be only be blinded for a short time. Kato would be able to use the Black Beauty as a shield, but the Green Hornet had to catch up with Casey and Brown before the effects of the flares wore off.

They had barely made the shelter of the plane when the Green Hornet caught up with them. He rounded on Brown, "Why the hell, didn't you do what I told you? I told you to get back into the car if there was trouble. Why didn't you do it?"

Stammering under the Green Hornet's accusations, Brown rubbed at still half blinded eyes. "I'm sorry, but I thought . . . "

"You're still alive!" Casey gasped, "How in the world? We saw you shot in the chest by a shotgun blast."

"It's amazing what you can hide under a coat like mine," the Green Hornet answered, showing the ruined front of his topcoat A thick black vest could be seen through the shredded fabric.

"A bulletproof vest!" Casey exclaimed. "But . . . " she began.

"I don't usually wear one. At twenty-five pounds the damn thing's too heavy to wear all the time. Since Wrightman's known to favor a whippet, I thought it'd be a good idea to play it safe this time," the Green Hornet explained.

Joe watched the Green Hornet closely as he spoke. There was something familiar about the man. The black-brown hair tumbling over the top edge of the mask, the square jaw, the timbre of his voice . . . "You're Britt Reid, Lenore's boss," he said when the revelation struck him.

The Green Hornet glared at him. "You're nuts. Ask your lady-friend. She knows her boss better than you do."

"Lenore?"

Casey shook her head. "No, he's not Mr. Reid," she said, not daring to look him in the eyes for fear he might see that she was lying.

"Good, now that's settled, let's get out of here," the Green Hornet said as he grasped Casey's arm.

At Casey's gasp he turned to see the ugly, grey muzzle of the .45 pointed at his chest. Wrightman's carefully built facade had been stripped away. His clothes were in complete disarray. His loosened tie was all askew and his hair was no longer neatly combed. All that remained was his smile, but it was no longer that of a fashionable businessman, but instead that of a cold-blooded shark. The muzzle of the gun shifted toward a spot between the Green Hornet's eyes. "I bet that mask is no good at stopping bullets." His finger tightened on the trigger.

Joe launched himself at the gangster, landing on top of him on the floor. The two men flailed around for the gun. The air rippled with the rumbling of thunder as rain began pounding against the hanger's tin roof. Joe was the heavier, but had no idea what to do in a fight, unlike Wrightman. Wrightman slammed the gun across Joe's face and kicked him off. Thunder boomed again to be echoed by the thunder from the automatic.

Wrightman's grin of triumph dissolved into a mass of broken teeth as the Green Hornet's fist slammed into his expensive dental work. The gangster stumbled over Joe's still body, losing the gun in the process. He caught himself only for a moment before a powerful blow from the Green Hornet slammed him into the side of the plane. Under the Green Hornet's merciless assault, Wrightman's handsome face disappeared into a bloody mess. Finally the gangster slid bonelessly to the ground.

The Green Hornet shook himself with a shudder as the red rage of anger left him. He knelt next to Casey who was holding Joe in her arms. A grey fog surrounded them, so that there was only the three of them and nothing else to be seen. Released as a smoke screen from the Black Beauty, it rolled gently around them, an insulating blanket that isolated and protected them from danger. For a moment grief was their only reality.

Tears fell down Casey's cheeks as she held Joe close to her as a mother would a child. "Joe, please don't die, please," she pleaded.

Joe's eyes fluttered open. "I'm sorry, Lenore. It shouldn't have happened like this." He winced and tried to smile. "But loving you was worth it all." He reached for the Green Hornet with a trembling hand. "I know you'll take good care of her. I know the truth about you now. I was wrong."

The Green Hornet placed his hand over Joe's, "I was wrong too, I'm sorry."

"Joe!" Casey screamed as the light went out of Joe's eyes. "Do something," she pleaded, "Britt, do something. He can't die!"

The Green Hornet bowed his head. "I can't do anything Casey, he's gone."

"Boss," Kato said as he appeared out of the slowly dissipating smoke. He tossed the Hornet gas gun to Green Hornet. The Black Beauty was barely visible behind him as a dark shadow. "It's time to go." His warning was punctuated by the thin wail of police sirens.

"Miss Case," the Green Hornet said, gently grasping Casey's shoulder as he rose to his feet, "We have to go now."

Sobbing uncontrollable beside Joe's body, Casey looked up at the Green Hornet. "I'm staying here."

"I can't leave you here, some of Wrightman's boys might still be around. I don't want you to be caught in the middle in case there's gunfire," he insisted, trying to gently pull her away.

"No!" she screamed. "I'm not going anywhere with you! It's all your fault. This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't interfered. But you had to, like you always have to. You always have to be the big man, the big hero. And look what you've done. Because of you a dear, sweet man is dead," she sobbed.

"Casey, you don't know what you're saying," the Green Hornet replied, trying to lift her to her feet. The sirens were louder now, nearly drowning out his words. "We have to go."

Casey slapped him hard across the face. "Then go! I never want to ever see you again!" she screamed hatefully through her tears.

Stung more by her words than by the slap, the Green Hornet looked helplessly at Kato. With downcast eyes Kato shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry, Casey," the Green Hornet said, knowing that she didn't hear him, nor did she want to. Regretfully he followed Kato back to the Black Beauty.

From the car's back seat the Green Hornet could see Casey hunched over Joe's body. "Boss?" Kato's said quietly.

"Let's get out of here," the Green Hornet replied as he pulled down the rocket control panel. He had to tear his thoughts away from the girl crying on the cold concrete floor. It was going to hard enough to get away from the police without thinking about Casey and her grief.