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.
