The Prodigal Son

by pat weakley

Book Three- Britt Reid finds himself accused of murder. There is no body, only blood-stained sheets. John, Britt and Casey's son, heads out as the Green Hornet to solve the mystery against Britt's wishes. Old enemies, and new further complicate matters.

11. chapter eleven

Chapter Eleven

A Matter of Honor

I

"Mrs. Reid?" Linda Travis said to Casey as she walked into the Publisher's office at the Daily Sentinel. "There's two men waiting to see you."

"I'm sorry, Linda, but I can't see anyone this morning. I have too much to do today. Ask them to reschedule for tomorrow."

"I can't," Linda said apologetically, "they're here already. They're in Mr. Reid's, er, your, uh," the girl came to an embarrassed stop.

"Never mind. Who are they?" Casey asked.

"Mr. Archer and Mr. Le Blanc."

"Get security up here," Casey ordered. "I'm in no mood to talk to them."

"Mrs. Reid," Julius Archer said smoothly as he stepped in the anteroom, "I believe you should hear us out before you do anything so hasty."

"Mr. Archer," Casey replied, barely containing her anger, "You will leave immediately, or I swear I will have you forcibly thrown out. I have already said all that I intend to say to you."

"Perhaps you should reconsider, Madame Reid," Jacques Le Blanc said as he came to stand next to Archer. "This is most important." He glanced meaningfully at Linda. "This is something that is best discussed in private." Next to Archer's smugness, Le Blanc at least had the grace to look uncomfortable. "It is about the Green Hornet," he added very quietly.

Casey felt her knees start to buckle, but forced herself not to visibly react. This might not have anything to with John and Lee not coming home. It was still early. They could still be at the townhouse resting.

"Mrs. Reid," Linda asked from behind her, "Do you want me to call security?"

"No, not yet," Casey replied, surprised that her words could come out so calmly. "I'll take a few minutes to talk to them."

"Shall I hold your calls?"

Casey glared at Archer, "Yes, unless it's my son. Then patch him through immediately. And then call security," she added grimly.

"Of course, Mrs. Reid."

"Gentlemen," Casey said as she nodded toward the office's open doorway, "After you."

Casey waited a few moments after the door had closed before turning to Jacques. "I'm surprised to see you with Archer," she said, in a voice filled with bitter disappointment. "Or," she paused, "Was Danielle wrong about you?"

"In my line of work, Madame," Jacques replied, "A man must be flexible in his alliances."

"I guess you go where the money is," Casey said tautly. "Or is it power that you prefer?"

"A man must do what he must do," Jacques replied.

"Did you have any part in Danielle's kidnaping?" she asked him.

"Your daughter is safe," Archer interrupted, annoyed that Casey was ignoring him.

"I half-expected a monster like you were behind it," Casey said.

"Let's just say that it's a technique in advanced negotiating," Archer said smoothly, "If you sell me the Sentinel, she will be returned safely to you. And forget about the Green Hornet interfering." He pulled the Hornet Sting out of his coat's inner pocket and laid it on Britt's desk right next to his name plate. "I don't think he will be doing much of anything any more."

Forcing herself not to react, Casey said, "I don't see why I should be concerned about the Green Hornet. He's a mere criminal . . . "

"He's your son. Or rather was . . . "

"I have no idea what you're talking about. My son is far too young to be the Green Hornet," Casey said.

"Come now, Mrs. Reid. I have a hard time believing that your husband would have kept you in the dark all this time. I think you're far too smart to not have clued into the fact that your husband was the Green Hornet."

"Britt, the Green Hornet? You have got to be kidding."

"Mrs. Reid," Archer said. "The Green Hornet bears very distinct scars, the exact same scars your husband has."

"And how do you know that?" Casey demanded.

"Shannon de la Culebra, has, shall we say, intimate knowledge of that fact."

"And how did she get this 'intimate' knowledge?" Casey asked. She looked Archer defiantly in the eye. "Was that before or after she tried to kill the Isaacs girl? I'm sure the police would like to know that."

Ignoring Casey's remark, Archer said with a careless shrug, "Be as it may, the fact remains that the man who went out as the Green Hornet last night is now dead."

Casey forced herself not to even imagine that Archer was telling the truth. "But that's impossible, if Britt's the Green Hornet as you're claiming," she said, "He's been in jail for the last two weeks. As far as I know it's still impossible for a man to be in two places at once. Unless, of course, you're hinting that the police are letting my husband out at night so that he can run around town as the Green Hornet."

"Mrs. Reid, please don't act the fool," Archer said, "You know as well as I do that your son has been going out as the Green Hornet in his father's stead."

"Do you have any proof?" Casey asked, trying not to show her worry. "Or is Shannon also claiming that she has intimate knowledge of my son as well as my husband?"

Casey forced herself to continue although she feared what she might hear, "How do you know the Green Hornet was killed? I haven't heard anything even though News is my business. How did you hear about it? And what about the police? Have they found any bodies they've identified Green Hornet or his man?"

"Take my word for it, Mrs. Reid," Archer said, "However I got my information, I do know that the Green Hornet and his man were present at an apartment complex where there was an explosion and a fire."

"But at this time," Casey said, zeroing on Archer's statement, "No bodies have been found, right? I definitely know I would have been among the first to be notified if there had been, especially if there was anything at all to suggest that the Green Hornet was, or is, my son."

"Madame Reid," Jacques interrupted, "I fear I must bear the bad news about the Green Hornet's death. I personally saw him and his man go into an apartment just before the explosion. Afterwards, before the investigators arrived, I searched what remained of the apartment. That," he said pointing to the Sting, "Was all that was left."

Casey picked up the Hornet Sting. It was heavy for its size, well made, covered with small scratches and scuff marks from years of heavy use. She knew it was the real one. "It does look like it might have been scorched, a little," she added doubtfully. "But as to whether that was because of an explosion . . . "

Searching the Frenchman's face for a lie, she continued, "Did you see any bodies?"

"No, I believe the heat was too intense for any bodies to remain intact," he replied.

"And yet this survived?"

"It was in a protected place," he said.

"But you are sure the Green Hornet is dead?" she asked, studying Jacques, disturbed by the fact that he looked so much like Britt when he was about the same age.

"Oui, I am positive," he said, seeming, almost, for some reason, to will her to believe.

Casey reluctantly laid the Sting down. She forced herself not to snatch for it when Archer picked it up and put it back into his coat pocket. Instead she said to the billionaire, "I take it you are behind the Green Hornet's death?"

"Not directly," Archer replied, "I wanted the Green Hornet alive, but a, uh, an associate of mine decided otherwise. It was all over by the time I found out about it."

Casey looked at Jacques curiously, "But you were there? Why?"

"I was following Monsieur Archer's associate. I believed he was up to no good. Unfortunately I was correct. I could do nothing. It happened too quickly."

Steeling herself, trying to pretend she was talking about a stranger, Casey said, "Regardless of whether or not the Green Hornet is dead, I know for a fact that neither my son nor my husband is the Green Hornet. His death, like his life, has nothing to do with me or my family."

"And what about your daughter?" Archer asked, "You still have her to think about. My demand remains; sign the Sentinel over to me and she will be returned to you safely."

"How can I believe that?" Casey demanded, "You know as soon as she is free she will tell everyone, including the police, that you were behind it."

"She has no idea that I am connected to her kidnaping." Archer raised his hand when Casey started to say something, "I'm sure that you know that her safety depends on you remaining silent on that fact."

"I won't sign anything," Casey said, starting to give in, "Not until I discuss it with my husband."

"I don't think he is in any position to discuss anything," Archer said.

"I hate to disappoint you, Archer," Britt said from the open doorway. "But your killers failed. Not only that, but the Judge has agreed to let me out on my own recognizance. My lawyer convinced her that since the police haven't been able to protect me, I'd be better off on my own."

"We found the Isaacs girl," Britt continued, seeing Archer's poorly hidden look of dismay, "She's willing to talk. And when she does you and Shannon De la Culebra will be finished. If you're lucky, maybe you can claim that you were an innocent dupe in Shannon's scheme, but I swear I'll do everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen."

"What about your daughter?" Archer asked.

"You will immediately return her safely or I swear I will hunt you down and kill you with my bare hands."

"Really?" Archer hissed angrily.

"Try me," Britt gritted.

Archer's face purpled with anger, but he wordlessly turned away from the much taller publisher and pushed past him through the open doorway.

As the billionaire passed him, Britt said, "I lied when I first came in."

Archer paused, but didn't turn around. Britt continued, "I'm not at all sorry about disappointing you. In fact, it's my pleasure to do so."

Archer turned to face the much taller publisher, "I'm not finished," he said, defiantly, "Not by a long shot. There is nothing that you can do to bring your son back. He's dead. The Green Hornet is dead. Hakenkrueze killed him," he said with grim satisfaction, pleased to see the shock in Britt's face when the meaning of his words hit him.

"Jacques," Britt said to the Frenchman as he followed Archer out of the office, "I didn't think you were the type of man to be Archer's lapdog."

Jacques bowed slightly to Britt and Casey, "A man must do what he must. I swear on my honor that Danielle will be returned to you safely."

"Do you intend to go down with Archer?" Britt asked him.

With a gleam in his ice blue eyes, Jacques said with a sly smile, "Like I said before, Monsieur Reid, a man must do what he must. Have no fear. I am a survivor."

"Then I'll give you a warning," Britt said, "There's another player in the game. Deadly. Chinese. If Archer has the Cheung boy, he can kiss his ass goodbye."

"Understood." Jacques bowed to Britt, then pressed his lips to Casey's hand. "Monsieur, Madame. Adieu."

Once the door had closed behind Jacques, Casey buried her face against Britt's chest, allowing the tears that had been threatening to finally fall. He wrapped his arms around her as she shook from the release of her pent up fears. "Shh," he said, caressing her, enjoying the fresh smell of her hair, "It's okay. Frank told me everything. I'm proud of you. You did well."

"Oh, my god, Britt. He said that John's dead. He said that Hakenkrueze killed him in some kind of explosion. I haven't heard from John or Lee all night. They never came home. What if Archer is right?"

"Don't assume anything," Britt cautioned her, "Not until I call Frank."

Britt called Frank while Casey went into the office's washroom to freshen up and compose herself. She did not want to be present while Britt talked to their old friend. When she returned, she couldn't tell from his expression whether the news was good or bad.

When she asked him, he said, "Frank says that there was a fire at an apartment building, probably the one where the Isaacs girl lived with her boyfriend. One body was discovered, badly damaged by the fire, but as far as the M.E. can tell, the person was probably dead before the fire started, or at least he hopes so."

"Why?" Casey asked, hoping that the victim was not John or Lee.

"The M.E. says that the victim's arms had been torn off. He doubts it was caused by the explosion or the fire afterwards. Frank says there's nothing at the scene to show that the Green Hornet had ever been there."

"So John and Lee might still be okay," Casey said hopefully.

"I hope so," Britt said cautiously, "Especially if they had been killed, the Black Beauty would still be there. There's no sign of it anywhere."

"So somebody must have driven it away, like John and Lee," Casey said.

"My thoughts exactly," Britt replied.

"But Jacques said they were dead. He saw them go into that apartment," Casey said doubtfully.

"But is he telling the truth?" Britt asked. "Something happened to the Black Beauty. Either John and Lee drove it away or it was taken by somebody else who had a need for it."

"But why?" Casey asked.

Britt shrugged. "I have no idea, but I think that Archer is in for some more unpleasant surprises."

II

Archer wandered around his mansion feeling uneasy. Britt Reid's escape from the safe house had put his plans in serious jeopardy, especially after the publisher had given him the unsettling news that they had the Isaacs girl. He still had a few aces in the hole, but the margin of success was getting narrower by the day.

The evening was quickly advancing after what had been a dissatisfying dinner. The Frenchman had kept to himself, drinking too much wine even though he had snobbishly called it a disappointing vintage. Hakenkrueze, who had decided to decorate himself with general's stars, had wordlessly wolfed down his food before rejoining his men in another section of the mansion. Shannon, the one person he could count on for interesting conversation, had left before sunset to make sure that Buske was still following orders.

Noticing that the door to his personal media room was slightly ajar, Archer entered it as silently as he could. Inside he found the Frenchman intensely studying one of the many television monitors that covered room's north wall. Archer could set the monitors to anything he wanted, from the Hong Kong stock exchange to a guest's bathroom. Right now the only monitor that was on was showing a cell hidden deep in one of the mansion's lower basements.

Trying not to hide his disappointment that Le Blanc had not jumped or even flinched by his sudden appearance, Archer asked, "What fascinates you so much about our prisoners, Le Blanc?"

Le Blanc nodded toward the screen, "What is going to happen to young Cheung?"

"I'm not sure yet," Archer said, "It depends upon his father. If everything goes as planned tomorrow, I'll have a few things he'll need to do for me. If he does them, I'll release the boy. If he doesn't . . . " Archer shrugged, "Like I said, it depends on his father."

"It is to be tomorrow then," Jacques said thoughtfully.

"We can't wait any longer. Especially now that Reid's been released. If we don't act soon, it'll be too late."

"I see," Jacques replied. He considered the scene on the screen in front of him. Tommy Cheung was lying listlessly on a narrow bunk staring at nothing in particular. Leaning against the wall across from Cheung were the Green Hornet and Kato. Their clothes were torn in several places and still smelled of smoke. Kato looked none the worse for wear, although every once in a while he moved uncomfortably from the ache from his barely healed back wound. The Green Hornet's blonde hair fell over a stained bandage that was wrapped around his head. Despite their seemingly hopeless situation, they appeared to be engaged in an earnest conversation.

"They're lucky Hakenkrueze didn't get to them first," Archer said nodding toward the Green Hornet and his man.

"Are they?" Le Blanc said cynically.

"Of course," Archer replied. "If Hakenkrueze had found the Green Hornet escaping from the apartment instead of us, he would have torn the Hornet limb from limb."

"Then it is a good thing I found out about Hakenkrueze's plans, wasn't it?" Le Blanc remarked.

Archer studied the Frenchman's face, "What would you have done if my man had not followed you?" he asked.

Le Blanc's jaw tightened, but he didn't say a word.

"Do you honestly think I trust you enough to allow you to go wherever you want without an escort?" Archer asked.

"Of course not," Le Blanc answered, failing in his attempt to sound indifferent. "That would be foolish," not saying if the fool was himself or Archer.

"It's a pity you had to lie to the Reids but in a way you were telling them the truth. It's just a matter of timing."

"You didn't seem surprised when I accused Reid of being the Green Hornet. Did you already know?"

"Non," Le Blanc replied. "It seemed . . . " he paused, searching for the right word. "It seemed, logical, somehow."

"Logical . . . " Archer huffed, "I wouldn't call running around the city wearing a mask and fighting crime logical."

"It is no more logical than a plan to take over the world," Le Blanc replied. He pressed a button on the desk in front of him and the monitor went black.

Archer glared at Le Blanc, "There is a logic to it, if you were able to understand it."

"So is there logic to the Green Hornet," Le Blanc answered. He chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully. "Cheung knows about the Green Hornet," he said, nodding toward the darkened monitor. "After sharing a cell with him and his man, it's hard not to."

"That is a problem isn't it?" Archer admitted coldly.

"You have no intention of freeing him or Danielle Reid. Do you?"

"You're being richly rewarded for your involvement," Archer answered tightly. "What happens to them is none of your business. Unless, of course, you still care for the girl."

"She means nothing to me," Jacques replied harshly.

Archer studied Jacques face, trying to find the truth behind his words, but the young man's pale green eyes were as opaque as a closed door. "She might be useful as a way to keep Reid under control until I take care of him and his wife," Archer continued thoughtfully, still studying Jacques' reactions, "Once they're out of the way, she might be a useful way to legitimize your possession of the Daily Sentinel as Reid's only surviving heir. It might make it more palatable to the staff, at least until we have the chance to eliminate all the dead wood and replace it with our own people."

"That would be logical way to handle things, wouldn't it," Jacques said, "It would also be a way for you to make sure I follow your orders."

Archer's face brightened into a nasty smile. "I'm glad we understand each other. Money, after all, can only buy so much loyalty."

"But love can buy so much more," Jacques said with naked disgust as much for himself as for Archer.

"Indeed it can," Archer agreed. "At least you're a realist," he said, "Only idiots like the Reids would be willing to sell their lives for something as useless as idealism."

"You are right, Monsieur Archer," Jacques agreed, as he pulled himself out of his chair, "And since we are on the subject of being richly rewarded, I believe it is time for you to do so."

"Don't you want to hang around for the fireworks?" Archer asked as he followed Jacques out of the room.

"Non," Jacques replied, "The sooner I am out of this blasted country the better."

"Are you implying you don't want the Daily Sentinel?"Archer asked in surprise.

"That's right, I don't want it. I never said that I did. Just give me what you owe me, and I'll call the whole thing finis."

"I don't get you," Archer said, truly mystified, "How can you refuse power when it is handed to you on a silver plate?"

"There is no power in something that is given with the kind of conditions you attach to it."

"Conditions come with everything, even love," Archer said, "Nothing is unconditional. Greatness, wealth, power, they all have their conditions, but the rewards that come with them can be tremendous."

"I want nothing of those things . . . "

"Don't pretend that you're better than everyone else, Le Blanc. You're just as greedy and power hungry as the rest of us. You just don't want to want to make the effort. You're too lazy to take on any kind of responsibilities. Whether it's the Daily Sentinel, Le Blanc Enterprises in Europe or love," Archer said with open disgust. "You value your independence so much that you refuse to commit to anything."

"I don't need psychoanalyses from you of all people," Jacques interrupted angrily. "Just pay me like we agreed."

"I'll pay you. I'll even allow you to keep the El Greco," Archer said. At the puzzled look on Le Blanc's face, he continued, "I don't like being bested, especially when it involves something I had gone through so much trouble to obtain, but," he shrugged, "Time is at a premium. I can't waste my time trying to get it out of you, but if you cross me again, I swear I will make you pay very dearly."

"Do not concern yourself," Le Blanc replied tautly, "My dealings with you have ended."

"Good," Archer said with satisfaction, "We understand each other then. I will give some advice though . . . "

"What?" Le Blanc said sharply.

"Be aware that even if you do not choose sides, a side will be chosen for you. The losing one."

"That is the chance I am willing to take," Jacques replied impatiently, "Just . . . "

Archer held up his hand, stopping Jacques words, "I know, pay you." They had stopped at the door leading to the art gallery. "I believe you have been here before," he said pointedly.

"I have," Jacques admitted.

"This time there will be none of your tricks," Archer said firmly.

"None," Jacques replied as he followed the billionaire into the room.

Inside the art gallery Archer led Jacques to the stand where the gaudy emerald and diamond necklace was glittering under bright lights. "Your fee," he said as he lifted the necklace from its velvet stand and handed it to Jacques.

"I don't know what will distress Shannon more, losing the necklace or losing you," he said, watching with narrowed eyes as Jacques carefully examined the necklace. "She quite enjoyed the little playtime she had with you."

Jacques frowned his displeasure, "I have no desire to repeat the experience. Her idea of pleasure involves far too much pain for my taste." He glanced at the stand next to Archer. "Why are you displaying a videotape in this art gallery?"

Archer lifted it from its stand, "That was Shannon's idea. I told her she should get rid of the thing, but she loves to watch it all the time. She says it represents her victory over Reid." He shrugged, "To be truthful, I think she gets off on seeing herself having sex."

"She was foolish enough to film the entire affair, including her part in it?"

"Yeah," Archer replied, turning to return the tape to its display stand, "It could be used to prove Shannon's guilt and Reid's innocence, but . . . " he shrugged again, "Whatever Shannon wants, she gets."

Suddenly alarms started going off all around them. "Le Blanc! This is your doing!" Archer shouted above the noise.

Jacques slammed a fist into the billionaire's face, sending him instantly to the floor in an unconscious heap. "Non, mon ami, not I," he said as he snatched the videotape from its stand, "It is another."

He slipped out of the gallery and closed the door quickly behind him. He was not surprised to find the slender Chinese assassin waiting just outside for him. "We must act quickly. They will be sending guards to search inside once they find there is no one on the grounds."

"Agreed," the woman said, "Lead me to where young Cheung is being kept."

Jacques led the way down a series of winding stairs passing through different levels of store rooms and basements until they had reached Shannon's private playroom. It resembled nothing more than a medieval torture chamber complete with a rack and an elaborate Iron Maiden.

Jacques froze in the doorway leading into the room. The days he had spent there as Shannon De la Culebra's toy would haunt him for the rest of his life. For the first time in his life he had found out that life was not the game he had treated it as. It had been a matter of either acquiescing or dying. Slowly. He chose to live and get his revenge later. Now was the time.

Against the far wall was a series of doors with high barred windows. "They're in the middle one," he said to the woman, "I'll look for the key. I know she keeps it around here somewhere."

"No time," she said. With a single fluid stroke her sword sung through the air, slashing the door's heavy lock in two.

The Green Hornet and Kato were the first to react and quickly left the cell. Tommy only stared dully at the open door and the black-clad woman. "Have you been harmed?" she asked sharply.

He silently shook his head, too apathetic to do anything else.

"Come quickly. We do not have much time," she said hurriedly.

Finally rousing himself, Tommy moved to the door. For a moment he stood aghast at the torture chamber. The woman pushed him forward. "Move," she said impatiently, "We must go now."

"We're going to have to fight our way out," Jacques said to the Green Hornet as they climbed the stairs back up to the main floor.

The Green Hornet regarded the Frenchman, "How are you at fighting?" he asked.

Jacques shrugged, "I am not a fighter, but I do know enough Savate to hold my own."

"And her?" the Green Hornet asked about the woman. "Where did she come from?"

"She was sent to rescue Cheung."

The Green Hornet nodded, assessing their odds. "Do you know where the Black Beauty is?"

"Yes."

"Good. Is it far?"

"No, but we may have some trouble getting to it. It is behind the mansion in the main garage."

"I know where that is. It'll be a stretch to get there from here, but it's our only hope." The Green Hornet took in the size of their group, "We should all be able to fit in the car."

"I have my own vehicle," the woman stated emotionlessly, "The boy goes with me."

"Is your car close by?"

"No. It is outside the gates."

"Cheung is going to be a problem," the Green Hornet said, "It would be a better idea if the two of you stay with us at least until we're past the gates. After that you can do whatever you want."

The woman considered for a few moments. Finally she said, "I do not need your assistance, but Cheung will be safer if there are more to protect him."

"I agree," the Green Hornet said. "Take Cheung with you and follow Jacques here to the garage. Kato and I will cover your back." He paused, noticing that the woman was taking offence at his giving orders. "It's best for Cheung," he added reasonably. "He can't defend himself. You'll have to stay with him and you'll need someone to lead the way to the garage. Kato and I can run interference for you."

The woman nodded thoughtfully, "As you said, it is my duty to protect Cheung. Your plan is agreeable with me."

The battle began as soon as they had entered the main foyer. Armed guards were already swarming through the house looking for the intruders. With a yowling cry, the woman charged into the guards, scything through them like a Chinese Valkyrie. More guards charged through the front door. Kato rushed to meet them, his unique cry joining the assassin's as he fought with flying hands and feet.

Stunned by the noise and carnage that surrounded him, Tommy stood frozen to the ground, unable to move. Barely in time the Green Hornet grabbed him by the arm just as automatic gunfire shattered the lights above his head. Pulling Tommy behind him, the Green Hornet rammed his way through some guards who had stopped in the open doorway, unsure of what was going on.

"So much for your plan," Jacques commented breathlessly as he ran beside the Hornet and Cheung.

The Green Hornet nodded his agreement "Not only that, we came out the wrong door. Kato and the Chinese woman might be able to slow down Archer's men, but we're going to have to run all the way around the building to get to the garage."

"I can't do it," Tommy protested between wheezing breaths.

"You're going to have to," the Green Hornet argued.

Tommy collapsed to the ground. "I can't make it," he protested as he sobbed for breath.

"Get up," the Green Hornet ordered. "We don't have the time for this."

"I can't," Tommy wheezed, "I can't."

"Damn it! I'm sure as hell not going to carry you. Get on your feet," the Green Hornet pressed pulling on the young man's arm.

"We're all dead," Tommy blubbered. "We all gonna die!"

"Not if you get on your feet," the Green Hornet growled.

"But . . . " Tommy protested.

"What's going on?" Kato asked as he and the Chinese woman caught up with them.

"He's worn out," the Green Hornet answered, torn between annoyance at Tommy's weakness and knowing that he just wasn't physically capable of keeping up with them.

"I can't run any more!" Tommy protested.

"We've got to keep moving," the Green Hornet said to the Chinese woman and Kato.

"Don't leave me behind!" Tommy cried.

"We have no choice," Jacques said to the younger man, "They will kill us when they catch us." He nodded back the way they had come. "Archer's men have only been briefly delayed. I have no wish to die because of you."

"But . . . " Tommy protested fearfully.

"If you do not get up now," the Chinese assassin said coldly as she prodded the tip of her blood-stained sword under his chin, "I will kill you myself."

Tommy gaped at her, "But my grandfather . . . "

"You dishonor him. It would be better for you to die now than for him to know his only grandson is a craven coward." She pressed the sword's tip in a little closer until Tommy almost fell backwards as he tried to avoid adding his blood to what was already on it. "Decide. Live or die. I have no more time to waste on someone as unworthy as you," she sneered.

Tommy's eyes darted at the grim faces surrounding him; the Green Hornet, his man, the Frenchman, the black-clad Chinese assassin. No where did he find any sympathy. Worse was the self-disgust that was growing inside of him. "I'll go," he finally said, pulling himself up to his feet.

They ran as fast as they could. Time was quickly running out. Even though Tommy was now trying his best, he was still slowing them down too much. Voices behind them told them that their pursuers were quickly gaining on them.

"Keep it up, Tommy," the Green Hornet urged, "We're almost there."

Tommy only shook his head, forcing his leaden legs to keep churning.

Finally, against all odds they made it to the rear of the building. Unfortunately a wide gravel-covered driveway separated the back of the mansion from the garage. A large expanse that was totally exposed to the bright glare of the security lights that had been turned on as soon as the alarm had sounded.

The Green Hornet stopped cold in his tracks. Anticipating where they were heading, Archer's men had reached the garage ahead of them. They had spread out along the driveway and in front of the garage. There was no way they could get to the Black Beauty without being seen.

"Your man and I could distract them long enough for you to get to your car," the assassin suggested.

Shaking his head, the Green Hornet replied, "No way. You'd only get yourselves killed."

"I am not afraid to die." She shot a quick look at Kato, "Are you afraid to die?" she asked him. "If so I go do this alone."

"Forget it," the Green Hornet said, hearing pounding feet and shouts from behind them, "It's all over." Within moments they were surrounded by uniformed men wearing the badges of Hakenkrueze's discredited gang of neo-Nazis.

The Green Hornet quicky noted that while the female assassin and Tommy Cheung was still with them, Le Blanc had disappeared. He didn't know whether to be glad that the Frenchman had made his escape or angry that he had chosen to abandon them at the worst possible time. He groaned inwardly when he saw Hakenkrueze shouldering his way through the men surrounding them. Behind him was an out of breath Archer.

"Fool!" Hakenkrueze roared at the Green Hornet as he slammed a fist into the masked man's stomach. "Did you actually think you could escape us?" he demanded of the Green Hornet who had fallen to his knees. He slammed another fist into the Green Hornet's face, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Kato stepped in, grabbing Hakenkrueze's arm and spinning him into a knot of his men who had to scramble to stop him from falling to the ground.

"Kill him," Hakenkrueze screamed angrily as he shook off his men's grasp.

"No!" Archer ordered before Hakenkrueze's order could be carried out.

"Don't interfere with me!" Hakenkrueze growled at the billionaire. "I have no more patience for your idiocy."

"Don't you dare argue with me, Hakenkrueze," Archer hissed at the much bigger man, "Don't you ever forget that I'm the one in charge here."

"In charge?" Hakenkrueze sneered, "Go back to your silly little computers and leave the real business of war to professionals."

"How dare you," Archer said, "Are you forgetting who paid for your precious bionic arm? Without me and Millennium Group, you'd be nothing but a pathetic one-armed loser on the streets begging for a handout."

"Pathetic!" Hakenkrueze echoed angrily, "Even with one arm I am twice the man you are. You aren't even man enough to keep your little female playmate under control."

"Bah!" Archer retorted angrily, "You're nothing but a barbaric tin soldier who can't see anything beyond his tiny little world."

"So you think your precious Millennium group's ideas are any better?"Hakenkrueze answered.

"Yes," Archer said, "Our plan is not to divide the world as you want to do, but rather to unite it under our control, spiritually, technologically, culturally. Everything. We would finally have a true world government."

"With you and the Millennium group at the controls," the Green Hornet commented cynically from the sidelines.

"Yes," Archer said, turning to the Green Hornet. "Of course, we are the only ones who have the vision necessary to achieve a truly unified world. Don't you see that it's for the best? The world will destroy itself very soon, if someone doesn't step in and take control," Archer continued, his face aglow with a true believer's faith. "And bit by bit we are doing it. Already we control almost every source of information; newspapers, television, movies, the Internet. Soon, no matter the source, people will see the world through our lens. We will shape everyone's life from cradle to grave."

"After, of course, tearing everything down first. Like the Global Commerce Center. Create fear and panic and then what? Offer reassurance? Offer peace and security for the price of liberty?"

"Well . . . " Archer began a ghost of a smile. His not wanting to admit to the Green Hornet's suspicions warred with his delight in the complexities of the Millennium Group's plans, and more importantly his part in them.

"How many disasters has the Millennium Group been responsible for?" the Green Hornet pressed.

"You'd be surprised," Archer teased, "It's all a part of the Millennium Group's master plan. Like you guessed, we destroy people's faith in everything they have taken for granted. Technology, religion, politics, the future itself. Then we offer a solution, a way out of the terror and doubt."

"And if you control all information sources, who's to call it a lie . . . "

"Exactly," Archer said. Then he sighed regretfully, "You're a very smart man. I could use someone like you, but I doubt I could ever trust you. Unfortunately the Green Hornet has a reputation for being a double-crosser."

The Green Hornet nodded his agreement. "It's a means to an end, just like Hakenkrueze is." He looked at the neo-Nazi. "How does it feel to know that you're just a tool that will be discarded when you've outlived your usefulness?"

Hakenkrueze growled and gritted his teeth, "Think again, Hornet, I will be the leader of vast armies that will control the world," he boasted.

"Yeah, right," the Green Hornet said. "Just remember what happens to ambitious generals."

"Enough talk," Archer interrupted. "Where the hell's Le Blanc?" he demanded, suddenly realizing that the Frenchman was not among their captives.

"Karl, Stephan," Hakenkrueze barked. When the two men came forward and stiffly saluted with outstretched arms, he said, "Look for the Frenchman. If you find him, kill him."

"We will find him." Hakenkrueze said to Archer, "He couldn't have gotten very far."

"Not far?" Archer groaned, "He could be halfway to France by now." He swore angrily, "This is no good. Move up the schedule. The attack on the Global Commerce Center will have to be tonight."

"But," Hakenkrueze protested, "Everything is not in place. We haven't had a chance to get all the explosives in place yet."

"I don't care. Notify Buske and the rest. They're to start their attack on the Global Commerce Center in about three hours. That should allow you enough time to get your men in place. I want them to set off the explosives about in the middle of the gang attack. That way people will think that the gangs are responsible."

"Not tonight!" the Green Hornet protested, "The Spring Festival's tonight. There'll be hundreds, if not thousands of people at the plaza."

"Then their deaths will be your heads," Archer snapped back, "If you had not interfered, we could have delayed. As it is, many people will die and it will be your fault."

"Archer, this is monstrous," the Green Hornet persisted.

Hakenkrueze backhanded the Green Hornet, silencing him, even though the masked man's storm-grey eyes still promised defiance.

"So what are you going to say, Hornet?" Archer demanded, glaring at the masked man, "Are you going to go for the standard heroic twaddle that I'm going to fail?"

The Green Hornet's jaw tightened as he fought for self control. "Don't crow too soon, my friend," he gritted, "Remember the end of the story hasn't been written yet."

"You're the one who has failed," Archer growled back at him, "You and your entire family. When I am finished, there will be no one left to oppose me."

"No," the Green Hornet said very quietly, slowly realizing himself the full import of his destiny, "Not by a long shot. We have survived. We will survive. If one of us falls there will be another. You and your Millennium group will not succeed. Your kind never does. I can promise you that."

"Fool," Archer hissed. He turned his back on the Green Hornet, trying to dismiss him and his words. "We strike tonight," he said to Hakenkrueze. He added, knowing that the Green Hornet could hear him, "The higher death toll will only make the impact of the attack greater." He turned to face the Green Hornet, "This night will go down in infamy. There will be few who will forget the Green Hornet's part in it.

"When it's all over, they will find the bodies of the Green Hornet, his man and their car at the scene. It will be obvious the world over that he led the city's gangs in a ruthless attack against hundreds of innocent citizens. Especially after the proof of his actions and the involvement of the Daily Sentinel has been discovered."

A blissful grin came to Archer's face as he contemplated the results of his deadly plan, "No one will dare say 'nay' to our new law and order programs. After all what is freedom when one's safety is at stake?"

The Green Hornet remained silent even though he wanted to rage at the billionaire. He wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. His time would come later.

"What about young Cheung and the woman?" Hakenkrueze asked.

Archer thought for a few moments, then replied, "I do believe our current D.A. has out-served his usefulness. His son's body at the scene of the destruction will only serve to discredit him. Especially after we have put the correct spin on the 'facts'."

"And the woman?" Hakenkrueze asked, starting to like where Archer's plans were going.

Archer studied the black clad woman for a few moments, "Where do you fit in all this?" he demanded of her.

"I was sent to retrieve Thomas Cheung," she replied with icy pride.

Archer snorted. "Looks like you failed," he remarked.

"A wise man does not celebrate victory, until the battle has been fought," she answered.

"Take off her mask, I dislike sparring with someone whose face I can't see."

Hakenkrueze nodded to one of his men who approached the woman. "I will not be touched," she hissed. She glared defiantly at Archer, "Remember my face," she said, pulling her black head covering off, "It will visit you many times in your nightmares until you finally die."

"Hui Ying," Tommy gasped. Beside the Green Hornet, Kato also gave a start of recognition, but quickly recovered before anyone noticed.

"You know her?" Archer demanded of Tommy.

"Yeah," Tommy admitted with downcast eyes, thinking that he had been a fool. He should have known that the girl was far more than she had seemed. "We are, uh, were, friends."

Archer smiled nastily, "I see. How quaint. And you never knew what she really was?"

"No," Tommy said in a small voice barely above a whisper.

Archer regarded Hui Ying for a moment. "Bring her with the others. I have a feeling that the presence of a foreign national will serve our cause very nicely."

"Ahh," Hakenkrueze said appreciatively, "Foreign involvement."

"Of course," Archer agreed, rubbing his hands with satisfaction. "I love it when a plan comes together."

III

It was several hours after sunset when Stormy Weathers found herself driving to Britt Reid's home in the suburb of Valley Grove. With her were her two charges, Christy Isaacs and Sam Sprite. Christy was very quiet, which Stormy couldn't fault her at all for. After all, she was going to be meeting Britt Reid, the man whose life she had helped to nearly destroy. True, she was as much a victim as Reid, but still . . .

Not only that, Christy was also going to be meeting Britt Reid's wife. Stormy thought, So, what do you do under those circumstances? Compare notes on how he was in bed? She didn't envy the girl at all.

The one saving grace was Sam Sprite. Stormy glanced into the rear view mirror to the back seat where Sam and Christy were sitting. In a way, they looked good together. Tiny, blonde-haired Christy, who even in jeans and a turtle neck sweater, looked more like an elf than a human girl, and the big, teddy-bearish Sprite who enveloped the much smaller girl with surprising gentle tenderness.

Christy had immediately taken Sam as a friend from the moment Stormy had introduced them, and more importantly, as a source of comfort. Even now in the back seat the girl leaned into Sam as he wrapped his arm protectively around her. It might not be love, yet, Stormy thought, but it sure looked like the next best thing.

Sam cleared his throat and asked, "Why aren't we going to police headquarters. Isn't it kind of odd to be going to a private home for questioning?"

"You're right," Stormy answered. "That's the way things should usually be done. It's just that the circumstances are kind of unusual. You see, I'm working for Frank Scanlon and through him, Britt Reid . . . "

"Whose home we're going to," Sam interjected.

"Right. So, since I work for Scanlon and Reid, you might say that I'm doing my job by bringing you and Christy to them so that they can ask you some questions. But," Stormy pointed out before Sam could ask the obvious question, "The D.A. Michael Cheung will be there, too. So in a way, it's kind of semi-official too." Stormy tried to shoot him and Christy a reassuring smile while still trying to keep her eyes on the road. "It'll be a lot more comfortable, too. Police stations have the worse coffee in the world. I'm sure anything that the Reids serve up will be better."

"It might be safer, too," Sam said thoughtfully. "I heard that Mr. Reid was attacked in jail with the help of the guards there. At least at Mr. Reid's house we should be safe, since the only people who will be there are those who they trust."

"That's right," Stormy said encouragingly. She didn't add the caveat, "At least we hope so."

Stormy was relieved to find her fears about the Reids and Christy were unfounded. Mrs. Reid greeted them very graciously at the door. Stormy had seen her on TV during the press conference but in person she was even more beautiful. It was not her physical beauty but rather her dignity and grace that struck the detective. Up close she could see the fine lines of age around her eyes and mouth, but the glow in her face told that they were well-earned through a keen love of life.

Britt Reid joined them at the door, "Good to meet you," he said to Stormy as he shook her hand. "Frank has told me great things about you. You did a great job protecting Ms. Isaacs and Mr. Sprite. I really appreciate it."

Stormy smiled and thanked Reid for his praise. She noted quickly where John got his looks. He shared the same strong chin and broad build, although the elder Reid had the most unusual pale aqua grey eyes she had ever seen. She was willing to bet that was what had attracted Mrs. Reid to him in the first place. She knew it would have been in her case. She noted the way they fitted together, like two halves of the same piece. Their relationship had to be something special for it not have been hurt by what had been happening the last few weeks.

Reid motioned her to the stairs leading up to the second floor, "We're meeting upstairs in my study," he explained, "It's more comfortable up there. Frank and Mr. Cheung are waiting for us up there as well as a police detective, Detective Morrisey."

Stormy hung back while Mrs. Reid led the way upstairs so that she could speak to Reid in private. "I heard that your daughter was kidnaped. Is it true?" she asked in a low voice.

Reid nodded.

"Was anyone hurt?"

"Unfortunately, yes," he answered, "One of the men who was with her was hurt quite badly."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Stormy said, "Is he going to be okay?"

"We don't know yet. He's still in a coma," Reid paused, trying to find the right words, "He's a very old friend of the family. He taught me a lot about being a reporter."

"I see," Stormy replied quietly.

Britt took a deep breath, then said, "We're keeping it quiet while we negotiate with the kidnappers."

"So you've heard from them?"

"Yes. We'll discuss it later after we get the business with Ms Isaacs and Mr. Sprite squared away."

"Of course," Stormy said thoughtfully. "It's kind of odd about your daughter being kidnaped. I think I've heard rumors that the D.A.'s son is also missing."

"I've heard that, too," Reid said without comment even though Stormy had the feeling that he knew a lot more about it than he was admitting.

"If that's so and his disappearance is connected with Archer and company, Mr. Cheung could be taking a very big chance by being here," Stormy said.

A troubled look came into the publisher's eyes, "I fear we're all taking a very big chance," he grimaced, then sighed, "Unfortunately, it's the only one we have."

Upstairs, Stormy found that Christy and Sam had already settled onto a wide leather couch that faced a fireplace that held a crackling fire. Beside the fireplace a tall, dour faced man stood nursing a large mug of coffee.

"This is Detective Morrisey," Reid said, introducing the man.

"Pleased to meet you," Stormy replied as she took the police detective's offered hand.

"I don't think I'd be here today, if it hadn't been for Detective Morrisey and his partner when the safe house I was in proved not to be so safe," Reid supplied, "How's Weston doing?" he asked Morrisey.

A slight smile appeared on the detective's long face. "He's going to be fine, last I heard. He's young. It's part of the job." he added with a meaningful look at Stormy, "I guess even a P.I. has had a few run ins, huh?"

Stormy nodded, feeling a sort of fellowship with the police detective, "You can say that. Maybe one of these days we'll get together to swap some old war stories."

Reid touched her elbow before she and the detective could start swapping. "You've met Frank," he said, nodding to Scanlon who was sitting in a large overstuffed leather chair next to the couch, "And," he continued, as a man rose from his chair and extended his hand. "This is District Attorney, Michael Cheung."

"I want to thank you for your cooperation," the D.A. said as Stormy took his hand. "Thanks to your help, and that of Ms Isaacs and Mr. Sprite, we're going to be able to put some very dangerous people away for a very long time."

Stormy smiled and said, thanks, even though his words seemed more keyed for the election circuit than a small gathering in a house in the countryside. She noted the small lines of worry about his mouth and eyes, but didn't say anything even though she had the feeling that the disappearance of his son was a lot more than a rumor.

Reid directed her to another chair in the room while Mrs. Reid, "Call me, Casey," she urged, pressed on her a coffee cup and a small plate that had a large sweet roll sitting on it.

Stormy sipped the fragrant coffee while the small talk of getting acquainted washed around her. Casey carried much of the conversation as befitted a proper hostess. Sam replied easily to her questions while Christy added her own replies, first hesitantly, then more confidently under Casey's gentle guidance. Frank and Reid also occasionally added a few remarks, but the D.A. remained quiet as did Morrisey.

Stormy did her share of talking as well, but as she talked her eyes wandered around the study which was a revelation in itself. A chronicle of Reid family history was documented on its walls with photos, paintings and mementos. One especially intriguing set consisted of a large painting showing a masked man in western style clothing on a big white horse. Beneath the painting was a beautiful set of colt .45 pistols and a well-worn gun belt filled with silver bullets.

"That's an interesting picture," Stormy asked Britt, "Is that really the Lone Ranger? Isn't he just a fiction character?"

"No, he was a real person," Britt said, "My grandfather, Daniel Reid Jr., actually rode with him and Tonto when he was a young man."

"How did that happen?"

"As far as I understand it," Britt explained, "My great-grandmother was coming out west in a wagon train in order to join her husband who was a Texas Ranger when they were attacked by a bunch of renegade Indians. There were only two survivors; my grandfather, who only a baby then, and an old woman, Mrs. Frisbie. Years later, when my grandfather was a nearly a teenager, the Lone Ranger and Tonto stopped an attack on the farm where he and Mrs. Frisbie lived. Mrs. Frisbie died due to a weak heart and the Lone Ranger took young Dan in until he could be sent to relatives back East. I guess my grandfather must have impressed the Lone Ranger quite a bit because he spent a lot of his summers out West with the masked man and his Indian companion."

"That's fascinating," Stormy commented. "It's odd though that they would let a young boy ride with them into what must have been sometimes dangerous situations."

Reid shrugged, "You're probably right," he admitted, "Who knows, maybe the Lone Ranger needed someone to chronicle their adventures. My grandfather did in time become a reporter. He wrote a lot of stories about how the old west was fast disappearing."

"You know," Stormy said thoughtfully, "There's a lot of coincidences between the Lone Ranger and the Green Hornet."

"How?" Reid asked.

"Well," Stormy said, "The Green Hornet's car is named after a horse in a way, you know, Black Beauty, both men wore masks, and they both had companions."

Wearing a wry smile, Reid shook his head, "I don't know if the Green Hornet really named his car with the idea of naming it after a horse, and as for masks. I don't know of any better idea of hiding your identity than a mask. Do you?"

Stormy shook her head to Reid's question.

"And as for companions. Every gangster has his followers, the Green Hornet included. He just apparently prefers to keep his down to one."

"So the resemblance is completely coincidental," Stormy remarked. She had the feeling that it was anything but. However she knew she would never get Reid to admit it. At least not yet.

Stormy considered the others in the room. She noticed that the police detective, Morrisey, had been listening very closely to their conversation. He had not made any remarks, but she noticed that his eyes held the same questions that she had. She promised herself that somehow they were going to have to get together to compare notes.

The others seemed to not have taken much note of their talk. The D.A., the man Stormy would have expected to be extremely interested, seemed to be off in his own world. He was here only for one purpose, the questioning of Christy Isaacs and Sam Sprite. Outside of that, it was like he wasn't even there.

Frank Scanlon had also taken no interest in their conversation. Instead, he seemed to be more interested in the conversation between Casey, Sam and Christy. Perhaps he had heard the story before and because he knew the Reids so well, he had never made the connection that was forming in Stormy's mind. Or, could it be, Stormy thought, that Frank Scanlon was well acquainted with the connection; that he had been in on the Reid secret for a very long time, perhaps even from the beginning. That, Stormy was more than willing to believe. Scanlon did not strike her as a stupid man.

Once the normal small talk of getting acquainted was over, the coffee drunk, and the sweet rolls eaten, they settled down to business. Stormy listened as Christy started into her story under Frank Scanlon's questioning.

"I'm sorry," Christy began, "I didn't realize that I would be hurting anybody. I was stupid. I should've known better than to think doing a porno movie would me get into the movies. It's just that Jake told me that it was going to be all okay. He said that some big producer wanted to see how I performed," Christy hesitated, then continued, "You know there's so much sex in movies today, that you can't be afraid to show your body," she sighed unhappily, "At least that's what Jake said."

Christy nervously folded and refolded the paper napkin in her hand, not wanting to look the Reids in the eye. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt anybody . . . "

Casey went over to Christy, knelt beside her and placed her hand over the girl's hands, "Don't worry, dear," she said in a soothing voice, "I know you didn't mean it. You were tricked, just like my husband was."

"But . . . " Christy said in a stricken voice, "But we . . . You know . . . ," she shrugged, unable to say the words, "How can you forgive me?" she asked.

"Because I know my husband," Casey answered, "I know the type of man he is. I know I can trust him. I also know that De la Culebra woman, and what she's capable of."

Christy nodded wordlessly. "Would you feel better if I left?" Casey asked.

Christy shook her head, "No," she said through a shuddering breath.

"Are you going to be okay?" Casey asked as if she was talking to her own daughter.

"Yeah," Christy replied, moving a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. Leaning into Sam's arms, she forced a weak smile, "I'm gonna be okay." Visibly gathering herself, she added, in a quiet voice, "This is the only way I can get rid of the nightmares." Then she said in a firmer voice, anger and determination showing through in equal parts in her face, "I want to get them as bad as you do."

"Good," Casey said, smiling with satisfaction. "That's the way to go," she added as encouragement.

Stormy's admiration of Casey went up a few notches as she watched her return to sit by Britt who gave her a quick squeeze of approval. Regardless of her suspicions about the Green Hornet, these were people she had to admire.

Having received the reassurance she had needed, Christy continued her tale in a strong voice that only shook occasionally. Through it all Sam remained next to her, offering support over the worst parts of the tale. At the end there was a deep silence. Christy had retreated into Sam's arms, like a long distance runner who had finally crossed the finish line. Even though she had already known most of the details, Stormy felt overwhelmed by the reality of what Christy had endured and by the courage it had taken her to tell it. Scanlon and the D.A. had lapsed into thoughtful silence while Morrisey was uncomfortably staring at the pattern in the rug under his feet.

On the couch, Britt Reid sat staring into the fire with narrowed eyes, his entire body tense as if he was ready to explode into action. Only Casey's hand resting on his knee seemed to anchor him in the present. He slipped one hand over hers, grasping it momentarily with whitened knuckles before relaxing.

Daring to be the first person to break the silence, Stormy commented, "This should be enough to arrest the De la Culebra woman, and put her away for a very long time."

She saw a quick look pass between Scanlon and Cheung. "Right?" she demanded.

Cheung sighed and shook his head regretfully, "Maybe . . . "

"What do you mean, 'maybe'?" Stormy pressed. "You have Mr. Reid and Christy here . . . "

"Well, Mr. Reid was drugged . . . " Cheung began.

"Christy wasn't," Stormy pressed.

"No, she wasn't, but . . . "

"But what?" Stormy demanded.

"You have to understand . . . "

"Understand what?"

"Mrs. De la Culebra has some very powerful friends . . . "

"Like Archer," Britt said distastefully, "He'll hire the best lawyers around. They'll destroy Christy's testimony without any other supporting evidence."

"How?" Stormy shot at the publisher.

"They'll say that I paid her off. That I bought her out and engineered her testimony."

"But . . . "

"Too bad Gordon is dead," Britt said over Stormy's objection, "He was no prize, but as the weak link in the chain, he could have been used to testify against De la Culebra and maybe even Archer."

"Archer?" Morrisey asked, "How do you figure him into things?"

"Shannon's kinky and vicious, her part in the frame is right up her alley, but the kind of complex thinking that went into it isn't her style. Neither were the attacks at the jail and at the safe house. That took influence, power and money. Something she doesn't have."

"But what Archer has in spades," Sam said bitterly, "He's the expert when it comes to destroying people. Scandal, innuendo, financial hijinks, whatever it takes. As far as he is concerned, the nastier it is, the better."

Britt nodded his agreement.

"Too bad we don't at least have the tape," Scanlon said thoughtfully, "With that we might have had something that could force De la Culebra to cooperate and turn on Archer."

"I doubt that would have happened even with the tape," Britt said thoughtfully, "Archer's sure to get her the best lawyers that money can buy. That is if she doesn't skip the country beforehand."

"You surprise me, Monsieur Reid," said a voice from the open doorway, "I did not think that you were one to give up so quickly."

"Le Blanc," Britt said, surprised, "How the hell did you get here?"

"I was, shall we say, detained by Madame De la Culebra and Monsieur Archer," he explained as he tossed a videotape to Britt. "That, I believe is what you were talking about. Oui?"

"Yes," Britt said, "How did you get it?"

"Madame De la Culebra has a fondness for tokens of her conquests. I was able to bring it back with me when I escaped from their somewhat doubtful hospitality. Along with others who were sharing that same 'hospitality'," Le Blanc added.

"What do you mean by that?" Cheung demanded.

"Monsieur Archer has your son as well as Monsieur Reid's daughter, Danielle."

"Is Danielle okay?" Casey asked hopefully.

"So far, yes," Le Blanc answered. "But maybe not for long."

"Tommy is okay?" Cheung interrupted. "Where is he? Is he with you?"

"Tommy is okay, yes, but he is not with me. I barely escaped as it was."

"So you left my son and the Reids' daughter behind?" Cheung demanded angrily.

"It was the only thing I could do," Le Blanc said defensively.

"I should . . . " Cheung began, rounding on the Frenchman who towered over him by several inches.

"Cheung," Britt said, grabbing at the D.A. "Let's get the facts before you do something foolish."

Cheung growled, but returned to his seat.

"Okay, Le Blanc, you mind starting from the beginning?"

"I fear the beginning will take too long," Le Blanc said, "It is time we do not have. However I will say that if we do not act quickly they will all be dead as well as many, many other people."

"Explain," Britt demanded sharply.

"Monsieur Archer along with the man Hakenkrueze is planning on an attack on the Global Commerce Center. They have it arranged so that it will appear to have been engineered by the city's gangs including the Green Hornet. They will use the attack as an excuse to take over the city government, under the guise of bringing order to the chaos. It is only the beginning, I fear, of much worse and on a much grander scale."

"Just like the information I downloaded from Archer's files," Sam said. "Archer's part of some kind of world wide cabal that is planning on controlling the entire world."

"Oh come on," Morrisey said in disbelief, "Isn't that something for the comic books?"

"Whether it is or not," Le Blanc said, "If we do not act quickly, people will die."

"Mr. Cheung, call police headquarters," Britt said, "Tell them to get as many people at the Global Commerce Center as they can. Also contact the fire department and emergency services, put them on alert in case we don't stop Archer in time."

"I can't do something on just this guy's say so," Cheung protested.

"Would you rather have something happen like the World Trade Center?"

Cheung thought for a few moments, weighing the chance of political suicide if the Frenchman was wrong versus the lives at the Global Commerce Center.

"There isn't much time," Le Blanc prodded.

"I'll do it," Cheung said, "Is there a phone around I can use?" he asked Casey, who showed him the phone on Britt's desk.

While Cheung was using the phone, Britt continued questioning Le Blanc, "You said that Archer has my daughter and Cheung's son . . . "

"Oui, Danielle is being held by the man called Husky Buske, while Tommy Cheung is being kept at Archer's mansion, as well as the Green Hornet and his man."

"So Buske has Danielle?" Britt asked.

"Oui, but not for long. Madame De la Culebra had left Monsieur Archer's mansion a few hours ago for Buske's roadhouse. I believe she will be taking Danielle as insurance. She had agreed earlier with Monsieur Archer to meet him at his yacht, the Gigabyte Queen."

"I see," Britt said thoughtfully.

"Archer is also holding a Chinese woman who I believe is some kind of Chinese assassin," Jacques volunteered.

"Is she masked, dressed all in black?"

"Oui," Jacques answered.

"I see," Britt said thoughtfully, "Now about the Green Hornet. You said Archer has him and his man."

"Oui, they have the car as well. They are planning to leave the Green Hornet and the others at the Global Commerce Center for people to blame."

"Sam has all of Archer's plans on his computer, including floor plans," Stormy supplied eagerly.

"Good," Britt replied, "Sam, give them whatever they need. Frank, Detective Morrisey," he said nodding to the two men.

"We're on it," Frank said as they helped Sam set up his computer.

"I have some calls to make," Britt said to Casey as he headed for the door, "I'll use the phone downstairs."

Casey followed him through the door while the others were distracted, "What are you planning?" she asked in a low voice.

"I have no idea," Britt answered in an equally low voice so as not to catch anyone else's attention, "But something will occur to me once I get to the townhouse."

"But there's nothing there," Casey replied. She noticed that Le Blanc was watching them curiously. So was Stormy.

"I'll find what I need there," Britt said confidently.

"But the Black Beauty is with them," Casey said not sharing his confidence.

A small smile appeared on Britt's face as an idea occurred to him. "That's what I'm counting on," he said before quickly heading down the stairs.

Casey stopped Le Blanc as he headed down the stairs after Britt. "You said Danielle was okay," she said, stalling him. "You didn't mention if she was with the others."

Le Blanc gazed down to where Britt had disappeared to. "She is not with the others," he admitted, "I believe she is with a gentleman by the name of Husky Buske. He, and his gang too, will be at the Global Commerce Center."

"So Danielle will be there too," Casey said.

"If we are unlucky."

"And if we're lucky?"

"She will not." Le Blanc considered for a moment, then said, "It is not good that Monsieur Reid goes alone. He will need help."

"I can't stop him," Casey admitted. "And you shouldn't," she added firmly.

Le Blanc heard the roar of a car drive away. "Perhaps I shouldn't, but he does need my help."

"And mine, too," Stormy said, catching the tail end of their discussion. She had no intention of being left out of things. "This isn't a job for amateurs," she added in explanation as she quickly took after Le Blanc who was taking the stairs down by twos and threes.

Stormy barely caught up with the Frenchman as he climbed into a black sports car, "I'm going with you," she said, opening the passenger side door.

"But mademoiselle," Jacques protested uselessly.

"I'm the only one who knows what the hell they're doing," she snapped at him as she tightened her seat belt.

"I seriously doubt that," Jacques answered tightly as he threw the car into gear, "I do not think anyone knows what they are doing, not even Monsieur Archer or Madame De la Culebra. However," he added as the car spun out of the driveway, "I do not think it is stopping anyone."

Stormy pulled her gun out of her purse and checked it. Jacques shot a quick glance at it, "Do you think that is necessary?" he asked tautly.

"What do you think?" Stormy asked.

Jacques nodded thoughtfully, still keeping his eyes on the road. The tail lights of Britt Reid's car was far ahead of them and getting further. "I hope it is not needed, but I fear it will be."

Britt was traveling a straight course on the interstate from his home to the city, seeming not to be aware that anyone was following him. He was pushing his white Cadillac hard, passing cars as if they were standing still. The Cadillac didn't have the sports car's speed, but Jacques had a hard time keeping up. Britt knew where he was going. They didn't.

"There!" Stormy said, spotting the Cadillac leave the interstate barely in time.

Jacques threw the sports car in the Cadillac's wake, leaving several cars behind him honking their horns angrily. "This isn't the closest exit to the Daily Sentinel," he commented.

"So where is he going?" Stormy asked, even though she knew the Frenchman had no more idea than she did.

"I don't know," Jacques said, answering her rhetorical question, "And," he said, noticing that Britt Reid was starting to make an effort to lose them, "I don't think he wants us to know either."

The Cadillac wasn't very maneuverable, but Britt made sure to leave them stuck at every stop light and blind turn he could make. Several times they almost lost him if it hadn't been for Stormy keeping watch while Jacques drove. Suddenly he pulled to a curb and got out of his car.

He angrily strode to Jacques' side of the car, "What the hell are you doing following me?" he demanded. "I don't have the time to mess with you two. Go back to my house," he ordered.

"No way," Stormy said, climbing out of the car, "I'm not about to let an amateur endanger everyone. You may think that you're doing the right thing, Mr. Reid, but your actions could endanger the very people you want to help."

"Amateur!" Reid roared, "Amateur," he gritted in a lowered voice that had lost none of the anger behind it. "Do you honestly think I'm an amateur at this kind of stuff, girl?" Stormy took a few steps back unsurely under his verbal assault. "I have been at this before you were even born. Hell," he continued, his anger barely coming under control, "Hell, I quit long before you were born."

Stormy stared up at Reid as the truth struck her, "Then you are admitting . . . "

"You want me to shout it out for the whole god damn city to hear?" Britt growled, "After all these years . . . Hell, why don't we broadcast it? I have a television station that'd do the job just fine."

"Now, Monsieur Reid . . . ," Jacques said, trying to calm the publisher down.

"Go back to the house," Britt ordered through clenched teeth.

"No," Stormy said defiantly. "No matter who or what you are, I'm not going to sit this one out."

Britt sighed in exasperation. "I don't have time for this. Okay," he said, relenting, "Follow me." He turned away from them to go back to his car, then seeming to change his mind he turned back to Stormy and Jacques. "Would it do me any good to swear you two to secrecy?" he asked. Stormy and Jacques glanced at each other.

"You have my word that I will not say anything," Jacques volunteered readily.

"Ms Weathers?" Britt prompted.

"I..." Stormy began doubtfully.

"It means not only my life, but that of my entire family . . . " Britt added, the desperation clear in his voice.

"I promise that I won't do anything that will endanger your family," Stormy finally said.

"I guess I'll have to be satisfied with that," Britt answered.

Stormy thoughtfully watched Britt return to his car before sliding into the seat next to Jacques who stayed behind the wheel.

"Well?" Jacques commented, looking at Stormy.

"Just drive," Stormy growled at him, not wanting him to know how unsure she was about the promise Britt had exacted from her. If it came between her promise to Reid and her dedication to the law which would she choose?

Jacques and Stormy followed Britt for several more blocks. It was easier this time, but his twisting path still was enough to leave them unsure where they were when they finally came to a stop in a blind alley. Against a back wall was a tattered billboard showing a man and a woman in a minty kiss beneath the words 'Kissing Candy Mints, How Sweet They Are'. Britt had gotten out of his car and was standing impatiently next to a barely visible opening in one of the walls of the alley.

"This way," he said curtly as his hand slipped into a hidden niche. An opening appeared and he slid through the gap.

Stormy glanced at Jacques who merely shrugged, then followed Reid. The walk wasn't far. They went through a narrow passageway that seemed to pass between the walls of the building they had entered. Small lights near the base of the walls lit up as they came up to them and then darkened once they were past. "There's quite a complex of secret passages and hidden rooms that I've never had the chance to explore," Britt explained as he led them down some stairs into a dank basement. "It all used to be part of a gin mill and speak easy operation in the 20's during Prohibition. There might even be an arm that leads to the docks where illegal liquor used to be smuggled in from Canada. I updated everything when I found out that I needed a secret entrance into my townhouse."

"Why are we going this way now?" Stormy asked.

"Archer might have people watching the townhouse," Britt answered, "I want to get in and out without anyone seeing us." He stopped at what appeared to be a blank brick wall and pressed one of the bricks. The wall rose silently to reveal a narrow, open-sided elevator cage of stainless steel. Britt entered the cage and turned to face Stormy and Jacques. "There's only enough room for one person at a time," he said, "I'll go first."

The elevator's metal steps folded up and the cage rose upwards. Stormy released a deep breath that she didn't realize that she had been holding as the cage disappeared into the black gap in the wall. "You seem tense, Mademoiselle Weathers," Jacques remarked wryly.

"You aren't?" Stormy remarked in cynical disbelief.

The Frenchman ducked his head with a wry smile. "I have faith that Monsieur Reid knows what he is doing."

Stormy frowned thoughtfully as she studied Jacques. This was the first quiet moment she had to really look at him. He too, didn't seem all as he appeared. If it wasn't for his accent, which she admitted to herself could have been faked, but doubted, he could have been easily mistaken for a member of the Reid family. He definitely had the height, coming in only an inch or so taller than Britt Reid, and he had the same strong jaw line and unusual eye color. In fact, she noted with surprise, his eyes were almost the same color as Britt's. Oddly coincidental, she thought, but wondered if it was truly a coincidence. The only difference, besides the accent that is, was that he was much slighter in build, more like an acrobat or long distance runner instead of being as squarely broad as Reid or his son.

Jacques met her appraising look head on with a self-deprecating smile, "Does something interest you, Mademoiselle?"

"Are you related to the Reids'?" Stormy ventured.

"Perhaps, Mademoiselle, perhaps," he replied teasingly.

The elevator arrived just as Stormy was thinking of a good retort. "Your turn, Mademoiselle," Jacques said with a continental bow and sweep of his hand.

Stormy nervously grasped the bars on the side of the elevator as it rose upward into the darkness. The single light near the top of the elevator didn't help her impending claustrophobia as the open-sided cage passed between brick sided walls that seemed to threaten to squeeze in on her at any moment.

The trip was very short, only a few minutes, but by the end Stormy was ready to claw her way through the brick walls that surrounded her when the elevator finally stopped. After what seemed like an eternity, the wall in front her finally opened into a darkened room. Stormy pulled her gun out, ready for anything.

"You can put that away, Ms Weathers," Britt said drily.

She looked quickly around the room then stepped down the metal steps that had unfolded down. Britt straightened some tilted books in the bookcase against a far wall and the elevator slid downwards as a fireplace slid into place. "Nice trick," Stormy commented as she put her gun away.

"We'll get moving as soon as Le Blanc gets here," Britt said.

"Do you think we're going to make it?" Stormy asked trying to fill up the time while they waited for Le Blanc.

"I wish I knew," Britt answered. "We may have some luck though."

"How?"

"There's going to be thousands of people celebrating at the Spring Festival tonight . . . "

"Doesn't sound lucky to me," Stormy commented.

"That's not the lucky part. The lucky part is that I heard earlier today that a storm front may be coming in over the lake tonight. If we're lucky, maybe it'll come in early enough to shut down the festival before Archer and Hakenkrueze's people hit. That would at least help cut down some of the loss in life, or possibly even effect their plans so much that they'd fail."

"Think it's likely?"

"I wish I knew the answer to that," Britt said doubtfully.

"Ahh, good," Britt said, hearing a warbling tone, "Le Blanc's in." He tilted down some books in the bookcase and the fireplace rose to reveal the secret elevator with Le Blanc in it.

The Frenchman stepped down and then watched appreciatively as the fireplace slid back down. "Most clever, Monsieur Reid," he said.

"Thanks," Britt answered curtly, "Follow me," he added, leaving the study.

Stormy and Jacques followed Britt as he walked quickly out of the study, through a sunken livingroom and up a short flight of steps into a foyer. Britt opened a door in the foyer and lead them down some stairs into a large garage and workshop. Stormy shot Jacques a questioning look which he returned with a shrug.

Britt knew exactly what he was doing, but didn't bother enlightening them. Instead he went over to a pegboard on the wall of the workshop and twisted a wrench sideways. A small door opened to reveal a set of ready lights and switches. Britt pressed one of the switches and a portion of the wall rotated to show a collection of weapons and gadgets. Among them was a pair of slender green guns, a case containing several throwing darts, gas masks, and nunchuks of various designs.

"Not quite what one expects in a newspaper publisher's house, Oui?" Jacques commented to Stormy with the lift of an eyebrow.

"You don't say," Stormy commented under her breath.

Britt shot her a quick look as a comment of his own, mirroring Jacques' eyebrow lift at the same time. He pulled out a small gold colored box out of a drawer. On it were some lights, switches and toggles.

"What is that?" Stormy asked curiously.

Britt looked at her with a gleam in his cool blue eyes, "Our ace in the hole."

IV

Archer had an excellent view of the Global Commerce Center from the Gigabyte Queen's main salon. Festive strings of lights decorated every building that fronted onto the large Global Commerce plaza. Colorful banners snapped sharply in the rising wind and the pavilions that filled the plaza billowed against their moorings, but the hundreds of partygoers were not disturbed by the sudden cool weather.

It was normal for this time of the year and everyone was warmly dressed in fur coats and down jackets. Restaurants and cafes facing onto the plaza also provided warm havens against the chill. The Spring Festival was the one of the first major events of the Season. No one was going to miss it because there was a little wind and the air a bit cool.

The Global Commerce Center was the place to be if you were important or wanted to be considered important. It was the result of a multimillion dollar effort to resurrect the city's badly decaying port where the river emptied into the Great Lakes. Decades ago ships by the thousands used to sail into the port, transporting cargo to and from all over the world, including the output from the city's heavy industries, into the heartland of the United States.

Those days were no more. The heavy industry was almost all gone now. Only a few factories still remained where there used to be hundreds. There were other faster, cheaper ways to move cargo now and what traffic there was rarely came through the port that was too shallow for modern super-sized ships. In time the port became a cesspool of crime and decay.

Even though the days of heavy industry were dead, there was a new product to be transported. The product of information and money. The heart of the city began beating to the tune of the market ticker and the computer. Grand old apartment buildings and stately but decaying townhouses of the city's early days were being rediscovered and renovated into luxurious new homes by young professionals who'd rather live downtown than battle hour long treks into the city.

Taking advantage of this renewed interest in downtown living; the wharves, and warehouses that lined the port were transformed into trendy shops, expensive dining spots, and spacious condos and offices that fetched millions on the market. The old docks themselves had been transformed into a water sports playground and an exclusive marina where only the most rich could berth their floating palaces such Archer's Gigabyte Queen.

The Global Commerce Center had become the power center of the city's business world. To be considered 'somebody' you had to have an office at the GCC. Archer himself had a large suite of offices at the Global Commerce Center, but he would not grieve losing them when the center was destroyed. The heavily insured paintings that decorated the offices had been discretely replaced months ago with skillful forgeries. He would make a killing in more ways than one.

Archer's yacht rocked slightly at it sat at its mooring, but the waiter pouring the champagne into Archer's glass did not spill a drop of it. "Are you sure you don't want some?" he asked Hakenkrueze who was standing in front of the window. Hakenkrueze shook his head without answering. "Relax," Archer said, "Everything is falling into place very nicely."

Hakenkrueze turned to face Archer. "You are becoming too confident," he said to the billionaire.

"Why shouldn't I?" Archer retorted. "All the stray ends have been tied up. All of your men are in place. There is nothing to worry about. Nothing at all."

"What about Reid?" Hakenkrueze asked sharply. "And what about this Sam Sprite and that Isaacs girl? Do you have idea where they are?"

"Reid can't do a thing in time to stop us," Archer answered. "And as for that traitor Sprite or the girl . . . " Archer shrugged, "Who cares? They're little people, minor players. They're no danger to us."

"Sprite knows too much," Hakenkrueze persisted, "Who knows what kind of information he had access to before he disappeared."

"My computer system's security is infallible. There is no way that Sprite could have broken into it before he took off. Even if he had, there was nothing in it that could damage us."

V

Husky Buske glared at Danielle when he saw that she had left the food on her plate nearly uneaten. "Not good enough for you?" he demanded.

"I'm not very hungry," Danielle answered trying to keep her stomach from rebelling against those few bites she had dared.

"You haven't eaten since before we picked you up," Husky growled at the girl. "I know damn well you're starvin'."

Danielle frowned. She was tired of the whole business of trying to placate the tough motorcyclist. Manners were totally lost on him. "Okay, if you got to know, I don't much care for an order of grease served with a side of grease. Don't you have something edible?"

"Like what?" growled Husky, "You want some rabbit food?"

"Rabbit food would be better than this stuff. No wonder you sell so much liquor. It's the only thing that can wash that stuff down. Have to have some kind of solvent just to break up the grease so it can be swallowed." She nodded at the bottle near Husky's elbow. "That's about all that it's good for."

"Now, wait a minute, your royal highness, that's the best stuff we got. It's imported straight from Canada."

"Yeah, and whose bathtub in Canada did it come from?"

"What do you want me to do? Call up Chez Pierre and ask them pretty please to deliver some Escargot and a bottle of Chateau Lafitte?"

"How about Pizza Hut for a salad and a bottle of Coke? Or would that be too high class for this joint?" Danielle retorted. "I even have a few bucks in my purse if you can't handle the cost. That is if one of your thugs hasn't stolen it."

"I got plenty of money," Husky answered her, "I don't steal nothin' from some dame's purse."

"If you have so much money why are you in Hakenkrueze's back pocket?"

"How'd you know about him?" Husky demanded, not bothering to deny it.

"Remember that tall skinny blonde guy your men tried to beat up? He works for my father at the Daily Sentinel. He told my father everything he saw at your place, including Hakenkrueze."

"Oh, yeah, the guy who drove off in the Green Hornet's car," Husky said, remembering, "That was a nice trick . . . "

Damn, Danielle thought. The last thing she wanted to do was have Husky make a connection between the Sentinel and the Green Hornet. She said instead, "Yeah, Ed thought so too. He couldn't stop bragging how he drove the Hornet's car. My Dad said it was too bad he didn't get an interview with the man. He might have gotten the front page then. But what about this Hakenkrueze guy?" she asked, changing the subject. "If you're so well off, why are you dealing with him, then? Or did you fall for that super race b.s. of his?"

Husky snorted with disgust, "Hell, no, that stuff's for suckers."

"Then why?"

"'Cause if I don't I'm gonna get wiped out with all the other gangs when the guys Hakenkrueze is helpin' take over."

"Do you honestly believe that?" Danielle asked, "I didn't think you were that dumb."

"All the others do," Husky said defensively, uncomfortable with the fact that Danielle was voicing the very doubts he had been having recently.

"Are you sure?" Danielle pressed. "What would happen if none of you helped Hakenkrueze? Would he succeed then?"

Husky frowned thoughtfully. "Nah," he said, "He doesn't have the manpower . . . "

"I bet he's planning on the gangs doing all the dirty work for him and then taking all the credit for cleaning up the mess they make."

Husky gritted his teeth. Danielle was more right than he cared to admit. Even to himself. "So what do you suggest?" he growled at her. "Sit on the sidelines and hang around for Hakenkrueze and his buddies to get rid of us?"

"No," Danielle said thoughtfully, starting to understand the thrill her father got when dealing with the criminal mind. "Why don't you take care of him first?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. That guy has all kinds of high tech weapons. We'd be ground up like cheap hamburger goin' head to head with him."

"Who said you have to?" Danielle answered. "I'm sure you're smart enough to figure out a way to out think that muscle-headed Nazi."

A slow grin lit across Husky face, "Yeah, I think I'm gettin' me an idea after all."

"Hey, Husky," interrupted one of Husky's men as he opened the door, "There's a dame to see ya."

"Who?" Husky demanded, looking at Danielle with a guilty look as if he had been caught with his hands in the cookie jar.

"That red head who hangs around with that computer guy. What's his name . . . ?"

"Archer," Husky growled.

"It must be Shannon de la Culebra," Danielle said from behind him.

"Stay out of it," Husky warned her in a low voice, "I'll handle it."

Shannon pushed her way into Husky's office, "Mr. Buske, darling. It's such a pleasure to finally meet you," she said insincerely, as she pecked him on both cheeks, "Anthony has told me so much about you."

Husky noted that two of Hakenkrueze's storm troopers were covering the door behind the red head. They looked like they were itching to use the machine guns that they held lightly in their hands. Husky's men seemed to be busy with the pool tables, but the grim looks they occasionally shot at the storm troopers showed it was more of an uneasy truce.

"Do you have everything ready?" Shannon asked.

"Yeah, almost," Husky replied, "Although I'm startin' to wonder how this is all supposed to work out. I don't want one of Hakenkrueze's bully boys decide it'd be cheaper to wipe me and my men out 'accidentally' instead of paying us off like we agreed."

Shannon grinned at him at if he was an idiot child, "Now don't you worry about those things. We have everything well under control. You just do what you're supposed to do and we'll worry about the rest."

"Well," Husky said, "Maybe I oughta discusses that with Hakenkrueze . . . "

"He's far too busy," Shannon said, "That's why I'm here. I going to take Miss Reid off your hands. After all I'm sure you have better things to do . . . "

"I don't know," Husky said, "I kind of like havin' her around. She's kind of easy on the eyes, if you know what I mean," he added with a knowing grin, "'Sides she might come in handy." Husky's eyes narrowed to tiny slits, "I might find I need some kind of insurance policy. Get the drift, Red?"

Shannon frowned. Her angry reply was cut off by the ringing of her cell phone. She listened in silence as Archer told her what had happened and that the attack had been moved up to that night. Smiling with satisfaction, Shannon put her phone back into her purse. The Frenchman, Jacques Le Blanc might have gotten away, but it didn't matter. He was merely a minor player of no importance. She agreed with Archer's belief that it was likely that Le Blanc was well on his way out of the country. All in all, no damage had been done. It especially pleased her that the timetable had been moved up. It wasn't good to dawdle when it came to dealing with the Green Hornet, even if it was the younger edition.

For a moment she felt the chilling breeze of doubt flash through her. It wasn't good that the elder Reid was out of jail. He could still be a problem. She shook her hair, throwing off her feelings of unease. Britt Reid might have escaped the frame up, but they still had his daughter, and his son was on his way into history as a mass murderer.

"Well?" Husky prompted impatiently.

"Plans have changed. Get your men together and notify the other gang leaders. The attack on the Global Commerce Center is going to be tonight."

"But you can't," Danielle protested, "The Spring Festival's tonight. There will be hundreds of innocent people there."

"No matter, it will only make the impact of the attack greater," Shannon said uncaringly.

"I don't like it," Husky said, "There's gonna be tons of cops there. Besides, we didn't sign up to hurt a bunch of civilians. All we was gonna do was have ourselves some fun by tearin' up some buildings and startin' a few fires. That's all."

"My dear Husky, you have no vision," Shannon purred dangerously, "Consider the impact. The deaths of innocent civilians is going to be so much more effective than the mere destruction of a few buildings."

"Yeah, but . . . " Husky began, Shannon's words erasing all of his remaining doubts about what Danielle had said. The plans of Hakenkrueze and company were now crystal clear in his mind.

Shannon's eyes grew cold, "You and your men are being well paid . . . "

"Yeah, money's good, but the law is gonna be on our asses after this. There's no place in this world where we're gonna be able to hide. The whole idea stinks like hell."

"Don't worry about the law," Shannon replied, the warm purr returning to her voice. "After tonight we will be the law. Those who have cooperated with us will be protected. After all people will still want all those illicit little pleasures that they love even if they do scream for more protection from the criminal element at the same time. You will be there to provide them without all that nasty competition you used to have to deal with. We'll even give you, shall we say, favored treatment, while putting on the show of dealing quite harshly with those who do not cooperate with us."

"In other words, the same old same old. Just with a new face," Husky replied cynically.

"Exactly."

"So when and where?" Husky asked.

"Oh, let's say about in about three hours," she replied airily, "At the corner of 16th and Lakeview Drives."

"Won't give us much time to get everybody together," Husky said thoughtfully.

"I have faith in you," Shannon said as she prepared to leave, trying not to look like she was in a hurry. Even though she had faith that Archer's plan would succeed, she would rather hear about it while she was safely out of the country. After all, one never knew. Shannon's first priority was always Shannon.

"What're you going to do with the Reid girl?"

Shannon paused and considered his question. Time was quickly running out, but . . . It was always a good idea to have an insurance policy. "I'm still going to need to take her off your hands," she said, "She might come in useful later when it comes to dealing with her father."

"Well, if you put it that way," Husky said thoughtfully, "Maybe I oughta keep her here then. Just in case."

Shannon frowned, then forced a beguiling smile, "Now, my dear, dear Husky, you surely don't want to do that. After all you and your men are going to be so very busy. Too busy to look after her. Somebody might come along and rescue her and then where would we be?"

"I could leave somebody . . . "

"No, that just wouldn't do," Shannon said, "You know as well as I that Reid has all kinds of resources."

"Yeah, maybe," Husky said, turning stubborn. The more Shannon wanted the girl, the more, he decided, he wanted her too.

Shannon gestured to one of the guards Hakenkrueze had assigned to her. He was a good foot taller than Husky and twice as large. All muscle and to Shannon's annoyance, no humor, but he did have his uses. Shannon's smile turned nasty, "I'm sure that Oleg here would be most displeased if you chose to disagree with me." Noticing that Husky's blue-white eyes still held a stubborn glint to them, she added, "There are others who are willing to cooperate with us if you decide not to."

"Damn it," Husky cursed. "All right," he growled, "Take her."

"Husky . . . " Danielle protested as Shannon's guards surrounded her.

"We all gotta do what we gotta do, girl," Husky growled at her. "You gotta go with her, we gotta attack the Global Commerce Center and a buncha helpless people."

"Glad to see that you see things my way," Shannon said smoothly as she followed her men out the door.

"I'm startin' to," Husky muttered grimly into his heavy beard.

VI

Nobody paid much attention to the armored car as it headed for the Global Commerce Center. It was just like any other that regularly travel the city streets. If anyone took not of the lateness of the hour, it was dismissed as a late run from some store to a bank.

People however, were more interested in the truck that followed closely behind it. On its long bed was a large car covered with a tarp that reached down past its wheels. A few stray pedestrians stared curiously at it as it passed as did the drivers in the cars that shared the road with it. No one could have guessed that the trailer carried the Green Hornet's Black Beauty.

In the armored car, Kato stared longingly at the truck behind them. The Black Beauty was so close and yet so far. Her rockets, her speed, she was the way out of their predicament, but unfortunately completely out of his reach. He glanced over at Tommy Cheung who had not spoken a word since they were loaded into the armored car. Resigned to whatever fate lay ahead of them, Cheung sat dejectedly with bowed shoulders across from him, not looking at anything in particular, lost inside of himself in his misery.

Hui Ying was different. She had not accepted her fate at all and was complaining about it bitterly to the Green Hornet. "We should not have surrendered," she said.

The Green Hornet sighed tiredly. "Why don't you give it a rest," he said. "You've been harping on it the entire trip."

"It was cowardly to submit," Hui Ying persisted. "It would have been more honorable to die fighting than to be pawns in this Archer's crazy scheme."

"Unlike you," the Green Hornet answered. "I figure as long as I'm alive there's a chance."

"For what?" Hui Ying demanded. "Our hands are tied. Our opponents have machine guns. I don't have my sword. What chance is there? Are you expecting someone to come riding over the ridge to rescue us like in one of your silly Westerns?"

The Green Hornet shrugged. "You never know," he answered.

Hui Ying snorted and retreated into the corner behind her back, "I want my sword," she said to no one in particular.

Kato stared out at the canvas covered Black Beauty. I want my car, he thought.

Shannon de la Culebra glared out of her limousine, then angrily snapped on the intercom to speak to the driver. "You took the wrong exit. We're heading the wrong way," she said, "We should be going west away from the city, not east back toward it."

"Sorry Ma'am," said the guard in the Red Knight uniform, "Change in orders. General Hakenkrueze wants you to meet him and Mr. Archer at Archer's yacht."

"General?" Shannon gave a brief derisive laugh, "So Hakenkrueze has now made himself a general? Of what? A shadow army led by a tin soldier . . . "

"We are not shadows," the guard replied tersely, "We are simply waiting for our orders. Once General Hakenkrueze gives the word we will come out of hiding and fight for the cause."

"How nice for you all," Shannon replied cynically, "If you don't mind I'd rather be out of town when the fireworks start. Driver, take the next exit and head for the airport like I told you in the first place."

"Sorry, Can't do that," the guard said, "That would be against our orders."

"I have a plane waiting . . . "

"We are aware of that. The pilot has been notified of the flight's cancellation."

"Now look here . . . " Shannon began.

"I'm sorry, but orders . . . "

"I don't want to hear 'sorry', do as I say," Shannon hissed.

"No can do," the guard replied, snapping off the intercom without another word.

Shannon sat back into the soft leather seat with a curse, "Damn it."

"It looks like Hakenkrueze figured you'd try to make a break for it," Danielle observed from her seat next to Shannon.

Shannon glared angrily at her, "He doesn't have the sense God gave a walnut. That bastard's ego is going to destroy us all."

"Don't you have any faith in his and Archer's plans?" Danielle asked sarcastically.

"Not one damn bit," Shannon said. "Megalomaniacs are notoriously short lived. They have absolutely no sense when it comes to the practical."

"Unlike your plan to frame my father?" Danielle asked.

"That wasn't entirely my plan," Shannon protested. "All I wanted to do was to get a little leverage over your old man. But, no, Archer had to blow it all out of proportion. I could have told him that the whole idea of taking over your precious little paper wasn't going to work. No, all I had in mind was a little bit of blackmail."

"My father would have never consented to blackmail . . . "

"It wouldn't have been for money, my dear," Shannon replied nastily. "All I wanted was to establish a nice little mutual non-aggression pact. We'd keep the film under wraps and your old man would keep the Green Hornet out of our hair."

"What does my father have to do with the Green Hornet?" Danielle asked.

Shannon frowned at the younger woman, "Please, my dear, don't play stupid with me. I know all about your family's little secret. When you know a man intimately as I have, you get to know all kinds of things."

Danielle turned away from Shannon to stare out the car window.

"Getting too uncomfortable for you?" Shannon said nastily. "No matter what happens tonight, I will still know what I know about your father."

"And you'll use that knowledge to get whatever you want," Danielle said thoughtfully, not turning to face Shannon.

"Of course," Shannon replied, "I use whatever I need to get whatever I want."

"So you don't really care at all about Mr. Archer or his plans."

"Only as far as they get me," Shannon admitted coldly, "And no further."

"And when he no longer serves your needs, or if somebody more powerful comes along, you'll discard him."

"Exactly," Shannon agreed, adding nastily, "Just like yesterday's news." Shannon tilted her head, studying Danielle's profile. She made a tsking noise, "My child, you are far too naive for your own good. That's the way of the world. There are always those who seek power, and we women," Shannon sighed dramatically, "Well, it's our sad fate to subject to their every whim. We have to do whatever is necessary to survive." Shannon reached over to pat Danielle's knee. "You'll see, my dear, you'll see." Then added with the same simpering smile, "If you live long enough."

Danielle turned to face Shannon, feeling a cold chill of fear run down her back, "You're nuts."

"No, my dear," Shannon replied, "Practical."

"What are we going to do with that gadget?" Stormy asked Britt as they followed his directions to downtown. They had left the black sports car in the alleyway and were now riding in Reid's Cadillac. Jacques was driving with Reid in the passenger seat beside him. Stormy was leaning against the back of Reid's seat, looking over his shoulder.

"Don't you think you should buckle up?" Britt asked her.

"I'm not twelve," Stormy reminded him testily.

"Mademoiselle," Jacques remarked, "I do not think anyone could mistake you for a twelve year old. However, perhaps Monsieur Reid is right. One never knows what might happen."

"Let me worry about it," Stormy said to the Frenchman, "Now about that gadget," she said to Britt, "How is that supposed to help us fight an army of Nazis and gangsters."

Britt slid a small button on the side of the golden box. A blinking green light came on as a soft beeping tone started filling the air. "It's a remote control for the Black Beauty," he explained, "As we get closer to it the tone will become more rapid and the light will blink faster . . . "

"And once we get close enough to the car?" Stormy asked.

"That'll depend on the situation. The Black Beauty is fully armed including rockets and sleeping gas."

"But how will a single car help us fight an army?"Stormy asked, "This isn't the 60's you know. Those guys will have things like rocket launchers and stuff. Your car will be toast if it gets hit by one of those."

"I'm not intending to fight an army," Britt answered, "All I want to do is use the Beauty to create a diversion. It'll give us a chance to free the others."

"And then?"

"And then we're going after Archer and Hakenkrueze."

"What about the army?"

"I'm hoping that Cheung and Scanlon will be able to mobilize enough people to take care of them."

"It's hopeless," Stormy commented grimly.

"Maybe, but if we get Archer and Hakenkrueze I think it'll be a safe bet that their army will stand down."

"I don't know," Stormy said, "I just don't know."

"Do you have any better ideas?" Britt asked her pointedly.

Stormy shook her head. "No," she said regretfully.

"What about you?" Britt demanded of Jacques.

Jacques shrugged, "Non, monsieur. I have no better ideas." A small tight smile slid across his handsome face, "I am only here to serve at your pleasure. Tell me what you need to be done, and I will do it."

Britt's brows rose at Jacques remark, "And if you decide differently?"

"You will be the first to know." Catching Britt's frown of disapproval, Jacques added, "Circumstances change. One must be flexible. Sometimes one's plans must be changed as the situation demands."

"Does that include on whose side you're on?" Britt demanded.

"Non," Jacques said, "I am always on my side."

"What about mine?" Britt asked.

Jacques glanced away from the road ahead of them. He grew very serious. "Your side will be always be mine, mon Pere." he added very quietly. "It is a matter of blood and honor."

Britt blinked a few times as he took in the meaning of Jacques' words. He turned his eyes to the golden box in his hands, "Good," he said in a low voice.

"Uh . . . " Stormy said to Jacques, "Does that mean that you and him . . . "

"It is a long story, Mademoiselle Stormy," Jacques smiled to lighten the mood, and added, "Perhaps over a glass of wine and dinner, I will explain it to you, if you permit."

"Yeah, sure," Stormy said as she sat back into her seat. It was a night of a lot of surprises for her. Maybe too much to take in at one time.

"Monsieur Reid," Jacques said to Britt as the beeping sound became more rapid, "I think we are hotter, oui?"

At the staging area few blocks north of the Global Commerce Center Colonel Jefferson Heinrich paced impatiently in front of his armored Humvee at the corner of 16th and Lakeview. "Colonel Heinrich," said one of his men after giving him a stiff armed salute, "Buske has not yet arrived, sir."

Heinrich snapped a return salute, then replied, "I would have been surprised if he had been on time. Inferiors like him have no discipline whatsoever. That is why we are the superior race. The final victory has already been foreordained to be ours."

"Then why are we using them?" his man asked.

Heinrich frowned darkly, "Are you questioning your superiors?"

"No, sir," the man rapidly replied, cringing inwardly at his error, "I only wish to understand our glorious leader's plan. So that I might follow its design without error."

"Of course," Heinrich answered, not mollified, already planning on making sure that the man would be on the front lines of the attack. "It's quite simple. Inferiors like Buske's gang and the others will create havoc and destruction, acting as canon fodder to draw the fire of the police and the attention of the public. At the proper moment we will move in, kill any surviving gang members and thus be hailed as the city's saviors while showing the failure of the police and through them the failure of the city's elected officials. Thus will the 6th Reich begin," he said finishing grandly, overtaken by his own eloquence.

He frowned seeing that his man, instead of being properly impressed was staring past him in shock. A harsh voice growled in his ear as he felt the cold steel of a pistol muzzle press against his neck, "I kinda of figured that was your plan, soldier-boy."

Heinrich spun around finding himself glaring into Husky's uncanny blue-white eyes. Behind the motorcycle gang leader was a massive black man who dwarfed the flannel jacketed Hispanic man and a nattily dressed oriental standing next to him. Husky grinned, "I guess we ain't as inferior as you thought."

"Pig!" Heinrich screamed, struggling to pull his gun out of his holster. "Attack!"

Husky slapped him down with the butt of his gun. Heinrich scrambled to his knees. A shot past his ear stopped his grasping for his gun. "Put your hands up nice 'n' easy," Husky sneered, "Or you'll find out how hard it is to hear without an ear. Now put your hands up," he gritted as he motioned with his gun.

"So, guys," he said to the men behind him, "Convinced?"

"Damn right," the black man answered as the others nodded.

The oriental was already speaking into the cell phone in his hand. Gunfire started erupting a few streets down. "The trap has been sprung on the trapper," the oriental said grimly.

The Hispanic and black man nodded their agreement before heading to their own cars. More gunfire started filling the chilly night air. Husky turned his attention to Heinrich's man who had raised his arms in surrender. "You got a line to Hakenkrueze?"

"Yes," the man answered, motioning with a nod to the walkie-talkie at his hip.

Unaware of the battle on the opposite side of the Global Commerce Center Major Schmidt watched uneasily as the Black Beauty was unloaded from the trailer. He should have been feeling the thrill of satisfaction of a well-executed plan coming together. Everything that Hakenkrueze and the APP had been working on for so many years was finally coming to fruition. The gleaming new eagles on his shoulders were a sign that they no longer had to hide in the shadows like some foolishly childish cult. All their war games, all their drills and practices had come to an end. Tonight it was for real. As real as the sword that he had taken as a trophy from the Chinese woman.

Yet, he did not feel that victory was within reach as the Green Hornet, his man, the D.A.'s son and the Chinese woman were herded out of the armored car. They were taken to the mouth of a parking garage. The garage was guarded by one of their Red Knight men. It was filled with the cars of people who come to the center for the Spring Festival. The Black Beauty would be driven into the garage to be found later with the Green Hornet and the others in the rubble after the explosives set in the garage had gone off.

The Green Hornet glanced at Schmidt as he passed and then at the Black Beauty. No words were spoken, but Schmidt knew that the masked man had not yet acknowledged his defeat. Schmidt caught himself feeling that victory was still far from being assured.

Schmidt's uneasy thoughts were interrupted by the big, black car purring to a stop a few feet in front of him. The driver stepped out and saluted him with a precise snap of an upraised fist and snap click of the heels. Schmidt returned the salute, making sure that it was as precise as the lower-ranking man's. It wouldn't do for a superior officer to look sloppy. One never knew who reported what to whom.

Walking slowly around the powerful car, his fingers touching its smooth metal surface, Schmidt felt saddened by the thought that it would soon be destroyed as part of their plan to blame the night's coming havoc on the Green Hornet. It would have made a grand prize of war, he thought, but like all of them, it was merely something to be used and consumed ruthlessly, a pawn in the larger, grander scheme of things.

Suddenly Schmidt jumped back in alarm as the car's engine revved up in a dragon-like roar. There was no one at the wheel, but the car started moving forward. Schmidt ran for driver's side door and tried to pull it open. He couldn't, it was locked. The car continued to roll slowly forward, passing the armored car, until it came to a stop. Schmidt's surprise turned to wide-eyed panic. The car's parking lights folded down to reveal twin banks of rockets.

"Run!" Schmidt screamed at the men in the armored personnel carrier parked across from the Black Beauty.

Too late. A pair of rockets flashed out in a blaze of blinding light, skimming a path for the carrier. Men scattered as the rockets struck the carrier. Schmidt dove for cover as people began firing in retaliation at the black car. Bullets hit the car, but bounced uselessly off. Schmidt covered his head and ran for the armored car as ricochets off the bulletproof car bit at the asphalt near his feet. Men were running everywhere. What had once been a well-ordered exercise had turned into utter chaos.

"Stop firing!" he screamed into his walkie-talkie. Stand down! You're shooting at our own people!" He received no answer, just static.

Schmidt dodged and nearly tripped as a man running near him screamed and fell, struck down by a bullet fired by one of their own. Barely recovering his balance, Schmidt nearly lost it again when he found himself staring in the Chinese girl's grim, dark eyes. "You have something of mine," she hissed.

Schmidt gaped in his amazement, all thought of the bullets flying around him completely forgotten. It was like they were caught in a gap in time where only the two of them existed. "How, how," he sputtered, "How did you get free?"

A small, tight smile grew across the woman's face, as she held up still intact plastic "Did you really think such things would be able to bind one such as I; one to whom even walls are not a barrier?" She nodded at the sword hanging at Schmidt's side. "Give it to me."

Schmidt gingerly pulled the sword out of the scabbard he had jury-rigged out of rope and handed it to the woman. The last thing he saw was the glimmer of sword's gleaming steel in her dark eyes as it sliced through him. With a small gasp of protest, Schmidt slid to the ground, sliced in two as neatly as a hot knife through cheese.

"Nice job," the Green Hornet growled sarcastically as he came up to Hui Ying. "You should have at least given a him a chance . . . "

"To do what?" she demanded, "To shoot us in the back?" She snorted derisively, "Your softness with your opponents will kill you."

"How many deaths are enough?" he answered. "How many can your soul endure until there are so many that their mere weight will drag you down to hell?"

"I am going to hell, anyway," Hui Ying answered as she placed her sword into its sheath behind her back, "At least I will have an honor guard to accompany me there."

A Nazi uniformed body went flying past them as Kato landed on his feet as neatly as a ballerina. "You mind discussing philosophy somewhere else?" he gasped before turning to high kick another attacker.

Somebody had gotten word out to stop firing, so that bullets were no longer flying around them, but Schmidt's men had recovered enough from their initial panic to realize that their captives were getting away. Kato had taken out those closest to them, but others were on their way.

"Get these damned things off me!" Kato demanded of Hui Ying as he turned around, showing his still bound hands, "We have to get out of here before more of these guys show up!"

"No," Hui Ying answered, "I think not." She grabbed Tommy who had been waiting in the garage's open doorway, not knowing what to do next. "I have what I came for. I have no more need for you."

"Wait, Hui Ying," Kato shouted at her retreating back, "Cut us loose."

Hui Ying turned and paused. "Be thankful that I do not cut you in two," she replied coldly before turning away. Tommy paused for a moment, mournfully regarding them, but turned away without a word at Hui Ying's urging.

"Forget her," the Green Hornet said as he knelt next to Schmidt's body. "I think I can grab his knife." With his hands tied behind his back, the Green Hornet struggled for the ceremonial dagger at the Nazi's side. His fingers slipped in the Major's blood as he tried to pull the knife out of its scabbard.

"Hurry!" Kato urged. More of the Nazis were heading for them.

"I'm trying," the Green Hornet answered through clenched teeth. He had the knife out of the scabbard, but the blood-covered hilt slipped in his gloved fingers.

"We're running out of time . . . " Bullets zinged over their heads.

As if in answer to an unspoken prayer, a green gas started coming out of the front of the Black Beauty.

"Looks like we have an angel watching over us," the Green Hornet remarked tersely. Finally the tip of his fingers caught under the dagger's ivory hilt, "Just a bit more . . . , Got it!" the Green Hornet said. "Get closer," he said to Kato, as holding the dagger precariously in his hand.

Some of the Nazis had fallen unconscious from the Black Beauty's Hornet gas, but others were keeping their distance, deciding that it was better to fire into the thick fog instead of trying physically to recapture their prisoners.

Kato gave a light cough. The rising wind was starting to blow the green gas back toward them. "You almost have it," he said as he felt the dagger's blade bite into the strong plastic encircling his wrists. Finally pieces of plastic fell free.

Kato grabbed the dagger from the Green Hornet and sliced quickly through his bonds. He was starting to feel the effects of the sleeping gas and could see that it was affecting the Green Hornet as well.

"We have to get to the car," the Green Hornet said, as he shakily rose to his feet.

Kato nodded, feeling the ground sway under his feet.

The Black Beauty's front and back doors opened as they came to them. Kato was barely aware of sliding behind the wheel or the fact that the doors closed on their own as soon as they were in.

Kato was not even aware of how he had managed to turn on the interior blowers, but their soft hiss told him that they were scrubbing the air of the green sleeping gas. It took several moments for the gas to clear and for the supplemental oxygen system to overcome its effects.

"How do you feel?" the Green Hornet asked, as Kato felt his head slowly start to clear.

"Okay," Kato replied. Then shook his head, still trying to get the fog out from behind his eyes. "I think."

"How's your head?" the Green Hornet asked.

"It feels like somebody's been using it for a bass drum. Just like yours."

The Green Hornet nodded his agreement.

"Why didn't that side effect ever get taken care of?" Kato asked the Green Hornet.

"It helps people remember the Green Hornet. I guess."

"Yeah, right."

"I've heard that you develop a resistance to it after a while."

"How long?"

"Damned if I know."

Kato sighed, shook his head again, then stopped. It hurt too much. "Where are we going?" he asked as he put the Black Beauty into gear.

"Archer's yacht. That's where he and Hakenkrueze will be," the Green Hornet replied.

"Why do you think they will be there?" Kato asked curiously.

"Archer's nuts enough to want to see the attack on the Global Commerce Center with his own eyes. I can't think of a better place than from his yacht in the GCC marina."

Kato nodded his agreement. "Sounds about right," he commented. "What about our 'angel'?"

The Green Hornet's eyes searched the buildings near them as the Black Beauty moved past the harmless gunfire of what few Nazis were still standing. "I think he can take care of himself."

A small smile grew across Kato's face, "Yeah, I think you're right."

Under his breath, the Green Hornet said with a smile, "Thanks, Dad." Then the smile disappeared as he focused on the road ahead of him. "Be careful, Old Man."

On a fire escape of one of the buildings nearby, Britt turned off the remote control with a sigh of satisfaction and placed it in an inner pocket of his coat.

"Nice gadget," Stormy remarked as she and Jacques followed Britt down the fire escape.

"Thanks," Britt replied.

"Where to now?" she asked.

Britt regarded the Black Beauty as it drove off. "Home. They can handle it from here."

"What about Dani?" Jacques asked.

"You said that Shannon De la Culebra was supposed to meet Archer at his yacht . . . "

"Oui."

"And likely she will have Dani with her . . . "

"Most likely," Jacques agreed. "But the Green Hornet will not know that."

"But I did notice as we climbed down the fire escape that the Black Beauty is heading for the marina," Britt answered. "He has already figured that's where he's going to find Archer."

"But still . . . ," Jacques began insistently.

Britt paused and turned to Jacques with a tired sigh, "What can we do that they can't? They have the car, the weapons . . . " Britt hesitated for a moment. "We'd only be in the way. Besides I'm sure by now Frank and Cheung have alerted everybody. It's best if we head home."

Jacques looked at Stormy as Britt bent to unlock his car door. She shook her head. She no more liked turning away from the center of action than he did. Aloud she said to Britt, "I guess, at some point, you have to trust him to do the job."

"At some point, yes," Britt said, pausing before he got into the car.

"We could at least watch from the sidelines," Stormy suggested helpfully, "Everybody needs to have their back watched."

"Monsieur Archer is a most devious man," Jacques said. "The watched do not necessarily need to know that they are being watched." he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

The storm that had been threatening all evening had finally arrived in all its fury. The rain was coming down in blinding sheets while festival-goers were trying to escape to their cars that had been parked several blocks away from the plaza.

A police car with its siren wailing and lights flashing, splashed by the Black Beauty in the heavy downpour without taking note of the big car. Another came close on its bumper, also not noticing the Black Beauty.

"Looks like they got the word out," the Green Hornet commented. "We could have been a parade float and they wouldn't have noticed."

Kato remained silent. The Green Hornet continued, "We're not going to be able to get very close to the plaza. Not with all of this traffic. I hope you're up to getting soaked to the skin."

Seeming to be lost in thought, Kato still did not say a word

"I heard that they're launching the first pig sty into space tomorrow . . . " the Green Hornet remarked.

"Wha . . . ?" Kato said, disturbed out of his thoughts.

"Is it the traffic or something else?" the Green Hornet ventured.

"The traffic . . . " Kato started.

"Really?" The Green Hornet asked, "Or is it Hui Ying?"

Kato sighed. "Hui Ying," he admitted reluctantly. "I can't believe the change that came over her. It was like she was an entirely different person. The Hui Ying I knew was funny, care free and . . . "

"Loving?" the Green Hornet suggested.

Kato shrugged. "Well, we never quite got that far . . . "

"But there was always that hope . . . "

"Yeah. Eventually. Maybe. But this Hui Ying. She's like some kind of super assassin. She was colder than a block of ice. She would have killed any one of us, including Tommy without a second thought if her mission, whatever the hell that is, required it. The Hui Ying I knew . . . "

"Did you really ever know her?"

"Maybe not. But why was she here in the first place? She showed up a long time before this whole mess started, so she had some reason for being here."

"What about her trying to get you to China . . . "

"She said some kind of nonsense about me being the last heir to the Chinese royal throne. She wanted me to lead some kind of revolution against the communists. Was that all for real? Was that her real mission or was it something else?"

The Green Hornet nodded thoughtfully. "I can see now why you're quiet." He studied Kato's reflection in the rear view mirror, "The change in personality is one thing . . . "

"But what her real game is . . . "

"Yeah," the Green Hornet continued, "What her real game is. That's what bothers me, now that you mention it. We may not have seen the last of her."

"Rescuing Tommy was only a side track . . . "

The Green Hornet nodded again, then said, "Think you could handle her if it came down to it?"

"I don't know." Kato sighed, then shook his head. "I've trained in martial arts all my life. My father taught me everything from every discipline he knew, and not just the Chinese stuff either. He believed in using any skill no matter no matter where it came from. He figured anything could be useful in a given situation."

"But Hui Ying . . . ?"

"She's learned an entirely different way. I've heard of the Lin Kuei. They start very young and those who live to adulthood are very, very good."

"And deadly?"

"Very. If I had to fight Hui Ying it'd be a fight to the death."

"Yours or hers . . . "

"Right."

The Green Hornet was quiet for a few moments as he thought over Kato's answers. The weather outside was getting worse. If that was possible. Finally he said, "We'll take care of tonight. If we succeed, we'll worry about Hui Ying. If we fail," he shrugged. "We won't be in any shape to worry about anything else."

"We could let the cops take care of Archer and Hakenkrueze," Kato suggested.

"No, they could slip out while the cops are busy rounding up Hakenkrueze's men."

"And you want to take care of them personally . . . "

"Damn right," the Green Hornet admitted.

"Me too."

"Maybe you're right," Stormy said watching the rain pour down. They could barely see their way. The windshield wipers on Britt's Cadillac were useless as the rain poured out of the night sky. Every once in a while they could see coruscating police lights as a police cruiser splashed by them, but otherwise they could have been under water for all that they could see out of their windows. "Maybe we should head back to your house," she continued. "The police should be able to take care of Hakenkrueze's men."

"And the Green Hornet?" Jacques asked.

"I would think that he'd have enough sense to stay out of the rain and head home," Stormy replied, "There's no way Hakenkrueze and Archer can leave town now. The airport's sure to be shut down in this weather and there's no way he can sail out of here."

"He'd be a fool to try," Britt said as he fought to keep his car from swerving on the rain-soaked road. "The Great Lakes are legendary for the number of ships that have gone down in late spring storms. Entire coalers have sunk without a ripple. His yacht wouldn't have a chance."

A sudden streak of lightning and thunder punctuated his words. "Perhaps, Monsieur Reid, you are right," Jacques said, "It would be best to head back to your house."

"Weather's dampening your spirits, too?" Britt asked, momentarily taking his eyes off the road.

Jacques' reply was drowned out by Stormy's cries of "Watch out!" when a huge black bulk appeared in front of them.

Years of practice saved them from plowing into a disabled Humvee that had buried itself into the side of a building. All the same the heavy Cadillac rocked back and forth on its wheels as Britt forced it out of a severe skid. They finally came to a stop in front of three uniformed figures.

"Out!" demanded a man in military style all weather gear.

Holding their hands up, Britt, Jacques and Stormy stepped out of the car and into the rain, getting immediately soaked to the skin, especially Stormy who had only dressed in a light sweater. One of the soldiers leered at her with hungry eyes. "What do you want?" Britt demanded pressing himself between the soldier and Stormy.

"Your car. We're commandeering it," said one of the men who sported Nazi-style eagles on his raincoat.

"Maybe some female company, too," sneered the man who had leered at Stormy. "After all, what better way to get warm after a little rain."

The officer's eyes slid up and down Stormy's abundant figure as a slow grin spread across his face.

"What better way for a bunch of losers to make themselves feel better after they've made a mess of things," Britt gritted.

Glaring at Britt, the officer pressed his pistol under Britt's chin, "Big talk," he growled, "Let's see how big you talk with a bullet in your brain."

"I do not believe that Le General would appreciate you killing the very man he would want to see this night," Jacques interrupted.

The officer's eyes narrowed, "All I see is a wet dog who's making too much noise." His finger tightened on the trigger. "We all know what happens to a dog who barks too much."

"I would not want to be in your shoes when Le General finds out that you have killed Monsieur Britt Reid," Jacques persisted, "I do not think he would be much pleased. Non?"

"Reid . . . " the officer said thoughtfully. Then making up his mind, he said, "All right, you, Big Talker, get in the car. As for these two," he turned, aiming his pistol at Jacques.

Britt shoved against the officer, spilling him into ankle-deep water. "Run!" he yelled to Jacques and Stormy.

Jacques grabbed Stormy, pulling her at a run up the street past the disabled Humvee. One of the soldiers slammed the butt of his machine gun into the back of Britt's skull, sending him to his knees.

"No!" the officer shouted before the soldier could fire. "Hold. We'll take him to Hakenkrueze. Whether he's really the guy the Frog's talking about or not, I don't envy him after Hakenkrueze gets his hands on him."

"What about those two?"

"Who cares?" the officer bit out, "They're nothing but small fry." He caught the disappointed look of the other soldier, "Forget her, you'll find plenty of willing women in South America."

Thinking that the Nazis were in hot pursuit behind them, Stormy and Jacques ran blindly for several blocks. Finally Stormy came to a stop, "I can't run anymore," she gasped out, holding her side in pain, "It's too damn cold and too damn wet.

Jacques bent over, trying to catch his breath, "I do not think, Mademoiselle Stormy, that they are behind us."

"They gave up?" she said in disbelief.

"Non. I think they did not chose to chase us."

"You mean we ran all that way for nothing!" Stormy demanded angrily.

"It was hard to tell. I did not know what they would do."

"Damn!" Stormy said, shoving rain soaked hair out of her eyes. She looked back the way they came. "We have to do something. Reid's in danger."

Jacques wearily leaned his back against a brick wall. "What do you suggest? Do you know where we are?" he asked.

Stormy reluctantly shook her head.

"Do you know where they are?"

Again Stormy shook her head.

"Mon cheri," Jacques said reasonably, "We are too cold, too wet and too tired, to do ourselves or Monsieur Reid any good." He grinned broadly, noticing that the neon sign above their heads was for a hotel. "Might I suggest a warm bath, thick terry robes, a roaring fire, and a tall flute of champagne?"

Stormy stared open mouthed in disbelief at the Frenchman.

"Take care, mon cheri, I have heard that you can drown if you keep your mouth open in the rain too long.

"But . . . " Stormy began. "How can you joke at a time like this?"

Jacques gently touched Stormy's elbow, lightly heading her toward the hotel's front door, "What else can we do? Life goes on. I know that Monsieur Reid is a survivor. He will succeed. Have no doubt about that."

Sighing tiredly, Stormy knew that Jacques was right, but worse she also knew she was falling under his none too subtle charm. "But what about this hotel?" she asked, "This is a five star hotel. They'll never let us in looking like this," she protested.

Jacques pulled out a credit card, "Mon cheri, you forget the power of Le plastique."

Stormy allowed herself to match his smile, "I hope you have a high limit, I plan on maxing it out."

Jacques laughed. "Anything for you, mon cheri. Just ask." He bowed. "Your wish is my command."

Hakenkrueze angrily threw the cell phone across the yacht's salon. It hit the wall, shattering into tiny pieces.

"Did that make you feel better?" Archer dryly commented.

"No!" Hakenkrueze screamed at him. "I won't feel better until I wring your scrawny little neck! First those brainless gangsters double-cross us, then not only does the Green Hornet escapes but several of our men get killed in the process. And now this . . . "

"Temper, temper . . . " Archer tutted, "You should really learn to control your anger. It's very bad for your health."

"Health?!" Hakenkrueze, "Working with you has been bad for my health. I never should have agreed to work with you."

"You didn't have a choice," Archer replied pointedly. "You were a one-armed failure when the Millennium Group approached you with the offer of a partnership."

"Something I never should have agreed to . . . "

Archer looked over his glasses at Hakenkrueze, "You received the most advanced artificial limb yet designed, plus a most handsome compensation package . . . "

"Something that I will never have to chance to use now that your blundering has caused the collapse of all our plans."

"Excuse me? My blundering?"

"Yes, your blundering. You dismissed Sprite's defection as of no importance at all. You said he was unimportant. That he had no way of accessing your plans. Well, you were god damn wrong! That last call was from my explosives teams. The police are finding every single explosive they planted at the Global Commerce Center. They said it was just like the police were following a road map. A road map they got from your computer."

"Impossible," Archer said, suddenly afraid, "There's no way that they could have broken through my security system . . . "

"They did, you fool. With Sprite's help, of course. What the hell was the idea of putting it on a networked system anyway?"

"It was impregnable," Archer murmured, "It couldn't have been hacked into. Someone must have talked. Somebody who knew all our plans."

"No one knew all our plans. No one except you and me. I didn't talk. Did you?"

"Me? Of course not."

"Then Sprite hacked into your so-called impregnable system."

"Then that means . . . " Archer fell bonelessly into a chair. "Oh my god . . . "

"How much did you have on your computer?"

"Everything . . . " Archer said weakly, "Everything including all the plans about the Millennium Group. Oh, my god . . . they know everything."

Hakenkrueze pulled Archer by the lapels of his coat. "Why the hell did you do it?" he demanded. "Why did you keep a record?"

"It was for the sake of history. People in the future would want to know. They had to know what we did; how much we did in service to humankind."

"So you could what? Be called a hero? A god?"

"History . . . " Archer said, picking at the metallic fingers of Hakenkrueze's bionic arm, "It was to make sure that history credited us for our deeds."

"Fool! The only credit history will give us now is for the sheer scope of our failure."

"We can start again. All is not lost," Archer pleaded, "I have money in bank accounts all over the world. My supporters will understand. They know that this was only a minor set back. We can recover."

"Not with me, Archer. I've had enough of your Machiavellian plans. I'm a soldier. I fight. I'm sick of you and yours." Hakenkrueze turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Archer demanded.

"Away," Hakenkrueze answered bitterly, "As far away as I and my men can get."

"You can't," Archer protested, "I need you and your men."

"I don't care," Hakenkrueze bit off. "You're on your own."

"Look, once we get into Canada, we'll regroup . . . " Archer persisted, pulling on Hakenkrueze's arm.

Hakenkrueze swatted the billionaire away from him with as little effort as hitting a fly. Archer stayed where he landed as Hakenkrueze turned his back to leave. "You'll pay," Archer muttered under his breath, careful that Hakenkrueze didn't hear him.

Hakenkrueze turned around slowly, his glare telling Archer that he had heard. For the first time the billionaire fell the cold chill of fear as the Nazi faced him, his metal hand opening and closing into a fist.

"Sir," said one of Hakenkrueze's men as he snapped a precise salute. "Two of our men have returned with a prisoner."

"What the hell do I want with a prisoner?" Hakenkrueze growled angrily.

"They said his name was Britt Reid."

"Reid!" Hakenkrueze said. "Kill him."

Hakenkrueze quickly changed his mind, "No. Wait. Bring him in. I'll at least have the pleasure of him killing myself," he said, pulling out his pistol.

"Wait," Archer said, placing a hand on Hakenkrueze's. He quickly removed it under Hakenkrueze's glare. "Reid," he continued, "Might be useful. We can use him as a bargaining chip. Our freedom for his."

"I have no intention of being in the position where I will need to bargain with anyone," Hakenkrueze answered.

"As sure of yourself as ever," Reid remarked dryly. Even though his hands were tied and he was soaked to the skin, Britt still managed to look confidently assured.

Hakenkrueze raised his pistol and pointed it between Britt's eyes. "Have any last words?" he demanded.

Britt cooly looked him in the eyes. "At least I lived long enough to see all of your plans fail."

Hakenkrueze's finger tightened on the trigger.

"Hakenkrueze," Archer said tautly, "Put the gun down."

"Make me." Hakenkrueze's finger tightened.

A blast reverberated through the air.

For a moment Britt couldn't believe he was alive. Hakenkrueze roared clasping his ear. Blood trickled thinly through his fingers. "Archer! You idiot! I'm going to kill you!"

"Not today. Not ever," Archer said, holding a pistol in his hands. "And if I ever see you again, I'll kill you on the spot," he threatened.

"You don't have the balls for it. You only did it this time because my back was turned."

Archer pointed his pistol at Hakenkrueze. "Your back's not turned now. You want to try me?"

Hakenkrueze's jaw worked as he thought, then decided that the odds were against him. "This isn't over. You won't win next time."

"Get off my ship," Archer answered.

Hakenkrueze nodded at his men, then shooting another angry, defiant glare at the billionaire stalked out of the salon.

Archer glared out the window, watching Hakenkrueze stomping down the ship's gangway. The ship heaved with every footstep he made. Better off without the bastard anyway, Archer thought, absently placing his gun on a nearby end table, The man's too dangerous to have around.

Britt was momentarily forgotten as Archer's eyes narrowed as he thought of his future revenge against the Nazi. That was also something that the traitor Sam Sprite was going to find out as well, Archer thought, mentally adding the game designer to his enemies list.

His eyes fell on his captain who had arrived in response to his earlier orders, "Cast off!" he said to the captain, "I want to leave as soon as possible."

"But sir," the captain protested, "You can't possibly think of sailing tonight."

Archer shot a quick look outside the ship. A car had pulled up into the marina's parking lot. Shannon stepped out of it with Danielle in tow. At least she's now where I can keep an eye on her, Archer thought of the redhead.

"You can see for yourself that the storm is over. It's only drizzling very lightly now," he said to the captain, "In fact," he said, forcing a confident grin, "We're going to have ourselves a lovely moonlight sail."

"You don't understand, Mr. Archer," the captain explained, "This is only the calm before the storm picks up again. There's small craft warnings all up and down the coast. Nobody's sailing tonight. Even the big ships are staying in port. We won't have a chance when the eye of the storm passes by us."

"We will sail tonight," Archer said, "If we don't, I will make sure that you never sail again. Not even a rowboat. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," the captain replied, "I understand perfectly." Without another word he nodded and bowed before leaving the room.

"He's right," Britt said, "Only a fool would sail tonight."

Archer glared at him. "We sail tonight," he gritted, the tone of his voice leaving no room for argument.

Archer returned to watching Shannon. Standing in the open gate that led to Archer's private dock, she was arguing with Hakenkrueze. Hakenkrueze listened stonily Shannon's tirade, then without a comment or change in expression turned his back on her as if she didn't exist. Good riddance, Archer thought as he watched Hakenkrueze climb into the car that the red head had arrived in, I don't need him anyway.

Archer smiled at the way Shannon stomped up the gangway. It bounced under her feet almost as heavily as it did under Hakenkrueze's. "Archer!" he heard her voice long before she appeared in the salon. "Do you know what that muscle-headed creep did?"

"Let me guess," Archer said dryly. "He had his men take you here instead of letting you fly off for parts unknown."

"Well . . . yes . . . ," Shannon replied, her green eyes going crafty, "I thought it would be better to not be in town when the 'fireworks' started. After all, one never knows . . . "

"Right, one never knows when the whole thing will blow up in your face," Archer replied bitterly, "Which, as you might have noticed, has happened."

"Now, darling, I think you're making much ado about nothing. I'm sure there's a way we can work our way out of this," Shannon said with cloying confidence, "You know a lot of people in high places. People who owe you. Just pull a few strings. Blame Hakenkrueze. Say that he forced you to do all these things. They'll buy that."

"Would you, my dear?" Archer asked Danielle who had retreated into her father's arms.

Danielle shook her head. "No."

"And you, Reid, would you?"

"Only an idiot would," Britt replied.

"Of course, they wouldn't," Shannon said, referring to Britt and Danielle, "Of all people to ask . . . "

"That's it, though, they know the truth. A lot of people do," Archer replied.

"Hmph," Shannon replied, "The truth can be remade any way you want it. Isn't that right, Britt?" she cooed at Britt, running a finger down his arm. Britt moved his arm away from her touch as if it was poison.

When she didn't get a reply, Shannon continued, "What would you do to keep your daughter safe?"

Britt thoughtfully looked down at Danielle.

Shannon smiled nastily. "You'd give your life for her, never mind sacrificing such a small thing as the truth. After all what is truth? It's just something everyone chooses to agree on. It can be remade, if everyone agrees that it is now the truth."

"No!" Danielle, cried out, "I won't be a party to your re-manufacturing reality to suit your evil plans. We have enough proof to make sure that both of you are put away for a very long time. All of your so-called friends are going to deny everything. They'll all turn their backs on you. There will be no one left. No one except for your lawyers and they'll only be there because you're paying them."

"And what about all your little family secrets?" Shannon replied. "Remember the truth can cut both ways."

Shaking his head, Britt replied, "No matter what happens, the real truth will come out. Even if it puts my family and me in danger, the truth about your mad schemes will still come out."

"How very brave," Shannon said cynically.

"And likely very true," Archer said in a defeated voice.

Shannon tossed her head in denial and picked up a cut glass wine bottle. "Where's the purser?" she demanded, "This bottle is empty."

"Ring for him," Archer said tersely. He turned to Danielle who had slid into a chair in front of Britt. "I hope you're looking forward to a midnight cruise."

"Who's going to be at the helm?" Danielle asked archly.

Archer frowned at her question. "The captain, of course."

"Oh," Danielle said with wide-eyed innocence, "You mean that man with the stripes who's heading off the ship with the rest of the crew?"

"What?" Archer shouted running for the window. "The fools!"

"I guess they don't feel like a midnight cruise," Danielle said, "You're stuck. Both of you. The police should be here any minute."

"No!" Archer shouted, "This is not happening!"

"You don't know how to sail your own ship?" Shannon asked.

"Of course not. I have people I pay to do that."

"Of course," Danielle said, not helping, "You're screwed."

Archer looked up at Britt, "You have a ship . . . "

"A small one . . . "

"But you know how to sail larger ones, don't you?"

"Yes . . . "

"Then you will take us out."

"Not in this weather. It'd be suicide."

Archer picked up his pistol from where he had laid it down. He pointed it at Danielle's head. "You said you were willing to risk everything for the truth, even the lives of your family," he said. "Are you now willing to see her die because you're afraid to take this ship out?"

"Let her off the ship and I'll take you out," Britt replied without a moment's thought.

Archer smiled triumphantly. "Of course. As long as I have your word."

Britt nodded. "You have my word."

"Dad, you can't," Danielle pleaded, rising to face her father. "You just said it yourself. It'd be suicide to go out in this weather. You can't possibly make it to Canada."

Britt grasped her shoulders, "Don't worry about me. I'm a very good sailor."

"But . . . " Danielle protested fearfully.

Britt tenderly kissed the top of her head, "It's for the best sweetheart. Tell your mother I love her. And stand by your brother. I know he'll carry on. Help him any way you can."

Danielle started crying. "No, no, no."

Archer grasped her elbow, leading Danielle out of the salon and off the ship, he said, "Don't worry. We'll release your father once we're safe."

"You don't understand," Danielle shouted up at Archer as the gangway was pulled into the ship. "He doesn't plan on reaching Canada," she added very softly under her breath.

Archer watched the stricken girl from the dry luxury of the salon. Shannon stood next to him, nursing the glass of whisky she had poured from a bottle she had found in the liquor cabinet. "We're off," he said confidently to her. He smiled at her. "You know your idea doesn't sound half bad. There's always a way out."

"Yeah," Shannon replied. "Strange thing, though . . . "

"What?"

"That pistol of yours doesn't have any bullets in it."

At the ship's helm, Britt pulled bullets out of his pocket. He looked at them thoughtfully before tossing them out the window. The bullets sunk into the unforgiving waves, small pieces of metal added to tons that already littered the lake bed.

The yacht started to pull slowly away from the dock. The wind was starting to pick and white caps were forming on the waves as the ship cut through them. The night darkened sky was heavy with clouds pregnant with lightning that skipped from thunder head to thunder head.

"Dani," came a soft voice from behind her. Danielle turned to see the Green Hornet standing behind her. Kato stood back a few paces behind him, looking uncertainly at the yacht as it slowly headed for open water through the heaving waves. For a few moments she allowed herself to think that her father had been able to escape from the doomed yacht, but the grey eyes behind the mask told her that the green masked man was John, not her father.

"Dad's on Archer's yacht," Danielle said in a dead voice. "He's not planning on coming back." Her voice broke as she buried her head against her brother's chest.

Rain was starting to fall again, but none of them cared. They could only watch in horrified fascination. Past the breakwater, the luxurious yacht plowed through ever increasing waves. Lightning flashed across the sky, making the ship glow white as if lit with a spectral light. For a moment it crested one wave only to plunge down out of sight. They held their breaths, waiting for the ship to reemerge. It did for a moment, heading North the coast, luminescent against the black water and the black sky.

Lightning struck the earth, momentarily blinding them. Slowly vision returned, but only to reveal the world covered in ebon last night and cold, shuddering rain. John's eyes strained for a hint of the yacht. "Maybe they're too far out for us to see . . . " he said more his sake than his sister's.

Another bolt of lightning sped across the sky, and everything was lit as a brightly as day. "There!" Lee shouted, pointing at a brave white speck against the heaving waves.

The ship rose up delicately balanced upon a wave. Suddenly another wave rose higher, clasping the ship in a jealous grasp. Darkness crashed down only to be lit up again. The yacht was no where to be seen.

"Maybe it's out of sight," Danielle said hopefully.

"Yeah," John answered. "Don't worry. You know Dad. He's a survivor." He turned Danielle away from the lake. "Let's go home," he said, nodding to Lee, who turned to go. "I'm sure we'll get a call tomorrow morning from some Mountie telling us that Dad has Archer and De la Culebra trussed up like Thanksgiving turkeys."

"You're fools if you believe that," Hakenkrueze growled. "The old man's dead. So's Archer and the woman." He spat at the ground, "Good riddance."

John pressed Danielle behind him. "Why don't you crawl back into whatever hole you came out of," he said. "You're finished."

"No, I'm not finished. Not by a long shot," Hakenkrueze answered. "I knew as soon as I saw you two," he said nodding toward the Green Hornet and Kato, "that I had to return. There is still unfinished business between us."

"Could it also be because the police now have the entire area cordoned off? There's no way you can escape now," the Green Hornet said.

Hakenkrueze grimaced, then spat out a curse, "That De la Culebra only made it through because one of the men manning the barricades recognized her as being with Archer. By the time I tried to get out, he was gone. They aren't allowing anyone in or out now." A triumphant gleam came into the Nazi cold eyes. "I may be trapped," he admitted, "But so are you." A nasty grin spread across his face as the thin wail of police sirens pierced the air. "Time to go. Isn't it? That's the way it always is with the Green Hornet. As soon as the cops arrive, the Green Hornet disappears." Hakenkrueze mimed a stricken look, "But you're not the Green Hornet, are you? You're nothin' but a pale imitation. The real Green Hornet's dead . . . "

"Shut up, you bastard," John growled.

"You going to make me, little man?" Hakenkrueze glanced at Lee, "Or are you going to have your man do it for you?"

"No," John said in a very low, deadly voice, "I'm going to take care of you myself."

"Try," Hakenkrueze goaded, "See if you can do it, imitation hornet."

John circled warily around the Nazi who grinned wolfishly back at him. "You have a lot of confidence for a man who's been defeated twice by a man twice his age," John needled. "How did it feel for a member of the master race to be beaten by an old man?"

Hakenkrueze growled back, "Did you like what I did to that girl's boyfriend? He begged me to stop. He cried like a baby while I ripped him apart like he was so much rotten meat. That's what I'm going to do to you. And to your entire family including your mother and pretty little sister. I only wish I was facing the real Green Hornet instead of an inferior copy."

John could feel the hot rush of blood behind his eyes, but forced himself to remain calm. "What are you waiting for then?" he needled, "Why don't you try it? Or are you afraid? Afraid that the entire world will see you for what you really are."

"What am I?" Hakenkrueze pressed, coming nearer to John as they circled.

Lightning flashed, closely trailed by a thunder clap. John leaped for Hakenkrueze carrying him down with him to the ground. He slammed a fist into the Nazi's face, breaking his nose.

Hakenkrueze twisted mightily, throwing John away from him like a boar tossing a stubborn terrier. Shaking his head, while smearing the blood dripping from his nose with a careless backhanded motion. "First blood is yours. Fool's luck."

John barely had enough time to regain his balance before Hakenkrueze had him in a back breaking bear hug. Black spots danced before John's eyes while in the background he could hear Danielle screaming as Lee held her out of the fight. John smashed his head into the Nazi's, managing to bloody the Nazi's nose again.

With an angry roar, Hakenkrueze slammed John to the ground. Dizzy with a resounding headache and gasping for breath, John barely rolled out of the way as Hakenkrueze rammed a two-handed fist down at him. Missing his target, Hakenkrueze staggered and lost his balance. John body slammed Hakenkrueze in the knees, again knocking him to the ground. Hakenkrueze caught John in the chest with his feet, knocking the breath out of him, sending him crashing to the ground.

John pulled himself to his feet, jumping back barely in time as Hakenkrueze swung at him. He felt the sharp bite of steel across his stomach a moment after he saw the bright gleam of the neo-Nazi's blade. The cut was shallow, but deep enough to leave a thin line of blood in its wake. "Second blood's mine," Hakenkrueze wheezed through his shattered nose. "Hear that imitation hornet? Hear those police sirens? They're closer now. You're out of time."

Hakenkrueze swung his knife in a wide arc. John ducked under his swing, rising up with a powerful left into Hakenkrueze's stomach. The Nazi staggered a moment, grinned, then smashed a fist into John's face. John went flying under the force of the blow, landing with his back hard against a piling. The blow had been powerful enough to crack the nose piece of John's mask. His nose wasn't broken but a few drops of blood and blinding pain told him it was going to be very sore in the morning. If he lived.

Grinning, Hakenkrueze tossed his knife from hand to hand, flesh to metal, metal to flesh and back and again. "They're getting closer," he taunted. "Get to your feet and I'll promise you a clean death. At least then you won't see your family shamed when the truth comes out about the Green Hornet."

John shook his head, his mouth setting into a grim line. The sirens were too close now, they'd never get away . . . He felt the firm outlines of a boat bumper next to his right hand. Snatching the bumper by its nylon rope, he exploded to his feet, swinging the bumper around him. He struck Hakenkrueze square on, sending the knife flying into the air. He kept on slamming the bumper into Hakenkrueze, slamming and swinging it until the neo-Nazi fell to the ground.

John fell down on top of him, knees into his chest. A great whoof of air rushed out of Hakenkrueze's lungs. Blinded by anger, blinded by the knowledge that it was all ended; all because of the Nazi. John doubled the bumper's nylon ropes around Hakenkrueze's throat, continuing to throttle him as his face turned from red to purple.

"Kill him! Kill him!" Danielle screamed, tearing herself out of Lee's hands.

John looked up at her. "Kill him!" she screamed, "Dad's dead because of him! Kill him!" Danielle's hair was dripping in sodden ringlets around her face and her wet clothes hugged her slender, angrily erect body like a second skin. Blinded by grief, Danielle had become a valkyrie, a harpy, an angel of death demanding bloody retribution.

John loosed his hold on the ropes. He watched Hakenkrueze's face color start to return to normal. "You're not going to win," he said to the neo-Nazi. You might be able to turn the Green Hornet into a prisoner, but you'll never turn him into a murderer."

"Fool!" Hakenkrueze roared, smashing his metal hand into John's chest, slamming him hard to the ground. Stunned and exhausted, John tried to rise to his knees. Hakenkrueze raised his metallic arm, its steel flesh catching a stray glimmer from the new born sun breaking through the clouds of the slowly dying storm. Lightning still danced from grey cloud to grey cloud even though traces of rose peeked through gold touched edges.

"Fool!" Hakenkrueze repeated, raising his arm higher for the death blow, "Mercy is only for fools!"

Suddenly lightning licked out, striking Hakenkrueze's arm. His scream of agony as the electrical charge burned out his nerves of steel and flesh mingled with the growling clap of thunder. For a few minutes the world was pure white and bright grey. Finally everyone's vision returned only to be greeted by the ashen heap that had once been General Anthony Hakenkrueze, proud leader of the master race.

"John!" Danielle cried, running for her brother's arms, "I'm so sorry."

"That's okay, sis," he answered, taking her into his arms. "I know how you feel."

"Now what?" Lee asked, watching the police cars pull up near the entrance to the marina. "There's no way we can get past them."

John reluctantly pulled his mask off. Badly cracked, with the hornet symbol had nearly peeled off in the drenching rain, it had been formed to his father's features. Features he would never see again in this life. He sighed. "Give me your mask," he said to Lee.

Understanding, Lee pulled his mask off. Like John's, it had been formed to his father's face. He tenderly ran his fingers over the black plastic. It had fitted well, but not perfectly. The two men shared a look.

John threw his mask into the still restless waves. Lee's followed it. Slowly the masks floated away from the edge of the pier until they sunk out of sight.

John looked meaningfully at Lee and Danielle. "We're only John and Danielle Reid, and their friend, Lee. Victims of Archer's and Hakenkrueze's insanity." John said very softly as the police approached them.