Chapter One
Betting tickets littered the floor as people threw them in disgust after the horse race. What could have been a valuable possession had the proper horse crossed the finish line first quickly became refuse. The afternoon crowd dissipated, some going to collect winnings, some to hope for better luck on the next bet, and others who called it a day, either tired of losing or unwilling to push their luck any further.
Sid Scott sat in a private glass-enclosed suite situated above the crowd and perpendicular to the finish line. In his black business suit he was barely distinguishable from other businessmen in other suites. What did stand out was his smile. He was obviously on a winning streak. A notepad lay opened on the table amid half-filled wine glasses. Scott's smile grew wider after making calculations in the notepad. He smoothed his graying hair, almost in disbelief of the figures.
The ringing of the phone in the suite broke the silent jubilation. An associate dutifully answered. "Yeah?" The man was also dressed in a suit, but his tone and facial expression indicated he was unaccustomed to such attire.
"This is Dusty," the man on the other end of the phone said in a panting voice. "I need to talk to Mr. Scott."
"It's Blackwell," the man called, extending the phone toward Scott.
Scott raised his hand with an uninterested look as if he was shooing a fly. "What's he want?" he snarled, the joyous smile suddenly gone.
The man returned the phone to his ear. "What do you want?"
"Out," came the answer over the phone.
"Out?" the man repeated with a tone combining disbelief and laughter.
Scott bolted from his seat and snatched the phone from the other man's hand. "What do you mean," Scott growled into the phone so that the four words came out as one.
"I'm tired of this," the man on the other end of the line said in a whisper.
"Listen, Blackwell," Scott hissed, "I stand to make over two million dollars in the spring meet, half of that this weekend. That is depending on you to keep your end of the deal."
"But..."
"I don't appreciate people backing out on me," Scott said. "You've been paid for your services. You'd best deliver." Scott slammed the phone down before the man on the other end could answer.
"Trouble?" the man who had answered the phone asked.
Scott looked at the three men who occupied his private suite for a moment, then let his gaze move to the track outside. Horses were beginning to move toward the starting gate for the next race. "Could be," Scott mumbled. "We might need to persuade Blackwell to stay in our good graces, at least until the Sentinel Stakes this weekend." Scott paced the floor near the seat he had previously occupied. His three accomplices watched each step with nervous anticipation. "I think," Scott finally continued, "we need some leverage to make sure everything goes well this weekend."
Scott smiled at the three mean. All three were young, professionally dressed, and mean looking. The trio stood silently, ready to do Scott's bidding. "He'll be more cooperative if we were to talk..." He raised his eyebrows slightly and smiled as he uttered the word "talk." "...To his sister." His expression indicated more disgust than happiness. "Pick her up," he ordered.
Clouds thickened in the western sky, bringing an abrupt end to the early spring late afternoon sunshine. The light cloud cover that permitted occasional peeks of sun to filter through was quickly losing ground to the imposing storm clouds. In the far distance an occasional flash of lightning darted across the sky, an additional warning of what was to come.
The highway outside of town saw scant traffic. The cars that did occupy the road sped along with an urgency that indicated the drivers were more concerned about getting home ahead of the approaching storm than speed limits, unconcerned if a speed trap might be lying in wait. No police patrolled, however. The only eyes watching the road were situated behind two masks – one green and one black – from a well-concealed black car that looked as ominous as its two occupants and the thunderstorm clouds. A camera hovered over the road, beaming back pictures to a monitor in the car. The man in the back seat watched in silence. Finally the silence was broken by the low rumble of thunder still off in the distance but marching eastward uninhibited.
"Okay, Kato," the man in the green mask said, "call the scanner back. These improvements work fine. We need to beat this storm home."
"Right." Kato Ikano, smartly dressed in black from his chauffeur's cap to his shoes, opened the door to a concealed control panel.
Just as his finger neared the switch, the man in the back called, "Wait a minute!" Kato's finger froze over the switch as if a stopped frame of film. "Something's happening."
The green-masked man glared at the monitor. A car had stopped abruptly on the side of the road near a bridge. From the view the flying camera provided it appeared that a struggle was occurring in the car. Someone could clearly be seen attempting to crawl out of the passenger side window from the back seat.
"Let's roll, Kato. This looks like trouble."
Kato started the car and left the wooded hiding place. The car sped toward the stopped automobile. The man in the back seat kept his eyes glued to the monitor screen. He saw a young woman emerge from the parked car, followed quickly by two men. The woman stooped to pick up a rock from the shoulder of the road and threw it at one of the men. He stopped in his tracks and grabbed the left side of his head, a sign that the rock had hit its mark. The second man produced a gun, and the woman froze as he thrust it in her direction. Instead of surrendering, however, she retreated, picking up speed proportionately to the attacker's advances. She continued backing up until she reached the overpass railing. As the attacker drew closer the woman went over the rail.
The action startled the man in the approaching car. "She jumped!" he exclaimed.
The man with the gun had a similar reaction. Momentarily paralyzed with shock, he recovered and peered over the rail. He saw the woman lying face down amid a grassy plateau some 20 feet below. His surprise was quickly replaced with fear at the sound of the approaching car.
"C'mon!" the man who had suffered the injury by the thrown rock yelled. He jumped behind the wheel of the car and pulled to where the other man stood.
"The boss isn't gonna like this," the second man snarled, shoving his gun into his pocket as he climbed into the front seat.
The car sped off, firing gravel and dirt from the shoulder as the black car neared. "Want me to follow them?" Kato asked, diverting his glare from the road to the rear-view mirror, making eye contact with the man in the green mask.
"No, Kato," he replied. "We'd better check on her first."
Lightning and thunder drew closer as Kato pulled the car to a stop from where the other car had just left. While Kato recalled the video camera to its storage compartment in the trunk, the other man climbed out of the car. He was neatly dressed, wearing a green overcoat and green hat to match the green mask covering his eyes and nose. His hands were wrapped in black leather gloves. The hornet insignia between the eyes on the mask was much like the pit between the eyes of a rattlesnake: anyone who was close enough to see it was in serious danger.
The Green Hornet peered over the rail to see the woman. He could see she was moving. "She's..." A loud crack of thunder following a close lightning flash drowned out the word "alive". The smell of rain hung in the air as the wind picked up from the west. The storm was almost upon them.
"We can't get her up here in time," Kato observed with a sense of urgency.
The Hornet nodded. "Let's get her under this bridge until the storm passes."
Kato secured their automobile, the Black Beauty, as the Hornet jumped over the rail. He landed on his feet on the plateau about five feet from the woman. In haste to reach safety from the storm he ignored any courtesies, merely turning the woman over onto her back before picking her up. Her eyes were closed. Perhaps she thinks I'm one of those men she just escaped from, the Hornet thought. Just as well. The last thing she needs at this moment is to see who has her now.
Kato brought a blanket from the trunk of the car with him. He joined his partner just as the Hornet and his cargo reached the underpass. He got as close to the pavement above as he could in the center of the bridge. He then laid the woman down. Kato moved on the other side of the woman, covering her with the blanket.
The storm reached their location, the black clouds and driving rain sheets turning the late afternoon to night. The only light visible was from the incessant lightning. The Hornet watched the woman's form. A loud clap of thunder caused her to jerk in surprise. He smiled. The involuntary reaction to the noise, lit by the flashes from the thunderstorm, told him she was awake. The two men sat down, one on either side of the woman, to wait out the storm.
The Green Hornet and Kato were accustomed to waiting. It was part of their job. The young woman, however, was not as familiar with the practice, so after a few minutes of nothing but the sounds of the rain and thunder she sat up and opened her eyes.
"Don't worry," the Hornet said, "you're safe. What's your name?"
"Marsha," the woman replied. "Marsha Blackwell. Who are you?"
"You can call me Green," the Hornet said with a smile that went unnoticed because of the darkness.
In the shadows she could not see the man's face, only that he was wearing a hat. There was a sense of reassurance in the tone of the man's voice that reiterated his words. The fact that she had a blanket over her confirmed that the person who had carried her to safety was indeed friend, not foe.
"Well, thanks for your help, Mr. Green," Marsha said. "If you hadn't happened along when you did, I don't know...and I don't want to think about it."
"Who were those men?" the Hornet asked.
"I don't know," the woman replied in a soft, frightened voice. "I think they're people my brother's involved with."
"Your brother has some impolite associates," Kato observed. The sound of a second man's voice startled the woman. She turned to face the direction from which Kato's voice had come, but the darkness of the storm prevented her from seeing his face as well.
Marsha sighed beneath the roar of thunder overhead. "I don't know everything," she admitted. "My brother's a jockey, and..."
Marsha's last name registered in the Hornet's memory. "Dusty Blackwell?"
"That's him," Marsha confirmed. "I don't know, but I think he's mixed up with something. He's been acting very strangely during the spring races."
"I'd say it's a safe bet he's 'mixed up with something'," the Hornet said. "I can't think of any other reason for someone to abduct you at gunpoint."
"Are you alright?" Kato asked.
"I think..." She paused to take a deep breath in an attempt to collect herself. "I think I broke my ankle when I jumped."
"That was a brave thing to do," Kato said.
Marsha shrugged. "I took a chance. It, fortunately, paid off."
The trio sat in silence for a moment until Kato notice it was silent. He looked beyond the overpass under which they had sought shelter and saw the rain reduced to a light shower. The darkness was fading in favor of the overcast light of late afternoon. "Looks like it's clearing up," Kato announced.
"Good," the Hornet said, standing. "Let's get her out of here."
Kato took the blanket from Marsha while the Hornet helped her to her feet. The injury to her foot caused by the jump prevented her from staying in a standing position. She started to fall, but the Hornet caught her by bracing himself with his feet on the scant flat ground under the overpass. "Okay, that's not going to work," he said. "Sit down." Marsha dutifully did as requested. Kato locked his arms under hers while the Hornet picked up her feet. They carefully maneuvered out from under the bridge, watching their footing so as not to slide down the embankment with their precious cargo.
Marsha felt safe with the two men, assuring herself in her mind that the nightmare was over. Her attitude instantaneously changed when the trio emerged from under the overpass and she saw who held her legs. She was literally in the hands of the notorious Green Hornet, one of the most wanted criminals in Detroit city history. Her heart began racing, not because of the tricky task of being carried up to the road on wet ground, but because of who was carrying her. Still, something was askew in her mind. The man under the bridge spoke in a gentle, reassuring tone of voice, and seemed genuinely concerned about her well being. How could that compassionate person be this hated criminal?
Kato led through the brush and weeds, carefully contemplating his footing so as not to send the threesome back down the embankment. He reached the shoulder of the road and sat Marsha down on the guardrail. The Hornet joined him on level, safe ground. The two of them then picked Marsha up, one man on each side of her body, and carried her to the Black Beauty. Kato used one hand to open the right rear door before they maneuvered Marsha into the seat. "Let's go," the Hornet said. The two men both went to the left side of the car and climbed in.
The fear and dread Marsha thought she was finally free of was back with a vengeance. She had escaped one captor, only to find herself held by a much worse menace. "What are you going to do to me?" Marsha heard herself asking. The fact that she had the nerve to speak, now that she knew she was face-to-face with the Green Hornet, surprised her.
"You need medical attention for that ankle," the Hornet replied. "Unfortunately, I can't walk you into a hospital and say, 'Please treat this woman.' So, I'm going to take you some place where I know you'll be properly treated."
"You're...not..." Marsha found herself stunned by the announcement, almost to the point where she could not speak. "Going to...hurt me?"
"Why should I?" the Hornet replied. "You don't have anything I want." That's not true, he thought to himself. You have information, valuable information. Still, I can't ask for it. Not dressed like this.
Marsha sighed, finding herself believing the Green Hornet's words instead of his reputation. She peered out of the car window in time to see a rainbow appear as the sun came out beyond the storm clouds. When she turned her attention back to the man in the car seat next to her, she received a quick dose of Hornet Gas and collapsed into sleep, her body slumping toward the Hornet. He caught her and gently moved her back so she rested against the door of the car. "Sorry, Miss Blackwell," the Hornet said to the unconscious woman.
"Where to?" Kato asked.
"Home," the Hornet replied. "The Green Hornet is going to leave a present on Britt Reid's doorstep." The Hornet picked up the mobile phone in the back of the car and dialed a number.
Frank P. Scanlon looked out of his office window, watching the rainbow. The city District Attorney admired the beauty of the rainbow after the nasty clouds moved east beyond the city following the storm. Frank forgot about his problems for a few moments, enjoying the freshness that a spring thunderstorm brought.
The ringing telephone brought him back to reality and his duties. "Scanlon," he answered on the second ring.
"Frank," came a familiar voice on the other end.
"Hi, Britt. What's up?"
"Do you have a missing person report on Marsha Blackwell?"
"Hang on a moment." Frank put the phone down without bothering to use the red "hold" button. He fumbled through a stack of papers. He saw the name on a report and picked the phone up. "Yes," he replied. "She was just reported missing about two hours ago."
"We've got her."
"What? How?"
"I'll explain later. Right now, I need you to get over to my place. The Green Hornet is about to put her on my front porch."
"I'm on my way. Oh, Britt, is she alright?"
"She appears to be, except for a possible broken ankle."
"Alright, Britt, I'll see you in a few minutes." Frank hung the phone up, picked up his glasses off the blotter on his desk, and fumbled for his keys. He went out the door en route to his friend's house. He knew that, even though the city was after him as District Attorney to bring the Green Hornet to justice, it would be impossible to catch him at Britt's house. He hardly wanted to catch him, either. He could never let the world know that Daily Sentinel publisher and DSTV owner Britt Reid and the Green Hornet were one and the same person.