Chapter Three
Mike Axford was not the only person infuriated by Britt Reid's story on page one of the Sentinel. Sid Scott's rage made Mike's look tame by comparison. Scott spent his morning reading and re-reading the article, his temper rising each time his peripheral vision caught sight of the newspaper headline. Nothing in the article that Scott had committed to memory by the time his henchmen arrived at his spacious home indicated that either the police or Marsha Blackwell considered the kidnapping attempt anything other than just that.
Sid Scott was average height and looks. He appeared to be a typical businessman. Nothing in his appearance gave any indication that he was the mastermind of a scheme to make millions of dollars for himself. Scott's accomplices were more muscle men than business associates. The two brothers, Gene and Pete Haley, arrived first. Gene had a white gauze bandage taped on the left side of his forehead, concealing the injury inflicted by Marsha Blackwell's rock the day before. The two men were wearing the same brown suits they had worn the day before when they briefly succeeded in abducting Marsha, and both had unkempt brown hair. They appeared to have spent a sleepless night because of their failure, apprehensive to face their boss.
When the Haley brothers entered Scott's study, he confirmed their fears. "Good going, you two!" Scott exploded, hurling the copy of the Sentinel at the door they had entered. The paper came apart in mid-air and landed in five sheets on the floor a few inches from where Scott stood.
Gene, about two inches taller than his brother, shrugged. "She said she was sick," he explained. "I didn't know she was going to bean me with a rock." He tenderly fingered the gauge on his head. "And I certainly didn't think she'd jump."
"She looked dead," Pete said. "That storm was coming, and so was a car. We couldn't take a chance to check."
"And what do you think she told the Green Hornet?" Scott said. "Or the police?"
"From the article in the paper, she didn't say anything to anybody," Gene replied. He stared at his boss for a moment. "Why, do you think Dusty told her anything?"
Scott returned to his desk and picked up the phone. "Let's find out." He dialed a number. After a moment of waiting, he spoke into the receiver. "Good morning, Blackwell." He smiled while listening to Dusty on the other end. "No, of course I'm not going to hurt your sister. I just wanted to emphasize my warning to you from yesterday. You have been paid, and you'd best hold up your end of the bargain. Next time, we won't be so friendly." Scott slammed the receiver down, letting the phone receive the brunt of his frustration.
The noise the phone made still echoed in the room as the three men who had been at the racetrack with Scott the previous day entered. James Costello was the shortest of the three. Bob Newby and Bill White were the same height, but Newby was stockier than White. The men exchanged glances with one another upon being welcomed in the room by Scott's assault on his telephone. They sighed almost in unison, waiting for Scott to acknowledge their presence rather than speak to him.
"All right, all right," Scott grumbled. "Hopefully Blackwell will do what I paid him to do." He gestured toward the two brothers. "You two had better hide if he doesn't."
The Black Beauty maneuvered through the side streets like a panther. The police scanner was on, and Kato made a mental note of any officer who gave the dispatcher a location in their vicinity. More than one cop had spotted the Black Beauty and tried to chase it down in vain, a testimony to the engineering marvel of the car's specially-designed engine as well as its driver. Fortunately, the police were not in the path of the Green Hornet on this particular evening.
Kato pulled the car to a stop in front of a brick house on a cul-de-sac. Nothing about the house's brick exterior indicated that a sports star resided there. Kato checked the address on the mailbox at the curb. "This is it," he announced, peering in the rear view mirror as he put the car in park.
"Let's go."
The two men left the car in unison. Instead of walking to the front door and knocking they separated at the sidewalk, the Hornet going to the right and Kato to the left. The two men met inside the fenced-in back yard near a patio door. They peered in. They could see Dusty Blackwell sitting in the living room, reading the paper. The Hornet tried the sliding door and found it unlocked. He slid the door open just far enough for a space to accommodate his body. Kato followed like a lethal shadow, pausing to slide the door shut behind him.
Dusty was engrossed in the article about his sister and was therefore unaware that he had two uninvited guests. Their silent entrance did nothing to announce their presence. Dusty finished the article with a shake of his head. The Hornet took the cue to introduce himself. "Good evening, Blackwell," he said. The surprise jolted Dusty out of his chair. He turned quickly and saw the two masked men.
"The Green Hornet," Dusty said. His voice was deep, curiously out of place coming from a man of such small stature. "What..."
"Let's talk about your sister," the Hornet said, not waiting for Dusty to finish the question. He strolled over to Dusty, his 6'3" frame towering over the jockey who was a foot shorter. "I'm rather curious as to why two men abducted her at gunpoint."
"What makes you think I would know?" Dusty asked, fear apparent in his voice.
"There isn't much to do under a bridge during a thunderstorm except talk," the Hornet replied in his typical stern, no-nonsense tone. "Your sister seems to think you're involved with something that necessitated her kidnapping. I tend to think that as well, and I want to know what you're involved in."
"I appreciate your helping my sister, but I think you're dreaming," Dusty said, feigning defiance.
"I don't think so," the Hornet replied. "If it was a kidnapping for money, there would've been a ransom note. It's no 'dream' that there was no report of a ransom note. What your sister said was no 'dream'." The Hornet leaned down so Dusty could see the penetrating pale blue eyes behind the green mask. "And, that Sentinel article with none of the things that she told me isn't a dream. So, what are you involved in?"
The stare behind the mask and the stone expression from the lips frightened Dusty. The panic was evident in Dusty's face as he backed away from the Hornet. He, however, said nothing.
"Have it your way," the Hornet said after a moment of tense silence, turning for the patio door. He and Kato reached the door. As he slid the door open, the Hornet turned back to face Dusty. "Just remember, Blackwell, next time your sister's kidnapped, we might not be around to prevent it." The two left, with Kato sliding the door shut behind them.