The Green Hornet
"Retribution"
by Kirk Hastings
(Based on the 1966-67 ABC-TV television series starring Van Williams and Bruce Lee)
The pretty girl's footsteps clacked sharply on the hard sidewalk as she raced forward to catch her bus. She reached the rear part of it just as it pulled away from the curb with a roar, spewing smoke and exhaust around her. The girl stamped her foot angrily as she watched the bus's lights move away and disappear into the darkness.
"Oooh! That does it!" she said to no one in particular.
It had not been a very good day for Sharon Wells. In fact, it had been a terrible day. It had started with her being late for her secretarial job that morning because her car had simply refused to start. After she had exhausted every means she could think of to start it (which did not take too long—Sharon was no auto mechanic) she called a garage. They told her that the car would have to be taken into the shop at least overnight. And her boss was none too happy when she finally arrived at work nearly an hour late—only her previous good record with the company had saved her from being fired right then and there. (Of course the fact that her brother was now the newly-elected mayor of the city didn't hurt either.) But from that point on the day had gone steadily downhill. Having to work late to make up the time she had missed added to the day's frustration. And now, here she was in one of the worst sections of the city with no other way to get home than by walking. There wouldn't be another bus along for an hour or more, and she certainly did not want to stand alone on that corner for such a length of time.
Grudgingly Sharon stepped back onto the sidewalk and, with a long sigh, started her long trek homeward. As she walked the girl's mood slowly began to change from anger to downright nervousness, as she realized just how bad her situation was. She did not like this section of the city, and walking it at night was no treat. The buildings on either side of her were giant, indistinct shadows looming up into the blackness, due to the scarcity of streetlights (at least working ones) in the area. But even when Sharon did walk into the circular glare of a working streetlight it was not very comforting to be able to see her surroundings clearly. The buildings were rundown and empty, and for the most part grimy too. Many had broken windows—those that weren't broken had iron grilles over them to prevent such damage. The street was littered with trash: tin cans, soda bottles, and scraps of newspaper that drifted eerily on the night breeze. There was no sign of any people. Sharon quickened her pace, vowing to herself that she was definitely going to move away from the city at her first opportunity.
Suddenly the girl stopped. She turned her head to look behind her, the wind blowing her brunette hair across her cheeks. Yes, that was a car's headlights behind her. It was moving very slowly toward her, almost as if the driver were following her. Sharon turned back and walked on. No sense getting excited, she told herself. It's probably an old man—they always drive slowly. Or maybe it was a police car keeping an eye on her. She hoped the latter was true, but somehow she doubted it.
After a few minutes of walking Sharon could hear the car coming up behind her. It finally stopped at the curb a few feet away from her. A man (young, she thought—his face wasn't clear as it was in shadow) leaned his head toward the passenger window.
"Hey doll, want a lift?" the man said. Somehow Sharon did not like the sound of his voice.
"No—thank you," Sharon said curtly, not slacking her pace. The car remained where it was as Sharon walked away from it.
Sharon's heart skipped a beat as she heard the car start up and come toward her again. She breathed a sigh of relief as it passed by her without stopping.
But her relief lasted only for a moment.
The car had pulled over to the curb and stopped again about a block ahead of her. Sharon watched this development with apprehension. Lord, why wasn't there a side street nearby that she could turn down to avoid having to pass that car again?
The girl was practically running as she passed by the car, anxious to get away from it as fast as she could. It looked like she was going to make it past with no incident.
But abruptly the driver of the car leaped out from in front of the car's hood where he had been hiding, grabbing Sharon by the wrists. The girl screamed as terror gripped her. I'm being attacked! Was all her mind could focus on. It could bear no more.
Sharon's struggles ceased as she slumped unconscious in the man's arms.
High above the sidewalk a bald, heavy-set man poked his head out of his window in response to Sharon's scream. He watched the scene below for a moment, then, apparently disinterested, he returned inside.
That was a cinch the man thought as he half-carried the girl over to his car. He opened the rear door and placed her on the back seat where she lay limply. The man quickly circled the car and jumped back into the driver's seat. Once there he reached over the seat to tie a rag around the girl's eyes, stuff a gag into her mouth, and tie a length of rope he had around Sharon's wrists.
Moments later the car roared off at high speed.
Sharon's problem had been solved—she wouldn't have to walk all the way home after all.
# # #
"And meanwhile, on the political front: James Wells, the newly-elected mayor of our city, spoke out this afternoon at a luncheon held in his honor at the Marriott Inn on the issue of legalized casino gambling in our city. It's been widely known for some time that Wells is strongly opposed to such a measure, and he is continuing to make his position clear even in the face of threatened opposition by local special-interest groups that favor the measure …"
Britt Reid sat back in his chair listening intently to the TV newscast, as he did every day from his office adjacent to the studio from which the news was broadcast. A large picture window separated the two rooms. Britt owned the television station broadcasting the news program, and he was also the owner and Publisher of The Daily Sentinel, the largest newspaper in the city (which he spearheaded from the same office). Although only in his mid-thirties, Britt had already become a highly successful businessman, due partly to inheriting his father's publishing company. However, his own personal drive had made his continued success with it possible.
Britt sat up in his chair as he noticed someone hand a piece of paper to the news announcer.
"—And this just in," the announcer read. "Sharon Wells, a secretary residing at 66 West 14th Street, has been reported missing since last evening. Friends of Miss Wells reported her disappearance after she failed to return home after work …"
Just then "Casey" Case, Britt's personal secretary, entered his office. She stood quietly next to his desk.
The newscast continued: "… The metropolitan police have so far uncovered no leads to the girl's whereabouts. Oh, in case you've noticed her last name, yes, Miss Wells is the sister of mayor James Wells. So far there has been no statement issued by the mayor concerning the occurrence. Police have not ruled out the possibility of foul play …"
Britt was standing now, his fists resting on his desk blotter. His knuckles were white.
"… Anyone with any information concerning Miss Wells please contact DSTV in care of The Daily Sentinel, or your local police department. And now the weather forecast …"
"Is something wrong, Mr. Reid?" Casey asked. She knew somehow that the news item had greatly disturbed her boss. Even though Britt rarely displayed strong emotion, Casey had known him long enough to penetrate his various moods and emotions. And she knew he was greatly upset.
"The girl in that news item," Britt said quietly, steadily, without turning his head. "I knew her in college. We were—very close all throughout school."
"I'm sorry, Britt," Casey replied sympathetically. "Is there anything I can do?"
"No, Casey, thank you," Britt responded, smiling at the girl. He turned back toward the TV studio. "—But The Green Hornet can do something about it. And he will—tonight."
# # #
That evening a man dressed in a black chauffeur's uniform with a black mask covering the upper half of his face stood in the garage adjoining Britt Reid's home. Kato, Britt's Chinese manservant, had just received a call from his boss to get ready for action, and Kato had immediately donned his uniform. Moments later he was joined by Britt, who now also wore strange garb. Completely unrecognizable, Britt had on a dark suit and gloves, a green felt fedora and matching chesterfield coat, and a green tight-fitting mask that also covered the upper half of his face. It was in this guise that Britt Reid, the conservative newspaper publisher, became The Green Hornet, a man wanted by the police, but at the same time a dreaded nemesis of organized crime. It was in this way that Britt not only reported the news about crime, but also took a hand in solving the most difficult cases himself. Always having been an active, vital man, this guise served as a natural outlet for the adventure-loving side of Britt Reid. But tonight, like many times before when Britt had donned the guise of The Hornet, his purpose was deadly serious.
At Britt's arrival Kato turned and flipped a switch mounted on the garage wall. In response four metal clamps rose from the floor to clamp shut on the bumpers of Britt's beige convertible. When the car was secure the section of floor it rested on began to tilt. As the flooring tilted completely around a great black limousine secured to the underside came into view. The floor settled into its new position, and the clamps holding the automobile (which Britt had named the "Black Beauty") released and disappeared. The driver and passenger doors opened automatically.
Kato entered the driver's seat as Britt climbed in behind him. Britt opened a small compartment behind the front seat and took out two weapons. One was an odd-looking green pistol. When Britt touched the trigger it spurted a little wisp of greenish gas.
"Hornet Gun—check," Britt said.
The other weapon was a short black tube that, once telescoped out, became a powerful firearm capable of transmitting irresistible supersonic sound waves. Britt opened the weapon's power source. It throbbed with life.
"Hornet Sting—check," he said.
Weapons check completed, the mighty car roared to life as Kato engaged the ignition. The limousine then headed toward the garage's rear wall, which rose as the car approached to let it pass beneath. The car rolled through Britt's indoor patio to enter a secret tunnel.
Moments later, almost a block away, a huge billboard advertisement on the side of an abandoned building split open and the Black Beauty rolled out, its headlights flashing, to drive down a short alley where the great car careened around the street corner and roared off down the rain-soaked street.
# # #
In a large midtown apartment three men fixed themselves drinks from a well-stocked bar just off the opulent living room.
"How's the girl doin'?" one man asked.
The short, stocky man named Bill Somers jerked his thumb in the direction of the bedroom door. "She's still tied up in there all nice and snug … As soon as we let Wells stew in his juices a little longer, we can give him a call and let him know what the score is – either he changes his position in favor of legalized gambling in the city, or we waste his precious sister."
Mike Pratt nodded in reply.
The third man, a tall, well-dressed man named Ed Maggin, added: "You got it. We'll show that big shot mayor he can't push us around. We got too much money invested in building those casino buildings to let it all go down the drain now."
"Yeah, well, this is just my own personal opinion, but I still think you and Somers shoulda waited till gambling in this town was legalized first, before contracting the work on the buildings," Pratt said.
"That bill had a clear shot at passing until Wells started sticking his nose into it!" Maggin replied angrily. "He just wants to play the 'big tough politician', when all he really is is a little punk from Kansas that thinks he can big talk his way into the public eye. Well, he's soon going to find out just how much of a little man he really is!"
Pratt didn't reply. He was just along for the ride. Somers had known Maggin for many years, and part of the money Maggin had used to finance the building of the casinos was his. So they both had just as much to lose. There was no other way out for them now, and they both knew it. They had only hired Pratt to do all their dirty work for them – they had decided to play it safe and let an outsider do the actual work. Someone who, if worst came to worst, couldn't be connected to them.
"I still don't know if it was such a good idea bringin' the girl here, though," Pratt said after a few minutes. "What if somebody finds her here?"
"Quit worrying," Maggin replied, sitting in a large overstuffed chair. "Nobody saw you snatch her, and nobody's going to know she's here as long as we keep her locked up good and tight, now are they?"
Pratt shrugged. He was still a bit edgy about her being kept in the apartment.
"—Besides, we won't have her all that long," Maggin continued. "Just as long as we need her. No longer."
Pratt knew that Maggin didn't mean they were going to let her go.
"We'll wait a couple more minutes, then we'll call Wells," Maggin said. He took a long swallow from his drink.
# # #
A light rain spattered on the windows of the Black Beauty as it made its way through the back alleys of the city.
"Better rig for silent running, Kato," Britt said. "No sense taking any chances of us being spotted."
"Right, boss," Kato replied. He proceeded to polarize the car's headlights so that, by means of a special visor, he could still see the streets clearly even though from the outside the black limousine was practically invisible – the white glare of its headlights having been replaced by a faint green glow. The flick of another switch deadened the sound of the car's engine completely. The black car sped on in eerie silence, its only sound the splashing of its wheels on the wet streets.
"Where are we going anyway, boss? You have a lead?" Kato asked.
Britt shook his head. "No, Kato, I don't. Not yet. We're going to have to play this by ear for a while. We'll start by tracing the route Sharon took home according to her friends – I did some checking with them this afternoon through the police department. Her car was in a garage yesterday, and she was going to take the bus home. We'll check the area between the building she worked in and the bus stop. According to the bus driver assigned to that area she didn't make it onto the bus at all that night."
Kato nodded. His boss had done his usual thorough job.
Within a few minutes they reached the tall office building that Sharon worked in. Circling the building Kato pulled the Black Beauty down the street that led to the bus stop a few blocks away. Britt scanned the area for any possible clues. When Kato reached the bus stop Britt tapped him on the shoulder and motioned him to pull over. Britt stepped out.
"Good thing this area is deserted this time of night," Britt thought, looking around. "—I'm not too popular with the police department dressed like this!"
This was one time Britt wished he had their help.
Stooping, Britt examined the sidewalk. Nothing. He had expected that. He wasn't really sure exactly what he hoped to find, but at that moment he seemed to have no other direction in which to go. It was beginning to look like his search for Sharon was going to end before it began.
Just then Britt heard a groan. It had come from up the street somewhere. Britt straightened, taking the Hornet Gun out of his pocket. "Wait here," he instructed Kato, then moved cautiously toward the spot where the groan had issued from – a recessed doorway a few yards away.
Britt flattened himself against the wall just to one side of the building's entranceway. Then, in one quick movement, he stepped into the doorway, Hornet Gun leveled.
A bald, heavy-set man in tattered clothes lay in the entranceway, a bottle in his hand. His eyes were closed. The bottle he held, a cheap brand of whiskey, was empty.
Britt replaced his weapon in his coat pocket and bent down to shake the man by the shoulders.
"Wake up," Britt said. It was more of a command than a request.
The man opened his eyes. They were terribly bloodshot. "Leave me alone," he drawled, trying to feebly push Britt away. Britt ignored him, shaking him again.
"I need some information," Britt said. "Do you live here?"
The man did not answer. Britt shook him once again and repeated his question.
"Do you live here?"
"Yeah – yeah. I live here," the man managed to say. "Let me sleep …"
"Not until you tell me what I want to know. A girl was kidnapped near here last night. Did you see her?"
No answer. Britt was losing his patience.
"Did you see her?" he said angrily, shaking the man again.
"Yeah, yeah, I saw her," the man said reluctantly. "I saw some dude pick up a dame last night, if that's what you mean."
Britt felt a twinge of hope. He held the man tightly by his coat collar.
"What did he look like?" Britt said.
"I don't know. Couldn't see him. Too dark."
"What did his car look like? You must have seen his car."
The man stared blankly into Britt's mask for a moment. Obviously he was too drunk to realize who was questioning him. Finally he said: "It – it was blue. Dark blue. A Lincoln, I think. Lincoln Continental. A real gas hog. Looked new."
"Was there anything else to it? Anything unusual?"
"I don't know – wait –yeah: I noticed it still had the, uh, the price sticker on the rear side window."
"Anything else?"
"No. No … that's all. That's it. I told you what you wanted. Now let me be …"
Britt let the man go, and he fell back and closed his eyes again. Britt was already climbing back into the Black Beauty.
"Anything, boss?" Kato asked.
"Yes Kato, we've got something to go on now," Britt replied. "It's not much, but it's more than we started with."
Britt picked up the telephone receiver behind the Black Beauty's rear seat.
"What now?" Kato asked.
"Sharon was picked up last night – and whoever grabbed her had a brand-new Lincoln Convertible Continental with the sticker still on it. I'm going to call District Attorney Scanlon and get him to check out all the Lincoln dealers in the city and find out who recently sold a dark blue Continental – that's probably our man."
"But what if more than one such car was bought recently?" Kato asked.
"In that case, Kato, we'll just have to check them all out, one-by-one."
# # #
Pratt got up to renew his drink, while Somers and Maggin watched a news show on TV. The anchorman was reporting that, as yet, no leads had come up in relation to the disappearance of the mayor's sister. At this Maggin smiled sardonically.
"OK," Maggin said. "Let's let the mayor know where his sister is." Somers shut the TV off as Maggin crossed the room to the telephone.
"Make sure you're not on the line long enough for 'em to trace it," Pratt said.
Maggin picked up the receiver. Suddenly there was a high-pitched whine from the outer hallway. The three men started as something began to pound heavily on the apartment door. It sounded to them like someone – or something – was beating the door with some heavy instrument.
The next second the door flew off its hinges and fell into the room with a crash, breaking into several pieces. Smoke wafted throughout the room. Maggin's jaw dropped as The Green Hornet and Kato burst into the room. The Hornet was holding the Hornet Sting in his hands, which he had used to batter the door down. As The Hornet came into the room Somers picked up a lamp and hurled it at Britt's head. Folding the Hornet Sting up and thrusting it into his pocket Britt ducked under the missile and went straight for Pratt.
Kato stood his ground as Maggin picked up a knife from a nearby table and rushed at him. Somers, who had now armed himself with a heavy cane, was right behind him. Though both men were taken by complete surprise they did not hesitate to defend themselves; rather they fought all the more fiercely. They had much to lose, and somehow they knew that their strange attackers would show them no mercy.
Kato, trained in the ancient oriental art of self-defense known as Gung-Fu, did not hesitate to make use of his skills. He assumed a defensive stance as the two men came toward him. The man with the knife lunged at Kato's midsection.
Kato's reaction was instantaneous. His left arm shot out, knocking Maggin's arm out to the side. The knife flew from his hand across the room. Kato shouted a Gung-Fu battle cry as his right foot lashed out with a murderous sidekick, catching the much-surprised Maggin square in the stomach. Maggin tumbled backwards, slamming into the heavy chair he had been sitting in. Both he and the chair toppled over. He hit the floor with a crash. He did not get up.
A spit-second after delivering the sidekick Kato returned to his original stance to meet Somers's attack. Kato's movements were so fast and fluid that each one seemed to blend into the other. Somers swung the cane he held at Kato's head. Had the blow connected it would have smashed Kato's skull all over the room. As it was Kato had ducked before Somers's swing was even half completed. To Kato it seemed like his opponents were moving in slow motion. His fist shot out in a smashing blow to Somers's groin. Somers stumbled backwards, uttering no sound at all. He fell to the floor, immediately assuming a fetal position. He had no more stomach for fighting – or anything else, for that matter.
Meanwhile Britt's charge had carried him right into the astonished Mike Pratt, who was standing near the bedroom door. As the two men slammed into the door it fell open, and the pair were carried back into the room to land on the floor with a thud. Sharon, still lying on the bed blindfolded, had no idea what was happening around her. It sounded to her like the world was coming to and end.
Britt and his opponent regained their feet. Britt landed a crunching blow to Pratt's jaw, sending the man smashing into the wall. Britt's hat had fallen off during the struggle, but his mask still remained secure. He grabbed Pratt by his shirt and landed another powerful blow that sent the man reeling backwards to the far wall, where he fell over a table and crashed to the floor.
Upon entering the bedroom Britt had taken the entire situation in at a glance. Seeing Sharon tied up on the bed had caused him to completely lose his temper, something he rarely did. He advanced menacingly toward his fallen foe.
As Britt bent down to pull Pratt to his feet the man brought his foot up into Britt's middle and kicked him backwards across the room. Pratt's desperation to escape the masked avenger forced him to take advantage of the only avenue left open to him – he turned and executed a headlong dive through the bedroom window. Glass flew in all directions as he landed hard on the roof of the adjoining building. Bleeding in several places he nevertheless picked himself up and started to run. Britt was right behind him, having leaped out through the jagged hole Pratt had created.
The chase continued for a minute or two, until suddenly Britt stopped, realizing the man had somehow eluded him. No doubt Pratt knew the nearby buildings and alleys well. Britt gave vent to his frustration by smashing his fist off a nearby chimney. Then he realized he must get back to Sharon. Reluctantly he turned and headed back toward the apartment. He jumped back into the bedroom just as Kato came in through the doorway.
"Did you get the other one, boss?" Kato asked.
"No, blast it – he got away from me," Britt replied. He moved to Sharon's side, untying the ropes from her wrists. He helped her to sit up, then took her blindfold and gag off. She was shaking, and buried her face in Britt's shoulder as he gently took her into his arms. The girl seemed to instinctively sense that the masked man was her friend.
Kato went back into the other room and looked around, as Britt tried to calm the sobbing girl by tenderly stroking her hair. It brought back old memories to him of the many times he had comforted the girl in college when some crisis had upset her. He hoped Sharon would not recognize him. The fact that it had been years since they had last seen each other was a advantage toward that end.
"Hey boss," Kato said, poking his head in the doorway. "I think there's something out here you should see."
"Be right with you," Britt said. "Are you all right?" he asked Sharon. The girl looked into his eyes for a moment.
"I – I think so," she finally answered.
Britt got up, picked his hat up off the floor, and replaced it on his head. He looked back at the girl momentarily, who was still staring at him. He turned and left the room.
"What is it, Kato?" Britt asked, rejoining his friend. Somers and Maggin still lay sprawled on the floor nearby.
"Look at this," Kato replied. He held up a batch of papers sand documents. "I found these hidden in a secret drawer in that desk," he continued, pointing to a large mahogany desk across the room.
Britt took the papers and studied them. After a moment he said, half under his breath, "Why, these are building contracts that connect these men to those big high-rise buildings going up on the west side."
"Right – the buildings the newspapers reported were going to be nightclub-hotels," Kato said. "But look at the specifications for those buildings on the contracts."
"I see what you're getting at, Kato – these specifications identify them as … gambling casinos. It all begins to fit together now. They grabbed Sharon because her brother's the new mayor, and he's slowly succeeding in swaying public opinion against legalized gambling. They were no doubt going to use her as a wedge to force Jim Wells to change his stand." Britt studied the documents for a few moments more, then he stuffed them into the pocket of his overcoat.
"What about the guy who got away?" Kato asked.
"He was probably some thug these two hired to do their dirty work for them. Unfortunately, now there doesn't seem to be any way of finding out who that is." Britt tightened his fist at that thought. Then: "Kato, call the police to pick these two up – and tell them to send a policewoman along, too, to take Sharon home."
Britt turned back into the bedroom as Kato picked up the telephone. As he started dialing the police emergency number Maggin began to stir, raising himself groggily to his knees. Without even lowering the phone receiver Kato lashed out with a powerful kick to Maggin's jaw, dropping him quickly to the floor again. Kato resumed his dialing.
Minutes later the pair left the building via the service elevator, headed toward the nearby alley where they had left the Black Beauty. They ran past Maggin's blue Lincoln Continental with the sticker on its window that had shown them where their quarry was.
Once the Black Beauty was on its way again Kato asked, "Where do we o from here, boss?"
"Down near the docks," Britt replied. "Sharon told me she heard bits and pieces of conversation between those three men this evening about a ship docked down near 23rd Street on the waterfront where they had planned to go if anything backfired in their kidnap attempt … the Captain is a friend of theirs, and promised them passage to South America should they need it."
"You have a hunch the man who got away from you may be heading there?" Kato said.
"That's right. We're going to look the area over, just in case."
"Do you think you can identify him again if we spot him?"
"You better believe it. From what Sharon told me he's also the man who kidnapped her."
Anger and revenge burned in Britt's eyes beneath his mask. "I want that man," he said. "By whatever means necessary – I want that man."
# # #
A faint glow on the horizon signaled the approach of dawn as the great black limousine cruised the streets near the waterfront. A damp mist was in the air as the mournful cry of a distant foghorn echoed across the wharves. The big car made no noise as it rolled over the pitted street. No headlight beams gave away its presence.
"Nothing yet, boss," Kato said. "How much longer you want to keep this up?"
"Not too much longer, Kato," Britt replied, looking at his watch. "I've got to be at the office in another two hours. But let's make one more sweep of the area."
The Black Beauty made a graceful U-turn and headed back the way it had come. It cruised along for a couple of minutes, passing by the street sign that said "23rd St." Britt considered getting out and moving around the area by foot for a while.
Suddenly Britt grabbed Kato by the shoulder. "There!" he shouted, pointing.
About a block away a man was coming up the street. As yet he did not see the black car approaching. When he did he stopped, then turned and began to run back in the other direction. Obviously he knew who his opponent was, and recognized the auto belonging to The Green Hornet.
The big limousine jerked to a halt. Britt was out of the car even before it stopped; Kato was close behind him. Their quarry had turned and run down one of the piers adjoining a large cargo warehouse. Britt and Kato followed.
Sweat ran down Pratt's face as he ran; even though the air was cool. His heart pounded heavily against his ribs. He had met The Green Hornet once; he had no desire to do so again. He cursed his luck at having blundered into The Hornet's reach again.
Pratt was on the far end of the pier now, quite a ways out over the river. He rounded the corner of the huge warehouse. As he did so his luck began to improve.
Standing on the pier a few yards away were five burly longshoremen, waiting for a freighter to come in so that they could assist in unloading its cargo. And Pratt knew them. All of them.
Running over to the men Pratt talked with them for a moment, pointing back the way he had come. The five men nodded their heads, then Pratt ran off into the gray mist. Three of the five men bent down to pick up their bailing hooks – short, curved metal hooks with a wooden handle used to grip the heavy wooden crates the men so often had to unload. But this time they had a different purpose in mind for them.
Seconds later Britt and Kato came through the mist. They both halted at the sight of the brawny men now standing across the pier in a row, blocking their path. The longshoremen's intentions were unmistakable.
"Hey, that's the dude they call The Green Hornet," a big black man said. "They ought to give us a big reward if we turn him over to the fuzz!"
Their determination boosted by this revelation the five men advanced on their prey, bailing hooks held high.
"The Hornet Gun?" Kato suggested.
"No, Kato," Britt replied. "It wouldn't work successfully in this mist. We'll have to go this alone." Britt knew the Hornet Sting was also out of the question. That weapon had enough power to blow a man apart.
The opponents squared off against each other. Three of the longshoremen advanced toward Kato, presumably hoping to finish off the smaller man quickly so they could help their two companions with The Hornet, who was their main objective. But they were to find out that they had grossly underestimated their intended victim.
Reaching around underneath his jacket Kato produced a pair of nunchakus, an ancient oriental weapon consisting of two oblong wooden sticks connected by a short length of chain. With the appropriate training the nunchaku was a deadly and efficient weapon, capable of quickly disarming, or even maiming, a foe – whichever was the user's intention. It so happened that Kato's skill with the weapon was unparalleled.
Holding both the weapons by one of their two segments Kato whiled the opposite ends around at blinding speed, the better to hold his attackers at bay. Not wanting to be struck by the flashing sticks the big men stopped their advance.
Kato whipped the ends of the nunchakus under his armpits, still holding the opposite ends in his hands. He stood there silently, unmoving, as if daring the men to come to him.
Although wary of the spinning weapons the longshoremen were determined not to let this little Chinese stand them off. One of the men, a big muscular brute with a scraggly beard, started forward with hook raised.
Kato's movements were light lightning. The moment the big man was within striking distance Kato whipped one nunchaku out from under his arm. There was a dull thud as it met the longshoreman's head. The man dropped silently in his tracks. Kato brought the weapon back under his arm. He had moved so quickly that the other men hadn't even seen him swing it. They stared in amazement at their fallen comrade.
Meanwhile Britt was having his own problems. His two opponents were rapidly closing on him, one of them swinging a hook. Though not as highly trained as Kato Britt could certainly hold his own in a fight – and he did not want Sharon's kidnapper to escape him again.
Britt backed up toward a group of wooden crates stacked behind him on the pier, feigning retreat. The two men followed him, sure the coming fight would be an easy affair. One man, a blond giant, swung his bailing hook. Britt ducked underneath the swing, causing the hook to imbed itself in the crates behind him. He lashed out with his fist – the big man doubled over from the blow to his stomach. But a sudden blow from the second man sent Britt crashing back into the crates. They toppled over to smash on the pier, Britt falling among them. The man tried to jump bodily on top of Britt, but a foot rammed into his midsection sent him flying backwards.
The blond man, having recovered his wind, returned to the fight – though not for long. Britt picked up a wooden crate and smashed it over the man's head, causing him to drop senseless to the pier.
While Britt turned to fend off his second enemy Kato faced his two remaining foes, who had finally regained enough courage to renew their attack. They moved in, the big black man brandishing his hook. Kato did not move.
Until the men came into range.
With an animal-like battle yell Kato swung a nunchaku forward to knock the hook out of the black man's hand. It clattered onto the pier yards away, where it fell. A lightning-swift sidekick followed, and the black man flew backwards. He slammed into the side of the warehouse some twenty feet away, then fell flat on his face. He did not get up.
Kato swung his right nunchaku around in a murderous arc. It cracked against the man's skull, sending him backwards. Kato's left nunchaku swung around, whacking the man's skull again. Before the man could even fall Kato dropped one pair of sticks to land another blow with his fist on the back of the man's neck, expediting his progress to their pier. He landed heavily, lying still.
Britt pummeled his remaining adversary with his fists, forcing the man back toward the far edge of the pier. A final blow to the chin sent the man over the side, where he splashed into the water some ten feet below. After a moment he popped back to the surface, gasping and spitting.
"You all right, boss?" Kato said, coming over to Britt.
Britt nodded. Both men turned their heads as the wail of a police siren came out of the morning mist. It sounded like it was coming closer.
"Someone must have reported a commotion," Britt said. "We'd better get out of here."
Without another word the pair disappeared into the fog.
# # #
Late that afternoon DA Scanlon lowered his telephone receiver from his ear. A signal buzzer hidden in the arm of his glasses that only he could hear was sounding. "I'm sorry, sir," he apologized, raising the receiver again, "—but I have an important appointment coming up. I'll talk to you later."
Scanlon hung up. Slinging his coat over his arm he left his office, on his way to a secret rendezvous.
# # #
At his home Britt went over to the large bookshelf in his study. Kato entered the room as Britt tilted two particular volumes out from the shelf.
Across the room on the far wall was a brick fireplace, complete with a crackling fire within that Kato had kindled earlier to help ward off the chill of that October night. As Britt tilted the two special books out from the bookshelf the entire section of wall the fireplace was set into began to rise, revealing a small, open platform behind it. The platform was just descending to floor level, with DA Scanlon standing upon it. When the compact "elevator" settled onto the floor its railing swung open, allowing the DA to step into the room. The wall then lowered back into its original position, the fire still blazing. This special device had been installed by Britt so that he and DA Scanlon could converse whenever they deemed it necessary, at the same time keeping others from knowing the fact that Britt and the DA talked frequently. The DA was one of only three people aware of the fact that Britt was The Hornet – the others being Kato and Casey Case.
Britt offered Scanlon some coffee, after which Kato left the room to prepare it. Scanlon sat down in a large overstuffed chair in front of Britt's desk. His expression as he seated himself seemed to suggest that he already knew why Britt had called him.
"It's about the Sharon Wells thing, isn't it?" the DA asked.
"Yes Frank, it is," Britt replied, not really surprised that Scanlon had read his mind again. Scanlon always had a habit of knowing just about everything that was going on within the city's judicial systems. That was one of the reasons he and Britt were so close. Scanlon had an intense dislike for the many criminals who managed to avoid justice and due punishment simply because they were rich enough or clever enough to operate just outside the limits of the law. Britt had created The Green Hornet for just that purpose – to apprehend those whom the courts could not legally prosecute. the Sentinel was full of examples of those type of men every day.
"You look tired, Britt," Scanlon said. "Was The Hornet out again last night?"
"Yes," Britt replied, smiling lamely. "Between The Hornet and the Sentinel I haven't had much sleep lately. This double-identity stuff can get pretty rough sometimes."
Britt proceeded to fill Scanlon in on the details of what had happened the night before. Scanlon was already aware of Maggin and Somers being picked up the evening before. They had refused to give the police any leads to the still missing Mike Pratt, including his identity.
"Incidentally, how did you know that I knew Sharon Wells?" Britt said. "I don't remember ever mentioning her to you."
"Casey told me about it," Scanlon replied. "She asked me to make sure you didn't get yourself into serious trouble over the matter, seeing as how you're so emotionally involved. But I told her that I had learned a long time ago trying to keep you out of trouble was like trying to reach the moon with a ten-foot pole."
Britt smiled again.
"- However, Britt," Scanlon continued, "she may be right. The police are already after The Hornet. But if you were to do something foolhardy, like maybe kill this man – "
"Don't worry," Britt interrupted. "I've never deliberately killed anyone before, and I don't intend to start now, emotional involvement notwithstanding. Besides, I plan to see that that man gets his due punishment – and that means according to the law."
"I'm glad to hear you say that, Britt – but all the same, just be careful you don't do anything that'll make it tougher for you than it already is, will you?"
Britt nodded as Kato returned and served the two men their coffee. He stood by as the conversation continued.
"The main reason I wanted to talk to you, Frank, is this," Britt went on. "I'm backed up against a wall as far as finding this guy again. Kato and I almost had him this morning when he slipped through our hands again. Now I need something to lure him back into the open again. I need some kind of bait."
"Such as?" Scanlon asked.
"If this man thought that there was a witness who saw him kidnap Sharon and could positively identify him, he might just get panicked enough to try to shut her up in order to cover his trail. If he's a professional torpedo, I'm sure he'd consider that as his best alternative."
"You might be right about that, Britt, but there's only one problem – there was no witness."
"Right. So we manufacture our own. I've already arranged to have a small article placed on the front page of today's Sentinel to the effect that Darlene Harris, one of Sharon's co-workers, witnessed her kidnapping and is willing to identify the man who did it. I need you to supply me with a policewoman to double for Miss Harris until Sharon's kidnapper makes a play for her. Then Kato and I can grab him."
"But why not just let the police take care of getting him? You know that if I can get a policewoman to substitute for this girl as bait I can't tell the police that you'll be there to watch after her – a whole squad of policemen will no doubt have to come with the deal. And that means a big risk for you."
Britt sat back in his chair, smiling. "You know me better than that. When have I ever let someone else do my work for me? And besides, like you said, I'm emotionally involved." The last sentence was delivered with deliberate sarcasm.
Britt's answer was totally expected by Scanlon. "There I go, reaching for the moon again," Scanlon said, sipping his coffee.
# # #
Even though it was only shortly after 6:00 PM, it was already dark due to the clocks being turned back an hour the week before in observance of the return of standard time. It was a clear but chilly night, with a cool northerly breeze blowing. The young policewoman disguised as Darlene Harris went up the steps to Darlene's apartment door where, after fumbling in her pocketbook for her keys, she unlocked the door and stepped inside.
"Is that her?" Kato asked. He and Britt, who was dressed once again as The Hornet, were sitting in the Black Beauty, parked in a shadowy alley just down the block and across the street from the girl's apartment.
"That's her," Britt replied. "The real Darlene Harris is staying temporarily in another apartment across town until this deal is wrapped up."
"What about the cops?"
"There's two of them staked out in this area. I've got them both spotted – all we have to do is stay out of their way."
"Do you think this guy will show up, boss?"
"I hope so, Kato. He might be assuming his cronies on the dock finished us off, in which case he might be encouraged to make a try for 'Darlene'".
"But even if he does, he might not show up right away."
"Maybe. But I figure if he wants her he's not going to wait too long in doing something about it. He has no way of knowing how or when she'll blow the whistle on him. In any case, we've got to keep that girl in sight at all times. I've been keeping her under surveillance during the day easy enough as Britt Reid – one of the advantages of being a newspaper publisher who can go where he pleases – but I think the odds are that he's going to try for her at night under cover of darkness. And that's when I want to be ready as The Hornet to grab him!"
Both men settled back in their seats. It might be a long vigil.
# # #
Somewhere a clock chimed the hour of 7:00 PM. Britt and Kato sat in the Black Beauty, again watching the apartment across the street. 'Darlene' had come home from work that evening right on schedule. She had been inside for over an hour now. The first night of surveillance had turned up nothing. So far this evening had been quiet also. Kato hoped that the criminal would show himself soon. He could tell that Britt was becoming impatient, as he was not the kind of man who liked to sit by in such a situation and do nothing.
"Boss," Kato said quietly.
Britt looked up. Kato's tone was a signal that something was up. A Bell Telephone van had just pulled up in front of Darlene's apartment. A man wearing a uniform and a cap got out and knocked on Darlene's door. At that distance Britt could not see his face.
"What do you think?" Kato asked.
"I'm not sure," Britt replied, his eyes glued on the man. "He could be legitimate …"
Inside the apartment the policewoman answered the knock on the door. Her every muscle was tensed as she did so. She was ready for anything. "Yes?" she said, seeing the telephone repairman.
"Excuse me, Miss," the man said, tipping his cap. "I'm sorry to bother you, but we had a telephone line in this neighborhood go down a little while ago, and many of the phones in this area are out. We just got the line back up, and we're checking the phones to see if they're all working properly. May I check you phone?"
The policewoman was suspicious. "May I see your identification, please?" she asked.
"Sure," the man replied. He lifted up his open-top repair kit and reached into it. A pistol came out. "Get back inside and let me come in or I'll let you have it right here, doll," Mike Pratt said, holding the pistol tight against his body, pointed at the girl. She stepped back and let him enter. He came in and closed the door behind him.
"Should we investigate, boss?" Kato asked, after the 'repairman' had gone inside. Britt and Kato did not see the gun Pratt had pulled on the girl.
"Not yet," Britt replied. He noticed one of the two policemen assigned to watch Darlene's apartment was suspicious, too – he was just crossing the street toward the girl's apartment to make sure everything was all right.
Inside the apartment the policewoman backed up against the wall as Pratt advanced on her, gun raised. He stopped only a few feet in front of her, cocking the pistol hammer. As he was about to fire the woman leaped forward, grabbing his gun arm with both hands, forcing it upward. The two struggled momentarily, but the man's strength proved too much for the woman. Wrenching his arm free he brought the gun down on the woman's head. She collapsed to the floor. Just as Pratt was about to finish the job the policeman knocked on the door. Knowing he was about to be discovered, Pratt bent down and slung the unconscious girl over his shoulder. He decided to take her with him and finish the job elsewhere; it was too dangerous there. Pratt went over to the door, raised his pistol, and fired two shots through the door. He then yanked the door open and, pushing the wounded policeman aside, ran toward the van he had stolen.
"Pete! Get him!" the wounded policeman yelled to his colleague. One of Pratt's two bullets had missed him; the other had caught him in the right arm. He could do nothing but lay on the ground as Pratt dumped the girl in the van and got in, gunning the engine. As the other policeman came running down the street the van roared off. The second cop dared not shoot at the van for fear of accidentally hitting the woman within.
The next moment both policemen saw a huge black sedan careen out of a nearby alley and speed off after the retreating van.
Pratt glanced in his rearview mirror to see if any police were behind him. His eyes went wide as he recognized the great black car just a short distance behind him.
"It can't be – he's dead!" Pratt told himself. But there was no mistaking that custom-built automobile. Pratt's foot pressed down on the accelerator. His speedometer needle rose rapidly – sixty, seventy, then eighty miles per hour. He had to escape that car!
Another glance in his mirror showed that the Black Beauty was rapidly closing the gap between the two vehicles. Pratt's van was no match for the Black Beauty's super-powered engines, and he knew it. He would never escape by speed alone. He must outmaneuver the great car.
However, Pratt wasn't to get that opportunity. As the two vehicles roared through the city's warehouse district a broken bottle lying on the street decided to introduce itself to one of Pratt's tires. The result was instantaneous. The tire blew out, and shredded into ripped pieces of flying rubber. Pratt lost control of the speeding van, as it swerved sideways and skidded into a group of metal drums standing on a nearby lot. The drums were filled with oil, and when the van finally came to a stop tiny flames were already licking at it from the puddles of oil oozing out of many of the bent and broken containers.
Pratt was out of the van and running the moment it came to a halt. The policewoman was still slumped on the passenger seat, but Pratt's only thoughts were of escape from the occupants of the black limousine just pulling up.
As the Black Beauty screeched to a halt Britt leaped out. He started after Pratt, stopping only to point to the crumpled van and shout to Kato to get the policewoman.
Kato raced toward the damaged van. He knew he had only seconds to get the policewoman out, as the flames around the van were quickly becoming dangerously high. He yanked the passenger door open and scooped the still-unconscious woman up in his arms. He noticed the flames licking at the van's gas tank just as he turned to retreat with the woman. He had time to run only a few yards before instinct told him to hit the ground.
With a thunderous explosion the van went up, throwing bits of flaming metal and blobs of hot oil in all directions. Kato bent over the woman to protect her from the flying debris. She was just recovering consciousness as the remaining undamaged oil drums began to blow up from the heat and pressure, spreading the blazing oil all over the street.
Kato could hear police and fire sirens above the crackling flames. Helping the still-dazed policewoman to a place of comparative safety on the other side of the street Kato jumped back into the Black Beauty. The car roared off amid the eerie shadows of the flickering flames, just moments before the first few fire engines pulled up.
# # #
Britt rounded the corner of a looming warehouse to see Pratt running away about fifty yards ahead, toward the nearby waterfront. Britt resumed the chase. He would not let this man escape him a third time. Of that he was determined.
Pratt ran with the speed born of desperation. He had leaped out of the van in such a hurry that he had left his pistol behind. He did not wish to tangle with The Hornet again, especially unarmed. Only once did he look back over his shoulder to see if his dogged pursuer was gaining ground on him. He did not waste the precious time to repeat the action.
Pratt gained the waterfront. From there he had only two choices of flight – either along the river's edge, or out onto a two-lane bridge spanning the river immediately ahead of him. After a second's deliberation Pratt chose the bridge, now deserted because of the late hour. A possible plan of escape was forming in his mind.
The bridge was of a type commonly called a "lift bridge" – instead of utilizing the drawbridge principle to permit ships to pass beneath it the entire center section of the structure was built so that by means of a pulley system it could be "lifted" up above the road level in one piece, supported by two tall gridwork towers upon which it rose, one at each end of the bridge. A control booth was located on the bridge's movable section, within which an operator raised and lowered the structure when necessary. It was toward this booth that Pratt headed.
Moments later Britt ran out onto the bridge's roadway just as Pratt was reaching the control booth. Britt saw the man yank the door open and enter. Seconds later an old man fell out of the doorway to crumple unconscious to the deck.
Britt realized Pratt's intentions when the bridge's center section began to rise up above road level to the sound of clanking gears.
I won't let him get away from me again! Britt shouted to himself, as he increased his running speed to the utmost. He had to reach the rising pavement before it moved up out of his reach. His lungs burned fiercely as he sucked in the cold night air.
Higher and higher the bridge's center rose – four feet, five feet, six feet. It was almost eight feet above the road level when Britt reached the edge. Without breaking stride he leaped upward and outward, grabbing the edge of the rising pavement with his gloved hands. He hung on tenaciously, and within moments was dangling high above the road and the river far below. He knew now it was too late to let go. He'd never make it to shore alive if he fell into the icy river. And even that was assuming he missed the roadway straight below him.
Britt's arm muscles strained mightily as he attempted to haul himself up to where he could swing his leg up over the pavement edge. He had almost raised himself up just far enough to get a foothold when a stinging pain shot through his left hand. He looked up.
Pratt was standing above him, pressing his foot down on Britt's hand. The pain was unbearable. Britt held on as long as he possibly could, but he was finally forced to let go. He still hung onto the pavement edge with his right hand, but Pratt intended to take care of that also. He stepped down on Britt's remaining hand, grinding his heel on it. Britt grimaced in pain. He prepared himself for the long drop to the freezing river below he knew was inevitable.
Just then a small green-winged dart whizzed by Britt's face, imbedding itself into Pratt's leg. Pratt yelled in pain and withdrew his foot from Britt's hand, which was numb from the pressure. Britt immediately took advantage of the sudden distraction to regain his hold and start swinging his body back and forth until he could hook his leg over the edge of the pavement and haul himself up. He knew without looking where the green dart had come from. Kato, who had obviously followed Britt and his quarry onto the bridge in the Black Beauty, had pulled the great car up to the road's edge directly below Britt minutes after Britt had leaped the gap to hang from the rising section of pavement. Kato was well trained in using the small darts, which offered both the advantages of silence and (in Kato's hands) deadly accuracy. No doubt he was now standing below, watching the drama unfolding high above him.
Now Britt made use of the much-needed assist Kato had given him. After swinging himself up onto the still-rising pavement Britt gained his feet and confronted his enemy, who had by this time pulled the dart out of his leg. Pratt knew now there was no place left for him to run: his method of escape had now become a trap. It was either destroy this masked adversary once and for all, or face a lifetime in prison.
Britt crouched as Pratt rushed him with the desperation of an animal that knew it was cornered. Britt ducked under a right cross, then executed a forceful tackle that threw Pratt backwards to the pavement. The two men rolled back and forth, each struggling to get the other in a position to land a blow. Pratt managed to get Britt on the bottom and prepared to smash his fist into Britt's face. Just as he was about to strike the bridge's center section that they fought on lurched violently as it came to the top of the gridwork towers that supported it. The sudden stop threw Pratt off-balance, enabling Britt to throw him off and regain his feet. Britt pressed his advantage by landing a right cross to Pratt's jaw, followed by another, and another. Pratt staggered backward under the fierce onslaught. After the chaotic chase and almost losing his life Britt had worked himself up to such a fever pitch that he battered his foe relentlessly, knowing that this time the man could not escape.
Pratt fell to the pavement. Britt stood over him, waiting for him to get up. Britt felt that his revenge for Sharon was not yet complete.
"No! No more!" Pratt shouted. Before Britt could react Pratt shoved him backwards as he leaped up. He ran over to the side of the roadway. There was nowhere else to go.
"Get away from there, you fool!" Britt shouted. "—You're too close to the edge!"
Britt took a step forward. Pratt interpreted this as the beginning of another attack. He took a step backward.
There was nothing underneath his foot.
Britt ran forward as Pratt disappeared over the edge with a scream. Britt peered down at the river far below in time to see Pratt splash into the cold, surging water. He watched the black waves for long moments. The man did not reappear.
After a minute Britt rose and walked away from the edge to help the old man lying near the control booth. He would also have to move fast and engage the bridge controls to get it to lower the bridge section back down to the lower road level so he could rejoin Kato and make his escape, as police sirens were now becoming discernable in the distance.
He could not explain it, but suddenly he felt a pang of regret … regret and pity for the man whose life had just ended.
# # #
As Sharon's doorbell rang she opened the door.
"Britt! Britt Reid!" she exclaimed.
"Hello, Sharon," Britt said. "How are you?"
"Fine – fine! Come in," she replied, somewhat surprised by Britt's appearance. He stepped inside. Before he could say anything more Sharon looked at him with a strange expression and said, "You know, Britt, it's very odd, but – I had an unexplainable feeling that you were going to come by."
"Oh?" Britt said, as nonchalantly as possible. Could it be that Sharon had unconsciously recognized The Green Hornet as Britt Reid? "It's been quite a few years, hasn't it?" Britt continued, trying to change the subject.
"Yes – yes it has," Sharon replied. She still had a questioning look in her eyes.
"I read about your recent experience in The Sentinel, and I came by to see if there was anything that I could do for you …" Britt told her.
For a moment Sharon said nothing. But momentarily her mood brightened. "That's sweet of you, Britt," she said. The questioning look that had been in her eyes was gone. It had been replaced with a sparkle. "What exactly did you have in mind?" she asked.
"Well," Britt said, "how about dinner tonight – for starters?"
Sharon laughed as she replied: "Why, I'd love to, Britt – if you'll excuse me for just a moment I'll get my things."
"Sure," Britt said, nodding. He was glad to see Sharon with a smile on her face again.
When the girl left the room Britt picked up a copy of a rival evening newspaper lying on a nearby end table. Its headline read: "KIDNAPPER KILLED BY GREEN HORNET – Hornet pushes man off bridge span; Police hunt masked criminal".
Britt smiled lamely to himself. He imagined what DA Scanlon would have to say when he read that headline.
Without even bothering to read the story Britt walked over to a nearby fireplace, dropping the paper into the crackling flames. He watched it as it crumpled up into blackened ashes.
THE END