If a man dwells on the past, he robs the present,

but if a man ignores the past

He may rob the future.

The Seeds of our destiny are nourished

By the experiences of our past.

THE SEEDS OF DESTINY

Prologue

The masked man silently watched the passing landscape as the car sped through the night. The shadows were knife-sharp and pitch black beneath the icy glare of the full moon. It was a crisp black night that should have been spent before a dancing fire with a beautiful woman in his arms and soft music on the stereo, not hurtling to some unknown destination. He wore a heavy overcoat that was more than warm enough for the cold outside, but in the confined space of the small car it was far too hot. He could feel the sweat dampen his shirt beneath the coat. Heavy ropes biting into his wrists prevented him from removing or at least loosening the buttons of his coat.

The heavy smoke from the cheap cigarettes of the two men in the front seat filled the air, adding to his discomfort. He felt like he was going to suffocate, but any of his complaints would have been met with obscenities, so he chose to suffer in silence. Time was what he needed most but he could feel it slipping rapidly away as the miles melted beneath the humming wheels of the car.

Once it was well out of town, the car turned off the interstate, and onto a road which rapidly turned into a rough narrow dirt track. The passenger recognized the location as that of a long abandoned gravel pit. He made a mental note to mention to Scanlon that this place was being used as a gangland cemetery. That is if he survived this night.

A tight feeling in the pit of his gut warned him that it was more than likely that he was on his way to becoming one more silent occupant among the gutted mountains of sand and rocks. As the car bounced along the rough track, moving toward what seemed to be a prearranged meeting place, he tried to think of some kind of plan, some way to escape the desperate situation into which he had placed himself. However, his racing mind rejected one plan after another.

The car entered a small amphitheater formed by the disembowelment of a large hill. The cold glare of the moon lit the entire arena in a nightmarish imitation of day, making everything stand out in bold, unnatural contrast without the warmth of true daylight. Just ahead a semi-circle of cars waited at the foot of the steep hill. As the car he was riding in arrived to complete the circle they flashed on their headlights, making it brighter still, but adding little warmth.

With drawn guns, the driver and his companion motioned their prisoner out of the back seat and herded him to the center of the circle. The masked man took a few deep breaths. The air was bitterly cold but after the stifling atmosphere of the car it was refreshing and helped clear his mind. He calmly regarded the men gathered around him. They were all hard-eyed professional killers and he knew most of them by sight and by name. They were wanted all over the world and would have made a nice catch for the city's police force. "Yeah," he thought grimly, "and the cops would have more than happy to trade all of them just for a shot of getting me behind bars."

Two men stood out from the group. One was far younger than the others, barely out of his teen years, if not still in them. Dressed in a black leather jacket decorated with a coiled rattlesnake on its breast and back, he was of shorter than average height. He had the long, greasy hair and straggly unkempt beard typical of his generation. In appearance he was a young man; but his soul was as hard and as vicious as the rest of the gang. As Shakespeare had said of Cassius, he had a lean and hungry look.

The old man standing was Josiah Jackson, the leader of the gang. Physically he was more of a troll than a human being. His ancient body, like his black soul, was twisted by a long life of greed and hatred. He was a master of dealing out death, especially if was very slow and painful. Most of the men here learned their violent ways at his knee. The masked man and Jackson had been fierce opponents for a long time and now the old man's eyes shone with hungry pleasure as he contemplated the man who towered over him.

"Come to watch the show, Jackson?" said the masked man, his voice flat, without emotion.

"Oh, I'll do a lot more than watch. I'm gonna make sure that my face is the last thing you see before the devil takes you," hissed the old man, his breath clouding in the cold air between them. "You've been a pain in my ass for too damn long, but now I finally got you. I just wish I was able to take my time and work you over real proper, but you got a reputation for gettin' out of tight spots, so I'm gonna have to get it over real quick.

"My boys ain't used to manual labor, so you're gonna dig your own grave," Jackson said with an asthmatic laugh. He nodded toward a thug that came forward with a shovel and directed him to throw it at the masked man's feet.

The masked man contemplated the shovel for a moment, fighting down the anger that rose in him. He wanted to tell the ugly old man exactly what he could do with it, but a half-formed idea tugged at the edge of his brain. Maybe, just maybe, this might be the opportunity he had been waiting for. "Can't dig with my hands tied," he commented with a shrug.

At Jackson's signal one of the gunmen came forward and gingerly cut the prisoner's bonds, before moving quickly beyond his reach. The masked man flexed his fingers which were nearly numb from the tight ropes and rubbed his raw, bleeding wrists. It was very bright in the center of the ring of dark cars and blinding highlights. All he could see of the men surrounding him where featureless silhouettes.

He took his time, digging very slowly and carefully, making sure that all the sides of the hole were straight and the corners square. It was hard work with the ground nearly frozen from the cold, but he kept at the same careful pace. The gunmen were steadily growing impatient. They edged closer, lulled by his apparent docility. He carefully noted, without raising his head, their number and positions.

It was time. He had reached below the frost level of the ground. The dirt was softer and looser. He had been making it a practice to step out of the hole he had been digging to drop shovelfuls of dirt into a growing pile a few steps away. He stepped out of the shallow depression he had been digging and moved to drop the shovelful of dirt onto the pile. Suddenly he twisted and threw the dirt into the faces of the men nearest to him. Before the others could react he scooped up another shovelful and flung it into the their faces as well. He swung the shovel catching a man across the head with the shovel's blade. On the back-swing he caught another man in the stomach, sending him breathless to the ground. In the corner of his eye he saw one of the gangsters draw his gun. Using the shovel like a vaulting pole he launched himself at the man before he could fire. They both fell to the ground, but he was the quicker to recover. He rolled onto his feet, landing close to a gap between two of the encircling cars. As he threaded between the cars he could hear Jackson screaming and cursing at his men to fire. Blinded by the bright circle of their cars' headlights they were unable to see the fleeing man as he ran for the sandy hillside.

. He ran swiftly for the rocks that covered the sides of the steep hillside. In the brightly moonlit arena he was a far too visible target, but once among the protective cover of the rocks, his dark green overcoat would provide an effective camouflage. He zigged and zagged away from the flying bullets that bit at the ground at his feet. He reached the sandy slope well ahead of his pursuers, but the slope was far too soft and it clutched at his feet, fatally slowing him.

Just as he reached his goal, he felt a sharp burning pain in his side. Then he was struck by another bullet and another, but he still kept stubbornly to his feet. He forced himself onward, vainly hoping that somehow, some way, he would be able to escape. More bullets struck him, hitting his arms, legs and back, tearing through his flesh, burying deep into his body. Several times he stumbled and fell to his knees under the hammer blows of the bullets hitting him. Each time he pulled himself to his feet, each time it took him longer to rise and go on.

Finally he could go on no longer. His entire body felt like it was on fire; he didn't have the strength to go on. He was overcome by black despair. He had gambled and lost. Time had finally run out on him. Not knowing that his tormentors had lost him in the darkness, he crawled behind a large pile of rocks and curled up into a tight ball of pain . Although all he wanted to do now was to scream and cry out in anguish, he squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. Even on the brink of death stubborn pride demanded that he not show weakness in front of his enemies.

The young punk saw the masked man fall and knew that this was his chance to impress Jackson. He would do what the police and the entire underworld had failed to do. He had not bothered trying to fire on the fleeing man, but had rather concentrated on climbing the steep, sandy hillside. Now he was the closest to where the masked man had gone to ground. Heavy clouds were starting to obscure the moon. He would have to hurry or he would miss where his prey had hidden himself. A trail of blood led him to where the man was laying in the shadow of a large boulder. When he first spotted him, the punk thought that the man was already dead, but before his disbelieving eyes the masked man rose to his feet. His clothing was covered with blood and his features were taut with pain. He looked more like a corpse than a living person, but he stood proudly, head held high, back straight, determined to face his killer without any sign of weakness.

"Get it over with, my friend. At this distance even you shouldn't be able to miss," he said defiantly, his voice steady despite the pain that threatened to buckle his knees at any moment.

The young man should have felt triumphant, but instead the cold chill of fear gripped his heart. As the leader of a two-bit barrio gang and then as Jackson's newest student he had killed before and expected to kill again, but never had he seen such courage as the masked man displayed now. Here was someone in his short violent life he was forced to respect. He hated it. He lowered his gun and fired into the masked man's left leg. The man fell to the ground as his leg was shattered by the punk's bullet, but again he slowly pulled himself to his feet.

"You're a rotten shot. Try again and this time try not to miss," he taunted.

The punk angrily gritted his teeth, and aimed for the masked man's other leg. "I ain't gonna make it quick fer ya. I'm gonna make ya beg fer yer life," he said as his finger tightened on the trigger. Suddenly he heard a yowl, like that of a supernatural beast and the screams of dying men.

A lithe, whirling figure dressed in a black chauffeur's uniform had exploded into Jackson's men, scattering them like leaves before a storm. A terrifying avenging angel out of their worse nightmares, the newcomer spared no one who came within his reach. Jackson's hoarse screams to fire were drowned out the screams of his men as they fell beneath the newcomer's punishing hands and feet. The gangsters quickly lost heart and fled to their cars. Seeing that the tide of the battle had turned against him, Jackson scuttled away to his car before the man in black could vent his merciless rage on him.

Searching for the masked man, the black-clad chauffeur looked up in time to see him fall under the punk's first bullet. The punk turned and began firing at him. The masked man lunged at him, ruining his aim. He tried to force the gun out of the punk's hand, but he was easily pushed off. The punk stood over him. The punk could see the birth of hope of his eyes as the man in the chauffeur's uniform came closer. Wanting desperately to crush that newborn hope, the punk took careful aim at the oncoming rescuer. The gun didn't fire. The brief struggle in the sand had hopelessly jammed it. He holstered the useless weapon.

"Yer pal's finally here, but it ain't gonna do ya any good. Yer a dead man already without me even firin' a shot," he said before he fled.

The chauffeur had a moment's indecision, but decided against going after the young punk. He could be taken care of later. He quickly trotted to the masked man, who had crumpled back to the ground. Carefully he cradled the man in his arms, the seriousness of his injuries obvious with a glance.

"I'm getting you to a hospital right now," he said in a slightly accented voice that trembled with grief.

The masked man painfully shook his head. "No. It's no use. Take me home. I want to die at home."

"No. You're not going to die!" the chauffeur protested helplessly, "I won't let you!"

"It's too late," the masked man said, wincing in pain, trying to say what he needed to.

"Don't try to talk. Save your strength."

"There's so much I need to say," the masked man grasped his friend's arm with surprising strength. "I've always expected this to happen," he coughed painfully, bringing up blood from a punctured lung. He smiled wryly despite the pain, "I just didn't expect it would be so soon. Tell Frank and Casey that I'm sorry for involving them. Once everything becomes public, they're the ones that'll suffer for what I've done." He gasped again, trying not to cry out as a wave of pain ran through his body. "Tell them I'm sorry," he repeated.

"I won't need to, you'll be able to do that yourself," the chauffeur insisted.

"Don't lie to me. I know I'm dying and so do you."

The masked man closed his eyes, but the pain was still there and getting worse. He felt so tired that he could no longer think clearly. Then the red mist that floated before his eyes faded into a darkness in which there was no pain.

The man in black bowed his head over the still form in his arms and cried as a soft snowfall began to float out of the black night sky.

Chapter One

The Challenge

I

Lenore "Casey" Reid gently pressed the office door closed behind her, taking care not to disturb the man at the desk. She frequently liked to stand there watching him at work as the late afternoon sun cast his ruggedly handsome features into sharp relief. Even after nearly thirty years of marriage and two grown children she was still as attracted to him as when they had first met. Perhaps even more so. A tall broad shouldered man, he possessed the strength and vigor of a man half his age. His thick, once dark hair was now the color of antique silver and his waist was a little thicker, but he still had the flashing aqua-grey eyes that had stolen her heart so many years ago when she had been a newcomer to the Daily Sentinel's secretarial pool and Britt had not yet inherited his father's newspaper.

Feeling that they were living on borrowed time, she had always cherished the years they had spent together as man and wife. Now she feared that the young man waiting in the anteroom would change everything. Her initial impulse had been to send him away, with the excuse that her husband was far too busy to see anyone. Still, his reason for being there could be very important. It would be wrong to send him away without Britt seeing him.

Her reverie was broken when Britt stopped writing and looked up at her with a sigh of tired exasperation. "Okay, Casey, what is it?" he said irritably.

"There's a young man here to see you," she said uneasily, wishing that someone else was performing this unpleasant task.

"I'm busy. Can't he see someone else?" he said, but seeing that she was very disturbed, he immediately became worried. "What's the problem?" he asked.

"He said his name is Lee and that he's Kato's son," she said quietly, after a few moments of hesitation.

"Kato's son?" he asked. "No, I don't think I want to see him or his father, not now, not after all this time," he said bitterly.

"I really think you should see him. At least find out why he's here. It could be very important," she insisted.

"No," came the sharp reply.

"Please."

Irritated, he tossed the pen onto his desk, " Hell, I was still in the hospital when Kato decided to take off without even having the decency to say why he was leaving, so why is he is contacting me after all these years?.

"Why don't you talk to him and find out?" she suggested.

"Will I be sleeping on the couch if I don't?" he asked, his pale eyes sparkling in amusement.

She smiled back. "I don't think you'd be able to sleep at all if you didn't see him."

Britt sighed heavily. "Send him in. Let's see what kind of news he's bringing us."

Britt was struck by the family resemblance as soon the young man entered the room. He was somewhere in his early twenties and had his father's straight dark hair and dark flashing eyes. However, it was more in the way that he carried himself that reminded Britt of his former ally. He moved lightly on the balls of his feet like a dancer and carried himself with a self confidence far beyond his years. "Wonder how much of that is real?" Britt thought cynically.

Lee didn't wait for Britt to speak, but came right to the point. "Mr. Reid, I'm here for my inheritance."

Britt's eyebrows rose at Lee's directness, "And what exactly is that? Your father took everything that belonged to him when he left. I have nothing that's his."

"You have the Black Beauty," came the curt reply.

Stunned, Britt leaned forward with narrowed eyes and studied the young man more closely. Casey moved quietly to close the drapes over that glass wall that separated the office from the City Room. "Reporters are the worst gossips around," she said lightly in explanation, but her soft brown eyes were worried.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," Britt said.

"I'm talking about that big black car you got hidden in the garage of your townhouse. I'm here to get it."

"Oh. I see. You must be talking about the car of the Green Hornet. You've made a big mistake. I know nothing about that car. Whoever told you that I did was wrong."

"Don't think you can get rid of me that easy. I know all about your past as the Green Hornet. My father told me everything. Just give me what I want and I'll get the hell out of you life."

"I'm sorry," Britt answered, "But even if I were stupid enough to admit to having that car to a total stranger, I wouldn't turn it over to you just because you asked for it. If you're really Kato's son, he can come get it himself."

"He can't; he's dead."

Britt's jaw dropped. He tightly grasped Casey's trembling hand as she laid on his shoulder. The shock on her face mirrored his own. He was at a loss as to what to do or say.

Casey asked gently, "How did it happen?"

"He was found at the bottom of a cliff. The cops claim it was an accident, but I know better. He was murdered."

"And you believe that with the Black Beauty you can get those who did it." said Britt.

"Yes. It's the only way."

"It won't work," Britt said, slowly shaking his head, "It takes a lot more than a fancy gadget-ridden car to bring killers to justice."

"I don't want justice! I want revenge!" Lee shouted, "And you can do nothing to stop me!"

Britt thought for a moment, steepling his fingers in concentration. "I can refuse to give you the car."

"I could talk to the cops."

"Would you really do that?"

"No, not really, but not because of you, but because you were friends with my father. He never would've wanted me to do anything like that. But, damn it, you don't have any use for it. I do. Instead of letting it rust away, give it to me. My father built it. It's rightfully mine!"

"Lee, Kato and I built that car together. It's not yours by any right. But, perhaps you're right. I don't have any need for it. It just serves to remind me of a past I'd rather forget. So," he sighed disgustedly, "You might as well have the damn thing. It won't do you any good. You'll just wind up destroying it. And yourself. But that's your business, not mine."

Casey started to protest, but stopped when she saw that he was as unhappy about his decision as she was. Britt lifted himself slowly from his chair and reached for the cane that was sitting in its usual place. He caught Lee's quickly disguised look of surprise. Even after so many years, he was still irritated by the way people always guiltily averted their eyes when they saw it, as though it was something too shameful to be noticed. A proud man, Britt considered himself in excellent shape and frequently went out of his way to prove it to others, including this young man who had a hard time keeping up with his long-legged gait as they left the office.

Britt remained seated in his car for a few moments after pulling up to the townhouse. He and Casey had lived there briefly after their marriage but he had been too troubled by old memories to live there for very long. After deactivating all the secret devices within its walls, he had locked the door, never expecting to return.

Britt sighed to himself. "I should've sold the damn place a long time ago. Except somebody might've stumbled onto something and then where would we be?" He grimaced at his thoughts. "I'm getting too soft in my old age..." He allowed himself a small smile. "We did have some good times there."

"We'll have to park out front, I don't have the remote for the garage in this car," he explained as he got out of the car.

"Yeah, and it doesn't have the bars built into it to hold it onto the floor when we bring the Black Beauty up," Lee added as he trotted eagerly after Britt as they entered the townhouse.

As he walked down a short flight of stairs to the garage, Britt felt like he was moving in a dream; as though the past several years had never happened. He had to remind himself that the young man beside him was not Kato, but rather his son. He gestured to a set of pegboards on the rear wall of the garage. "You said you know everything. Prove it."

"You still don't trust me?" Lee asked.

"That's right. I don't," Britt answered in a steely voice.

Lee frowned in concentration as he studied the pegboards. Then he moved to the board on the left, selected a rachet wrench and twisted the head on it twice. A small panel between the pegboards opened to reveal a set of buttons and switches. He pressed a button and the bright overhead lights dimmed to a pale green. Lee hesitated and stole a quick glance at Britt who stood behind him, arms folded across his chest, his face giving not a hint of whether he was doing things right or not. Lee passed over the buttons that had once been used to secure a long gone beige convertible to the floor and selected another set.

He took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart. This was the moment he had been looking forward to for a very long time. He pressed one of them. For a few breathless moments nothing happened. Perhaps, too many years had gone by. Then he heard a low whine and felt the thrumming vibration of a powerful engine beneath his feet. Slowly a large section of the floor began to tilt upwards and over. Lee's heart caught in his throat, finally one of his fondest dreams was coming true.

Like a giant hammerhead shark breaching the ocean's surface, a big black car rotated into view. The dim green light overhead played along the big shield-shaped grill like fingers along the strings of a harp. The car came to rest in front of Lee and Britt, its front and rear left-hand doors automatically opening in welcome. Lee walked slowly around the car, his fingers lightly caressing the smooth black surface that shone in the dim light like fine satin. He admired the clean, simple lines that played games with perspective so that five massive tons of steel was molded into a vehicle of grace and beauty.

"The Black Beauty," Lee breathed, "She's magnificent. I've never seen anything more beautiful in my whole life."

"Actually my pet name for it was Black Ugly," Britt said wryly.

Lee gasped at Britt's lack of reverence. "How could he dare say such a thing?" he thought.

Britt smiled crookedly. "She's a lot more than a pretty face. She can outrun and out-shoot anything on four wheels. People didn't call her a 'Rolling arsenal' because she's pretty, but because of the rockets and the other weapons we shoe-horned into her."

Britt glanced at his watch. "It's time for us to get moving. We'll grab the new battery and the rest of the stuff out of my car and get the Black Beauty ready to roll."

They worked quickly, but to Lee time seemed to drag by far too slowly. Finally, the Black Beauty was ready and he crawled behind the steering wheel with a big grin. "How about a ride around the block?" he asked Britt.

Britt gazed for a moment at the open left hand passenger door. Briefly he could feel the rush he had always felt when entering that door, when it led to excitement, adventure, and danger. Danger. The dark stains that covered the back sent a chill through him. He slowly closed the heavy door. "No. I'd rather not. My last ride was enough to last me a lifetime."

Lee momentarily felt the chill that had sped through Britt and forced himself to ignore it. He pressed the Black Beauty's starter button. Instead of the satisfying roar of a powerful engine coming from the long hood all he heard was an irritating grinding noise. He shot a questioning glance at Britt.

"It's been a long time. You might have to try a few times before she'll turn over," Britt said, silently hoping that the Black Beauty would never start; that her mighty engine was as dead as the Green Hornet. Perhaps then Lee would give up his foolish mission.

Without success Lee stubbornly continued to grind on the starter until he was afraid that the new battery would give out. He felt the hot flush of embarrassment under Britt's steady gaze. The last thing he wanted to do was to admit defeat to the older man. With a fervent prayer to the god of automobiles and the young men who love them, he pressed the starter again.

The engine began to cough and sputter. It backfired several times, clearing the years out of its system. The entire car shook and rocked like an angry dragon rudely awakened from a long slumber. A thick blue-black smoke filled the garage threatening to suffocate them.

Lee doggedly kept his foot on the gas pedal, "Go baby, go, go baby, go" he chanted under his breath until the engine began to settle down.

Through the noise of the ventilator that he had turned on, Britt listened to the engine's deep throated purr. He leaned over to give Lee a few last minute instructions. "You'll have to back her out. I disconnected the billboard years ago. It's dark now so I don't think you'll have any problems with anybody recognizing the car."

"What about the cops?" Lee asked.

"Just make sure you drive carefully and go the speed limit, and I don't think they'll bother you. Anybody who'd recognize it has been retired a long time. And even if they did recognize it, I don't think they'd believe it."

Britt reached in and pressed a button on the dashboard. As the headlights rotated, he added, "You better use the regular headlights. And leave the weapons alone until you give everything a thorough checkup. I have no idea what your father did, if he did anything at all, before he left it in the garage. No matter what you think about this car, remember it's still just a car and an old one at that. It's been in storage for a long time. Don't try anything stupid." he warned. Britt sighed, looking at Lee and at how happy he seemed to be behind the wheel. "She's all yours now. Take good care of her. She was your father's pride and joy."

Britt felt a strange mixture of emotions as he watched Lee carefully back the Black Beauty out of the garage. He should have been happy to have gotten rid of the last tie to his past as the Green Hornet. Yet he felt an odd longing to be once more in the back of that car. To be on his way to some new and exciting adventure. He told himself that the time for that was now long gone. Such adventures were only for the young and foolish, not for an old man with a bum leg who should know better. Still though, he had a feeling that he had not seen the last of that young man and that old black car.

II

Lee smiled with pleasure as he guided the Black Beauty through the city streets. Although it was much bigger than most of the cars now on the road, it moved nimbly through the heavy evening traffic, responding to the slightest movement of the steering wheel. He lightly caressed the steering wheel as he let it slip through his hands after turning a corner. The large wheel was hard and as thin as a woman's wedding ring, not like the smaller, thickly padded ones that were in all the cars today. That was only one of the many differences that came from not just being the Green Hornet's car, but rather because it was originally built in the days of big cars and big engines and to hell with the gas mileage. Then, all that mattered was size, speed and power. Especially power. He could feel almost limitless power beneath the engine's quiet purr under the long hood. Power that was just begging for him to call on it.

"Hey, man. Where'd you get that black dinosaur? Does your daddy know you got it?" screamed a purple haired teenager from a convertible that had pulled up next to Lee at a stop light on the outskirts of the city.

"Don't bug him, Larry," shouted a girl in spiky blue hair over the music that shook the convertible and the air around it with a heavy, throbbing beat. "I think it's really pretty, you know, kinda like a black beauty." She leaned halfway out of the convertible, batting her heavily made-up eyes at Lee. "I think he's kinda cute too."

The teenager frowned at the girl. He raced the convertible's engine. "Ya wanna drag?"

The light turned green and the convertible raced off with screaming tires and mocking laughter. Lee watched the convertible take off for a few moments and then pressed the gas pedal down with deliberate slowness. The last thing he needed was to be caught dragging. Just the idea of the Black Beauty drag racing was ridiculous.

Unfortunately, at the next light the convertible was waiting for him. "C'mon, you chicken or something? Hell, I bet that wreck can't even get out of its own way!" shouted the teenager as he sent a nearly full beer bottle crashing against the Black Beauty's side.

Flushed with humiliation and outrage, Lee swore angrily. Mere glass wouldn't even scratch the car's bullet proof side, but that didn't matter. This was the Green Hornet's car, his father had built it, and no one had ever dared touch the Black Beauty with disrespect. Bullets, yes, lasers, yes, but beer? Never! He flipped open the top of the armrest to his right and flipped a switch forward. The parking lights folded down to reveal two sets of eight rocket tubes. His hand hovered tantalizingly over the firing button. It would be so easy, he thought. Too easy, he decided as he reluctantly flipped the armrest closed. It'd be like swatting a fly with a howitzer. Besides Reid would have his butt if he ever found out.

If they wanted to see how fast the Black Beauty would go, he'd show them. As he firmly pressed down on the gas, he activated the polarized headlights, bathing the road ahead in a green glow invisible from outside the car, and switched on the silencer, quieting the mighty engine's low throb into a whisper. The Black Beauty became virtually invisible. It responded hungrily and surged forward eagerly as if glad to be set free from mundane traffic laws. It overtook the racing convertible like it was standing still and sent it diving into a roadside ditch. Later, none of their friends believed the young couple when they talked of a big, black ghost car, but their parents remembered a man long thought dead and wondered.

Lee laughed as he continued down the road. Never had he felt so powerful, so invulnerable. It was exhilarating to have the magnificent Black Beauty at his command. He loved the feeling. It was a perfect night for driving. A brilliant full moon shone in the crystal clear night sky amid stars that glittered like diamonds. The road was a bright river that flowed around hillsides, and up and down the valleys between. The Black Beauty flowed with it, charging up steep inclines before which lesser vehicles faded away and slipped dancingly along sharp turns with the grace of a sports car. It was like a thing alive, a creature of the night, glorying in the darkness; one with the wind that whispered ebon songs along its midnight dark sides. Lee pressed the gas pedal down further and felt the Black Beauty surge forward at even greater speed without a hint that there could be a limit, that there could be any end to what it could do.

The sign of Lee's exit whizzed by, barely registering on his awareness. Then he remembered. Intending to cross the median strip just ahead of him, he slammed on the brakes and twisted the steering wheel. Wrenching the steering wheel out of Lee's hands, the heavy car violently fish tailed back and forth across the road. The out of control Black Beauty raced wildly down and up the median, throwing up clods of dirt and grass. Barely missing the pillars of the overpass it roared across the other side and on down and off the shoulder until it buried itself into a stand of trees.

Lee trembled as he rested his head on arms folded across the steering wheel. He took a few deep shuddering breaths. His wrists were so sore that he felt that they were sprained, and yet outside of a small cut on his forehead, he was basically unhurt. Scared out of his mind, yes, but unhurt. He reached for the door, felt the car shift, and stopped. He held his breath and tried to look out, but could only see trees all around him. For all he knew, there could be a bottomless chasm yawning beneath him. Very gingerly he eased the door open just wide enough to get through. He squeezed out of the car and crawled over shattered trees and torn turf until he reached the roadside. Looking back at the path of destruction that the Black Beauty had left in its wake, he was surprised he was even alive. A lesser vehicle would have been destroyed and he would surely be dead, but, except for a few dents and some scraped paint here and there, the Black Beauty looked to be in great shape.

Now he had to decide what to do. He wanted to call a tow truck, but he would have to explain the Black Beauty's unusual design. He couldn't count on no one recognizing that it was the Green Hornet's car. It was too big a chance to take. Worse would be having to call Britt Reid for help. That idea he didn't like at all. He walked down the road for a few feet in deep thought and then walked back. The decision still didn't feel any better. He would have to call Reid. He crawled back into the Black Beauty and dragged himself into the passenger compartment. He was relieved to find that the phone on the rear shelf still worked and that he would at least be spared trying to find a gas station in the middle of the night.

As he waited for Reid he ran through his mind what he would say to the older man, but nothing sounded right. Reid would be justifiably furious and Lee felt he deserved whatever the man dished out. When he saw the lights of a big pick up with a winch slowing near him, he wished for a moment that it was some kind stranger who had decided to help him out. No luck. It was Reid and Lee prepared himself for a severe tongue lashing. Instead he found his presence barely noted with an icy glare and curt nod. Reid walked down to where the Black Beauty was and then returned without a word. He didn't have to say anything, his anger and disgust was plain enough to Lee.

For several hours they worked, with Britt giving short commands and Lee mechanically obeying them. As they sawed, chopped and lifted away heavy pieces of wood and rocks, Lee found that he was having a hard time keeping up with the older man. He stubbornly pressed on, deciding that if Reid could do it, so could he. Finally they had cleared a rough path back to the road, and enough debris had been cleared for them to take a good look at the Black Beauty. A soft "damn" from Reid mirrored Lee's own dismay. Its front right wheel was bent at a crazy angle. The Black Beauty would be not be going anywhere under its own power for some time to come.

The ride to Britt Reid's Valley Grove home was sheer torture for Lee. He was sore and tired. The job of getting the Black Beauty back to the road and hitched up to the pickup had been back breaking, especially under the burden of Reid's foul mood. Screaming and righteous indignation, he could have taken. At least then he would have had the chance to do some screaming of his own. Instead he had to keep it all bottled inside. He was ready to explode.

"How fast were you going?" Reid asked quietly as he firmly kept his eyes on the road ahead.

"I don't know," Lee answered in a small voice.

"Were you asleep?"

"No sir. I was wide awake," Lee protested, "I just didn't think I was going that fast. It got away from me. It's just that I kept on going faster and faster."

"Ever hear of a speedometer?"

Lee nodded. "Yeah. I didn't look."

"What were you doing when you lost control?" Reid pressed.

"I missed my exit and I was trying to get across the median so I could get back to it."

Britt shot a glance at Lee. "Just where the hell was your head, boy? You can't throw a car that size around like it's a little sports car. What's the biggest thing you've ever driven?" he demanded, barely controlling his anger.

Lee shrank under Britt's condemnation. "I had a Volkswagen that I had souped up at home. I sold it to come out here."

"So you figured you could drive the Black Beauty like it was a hot Volksbug."

"It was a Rabbit," Lee corrected, instantly wishing he had kept his mouth shut.

"Same thing," Britt said sharply. "What do you intend to do now?" he asked.

"I guess I'll try to fix the Black Beauty. Somehow," Lee answered.

"That'll be expensive. You got the money to do it?"

"No. Everything is tied up in some kind of legal hassle. The insurance company keeps on finding new reasons for not paying and my Dad wasn't a real whiz when it came to money. He didn't leave a will so everything's tied up in the courts."

Britt began to soften. "You've got yourself in a real bind, young man," he said, "Well, you can stay at my place until you figure out what you're going to do next."

Casey greeted Britt warmly after they had finished placing the Black Beauty in the garage. Britt filled her in on what had happened and she whisked Lee away to a late night snack and a warm bed before he could protest. She returned to find Britt glumly contemplating the damaged car.

"Poor, old girl. That young man sure did a job on you," she said, gazing at the filthy, badly listing car.

"Casey, we put the Black Beauty up against everything imaginable; lasers, army tanks, even an identical twin. Always without getting the tiniest scratch. Now after a few hours in that boy's hands . . . Just look at it!" Britt said unhappily as he wrapped an arm around his wife's slender waist.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"I don't know. He needs help. That much is clear. But I don't think he wants it. At least not the kind I can give him. He probably thinks that only the Green Hornet can help him. He is going to have to be disappointed. The Hornet died in that gravel pit years ago. I can't bring him back to life," he replied.

"Still, he needs your help," Casey said.

"I know," Britt said, his eyes troubled as he thought about what the future may hold.

III

His footsteps hushed by thick carpet, Lee quietly padded through the big house. It was large and expensively furnished, but not in the way he had always imagined in rich people's houses. Instead of a showy display that shouted money, everything was comfortable, homey even. Money and good taste, he thought wryly.

Most of the rooms had their doors shut and he refrained from opening them. He did not want to be accused of snooping, but one door was open and he could not bear to refuse such an open invitation. The room was paneled in warm woods and lined with bookcases filled with books and family mementos. He quietly explored the room, occasionally examining something that caught his attention. Paintings and framed photographs of family members both living and dead were hung on the walls. He stopped before a large painting depicting Britt Reid, his wife and their two adult children. The two young people looked only a few years older than he was. The son was blonde, grey-eyed and had the same square jawed features of his father. The daughter was a raven-haired beauty with feline sea-green eyes set in a delicate heart-shaped face. A pleasant, upper class family, he thought sarcastically, and the kids were probably spoiled rotten like most rich kids who had always gotten whatever they wanted.

A quiet movement told Lee that he was no longer alone in the room. Turning quickly around, he found Britt Reid watching him suspiciously with narrowed eyes. Reid had been up for several hours and was wearing an old plaid flannel shirt and worn blue jeans. He looked more like a ranch hand than the wealthy editor, owner-publisher of one of the nation's most powerful newspapers.

"I didn't mean to be a snoop, Mr. Reid. I got up a little early and I didn't want to wake anybody up," Lee said, feeling uncomfortable under Reid's stern gaze. He nodded toward the painting in front of him. "You have a nice looking family. I bet you're really proud of them."

"I am. John's in the Mideast, covering the civil war in Kahara. We're old friends of the royal family. I've tried to talk them into leaving, but so far they've insisted on staying. Now, Danielle, she's going to a law school out of state. I think she's going to be a fine lawyer someday."

"I guess they had to leave town to get out of your shadow," Lee said.

"Sometimes young people have to strike out on their own. They learn to depend on themselves instead of on their 'old man'," Britt said.

Lee knew that he was needling Reid, but even he couldn't say why. Something in him made him not to want to like the older man. He let his gaze wander around the room until another painting caught his attention. It showed a man in western garb wearing a black domino mask astride a big white horse. Beneath the painting were a pair of lovingly maintained pearl handled Colt 45's in a black leather gun belt filled with what looked like silver bullets. "I always thought he was just a legend," he commented.

"Most legends have some truth behind them. He was my great grandfather's younger brother. I knew him when I was a very young boy. He was quite a man," Britt explained. "He was the only survivor of an ambush that killed my great-grandfather and the rest of the Texas Rangers in his command. He buried his identity with the other men, donned that mask, and dedicated his life to bringing law and order to the West."

"Sounds like you admired him a lot. Is that why you became the Green Hornet?" Lee asked.

Britt shrugged and said with a slight smile, "In a way, maybe. I don't know. In a lot of ways I think he was my inspiration when it came to being the Green Hornet. I think it runs in the blood. Just like the newspaper. My father was a second generation newspaper man. His father was a reporter and my father worked for a lot of years as a reporter until he had enough money to start the Daily Sentinel," Britt's eyes grew warm with memory. "It was only a penny weekly when he first started, but he was the one who set its tone, defined its purpose, and made it what you see today. He's the one who gave the Sentinel its heart. You see, he always believed that it was a newspaper's duty to protect the people, to expose corruption wherever it might occur, even at the highest level of government," a bitterness began to creep into his voice, "He did a good job of it too. Too good a job. He made a lot of very powerful enemies. And when he couldn't be bought off he was framed for a murder he didn't do and wound up dying in a prison cell.

"I got back from a long trip in to Europe just in time to see him die." Britt fell silent. The image of prison bar shadows across his father's shrunken body still haunted him.

He continued finally, "The Green Hornet was born when my father died. What else could I do? I had no other way to prove he was innocent. All of our so-called friends had turned their back on us. The Sentinel was completely discredited and so was the Reid name. All possible avenues of legal recourse were closed to me. It's hard to prove the innocence of a dead man. It's true when they say that the good a man does is buried with him, the evil, or what people believe is evil, lives on.

"My great-uncle had donned a mask to fight for justice and I decided that I too, would seek justice on my own, without the help of the formal legal establishment. There was a difference though. The Post-Civil War West is very different from a twentieth century city. Things are a lot more complicated and you can't just ride off into the sunset with a hearty Hi-yo Silver.

"People were easier to deal with in those days than they are now. My great-uncle always tried to convince people that he wore the mask in the name of justice. I decided not to even try. It wouldn't have done any good. No one ever trusts a masked vigilante. In a way it helped because the Green Hornet's reputation as a criminal helped me deal with the underworld.

"Your father and I fought fire with fire. Time and time again we brought to justice very powerful people with iron-clad proof of their crimes when no one else would touch them." Britt stopped suddenly, surprised at the old passions that were awakened in him.

"You and my father did a great job. I know my father was very proud of what you two did together," Lee admitted. "I bet you told your children everything, just like my father did."

Britt shook his head, "No, I haven't, and I plan to keep that way. That's all in the past now. That's where it belongs. They have no need to know about what I did. I expect you to respect my wishes on that matter," he said firmly.

"I just don't get it," Lee said, growing angry and frustrated, "Justice sounds like it's so important to you and yet when someone as close to you as my father was, is murdered, you don't care. You even admitted that you became the Green Hornet to bring the people who murdered your father to justice. Now you won't do the same thing when my father, your former partner, is murdered. Why?"

Reid angrily turned on Lee. "Look, I'll do everything I can to find out who killed him, if he was indeed murdered. I have a lot of resources, a lot of connections through the Sentinel. If what you believe is true, I'll do everything in my power to bring those responsible to justice."

"Short of becoming the Green Hornet, that is," Lee pressed.

"Short of that, yes."

"Why, damn it? Have you grown so slow and lazy from rubbing shoulders with the fat cats that you no longer give a damn about anyone else? Are you now so rich that anyone who isn't in your social circle doesn't matter? That somebody who covered your back doesn't count?" Lee shouted, failing to notice Britt Reid's growing fury. "Or are you just chicken? Have you turned yellow in your old age? Or maybe it was all a lie. That's why you want to cover up your past as the Green Hornet, because you know that the Green Hornet was a fraud. That it was Kato who did all the work. That he was the one behind the Green Hornet's success. That the Green Hornet was really a stinking coward. And so's Britt Reid!"

Britt exploded. He backhanded Lee, sending him flying against the wall. "Don't you dare question my courage, boy! Not until somebody points a gun at your belly and tells you to dig your own damn grave!"

Lee gingerly touched his jaw as he watched Reid stalk out of the room. The room was spinning around and it hurt too much when he tried to move his head. One thing was for sure. Reid was not a good man to make angry. It was a good thing that he had used his open hand or Lee would have been out cold.

Casey was not surprised to find Lee busily packing his clothes. "You should have something to eat before you leave," she said, placing a tray of food on a table next to the bed.

Without turning to face her, he mumbled, "I can get something on the road. Thanks anyway."

"I think we need to talk about a few things first. Please sit down and let's talk while you eat," she said reasonably.

"I'd rather not. I've put my foot in my mouth enough for one day," he answered.

"Lee, Britt does want to help you. He really does, but he has to do it his own way. Do you have any idea what you're asking of him?"

"Is it too much to ask him to do what he has done for strangers so many times before? I would've thought that he'd want to become the Green Hornet this one last time to avenge the death of his old partner. After all it's his fault in a way that my father was killed. If he hadn't kicked him out into the cold, my father would still be alive."

"Kicked out in the cold?" Casey was shocked. "Is that what Kato told you?"

"No. At least not in so many words. It's just whenever I'd ask him why he left, he'd just say that he had failed and had to leave. I figured my father had done something that made Reid decide to kick him out."

"So he never told you what happened," she said softly as she settled into a chair. "Lee, nobody made him leave, especially Britt. What I am going to tell you is what he told me as he was getting ready to leave. Just like you are doing now." She took a deep breath and began to tell him what had happened so long ago.

IV

"I think the whole idea stinks," Kato said when Britt had finished outlining his plan.

"Not that I don't appreciate your candor, but would you mind telling me why?" Britt said testily.

"I have some very bad feelings about the whole thing. It all hinges on you putting yourself into Jackson's hands. There's too much that can go wrong. What if Jackson has his boys plug you right then and there? Have you thought about that?"

"Yes, but I have no choice. We've tried everything to get him out in the open, but nothing has worked so far. The only thing he wants bad enough to come out of hiding is the Green Hornet. That's what I'm going to give him. And something he isn't expecting. Do you have any better ideas?" he added angrily.

"Yes, I do. Drop the whole thing. We've crippled Jackson's entire organization. He'll never get it going again. He's leaving the country a broken old man. Let him go," Kato said.

"I can't."

"Why?" Kato demanded.

"Read this," Britt said, drawing out a sheaf of papers from his desk.

Kato read them and reread them, shocked by their implications. "Where did you get this?" he asked.

"Frank's people at the DA's office found them among Conner's stuff on the Lady Capri, after we uncovered his masquerade as De La Claire. Apparently he kept records on all his dealings with his 'partners' as insurance. Frank wanted to keep it under wraps until he could make an airtight case against Jackson."

"He also didn't want you involved," Kato commented.

"Right," Britt agreed with a short nod.

"If this is true, then Conners and his cronies hired Jackson to make sure your father would never leave prison alive."

"That's right. Everybody, including me, thought he had given up. That he had died of a broken heart. But he didn't. He was murdered, Kato, and Jackson was the one who set it up. He had someone slip a little poison in my father's food every day. Not enough so that anyone would notice, but enough to cause a very slow decline in his health. That way when he died, no one would ever suspect the truth. Not even me. But I should've guessed the truth. My father wasn't the type of man to give up like that. No matter what the odds were."

"Okay, now I can understand why you want Jackson so badly, but I still don't like your plan," Kato insisted.

"Still think I should drop it? That I should just sit back and let him go?" Britt asked bitterly.

"Yes I do. Maybe Mr. Scanlon can do something to stop Jackson from leaving the country. Maybe some kind of court order."

"That won't work. Jackson's leaving too soon. In fact, he's leaving right now to prevent Frank from doing just that. By the time he could set everything into motion, Jackson will be gone. I have to act tonight or it'll be too late. I can't let him get away. I want him and I want him bad," Britt declared determinedly.

"Do you want him so badly that you're willing to die? If you go through this, that's what will happen. I can't allow you to throw your life away like this."

"Can't allow? Just how the hell are you planning on stopping me?" Britt demanded. "I've had enough of this arguing. If I have to do this alone, then I'll do it alone. Even if it means fighting you," Britt said, his fists balled, ready for a fight.

"You're a damn fool," Kato answered angrily, "I'm a better fighter than you are."

"You think so? Try it," Britt dared, raising his fists.

Kato crouched in a defensive stance, his dark eyes blazing. Then he straightened unexpectedly. "No, I won't do it."

"Why?" Britt demanded.

"Because, even though I could beat the Hell out of you, I won't do it."

"You think I'm so easy to beat?" Britt prodded angrily, "C'mon, try me."

"I could kill you with a single blow of my hand . . . " Kato warned.

"Try it."

Kato turned his back on the angry publisher. "No, I won't even try, because you're too damn stubborn to know when to quit. And that's what's going to get you killed."

"Fine. You stay here. Stay where you're safe and cozy. I'm going," Britt growled as he turned on his heel and strode out the room.

Clothed in his Green Hornet disguise, Britt barely noticed the Black Beauty rising from its berth beneath the garage floor. He had been greatly surprised by Kato's strong opposition to his plan. True, it was dangerous, but it was the best thing he could come up with. He was still determined to get Jackson, but now he was stumped as to how he was going to do it Perhaps as he was driving to the rendezvous he would come up with an idea that might work.

Even as preoccupied as he was, he heard Kato's quiet footfall behind him. Britt turned and saw that he had changed from his white valet jacket into his black chauffeur's uniform and the black mask that so much resembled his own green one. "I've changed my mind," Kato said quietly.

"Why?" Britt asked.

"I can't allow you to go alone. I've always considered it an honor to fight by your side. I hope you will allow me to do so tonight."

"Are you still so sure that I'm going to die tonight?" Britt asked tersely.

"Yes, I am."

"What makes you so sure?"

"All week long I've been having these nightmares . . . "

"Nightmares? What kind of nightmares?"

"Every night I see you falling in a hail of bullets. I see you lying in a pool of your own blood. And no matter what I do, I can't stop you from dying," Kato said, his eyes reflecting the horror of his vision.

Britt avoided looking Kato in the eye. He was embarrassed by his earlier angry words and chilled by Kato's vision. "I've seen enough hunches pan out that I can't ignore your warning, but I still have to go through with this."

"I know, but if I can't prevent your death, then perhaps it will be my privilege to die by your side."

"I hope you're wrong, Kato, but I'm glad that you have decided to go with me," Britt said, stepping aside to allow Kato to assume his customary place in the driver's seat.

Kato absently chewed on a gloved thumb as he watched the small television screen set in the Black Beauty's dashboard. All he could see were two men standing outside a door leading into an old brick building. Waiting in the car for the Green Hornet to work his magic was what he always hated the most He had no idea what was going on in the building the Green Hornet had entered over an hour ago. He had parked some distance away and he wished that he could get the Scanner in close enough to peek into its grimy windows, but any movement might betray the hovering television camera to the lookouts.

Since a thorough search would have uncovered a bug hidden elsewhere on his person, the Green Hornet had hidden a miniature bug beneath the hornet symbol on the brow of his mask. The tiny device was very low powered and Kato would have to rely on the Scanner to increase and transmit the beeper's signal. If the Scanner was spotted and destroyed, the Green Hornet's life would be forfeit.

After what had seemed an eternity, Jackson's men came out of the building, shoving the Green Hornet ahead of them. Kato, watching on his dashboard screen, was relieved to see that while the Hornet appeared to be a little roughed up, he seemed to be unhurt. It was now Kato's job to stir up a veritable hornet's nest of cops.

The new mayor, to make good his promise to put the Green Hornet behind bars, had authorized enough overtime to keep the city's streets blanketed with police cars day and night. It had become almost impossible for the Black Beauty to roam the streets without picking up a police escort whenever it went out. Now Kato would take advantage of that and lead the police to Jackson and his death squad, hopefully in time to prevent the Green Hornet's execution.

Soon Kato found he was enjoying himself as he led the howling police cars on a merry chase through the narrow, twisting city streets. Perhaps, he thought, he was wrong. Everything was going just as planned. The police cars were careful not to come too close, fully aware that the twin batteries of rockets tucked into the car's rear bumper could blast a pursuer into bits of flaming wreckage. Likewise, they did not bother setting up roadblocks, since the forward rockets were perfectly capable of clearing away any obstacles in front of the Black Beauty.

Unexpectedly the Black Beauty's big engine began to clatter loudly, as the oil pressure gauge dropped dangerously. Kato swore under his breath. The Black Beauty had seen some hard duty the last few weeks, and he had not had the time to conduct the usual checkup of the car's systems. He would have to lose the cops immediately before the engine froze up. He had a sudden inspiration when realized he was entering the city's 'Mile of Cars', where several auto dealers had set up of the country's largest automotive shopping centers. It was the ideal haystack in which to hide the needle.

As he rounded another corner, Kato stomped onto the gas pedal, hitting the silencer and polarizing the headlights at the same time. The Black Beauty became a silent, nearly invisible wraith. It surged easily ahead of the police cars, giving Kato a large enough lead to make the Black Beauty disappear among the new Mark I's of the Lincoln dealer's stock, a wolf among the sheep.

Kato anxiously watched the police care race unsuspectingly past his position. Until they passed, he would not be able to work on the Black Beauty. All the while valuable time was ticking away. The wailing sirens reminded him of banshees, the foretellers of death within a household. He tried not to think about that as he listened closely to the police band on the radio. Far too slowly silence returned as the locations given for the police cars became steadily further away.

Once the police were a safe distance away, Kato jumped out of the car, and dove under the long hood. Quickly he spotted the shattered oil filter that had splattered the entire engine compartment with oil. Precious minutes ticked away as he grabbed a spare oil filter and extra oil from the trunk and refilled the engine with the oil.

Finished with his work, Kato drove cautiously from his hiding place. Having no desire this time to be noticed, he continued running dark and silent. He prayed that his repairs would hold. He engaged the supercharger. This time Kato was the pursuer. He had no time to waste, every moment was more precious than gold. The Scanner signal was very weak, but after cutting out the video, he was able to boost the audio loud enough to hear a steady ping. As long as the signal was moving, there existed some hope that the Green Hornet still lived.

Steadily the Black Beauty's great speed decreased the distance between Kato and the car carrying the Green Hornet. Soon he realized that the car's destination was an abandoned gravel pit that was rumored to be a gangland cemetery. The Scanner signal became stationary and Kato reactivated the video transmission. He would have to move quickly and the camera would guide him through the man-made mountains and cliffs.

The roving camera relayed back to Kato a terrible scene lit by the headlights of some cars that been arranged in a circle. Several still bodies were laying beside the black hole of a grave. Fearing what he might find, Kato drove recklessly at top speed. When he arrived, he slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the Black Beauty without waiting for it to come to a full stop. Breathlessly he examined each body, and was relieved to find that none of them wore a dark green overcoat. Then he steeled himself to look into the gaping hole. It was empty.

Hearing gunfire, Kato looked up and spotted a group of men chasing the Green Hornet. The Green Hornet faltered and fell as Kato stood watching. He raced up the toward the gunmen in a black rage. It didn't matter that they had guns and that he had only his hands and feet to defend himself. Kato fell on them so terribly that they didn't even think to shoot, even though Jackson screamed for them to fire. The gunmen could not resist his enraged onslaught and those few who survived his attack joined their leader in escaping to their cars. Kato promised himself that their time, too, would come, that none one would escape his righteous wrath. For now he had to find the Green Hornet.

A trail of blood led him to the Green Hornet's crumpled body hidden in the shadows of some large boulders. The man was still alive, barely hanging onto consciousness. Kato gently cradled the badly wounded man in his arms. He tried to make him more comfortable. Even in the fitful moonlight he could see how badly the Green Hornet was hurt.

"I'm getting you to a hospital now," he said, trying to stop his voice from cracking with grief. He wished that there was some way he could take on some of the pain that wracked the Green Hornet's body.

The Green Hornet grabbed Kato's arm with surprising strength. Through blood flecked lips he protested, "No. It's no use. I just want to go home." He tried to apologize for involving the DA and Casey, but Kato wouldn't let him. He urged that the Green Hornet would be able to talk to them himself. That he would survive. The Green Hornet didn't believe him. He didn't it believe himself, no matter how hard he wished he could. The Green Hornet suddenly arched in agony and then fell limp with a soft gasp of pain. Kato bowed his head and began to cry in helpless grief as a soft snow began to fall out of the black sky.

Against hope, Kato removed his glove and searched for a pulse in the Green Hornet's neck. His fingers were so cold that at first he was not able to feel anything, but it was still there, weak and thready, yes, but it was still there. Kato tenderly lifted the Green Hornet in his arms and carried him down the steep slope, unmindful of the heavy weight in his arms and the treacherous footing of the sand beneath his feet.

Once back at the Black Beauty, he quickly dug out the first aid kit, blankets and anything else that could stop the flow of blood from the Green Hornet's many wounds. He quickly stripped off the Green Hornet's mask, overcoat and the shirt beneath it. He had to move quickly or the intense cold and the terrible loss of blood would shove the Green Hornet into Death's waiting arms. Kato wished he could work in the car, but it would have been too cramped. As it was, he would have to be very careful not cause further injury when he placed the Green Hornet onto the back seat.

The drive back to the city was a nightmare. Kato's driving skills were tested to their limit as he raced Black Beauty on the thin edge between safety and disaster. A thin sheet of ice had formed on the road making any kind of speed virtually impossible. Big, wet snowflakes covered the windshield faster than the wipers could clear it, so that he could barely see where he was going. All the while Kato tried to listen for the Green Hornet's strained breathing, fearing that he might be carrying a dead man. He decided that if the Green Hornet died on the way he would pull the Black Beauty off the road and set all its systems on overload, resulting in a funeral pyre for the both of them. He had no desire to outlive the Green Hornet.

Kato drove the Black Beauty directly up to the hospital's emergency entrance, not caring whether it was recognized or not. He discarded his mask just before he climbed out of the car and carried Britt Reid into Emergency Room. Despite the protests of the medical personnel, Kato insisted on bearing him without help into the treatment room. Once Kato had assured them that the blood that covered his clothing was not his own, they turned their attention to the seemingly hopeless task of saving Britt Reid's life. Kato remained in the room, grimly silent as he watched the doctors do their work, resolving that this time he would not leave Britt Reid's side, not when he was in the most critical battle of his life.

When he tried to follow as Britt was wheeled into an operating room, a petite brunette nurse tried to stop him from following.

"You can't go in there, sir," she said.

"Let me go. I won't be in the way. I promise," Kato said, determined not to let Britt out of his sight.

"If you go in there, you could endanger his life. The doctors must be allowed to work undisturbed. You've done everything you could. Why don't you let me take you to the cafeteria where you can get a cup of coffee and talk over a few things," she said, trying to sound reasonable.

"Done all I can? If I had really done all I could, Mr. Reid wouldn't be in there more dead than alive," he angrily retorted. "Besides, what do we have to discuss?"

"Well, there are some forms here that have to be filled out. You know, insurance, medical history and so on," she replied as she tried to coax him away from the O.R.'s door.

"How can you talk about forms at a time like this? If he dies, they won't matter," Kato protested.

Noticing a pair of hefty security guards moving toward them, she pleaded, "I can understand how you feel, but please don't make any trouble. That would only make things worse."

Kato hesitated. She gently grabbed his arm and began drawing him away from the door. "You seem very dedicated to Mr. Reid. Why don't you tell me about him."

"I don't feel like talking," Kato said as he reluctantly followed her lead, knowing all too soon word would get out that Britt Reid had been shot. Then the hospital would be wall to wall with reporters despite the blizzard outside. He didn't want to talk to them or to the police.

In the cafeteria the nurse shuffled through the forms, making sure she had everything properly filled out. "Well, it looks like we have everything that we need. I'm amazed that you were able to remember everything," she said.

"I've had to do this a few times before. There's been other attempts on Mr.

Reid's life before this one."

"It sounds like he's made a lot of enemies."

"You wouldn't want his enemies for friends, Miss," Kato pointed out.

"I see," she said quietly, "You don't seem to be the servant type." She observed.

"What is a 'servant type'?" Kato challenged.

The nurse blushed in embarrassment, "I didn't mean insult you. I just didn't think you were the type to be satisfied with obeying orders from somebody."

"Everybody obeys orders from somebody. The head nurse, the doctors, they are your bosses. You have to obey their orders," Kato pointed out. "Mr. Reid is my boss. I'd rather have him for a boss than anybody else. Or any other job for that matter. As his valet I do things, like making sure the bills get paid, that there's food in the house and that anything that breaks gets fixed. For that I get very well paid, my own quarters rent free and since Mr. Reid spends most of his time at the Daily Sentinel, most of my time is my own. How many people can say that about their job?"

"But do you get any respect in your job? Don't people treat you like part of the woodwork when they come to Mr. Reid's house? Don't you ever wish to be in the limelight instead of being in the shadow of somebody else?" she asked.

Kato smiled and shrugged. "Everybody is the shadows when Mr. Reid is around. He's an extraordinary man. He's not afraid to stand up for what he believes and he's willing put everything on the line for his beliefs. There's not a lot of people that you can say that about. I'd rather serve a man like that than run a Fortune 500 company."

"Still, don't you find that kind of life boring? I love my life as a nurse. There's so much to do, so much to learn and I'm helping people. I would think you would feel isolated."

"I like it that way. It gives me plenty of time to practice Gung Fu."

"Gung Fu? What's that?"

"It's a very old Chinese martial art. It takes a great many years to master. I like to think I'm very good at it, but there's ancient masters whose skills were nearly magical. Those masters were usually monks, but let's face it, in America, it's kind of hard to find a Chinese monastery. So by working for Mr. Reid, I get paid, and still have the free time to perfect my Gung Fu."

"I guess I was mistaken. It sounds like you have a perfect arrangement," she commented.

"Yeah, except now Mr. Reid is dying or could even be dead now," Kato said sadly, "The most important part of my job is to protect him and I failed. For all my skills, I couldn't protect him when he needed it the most. His enemies have won and he has lost because I couldn't stop him from taking a chance when he shouldn't have."

The nurse placed comforting hand placed on Kato's hands in sympathy. A weary voice intruded, "You the one who brought Britt Reid in?" said a man dressed in surgical green.

"Yeah. My name is Kato. How is Mr. Reid? Is he going to be okay?" Kato asked eagerly as he pushed out of his chair.

The surgeon took out a cigarette, lit it and took a long slow drag, measuring Kato, trying to decipher his relationship with the man whose life he had just worked so hard to save. "I take it you work for Reid?"

"Yes. I run his household and act as his bodyguard."

"Didn't do a very good job of protecting him," the surgeon commented wryly. Then noticing that he was adding to Kato's grief, he added, "Sorry, I'm tired. I shouldn't have said that. Mr. Reid is alive, but I need to discuss his condition with his family. Can you get a hold of them?"

"He doesn't have any family. They're all gone. But he does have some very close friends. People who are just like family. Like me. Please what's wrong?"

The surgeon looked around the room, noticing a few scattered diners in hospital garb, "Why don't you contact those people who are closest to Mr. Reid, and I'll tell you everything once everybody is together in my office," he suggested.

As Kato left the cafeteria for the phone, he noticed that the hallway was packed with police and reporters. As he had feared the wounding of a man as prominent as Britt Reid had brought every news hound and cop to the hospital. He was in no mood for the shouted questions and popping flashbulbs. He had hoped that no one would realize that he was connected to Reid, but enough of them knew the publisher well enough to recognize him. That and the fact that he still had Reid's blood on his uniform. He groaned as a familiar form barged its way through the crowd. "What the hell happened, Kato? It was your job to protect Britt!" shouted Mike Axford as he shouldered people out of his way.

"Mike, please. Not here," pleaded Lenore Case as she and the D.A., Frank Scanlon followed in his wake.

"Just where the hell do you think we should discuss it? Britt's funeral, maybe?" he angrily retorted, and felt immediately sorry for his harsh words when he saw the pain in her tear-reddened eyes.

Scanlon quickly took control. "Let's discuss this somewhere privately," he moved to the waiting surgeon's side. "Dr. Parsons? I take it you're going to your office?"

"Yes."

"Good," Scanlon motioned to a group of police officers to hold off the reporters, then he yelled over the roar of the crowd for attention. When most of the voices had been silenced, he spoke, "Look, people, when we get all the details, we'll set up a press conference where you can ask all your questions." At the crowd's grumbled protest, he added, "C'mon guys, back off. Can't you show a little decency? After all, Britt Reid's one of your own. Show him a little respect by not turning this into a circus."

Dr. Parsons tiredly leaned back in his chair, sipping his steaming black coffee as he watched Britt Reid's friends settle down in the chairs that had been jammed into his cluttered office. The reporter, Axford, a rumpled looking man with faded blue eyes and equally faded red hair had at first refused a chair, preferring to pace the floor as he mauled the shapeless fedora that he held in his beefy hands. Only at the D.A.'s insistence had he finally sat down. Parsons guessed that Axford must be one of the old hands at Reid's newspaper and probably still regarded the young publisher as a wet-behind-the-ears kid.

Parsons preferred to watch Britt Reid's secretary as she delicately dabbed at the ruins of her mascara. She was a pretty strawberry blond with warm brown eyes and a slender model's figure. He was willing to bet that she was also Reid's lover. If not, the man would have to be blind, stupid or both.

Last was the D.A, Frank Scanlon. Parsons had seen him a lot on television during the last campaign. With grey flecked brown hair and dark rimmed glasses, he had a face that led you to believe that he was trustworthy and reliable, not the most dynamic of traits, but fine for a District Attorney. Scanlon looked drained and grief stricken. It was obvious that the man was not there in a purely official capacity.

He took a deep breath. He had delayed long enough. "I'll give it to you straight. First, the good news. He's young and in top physical condition, and somehow through sheer luck, most of his internal organs were missed. What damage there was, we were able to repair. Taken separately each on of his wounds is survivable . . . "

Impatiently Axford interrupted with a growl, "So what's the bad news, Doc?"

"The bad news, Mr. Axford, is that the human body can only take so much punishment. I took so many bullets out of him that I lost count. He also lost a lot of blood. Most of what's circulating in him now isn't his own. By rights he shouldn't be alive. As it was his heart stopped twice while we were working him. It's only through Kato's quick work that he's alive at all. We've done all that we can. Whether he makes it out of danger is now up to him. And God."

"Is there some reason why Mr. Reid might not want to live, Doctor?" Kato asked worriedly.

"His left leg was very badly injured. A bullet shattered the bone very badly. We can try to bolt and wire it together, but I think most of the orthopedic surgeons in this country will agree with me when I say that I doubt that he'll ever be able to achieve anywhere normal use of it. That is if we even manage to save it," the doctor said grimly.

"So let me get this straight, Doc. Even if Britt lives, he's gonna wind up a cripple for the rest of his life?" angrily asked Axford.

"I'm afraid so," came the quiet reply.

Axford stared mournfully at the floor. "First Britt's father gets framed and dies in prison and now Britt's gonna die too. Or wind up a cripple. It just ain't right! Crooks like the Green Hornet get off Scott free, while decent people like Britt wind up dying!" he growled angrily. He turned on the downcast Kato angrily, "Damn it, Kato! How did this happen?"

Kato hesitated, trying to think of what to say. "Mr. Reid had a meeting with an informer. I don't know who it was. Mr. Reid didn't tell me. He rarely does. He was told to come alone, so I stayed in the car while he went inside. I heard gunfire and when I went in I found that Mr. Reid had been shot and that his attackers had already split. I did my best to patch him up and brought him here as fast as I could."

Axford opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by a sharp look from Scanlon who asked Kato quietly, "Did Britt have a chance to give you an idea of who attacked him?"

"None. He was unconscious the entire time," Kato lied.

Axford couldn't keep silent a moment longer, "Damn it! It was your job to protect him! Why didn't you insist on going in with him?"

Kato bowed his head guiltily under the reporter's assault, "You're right, Mr. Axford, I did fail him. I deserve your hatred."

Casey rose to his defense, "Mike, you know as well as I do that when Mr. Reid makes up his mind to do something, he's impossible to stop."

"I could've stopped him," Axford countered.

"You didn't have any luck keeping him out of trouble after his father hired you to keep him out of trouble. And he was only a teenager then," she pointed out.

"Yeah, well, if I remember right, Kato did a lot to help him get away with his little escapades. They made me look like a patsy most of the time," returning his attention to Kato, Axford growled, "And look where your game playing has gotten him. If he doesn't die, he's gonna wind up a cripple the rest of his life. He won't want to live anyway.

"I've had enough of this talking. It's not gonna do Britt one damn bit of good." He stood up, mashing his battered hat onto his head. "I betcha the Green Hornet's involved in this and I'm gonna find out how," he said as he lumbered out the door.

"Mike!" shouted Casey, but Axford had already slammed the door behind him. "Kato, I'm sorry. He didn't really mean it. I know that you did everything you could," she said trying to comfort Kato.

"No, Miss Case, he's right. I didn't do all that I could. I will never forgive myself for that," he said miserably.

Casey bit her lip, knowing there was nothing she could say. She turned to the surgeon, "Dr. Parsons, may we see Mr. Reid now. Please?" she said hesitantly.

"He's still unconscious," the doctor hedged uneasily.

"Doctor, if . . . if Mr. Reid doesn't make it through the night, I want to have had the chance to say goodbye," she said, valiantly trying not to break into tears.

"I really don't think you should. Seeing him in his present condition will only make things worse. Perhaps it would be better for you to remember him as he was."

"It doesn't matter. I just want to see him for a short while," she pleaded earnestly.

Casey felt her knees weaken momentarily as she entered Britt's room. She was revolted by its cold sterility; by the way the machinery that filled it enveloped the motionless form on the crisp sheeted bed in a webbing of tubes and wires. The slow beep, beep of a machine in the corner monitored the dim flame of life that still burned in the young publisher. Perhaps the doctor was right, she thought. Perhaps it would have been better to remember Britt as being vibrant with life, not laying there, so deathly pale, more dead than alive. Usually so strong and seemingly invulnerable, he now seemed so very fragile, his life dependent upon a safety net of modern technology. Her hand trembled as she gently moved a stray lock of dark hair from his broad forehead.

"Oh, Frank," she sobbed. "He never really let me get close to him. Even though I knew all about him being the Green Hornet, he always kept me at arm's length, like he was afraid of getting too close. There are so many things I should have said to him. Now I'll never be able to... "

"I should've told him that I love him."

She bent and placed a tender kiss on Britt's cheek, "Goodbye," she said, no longer trying to hold back the tears that rolled freely down her face. "Frank, I think I would like to go home now," she said as Scanlon fatherly enveloped her in his arms, offering whatever comfort he could give.

What a waste, thought Scanlon, What a damn waste.

Even though he had frequently benefitted from Britt's activities as the Green Hornet, he had always worried that someday everything would come apart and now they had.

"Kato, I moved the car away from the emergency room entrance just before everybody else showed up. I'm afraid that with the snow falling as heavy as it is now, you probably won't find it until spring. Why don't I give you a lift home? There are a few things I want to talk to you about." Even though the explanation Kato had given Axford had been adequate enough for the public, he had to know the truth.

"No, but thanks anyway. I want to stay with Mr. Reid for a while," Kato replied.

"I understand, but there are some things I really need to talk to you about," insisted Scanlon.

"I know, but not now. Later," Kato replied.

Dr. Parsons came in to find that Kato was still in the room. "Why don't you catch up with your friends and go home? There's nothing you can do here."

"Do you think he'll make it through the night?" Kato asked.

The doctor sighed tiredly. He hated dealing with a patient's relatives and friends, especially with bad news. At least this young oriental seemed to be somewhat composed. That made the job easier. "I don't think he will. He's just too badly injured. I'm sorry," he added.

"Then let me stay the night with him. I don't want him to die alone," Kato pleaded.

The surgeon studied Kato's face, saw his determination. Letting him do what he wanted would be a lot easier than trying to argue with him. It would be only for the night. "You're right. No one should have to die alone. Okay, you can stay with him. But can't I at least have someone bring you some fresh clothes? I think you'd be a lot more comfortable, and you wouldn't be worrying my staff so much. They're not too sure that they shouldn't be treating you too."

Kato looked down at his stained clothes. Stained with Britt Reid's blood. He should keep them on, to remind himself. Not that he could ever forget. "Okay, I guess you're right. I don't want to cause any problems."

"There's one thing though, doctor . . . "

"What's that?"

"Don't you or anyone else give up on Mr. Reid. I won't. I know him. He'll make it through the night. He will survive."

Britt Reid did not die that night, nor the next. For a week he laid in a coma, hovering between life and death. Casey and Axford tried to keep an illusion of normalcy around the Daily Sentinel, but without Britt Reid, no one had the heart to go on with the mundane tasks of the big city newspaper. The Sentinel's staff acted as it they were caught in a waking nightmare. They moved mechanically about their duties, not daring to hope about their critically wounded employer. Conversations would slow to a halt as if there didn't seem to be any point in continuing them. Secretaries frequently fled to the ladies room to sob in private. Even the city seemed to be wrapped in the same depression as the worst blizzard in history shrouded it in traffic snarling snow and ice.

While Britt remained in the coma, Kato refused to leave his bedside post. He neither slept nor ate. He sat lotus fashion on the floor, never in the way, but always watchful, his eyes locked on the unconscious man in the bed. To the nurses who came in to check on their patient's condition, Kato seemed as much in a coma as his employer. It was whispered among some of them that if it had not been for his presence Reid would have died the first night. But Kato would not let him die, he had appointed himself as Reid's guardian against the grim angel of death.

Britt woke violently from the coma. Confused, he struggled to free himself from the equipment that surrounded him. Kato rushed to calm him, "It's all right! You're safe now!" he shouted trying to penetrate the fog in Britt's brain. An orderly, alerted by the commotion, quickly came in and began to strap Reid down. Kato roughly shoved him away. "Don't! That'll only make him fight harder!"

"He'll rip the I.V.'s out!" loudly protested a nurse as she came into the room.

"Then take them out before he does. I can hold him down while you do it," Kato ordered through clenched teeth.

Despite his seriously weakened condition, Britt was still hard to restrain. Still believing he was being hunted by a pack of bloodthirsty killers, he fought with a strength born of pain and fear.

"You're safe now," Kato urged calmly, as he restrained Reid as gently as he could. "It's over. It's all over. You're okay." He kept on saying over and over.

Gradually Britt's struggles eased as Kato's familiar voice entered his slowly returning awareness. "You've been out for about a week," Kato explained when recognition finally appeared in Britt's eyes

"A week?" Britt croaked, his voice dry from disuse. He quickly checked the room for bars or police officers. There weren't any. Did that mean that Kato had managed the impossible? That they were still free men? "You look like hell," he said, forcing his cracked lips into a smile.

"You don't look so hot yourself," Kato replied. "The cops are still looking for the guys who shot you. I couldn't give them any leads. Maybe the next time you set up a meeting, you'll tell me who you're going to be seeing," he said, hoping that he had said enough to clue Britt in on the situation.

"Yeah," Britt answered, "And I'll make sure that I take you along too."

Kato smiled and nodded in agreement, as he allowed a wave of doctors and nurses to surge between himself and Britt. Despite what he had said, there would be no next time. It was over, all over. Now that he was sure that Britt Reid would live, he was free to do what honor required. He would get Jackson and all of his surviving flunkies any way he could.

Casey found Kato back at Britt Reid's townhouse in his personal quarters. "I came here to get some of Mr. Reid's things. He's wondering why you left so suddenly," she nodded toward the open suitcase on his bed. "Are you going somewhere?" she asked.

"I'm leaving," Kato replied.

"For how long?" she asked.

"Forever."

"Why?"

"I failed to protect him, Miss Case. I knew his plan wasn't going to work. I knew that something bad was going to happen that night, and I failed to stop him," he said miserably.

"Kato, we all know how difficult it is to change his mind once he's decided to go ahead and do something. That's the kind of man he is. The only way you could've stopped him was to have broken a leg or something," she protested.

"That's what I should've done. Broken a leg. That would've been better that losing it altogether," Kato said bitterly as he finished packing.

"Mr. Reid doesn't blame you for what happened. He knows that it wasn't your fault. We all know that. Even Mike does, despite what he said at the hospital. He knows the way Mr. Reid is. We all do. Please stay. Please, for Mr. Reid's sake. He's going to be needing you when he gets out of the hospital."

"No. I can't stay. Now, he says that he doesn't blame me. But he'll change his mind. Don't you see? Every time he'd see me, he'd remember what happened. I'd be a constant reminder of the life he had and can never have again. Even if the doctor's save his leg, he can't ever become the Green Hornet again. Otherwise he'll keep on taking chances until he finally does get himself killed. I can't left that happen. It's better if I make a clean break now," Kato said forcefully.

"Can't you at least see him and tell him why you're leaving?"

"No way! If I did that he'd talk me out of going. I have to go while I still can."

"At least leave a note explaining why."

"No."

"That'll really hurt him."

"I know. Maybe if he's angry enough, he won't try to find me."

"What are you planning on doing after you leave here?"

"Jackson's still alive and so are some of his men. He killed Mr. Reid's father, and he almost killed Mr. Reid. I won't allow him to try again."

"And after that?"

"I don't know," he said with a shrug.

"Please don't do anything foolish. Promise me you'll take care of yourself. I'd like to hear from you once in awhile," Casey said, sadly knowing that she couldn't stop Kato; that he was as stubborn as his boss.

"I'll do what I must Miss Case, but I promise to be as careful as I can. One thing, Miss Case. You're right. He will be needing somebody when he gets out of the hospital. I think you can do a lot more for him than I ever could. He really does love you, it's just that he doesn't know it yet. But he will. I'm sure of that." Kato hefted the suitcases from his bed. Casey tearfully hugged him before he left the house, never to return.

V

Returning to the present, Casey said, "A few weeks later a pair of boys out hunting rabbits found the frozen bodies of the gangsters at the gravel pit. The police thought that they had been the losers in a gangland power struggle. They also found the Green Hornet's coat that Kato had left there and thought that he had been killed in the same fight. We were lucky that so much time had passed between Britt showing up wounded and the discovery of the bodies. No one ever even considered that there might be a connection between what had happened to Britt and the Green Hornet's disappearance. No one except for Mike. He's still positive that the Green Hornet engineered the attack on Britt and then left the bloody clothes so that everyone would think that he was dead."

"Did you ever see my father again?" Lee asked.

"Only once. About a year after he left the townhouse, he met me at a park near the Sentinel. He said that he had been successful in destroying Jackson and the rest of his gang, and that we didn't have to worry any more about them. He gave me his chauffeur's uniform and mask and told me to give them to his son, if he should ever have one. I guess he had a feeling that someday it might be necessary to bring the Green Hornet back to life.

"After that I'd get an occasional note. He wrote to me about his marriage to the nurse he had met at the hospital, and later when you were born. I didn't hear very much from him after that."

"Didn't the police ever question Mr. Reid about what happened?"

"They did, but Britt always told them he didn't remember. They tried to question your father while Britt was in the coma, but Frank always held them off. And when Britt did come to, Kato had left."

"I'm surprised that Mr. Reid didn't try to find out why my father left. Didn't he ever ask you why?"

"He did, but I had promised Kato that I wouldn't tell him, so I had to lie and say that I didn't know. The thing is, I think Britt does know why; that deep down in his heart he knows the truth. Still the way he chose to leave, that still hurts Britt a lot. Even after all this time."

"No wonder he doesn't like me."

"Well, you have to admit you didn't go out of your way to make him like you," Casey commented.

"Yeah," Lee admitted, "I guess I didn't. I thought Mr. Reid had done something wrong to my father, and now it turns out it was all his fault. You know, he always said that why he's telling me all those Green Hornet stories was because if something happened to him, I was supposed to go to Mr. Reid. Now I understand why. I was supposed to restore his honor. And now I've made Mr. Reid so mad at me that he'll never want to help me find my father's killers."

Casey placed a gentle hand on the young man's shoulder. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Or on your father. The fault was never his, even though I know he never forgave himself. I just wish he could have come back. It's terrible for a friendship to end like that. And now, there will never be a chance for all those hurt feelings to be healed.

"Yet, for all the pain it caused, Kato was right. If he hadn't left, Britt would have become the Green Hornet again. He would have continued taking chances until either one or both of them had been maimed or killed. The Green Hornet was something he never would have given up willingly. Sometimes I think he would have even risked the Daily Sentinel for the Green Hornet."

She sighed and smiled ruefully, "Maybe this sounds selfish, but I think I'm glad that Kato forced Britt to give up the Green Hornet. In a way things turned out for the best. Britt and I have two lovely children, and I'm sure Kato loved you and your mother a great deal. That's something that would have never happened if Kato had stayed."

"Does Mr. Reid feel the same way?"

"I don't know. I know there are quite a few times when he wishes he was the Green Hornet again. There is something seductive about being the Green Hornet. I guess it has something to do with the power of that big, black car, those weapons, and of being young, strong and virtually unbeatable. Running a newspaper can't possibly compete with the kind of excitement he got from being tested to his limit and always coming out on top. I think he misses it a lot more than he'll ever admit. It's frustrating for him too. There's a lot of things that he can't do anything about as Britt Reid, but as the Green Hornet he could have done something. I know he has tried very had to put the Green Hornet behind him, and now for you to bring it all up again . . .

"That's why he's so angry with you. You remind him of all he has lost. That's why he was so willing to give you the Black Beauty, even though he knew it could lead to disaster."

"I'm sorry," Lee said, "I messed up your lives." He rose to leave. "I guess I better leave now."

"No, don't leave," Casey urged. "I didn't tell you all this to make you leave. I want you to understand exactly what you are asking of us, of Britt. He does want to help you, but you must be willing to let him do it his way. If that does mean bringing the Green Hornet back, then that will be his decision. Not yours. Not mine. His. No one has the right to force him to do it, or even to stop him, if he decides he needs to. He's paid a high price for that right and it can't be taken away from him. You must also remember that if he does choose to become the Green Hornet again, he can't do it alone. The Green Hornet needs a Kato. Are you willing to support him with your life, to follow him even into Hell, if he decides it's necessary, just like your father used to do?"

Lee sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. "I think I need to think a few things over," he said.

Casey smiled gently. "Take your time. Why don't you each this lunch I've brought and afterwards I'll show you where the gym is."

"The gym?" Lee asked.

"Kato always said that he was better at solving a problem after a good workout," she answered.

Lee thought a moment. "Yeah, that does sound like a good idea." Finding his appetite surprisingly restored, he grabbed a fork. "I didn't realize until now that I'm starving," he said before diving into the plate before him.

Lee quickly lost himself in the concentration of the kata. Breathing deeply as he flowed from movement to movement, he began to gain some measure of mental balance. The ancient traditional movements of gung fu helped him find his center, to achieve a degree of internal tranquility and allow him to calmly consider where he stood. Although he had not yet come to any decisions, he was starting to feel more relaxed and positive. If nothing else, he could control his mind and his body.

He suddenly stopped when he noticed a tall figure dressed in a soft, loose fitting warm up suit. The grey of Britt's clothing, hair and eyes contrasted sharply with his deeply tanned complexion. Damn, Lee thought, the man moves too quietly for a guy with a bum leg.

"Please continue what you're doing. I didn't mean to interrupt," Britt apologized, "I always enjoyed watching Kato while he was doing the kata. It always reminded me of a ballet."

"No problem. I'm almost done anyway," Lee said as he picked up a towel and began to dry off. "By the way, I want to apologize for what I said earlier. I was out of line. Mrs. Reid explained everything to me and I'm sorry. I didn't understand. Maybe it would be better if I leave today."

"I see," Britt said disgustedly, "After barging into my life and nearly destroying the Black Beauty, you've decided to turn your back on the big mess you've made."

"That's not true," Lee protested.

"Oh? Well, tell me what is the truth? It looks to me like you've gotten scared and have decided to dump the whole mess in my lap for me to clean up."

"I'm not afraid. Not of you or anybody else. I just thought it would be a good idea for me to get the hell out of your hair. And now you're mad at me for wanting to leave. Why I could just . . . "

"Just what? You think you can take me on, boy?" Britt growled.

Lee hesitated. He had already had a small taste of Reid's temper and wasn't eager to experience it again.

"Well, boy?"Britt goaded, "Afraid to take on an old man with a bad leg? Afraid I might knock some sense into you?"

"Why don't you back off, Reid? I don't want to hurt you. You're too old to be fighting."

Britt's eyes flashed angrily, "Too old? You don't want to hurt me? What makes you think you can? You're nothing but a kid." Britt opened his stance, "C'mon kid, let's see you try. Or are you afraid?" he challenged.

Lee exploded. He threw a stiff armed punch toward Britt's mid-section only to find his fist in an iron grip. Britt pulled him off balance and sent him to the floor in a bone jarring crash. Lee rolled back to his feet and flew at Reid only to find the older man stepping easily aside and himself back dusting the floor with his backside. Again and again Lee attacked only to find Britt easily brushing him aside like an ill-tempered bear. Finally Lee stayed where he landed, his back against the wall, gasping for breath.

"Is that the best you can do? Either you were a rotten student or your father was a lousy teacher. Which was it boy?" Reid was breathing as heavily as he was, but still was refusing to call it off. He pulled of the sweatshirt and wiped his face with it before throwing it into a corner. "You're not tired, are you boy? Don't tell me you've been beaten by an old man?"

Lee took a deep breath, swallowed and took another deep breath, trying to slow his breathing. He had underestimated the older man. The sight of Reid's badly scarred but well muscled torso suddenly reminded him of who he was fighting. He had thought he was fighting a man grown soft with the easy life of a wealthy executive, but now he realized that this man had once been the Green Hornet. Reid still had all the instincts of an experienced street fighter.

Lee had won several full contact martial arts competitions, but he had never fought for his life like Reid had. He had been trying to overwhelm him with his most impressive moves in an attempt to force the older man to respect him as if he could gain points in a competition. He would have to rethink his strategy.

Lee slowly rose to his feet. It was time for him to start using his head instead of sliding around the floor on his butt. He took a few moments to study Reid. He watched Reid more closely as he paced the floor waiting for him to catch his breath. When he had met the older man he was using a cane. Now he wasn't but watching the big man Lee noticed a slight limp, a slight favoring of the left leg. He replayed the brief battle in his mind move by embarrassing move. With a brief flash of anger Lee realized that Reid had been playing with him like a matador plays an enraged bull.

He moved toward Reid, more slowly this time, with more deliberation. He was as tired as Reid was, but he was younger. He attacked, this time forcing Reid to fall back onto his left leg, the weaker one. Reid recovered quickly, but this time Lee stayed out of his greater reach and remained on his feet. He attacked repeatedly, forcing Reid to put weight onto his bad leg. The older man was starting to tire. His strategy was working. He could see Reid's left leg beginning to tremble under the strain. Reid knew it too, but to Lee's surprise he saw in his eyes not anger but shrewd approval as though the younger man was finally getting the message.

Under the constant assault Britt's leg finally gave way, sending him crashing to the ground. With a shout of triumph Lee threw himself onto the older man, intending to pin him to the ground, to force him to take back all that he had said.

Instead he found himself on his back with Reid over him. He tried to get free of the powerful grip that pinned him down, but it was useless.

"Yield?" Reid demanded.

"Yeah," Lee answered, grudgingly giving up his struggle.

Reid released his hold and allowed Lee to pull himself to a sitting position. "I forgot one of my father's most important lessons," Lee said.

"What's that?" Reid questioned.

"When fighting a bear, stay the hell out of its reach," Lee answered with a levity he didn't feel. "I guess I failed."

"Failed at what?"

"I wanted to get your respect by beating you. I wanted to show you how good I am. Instead you beat the hell out of me."

Reid shook his head. "You didn't fail. You did very well, especially after you started using your head. I think there may be some hope for you after all," he said, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

"Uh, thanks. I think," Lee said, not quite sure whether he was being complimented or not. He thought for a moment. "If you don't mind, I'd like to stay on and try to fix the Black Beauty. I'd also like it if you could help me find the people who killed my father. You know, any way you could. I'd sure appreciate it," he said with a new humility.

Britt nodded agreeably. "I'll be glad to help you, both with the Black Beauty and with finding out what happened to your father." He checked his watch. "Why don't you get a shower and some rest? I'll contact somebody at the Sentinel and in a few hours we'll go over there and get things moving."

Lee grinned. Now he was getting somewhere. He rose to his feet and offered a hand up to Britt.

"No thanks, I think I'll sit here for a few moments and catch my breath," Britt said.

Casey watched as Lee trot lightly out of the gym. She had watched the entire fight from the doorway. She handed Britt his cane and reluctantly refrained from helping him get to his feet. "How do you feel?" she asked worriedly.

"Leg hurts like hell. I'll feel a lot better after a hot shower," he replied as he straightened with a grimace. He snorted ruefully. "Most fun I've had in years," he said with a crooked grin.

Casey kissed him and stroked his chin, "I can think of other ways of having fun that don't hurt so much. How about a long soak in the tub while I scrub your back?" she asked teasingly.

A broad, white-toothed grin greeted her suggestion. "I think it's a good thing we got a big tub."