On a Sting and a Prayer 3/3
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Epilogue
“We’ve been able to confirm everything,” said Commissioner Gordon over the popping of flashbulbs at Heathrow Friday afternoon while constables loaded Emma Foster and her crew onto a plane to be shipped back to Gotham. Many jurisdictions in the US had warrants out for the gang, but in the end, Commissioner Gordon and Batman had been dispatched to oversee the extradition. “Poison Ivy even admitted to having met Mike Sabato before her transformation, but we’ve proven to our satisfaction that she had no part in Miss Foster’s activities. Chief Inspector, we simply can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done, not least by deputizing the Saint and the Green Hornet.”
“Very kind of you to say so, Commissioner,” said Chief Inspector Teal, looking moderately pleased. He might have looked more pleased if the Saint and the Green Hornet had been left out of the conversation—and if Simon hadn’t been standing right next to him.
Batman looked around curiously. “By the way, where is the Green Hornet?”
“Oh, he caught an earlier flight,” Simon lied. “We thought it best for him to avoid the publicity; after all, the whole criminal world thinks he’s been in Century City all this time.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’d hoped to speak to him.”
“Well, he did promise to call when he got home, so I’ll be happy to pass along your message.”
Batman nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Templar.”
Simon smiled and nodded back.
“I’m sorry to miss him, too,” said Commissioner Gordon, holding up a dispatch case. “I’d hoped to give him his share of the reward personally.”
“And how much is the reward?” Simon asked.
“In all, £50,000.” Commissioner Gordon handed the dispatch case to Simon.
Simon accepted it and then nodded toward the nearby seats. “May I?”
Commissioner Gordon shrugged. “By all means.”
Simon took the case over to the seat and set it down, opened it, and examined its contents. He picked up one £10,000 bundle of notes and thumbed through it, nodding to himself. Then he put that bundle in his outside coat pocket, withdrew a card from his inside coat pocket, set it in the dispatch case, and offered the case—still open—back to a bewildered Commissioner Gordon.
Chief Inspector Teal frowned. “What are you up to, Templar?”
“Well, the Green Hornet and I had a long talk,” Simon answered, “and we came to an understanding.”
Batman took the card out of the case and read it aloud. “‘For the Gotham City Orphans Home,’ signed… the Saint and the Green Hornet!”
“I’ve already given the Green Hornet his half of what we agreed to accept,” Simon continued as Batman showed the card to the photographers briefly and put it back in the case. “Those children need this money more than we do.” And Simon closed the case and pressed it back into Commissioner Gordon’s hands.
Commissioner Gordon looked ready to cry. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Templar, and on behalf of the Orphans Home, I thank you.”
Simon smiled. “You’re most welcome.”
“But what about Britt Reid?” Batman asked. “I understood he was also a key part of the investigation.”
“Mr. Reid had a previous engagement,” said Chief Inspector Teal, which was true. “He declined a share of the reward when I spoke to him this morning. He felt that as the Daily Sentinel had gotten the American exclusive coverage of the arrest, that was reward enough.”
“I see,” said Batman thoughtfully.
Just then, Simon spotted the other person he was supposed to meet at Heathrow that afternoon, so he excused himself from the conversation and left Chief Inspector Teal to wrap things up with the Gotham delegation. Past the ring of British newshounds, Simon approached a statuesque brunette standing near the International Arrivals gate—as tall as Britt in her heels, with striking high cheekbones and dark eyes.
“Miss Lenore Case?” he asked as he walked up to her.
“Yes?” she answered and turned to him.
“Simon Templar.”
“Oh!” Miss Case smiled and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Templar.”
“Likewise. Britt is tied up in a meeting with ITV and asked me to escort you to your hotel.”
“Well, thank you.” She took his arm and let him take her suitcase and lead her toward the exit. “How is Mr. Reid?”
“Fully recovered,” he murmured in her ear before continuing at a more normal volume, “Working far too hard, if you ask me. I just hope he remembers you’re supposed to be here on vacation.”
She laughed. “Mr. Reid’s definition of a vacation is a full hour for lunch.”
“Well, we’ll just have to show him differently, won’t we?” He winked at her, and she laughed again.
They had just come within sight of the doors when a taxi pulled up at the curb and Britt jumped out and raced inside. “Miss Case!” he called with a relieved grin when he saw them and jogged over. “Sorry I’m late—ITV’s got this new show with Patrick McGoohan starting this fall, and they wanted me to sit in on a production meeting so I can sell the DSTV board on acquiring the syndication rights.”
“Oh, really?” Miss Case asked, looking intrigued as she let go of Simon and took Britt’s proffered arm instead. “What’s it called?”
“The Prisoner.”
Britt carried on about the show, which even Simon had to admit sounded fascinating, all the way out to Simon’s car and beyond. Neither Simon nor Miss Case could get a word in edgewise until they were out of the parking lot and on the way to the hotel.
Finally, Britt stopped himself with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Sorry, Casey. Guess I’m getting a little carried away. How was your flight?”
“Fine,” she answered, and Simon glanced in the rearview mirror to see her smiling fondly at her boss. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Thanks for coming!”
“Mr. Scanlon and I have sure been worried after that call the other night.”
“That was not fun, believe me. On one hand, it did help break the case, but on the other… I don’t think I’d have made it without Kato and Simon.”
“You’re welcome,” said Simon. “By the way, Batman asked after you and was disappointed not to get a chance to talk with the Green Hornet. He sends regards.”
“Thanks,” said Britt. “Guess I’ll have to call him when I get home.”
“Do you think he knows?” asked Miss Case.
“I’m pretty sure he’s suspected ever since Kato and I helped him shut down Col. Gumm. I think he knows we pulled our punches against Batman and Robin so as not to hurt Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson. Not that I mind—I mean, what’s the point of my maintaining a friendly rivalry with Bruce if we can’t be friends, right?”
“True.”
“All the same,” Simon chimed in, “Britt Reid trusting Bruce Wayne may not be the same as the Green Hornet trusting Batman.”
Britt sighed. “Yeah. Bruce is smart enough to have figured out which side the Green Hornet’s really on, which may be why he wanted to talk to me in costume… but the Green Hornet’s only effective if criminals think he’s one of them.”
“I don’t envy you. But I think that’s enough of making this a busman’s holiday. Miss Case is here to enjoy herself—and so are you,” Simon concluded firmly.
“Okay, fine!” Britt replied in mock aggravation, which made Miss Case laugh, and the conversation turned to lighter subjects.
As dinner’s main course wound down at Simon’s apartment that evening, Casey put down her fork with a contented sigh. “That coq au vin was delicious, Mr. Templar. Thank you.”
“Oh, my pleasure,” Simon returned. “You know, the last time I made that for a girl, it was to convince her that I’d hidden a stolen pearl necklace in the pot and that the pearls had dissolved in the wine.”
Casey frowned in confusion. “Pearls don’t dissolve in wine.”
“You and I know that, but she didn’t. But it served her right for having stolen them in the first place after trying to convince me she’d gone straight.”
“What’d you do with the pearls?” Britt asked as Kato came in to clear the dishes.
“The original owner had been the female dictator of a small Asian nation, who’d purchased them out of her own exorbitant salary while she let her people starve. She’s worse than Marie Antoinette in my book because she knew what she was doing. A young man who was part of a resistance group in that country had tried to steal the pearls before Jeannine had succeeded in switching them with an identical string of truly excellent fakes. His goal had been to sell the pearls to raise funds to ease the poverty in his country. They weren’t ready for revolution yet, he said, but the money could at least feed those who needed the most help. So, once I sent Jeannine on her way in the belief that the pearls were no more, I gave them to Lo Yung.” Simon smiled and drained his wine glass.
A look of sheer gratitude flashed across Kato’s face at Simon’s conclusion. Britt was fairly sure he was the only one who’d noticed.
“Which reminds me,” said Simon and pulled a bundle of bills out of his pocket. He quickly counted about half of them into a pile on the table, stuck the rest back in his pocket, and handed the pile across to Britt.
Britt looked at the money and back at Simon in confusion. “What’s this?”
“Your share,” Simon answered. “Or rather, the Green Hornet’s share.”
Britt stared at him. “Are you serious?”
“Of course. I keep only 10% when there’s a worthy cause.”
“Well, how am I supposed to explain going back with an extra £5,000?”
Simon shrugged. “We can put in an appearance at a few casinos after the show tomorrow, and you can tell people you won it. Or if you really don’t want it, give it to charity.”
Britt considered as he looked at the money again. He’d never needed or wanted to collect a reward for what he did as the Green Hornet; his inheritance and his income from the Sentinel were more than enough to support his double life and Kato’s. He knew Kato felt the same, and while he was going to follow through on giving Kato a raise when they got home, Kato wouldn’t accept anything more than that. But by the same token, Britt didn’t know how he could donate the money to charity in London or in Century City without raising questions, even if he did it anonymously. Maybe he should give it back to Simon… or….
He smiled slowly and looked up again. “Or maybe we should see how a Reid’s luck holds against a Maverick’s.”
“You’re on,” Simon agreed with a grin and got up to put the finishing touches on dessert.
Casey laughed and shook her head as Britt pocketed the money for the moment. “Dinner and poker with Simon Templar,” she said. “Mike would flip.”
“Correction: will flip,” Britt returned and dismissed Kato with a smile and nod. “One of Simon’s actress friends is going out with us tomorrow night, and Ken Shields promised to forward any picture stories he gets to the Sentinel.”
She laughed again.
He reached over and took her hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Casey.”
She smiled at him. “Me, too. I have to say, I was surprised when you asked me.”
“It was Simon’s idea to begin with,” he confessed. “I wasn’t going to take him up on it at first, but after what happened… I realized I wanted you here.”
“But you could have called any woman in Century City or Gotham to come visit London with you—Vanessa Vane or Pinky Pinkston or anyone.”
“I didn’t want to see London with them. I wanted to be with the one woman I trust with my life.”
Her face brightened, even as her smile turned shy and her cheeks gained a pinkness that wasn’t from her makeup. “Really?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Bruce might be attracted to women like Selina Kyle and Pamela Isley who are always trying to kill him. I’d rather have you.”
“Oh, Britt….”
He kissed her tenderly. And then, well aware of the one blue eye and one black eye peeking past the edge of the kitchen door, he kissed her again.
“I think they’re planning our wedding,” she murmured, amused.
“Better them than Mike,” he murmured back.
She laughed, and he kissed her one more time before Simon and Kato came back in with the gateau au chocolat.
“We’ve been able to confirm everything,” said Commissioner Gordon over the popping of flashbulbs at Heathrow Friday afternoon while constables loaded Emma Foster and her crew onto a plane to be shipped back to Gotham. Many jurisdictions in the US had warrants out for the gang, but in the end, Commissioner Gordon and Batman had been dispatched to oversee the extradition. “Poison Ivy even admitted to having met Mike Sabato before her transformation, but we’ve proven to our satisfaction that she had no part in Miss Foster’s activities. Chief Inspector, we simply can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done, not least by deputizing the Saint and the Green Hornet.”
“Very kind of you to say so, Commissioner,” said Chief Inspector Teal, looking moderately pleased. He might have looked more pleased if the Saint and the Green Hornet had been left out of the conversation—and if Simon hadn’t been standing right next to him.
Batman looked around curiously. “By the way, where is the Green Hornet?”
“Oh, he caught an earlier flight,” Simon lied. “We thought it best for him to avoid the publicity; after all, the whole criminal world thinks he’s been in Century City all this time.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’d hoped to speak to him.”
“Well, he did promise to call when he got home, so I’ll be happy to pass along your message.”
Batman nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Templar.”
Simon smiled and nodded back.
“I’m sorry to miss him, too,” said Commissioner Gordon, holding up a dispatch case. “I’d hoped to give him his share of the reward personally.”
“And how much is the reward?” Simon asked.
“In all, £50,000.” Commissioner Gordon handed the dispatch case to Simon.
Simon accepted it and then nodded toward the nearby seats. “May I?”
Commissioner Gordon shrugged. “By all means.”
Simon took the case over to the seat and set it down, opened it, and examined its contents. He picked up one £10,000 bundle of notes and thumbed through it, nodding to himself. Then he put that bundle in his outside coat pocket, withdrew a card from his inside coat pocket, set it in the dispatch case, and offered the case—still open—back to a bewildered Commissioner Gordon.
Chief Inspector Teal frowned. “What are you up to, Templar?”
“Well, the Green Hornet and I had a long talk,” Simon answered, “and we came to an understanding.”
Batman took the card out of the case and read it aloud. “‘For the Gotham City Orphans Home,’ signed… the Saint and the Green Hornet!”
“I’ve already given the Green Hornet his half of what we agreed to accept,” Simon continued as Batman showed the card to the photographers briefly and put it back in the case. “Those children need this money more than we do.” And Simon closed the case and pressed it back into Commissioner Gordon’s hands.
Commissioner Gordon looked ready to cry. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Templar, and on behalf of the Orphans Home, I thank you.”
Simon smiled. “You’re most welcome.”
“But what about Britt Reid?” Batman asked. “I understood he was also a key part of the investigation.”
“Mr. Reid had a previous engagement,” said Chief Inspector Teal, which was true. “He declined a share of the reward when I spoke to him this morning. He felt that as the Daily Sentinel had gotten the American exclusive coverage of the arrest, that was reward enough.”
“I see,” said Batman thoughtfully.
Just then, Simon spotted the other person he was supposed to meet at Heathrow that afternoon, so he excused himself from the conversation and left Chief Inspector Teal to wrap things up with the Gotham delegation. Past the ring of British newshounds, Simon approached a statuesque brunette standing near the International Arrivals gate—as tall as Britt in her heels, with striking high cheekbones and dark eyes.
“Miss Lenore Case?” he asked as he walked up to her.
“Yes?” she answered and turned to him.
“Simon Templar.”
“Oh!” Miss Case smiled and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Templar.”
“Likewise. Britt is tied up in a meeting with ITV and asked me to escort you to your hotel.”
“Well, thank you.” She took his arm and let him take her suitcase and lead her toward the exit. “How is Mr. Reid?”
“Fully recovered,” he murmured in her ear before continuing at a more normal volume, “Working far too hard, if you ask me. I just hope he remembers you’re supposed to be here on vacation.”
She laughed. “Mr. Reid’s definition of a vacation is a full hour for lunch.”
“Well, we’ll just have to show him differently, won’t we?” He winked at her, and she laughed again.
They had just come within sight of the doors when a taxi pulled up at the curb and Britt jumped out and raced inside. “Miss Case!” he called with a relieved grin when he saw them and jogged over. “Sorry I’m late—ITV’s got this new show with Patrick McGoohan starting this fall, and they wanted me to sit in on a production meeting so I can sell the DSTV board on acquiring the syndication rights.”
“Oh, really?” Miss Case asked, looking intrigued as she let go of Simon and took Britt’s proffered arm instead. “What’s it called?”
“The Prisoner.”
Britt carried on about the show, which even Simon had to admit sounded fascinating, all the way out to Simon’s car and beyond. Neither Simon nor Miss Case could get a word in edgewise until they were out of the parking lot and on the way to the hotel.
Finally, Britt stopped himself with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Sorry, Casey. Guess I’m getting a little carried away. How was your flight?”
“Fine,” she answered, and Simon glanced in the rearview mirror to see her smiling fondly at her boss. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Thanks for coming!”
“Mr. Scanlon and I have sure been worried after that call the other night.”
“That was not fun, believe me. On one hand, it did help break the case, but on the other… I don’t think I’d have made it without Kato and Simon.”
“You’re welcome,” said Simon. “By the way, Batman asked after you and was disappointed not to get a chance to talk with the Green Hornet. He sends regards.”
“Thanks,” said Britt. “Guess I’ll have to call him when I get home.”
“Do you think he knows?” asked Miss Case.
“I’m pretty sure he’s suspected ever since Kato and I helped him shut down Col. Gumm. I think he knows we pulled our punches against Batman and Robin so as not to hurt Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson. Not that I mind—I mean, what’s the point of my maintaining a friendly rivalry with Bruce if we can’t be friends, right?”
“True.”
“All the same,” Simon chimed in, “Britt Reid trusting Bruce Wayne may not be the same as the Green Hornet trusting Batman.”
Britt sighed. “Yeah. Bruce is smart enough to have figured out which side the Green Hornet’s really on, which may be why he wanted to talk to me in costume… but the Green Hornet’s only effective if criminals think he’s one of them.”
“I don’t envy you. But I think that’s enough of making this a busman’s holiday. Miss Case is here to enjoy herself—and so are you,” Simon concluded firmly.
“Okay, fine!” Britt replied in mock aggravation, which made Miss Case laugh, and the conversation turned to lighter subjects.
As dinner’s main course wound down at Simon’s apartment that evening, Casey put down her fork with a contented sigh. “That coq au vin was delicious, Mr. Templar. Thank you.”
“Oh, my pleasure,” Simon returned. “You know, the last time I made that for a girl, it was to convince her that I’d hidden a stolen pearl necklace in the pot and that the pearls had dissolved in the wine.”
Casey frowned in confusion. “Pearls don’t dissolve in wine.”
“You and I know that, but she didn’t. But it served her right for having stolen them in the first place after trying to convince me she’d gone straight.”
“What’d you do with the pearls?” Britt asked as Kato came in to clear the dishes.
“The original owner had been the female dictator of a small Asian nation, who’d purchased them out of her own exorbitant salary while she let her people starve. She’s worse than Marie Antoinette in my book because she knew what she was doing. A young man who was part of a resistance group in that country had tried to steal the pearls before Jeannine had succeeded in switching them with an identical string of truly excellent fakes. His goal had been to sell the pearls to raise funds to ease the poverty in his country. They weren’t ready for revolution yet, he said, but the money could at least feed those who needed the most help. So, once I sent Jeannine on her way in the belief that the pearls were no more, I gave them to Lo Yung.” Simon smiled and drained his wine glass.
A look of sheer gratitude flashed across Kato’s face at Simon’s conclusion. Britt was fairly sure he was the only one who’d noticed.
“Which reminds me,” said Simon and pulled a bundle of bills out of his pocket. He quickly counted about half of them into a pile on the table, stuck the rest back in his pocket, and handed the pile across to Britt.
Britt looked at the money and back at Simon in confusion. “What’s this?”
“Your share,” Simon answered. “Or rather, the Green Hornet’s share.”
Britt stared at him. “Are you serious?”
“Of course. I keep only 10% when there’s a worthy cause.”
“Well, how am I supposed to explain going back with an extra £5,000?”
Simon shrugged. “We can put in an appearance at a few casinos after the show tomorrow, and you can tell people you won it. Or if you really don’t want it, give it to charity.”
Britt considered as he looked at the money again. He’d never needed or wanted to collect a reward for what he did as the Green Hornet; his inheritance and his income from the Sentinel were more than enough to support his double life and Kato’s. He knew Kato felt the same, and while he was going to follow through on giving Kato a raise when they got home, Kato wouldn’t accept anything more than that. But by the same token, Britt didn’t know how he could donate the money to charity in London or in Century City without raising questions, even if he did it anonymously. Maybe he should give it back to Simon… or….
He smiled slowly and looked up again. “Or maybe we should see how a Reid’s luck holds against a Maverick’s.”
“You’re on,” Simon agreed with a grin and got up to put the finishing touches on dessert.
Casey laughed and shook her head as Britt pocketed the money for the moment. “Dinner and poker with Simon Templar,” she said. “Mike would flip.”
“Correction: will flip,” Britt returned and dismissed Kato with a smile and nod. “One of Simon’s actress friends is going out with us tomorrow night, and Ken Shields promised to forward any picture stories he gets to the Sentinel.”
She laughed again.
He reached over and took her hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Casey.”
She smiled at him. “Me, too. I have to say, I was surprised when you asked me.”
“It was Simon’s idea to begin with,” he confessed. “I wasn’t going to take him up on it at first, but after what happened… I realized I wanted you here.”
“But you could have called any woman in Century City or Gotham to come visit London with you—Vanessa Vane or Pinky Pinkston or anyone.”
“I didn’t want to see London with them. I wanted to be with the one woman I trust with my life.”
Her face brightened, even as her smile turned shy and her cheeks gained a pinkness that wasn’t from her makeup. “Really?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Bruce might be attracted to women like Selina Kyle and Pamela Isley who are always trying to kill him. I’d rather have you.”
“Oh, Britt….”
He kissed her tenderly. And then, well aware of the one blue eye and one black eye peeking past the edge of the kitchen door, he kissed her again.
“I think they’re planning our wedding,” she murmured, amused.
“Better them than Mike,” he murmured back.
She laughed, and he kissed her one more time before Simon and Kato came back in with the gateau au chocolat.
