Fan Fiction: Crossovers
In the Midst of Shadows
by Greg Daulton
Chapter 3
The next afternoon was extremely hectic, as Britt Reid sat in his office at The Daily Sentinel. He was talking with Mike Axford, a seemingly jolly, slightly overweight and very loose-lipped man in his forties, that looked as if years of stress had taken their toll on him. Mike was the Sentinel's crime correspondent, and as such was often seen in Reid's office, scowling over the latest big crime story.
"I tell ya' Reid, the Hornet has to be involved. He's involved with every other crime in town, including that jewel gang everyone's talking about," Axford declared. He had always been an avid hater of the Hornet and was always blaming him for anything he could think of.
"How can you be sure Mike?" Reid laughed slightly as Miss Case buzzed in over the intercom. "Yes Miss Case?"
"Mr. Reid, your three o'clock is here," the secretary offered, alerting the publisher of his next appointment.
"Send him in," Reid acknowledged. "You'll have to excuse me Mike, duty calls."
"Got it. See ya' later Reid," Axford pronounced, heading for the door.
As Axford left, in walked a tall, lanky, well dressed man in a gray suit with an obvious mustache.
"Good afternoon. You're the private investigator?" Reid questioned.
"Britt Reid I presume," the man said, taking a seat before introducing himself. "My name is Henry Arnaud. I am told this is the finest newspaper in the city. I am investigating the jewel heists that have been happening in this city and was wondering if you could help me."
"Well, there is a problem. You see Mr. Arnaud, the city has issued cease and desist orders to all the editors. No one is legally within their right to publish anymore stories regarding this matter."
"Well, that is a problem. Perhaps I could take a look into your archives and look at past publications for clues in my investigation. I'm willing to pay for your services."
"That won't be necessary. However, you'll have to come back tomorrow. You see the archives are shut down at two-thirty every afternoon."
"Okay, is tomorrow about one o'clock good for you?" the strange P.I. asked.
"That will do fine. Is there anything else?"
"That will be all. Thank you Mr. Reid," the man stood up, straightening his suit. "Good day," he finished walking out the door.
"Good day," Reid muttered softly, wondering what to make of the man he had just met.
Later that evening, Henry Arnaud was in the Antoine Tollin Hotel. He quickly approached Room 315, the suite of Lamont Cranston. As he quietly crept into the room, he immediately ditched his sport coat and fedora, hanging them on a rack, positioned in a far corner of the room. Approaching a large mirror in the center of the luxurious suite, he stared intensely into it, covering his face with his hands.
Suddenly, the man in the mirror began a weird transformation. His facial features distorted until, like magic, Henry Arnaud had disappeared. In his place stood the familiar face of Lamont Cranston.
Flashing a cavalier smile through the mirror, Cranston giggled to himself, before sauntering toward the wet bar and pouring himself a dry bourbon. Falling back into an easy chair, he turned on the radio and listened closely to a scratchy news broadcast:
...In other news, there have not been any known jewel thefts in nearly two weeks. This lack of activity has many folks wondering, have these racketeers gone cold? Is there some mad plot to control Detroit's jewel trade? And what of the dreaded Green Hornet? Is he involved with this jewel gang? Hold a moment...Yes folks, you heard it here first. As we speak, a break-in is happening at the Gray Street Jewelry and Customs shop on the corner of Gray and Tenth Streets.
Cranston turned off the radio. He knew instantly what he had to do. If the Shadow was going to bring these thieves to justice, he had to act fast.
Meanwhile, a large, black armored van was parked behind the deserted Gray Street Jewelry and Customs building, just outside downtown. The vehicle's two heavy back doors promptly opened, as six men, clad in dark clothing, leapt out into the cover of night. Two men suddenly joined them from the front of the vehicle and the group slowly converged at a hefty glass door, the back entrance to the unprotected jewelry store.
Wielding a crowbar, one of the men shattered the transparent entryway, suddenly triggering an alarm. As the group entered, the darkness was almost enough to overcome them. Two men with flashlights immediately moved to the far end of the shop, almost instantly tripping the security system. The rest of the goons worked as efficiently as possible, shattering glass jewelry counters, then placing their contents into large bags. One man even moved to a large safe, utilizing an electric drill to open it. Before he could unlock it however, the goon was unexpectedly met with a strike to the head. Immediately stepping out of the darkness, the Green Hornet made his presence known.
"Evening gentlemen, this looks like quite a party."
"It's the Green Hornet," one goon cried out, gripping a crowbar.
"That's right gentlemen, and I'm here for the payoff," the Hornet declared, sounding especially confident.
"Look Hornet, if you want a cut, your gonna have to talk to the boss," a thug informed heatedly.
"Maybe I do. Where can I find your boss?"
"We ain't talkin' Hornet," another goon replied.
"Is that so? Well, I've been watching you, ya' know. I like how you work. I could be a valuable asset to your operation."
"That's for the boss to decide."
"Have it your way. Tell him I wanna meet."
"Will do," another goon answered. "Let's go fellas."
"You're not going anywhere," a voice mysteriously came from nowhere.
Immediately the goons and the Hornet looked around, searching for the source of the voice.
"Hornet, do you know who said that?" one of the goons uttered.
"He doesn't have to know," the voice came again.
Almost instantly, the ever-present silhouette of a man appeared on a far wall. From out of the silhouette, came The Shadow, standing directly before them. With automatics in hand, he blasted away at the ceiling for the sake of intimidation.
"He's packin," another goon screamed. "Let's get outta here."
"You're not going anywhere," the Hornet called out. "I want some answers."
Not paying any attention to the Hornet's outburst, the goons began to leave anyway. As they tried to escape, the Shadow fired a few warning shots, but the sound of his automatics was quickly drowned out by loud sirens. The police had shown up and they were something that all parties, including the Shadow, needed to avoid at all cost.
As the goons exited through the back, the Shadow also disappeared. As quickly as he had entered, the eerie figure melted ack into the wall, as if abducted by the dimness of the room. Suddenly three cops entered the store, with guns drawn. The Hornet quickly drew his own firearm, spraying the police with a wave of green gas, sending each cop to the floor.
With no time to spare, the Green Hornet exited the same way the jewel thieves had moments before. As more officers entered the place, checking on their comatose partners, they hurried to the back of the store where they noticed a familiar black limousine speeding away into the night.
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