01x11 - The Hunters and the Hunted

[bunniefuu]

Why do you suppose Hurk wants to meet in the park?

He's frightened, doesn't want any eyes or ears around.

Yeah, but can you trust him?

2 weeks ago the answer would have been "No".
Tonight, "who knows".

There's the carriage house.

No Hurk, I wonder what...

Hornet, over here!

Wait, wait, wait. It's me, Hurk.

I hope this will be a friendly meeting.

How many friends have you
dumped in the river?

Look, I'm only trying to do you a favor.

Somebody's out to take care of the big racket guys,
and you and me are on the list.

How do you know about the list?

Never mind, but I'm not gonna be a pushover.

And if you go along with me, neither will you.

How do you know about the list?

It's bought and paid for.

What else have you bought?

If we're together I'll tell you. Otherwise...

I'm gonna play it my way, you talk first.
Who did the killings?

Don't push me around, Hornet, you need me.

I don't need you.

I never have needed you, Hurk,
and I never will.

Don't you forget that. Let's go.

Hornet, wait. Listen.

Don't touch it, it's poisoned.

No, listen.

Come on.

Don't lose him.

No chance.

Nothing we can do here.

Another challenge for the Green Hornet,
his aide Kato and their rolling arsenal the Black Beauty.

On police records a wanted criminal,

the Green Hornet is really Britt Reid,

owner publisher of the Daily Sentinel.

His dual identity known only to his secretary

and to the district attorney.

And now to protect the rights and lives
of decent citizens rides the Green Hornet.

What gives with the racketeers in this town?

What about them?

2 weeks ago, Kelton - the truckin racket.
He gets it.

A few nights later, Al Alberts - jukeboxes.

Last Wednesday, Klinger - gambling.

And last night, Mel Hurk - the numbers boss.

Good. They keep at it,
maybe they'll finish each other off.

That's not the point. Listen to this.

Kelton - k*lled by bow and arrow,

Alberts - strangled with a silk handkerchief.

A garrote.
Yeah, I guess that's what they call it.

Then Klinger buys the whole package with a native spear, and Hurk - a poison dart.

They're not dying the way they're supposed to.
The effect is the same.

Yeah, but who's doing it, that's the puzzle?

There's a call for you on the private line.
Thanks, Miss Case.

Excuse me, Mike. Play the story up big.

Yeah sure, but what's happened to
the good old days? Ra-ta-ta-ta-ta...

It's a district attorney.
I've got the scrambler on.

Yes, Frank.

I've got what you wanted, Britt.

The ID on that accident victim that you chased.

You sitting down?

Why, who was it?

AJ Clark, respectable accountant
with no mob ties at all.

Well, I knew Clark. He was a member of
the Yacht Club! Nice little guy!

Was any chance that you were
chasing the wrong man?

/None, Frank/. Thanks.

There's a pattern forming here.
But which way does it lead?

To the list that Hurk bought and paid for

and to the person from whom he got it.

Ah, hold on, Tommy. Just you listen to me.

Hurk's dead, you hear me? Hurk's dead.

From here on in you taking orders from me.
And the operation goes on in the same way.

You just make your collections like always.
Yeah.

Some of that nutheads you have to
deal business with these days.

Why you...

Any more unfriendly greetings?

Ah, come on, Hornet.

All you had to do was knock.

Then you would have misunderstood
the purpose of my visit.

You didn't waste much time moving in
behind Hurk's desk.

Oh, somebody had to run the operation.
I was №2.

Maybe with the idea to become №1?

You mean, did I knock Hurk off?

Not necessarily, but maybe you know who did?

Oh, you got me all wrong.
How would I know?

He did.

But he was k*lled before he could tell me.

I wanna know who told him.

Beats me.

Wait, wait a minute.

You've got 10 seconds.

Okay.

But I'm only second guessing.

Hurk got a call from Jockey Tabor.

The /tout/?
/when he's not touting he's stolen/.

I figured Hurk would hang up on him,
but instead he sets up this meet.

Who do they think they're pushing around?

Too late.

Not very, just enough.
His body is still warm.

This is no coincidence, Kato.

That's what I was thinking. Now what?

Shake down the room, look for a lead,
any kind of lead.

"Explorers Club"

I tell you, Crane, this... this plan of yours
has gone too far.

We agreed on our list, then you went
and k*ll Jockey Tabor. Why?

k*lling that innocent little man
was not on our schedule.

He was only a waiter here.

Innocent little man, you say.

No danger, you say.

Listen to me and listen to me good.

Who do you think you're speaking to that way?
We're not your servants, Crane.

You three men are as deeply involved
in his hunt as I am.

Before you go any further,

remember that before last night
there were five of us.

Jockey Tabor was responsible for the death
of our late fellow explorer AJ Clark.

He was discharged for bookmaking 3 days ago.

And at that time he approached me
and tried to blackmail me.

It seems he overheard bits and pieces
of our conversations.

And, unfortunately,

totaled them correctly.

You denied everything?

Of course, then throw him out of my office.

But how does that figure into Clark's death?

Simple.

He found another buyer for the information.

That means we're all in danger!

Isn't that the game we've always played?

We face the fiercest animals that the jungle
could offer us, and we're still here.

Someday, soon, we'll be recognized
for what we've achieved.

Ridding the city of the scum,

of the arch-criminals that suck the blood
from our veins of existence.

Gentlemen.

I propose a toast.

To the next target on our list.

The biggest game of all.

The Green Hornet.

"Explorers Club"

Yes sir, may I help you?

I'm interested in applying for membership.

Well, this is not a regular club, sir.
The requirements are unusual.

Big game hunting, exploring.
I've done a little of both. Here's my card.

Mr. Reid.

Of course.

If you make yourself comfortable, I'll get Mr. Crane.
He's chairman of the Membership Committee.

Fine.

Britt.

Britt, how are you?

Hi, Quent. Haven't seen you in a long time.

I was asking about you at the Country Club.

Oh, as in my advertising department
been paying its bills?

Now, seriously, I've been away for a year.
Africa, the Near East.

My latest trophy!

Hmm, mean-looking devil.

And a tricky one too.

Come on, sit down.
Thanks.

Now, what's this about you're
wanting to join the club?

Well, that's one of the reasons I'm here, Quent,
but there's another.

Have you been reading about our latest crime wave.

I never miss my copy of the Sentinel.
I even had it sent to me overseas.

Then maybe you can tell me
what I'm curious about.

The strange way the upper echelon of racketeers
has been depleting itself. The unusual weapons used.

Odd you should mention that. I was puzzling
on that myself, just this morning.

It's as though someone were trying to
implicate this club and its members.

What do you think?

Frankly, Britt, I think it's ridiculous.

I've known every member at this club
for too many years.

There's not one of them capable of k*lling.

But what about the connection with AJ Clarke's death?
He was a member of the club?

Well, that's what started me thinking.

I tell you what I'll do.

I'll run a little private investigation myself.

Look back into the membership applications.
And if I turn up anything, I'll give you a call.

Good, I'd appreciate that.

And Britt, let's keep this conversation
between ourselves.

You have my word.

If you're still interested in joining the
club, I'll send you an application.

Do that, Quent. See you.

This is Crane.

I want a man taken care of.
His name is Britt Reid.

You mean Reid - the publisher?

But that's crazy!
You'd blow this town wide open.

It just may do that anyway.

He's getting close to some answers.

Too close.

But I'm not set up for that kind of a rub out.
Then get set up.

I'm giving you Hurk spot with the understanding
that you'll take my orders without question.

But, boss I...

No 'buts'.

Do it!

Thanks, Kato.

See who they are?
Yeah, Crocker's men.

Yeah?

I don't know yet. I thought
this was them calling.

Yeah yeah, I'll let you know,

sir.

Oh, come on, Hornet.

You gonna break me getting that door fixed.

The information I have
might make that very unimportant.

What are you trying to tell me?

What Jockey Tabor told me.

But he's dead!

We know.

We watched him die.

You mean you got to him
when he was still alive?

Just barely.

But he managed to whisper a few last words.

Quinton Crane.
Crane...

I just had another visit from the Green Hornet.

Never mind about that, what about Britt?

Now, you listen to me.

The Green Hornet says I'm on your list.

And you believe him?

He said Tabor told him before he died.

Listen, Crocker. I took care of Tabor myself.

He couldn't have told anyone anything.

I'm not a fumbler.

Why do you suppose the Hornet
said that he did?

I can only think of 2 reasons.

One, that he wants to come between us,
divide and conquer.

Yeah...

He could try something like that.

Cutting on the action, huh?

Or...

This is what I want you to do.

"Century Buiding'

Well, the spear trap is set.

Good.

That doesn't get em, the snare will.
Excellent!

You still haven't told us how you're
getting the Green Hornet here.

The method is unimportant,
it's the end result that counts.

And a few more minutes will give us the answer.

What do you think?

Probably the same as you. He knows he's
being followed, that's exactly what he wants.

I can see everyone who enters
and leaves that gate.

Be a marvelous thing to have in the jungle.

Sit in the comfort of your lorry
until the game shows up.

Ha-ha, yes.

Who's that?

That, gentlemen, is the bait.

Bait? What do you mean?

Look.

To your stations, no g*ns.

Why no g*ns?

We'd have every policeman in the area on us.
We'll use bows and arrows.

Silent and efficient.
Ok, let's go.

What's the plan?

We'll have to play it by ear.
Who knows what they have planned for us?

It's not good, we know that.

Don't look now, but there's a television
camera up above us in that tree.

Our presence has already been announced.

Let's stick together, watch out
for traps and snares.

That was a near miss.

And deliberate too. They're steering us,
guiding us towards a certain point.

Here it is, right in front of us.
That's where they want us to go.

Now listen, listen carefully.

We'll get behind them
and herd them toward the snare.

Freeze, right there! Well, there's
one half of the query.

Look, Hornet, can we make a deal?

There's plenty for both of us.

No deal, Crane.

But my position in the community
is perfect cover.

For more murders including mine.
There isn't room for both of us.

Hornet.

Get me out of here. /We are like/. Hornet, please.
Ha-ha.

That's one way to get to the top.

But it's hitting bottom the hard way.

Let's call Scanlon. /He'll pick him up/ out here.

Get me down from here.

Get me out here.

Hornet.

'And so Quentin Crane supposed paragon of virtue
was in reality of vulture,

preying on the good people of this city'.

You hit it right on the head, Mike.

He had just about every racket
in this town /soiled/ up.

It's open and shut. But Crocker still at
headquarters singing like a soprano.

And he's got the Green Hornet tied in tight.

That figures.

Yeah.

And there's one more optimistic note.

When this investigation's over, there won't be
a game for the Green Hornet to play.

I hope you're right, Mike.

I hope you're right.