[
rated PG-13 for some violent content, sensuality and adult language ]
[
based upon “Knight Rider” aka “Knight of the
[
project start date: July 25, 2005 ]
[
project complete date: October 17, 2005 ]
[
proof read by Michelle Gardner ]
[
final word count: 32,770 ]
[
Knight Rider and characters are © 1982, Glen A. Larson and NBC/Universal ]
[
r e b o r n
“Big Ed” Deline tried his best to navigate the
casino floor without his hosts or Miss Mancuso seeing and stopping him. There was way too much on his mind to deal
with comps or the new owner’s bullshit.
Not only was the
Montecito playing host to the United States Defense Contractors Conference, an
absolute security nightmare that spelled out many long shifts for Ed and his
staff, but the FBI, not the most favorite people of his and the feeling was
definitely mutual, came to him a week ago and informed him they were planning a
sting in plain sight in the middle of this damned conference.
He had to run that
through his mind once more. In the midst
of the Defense Contractors Conference, a national security event at his casino
where he had to work with the Secret Service to ensure complete security, the
FBI was planning a sting to bust a group of people with their minds set on
industrial espionage.
The new Montecito had
been stretching her wings and getting back on her feet since her rebirth. Thanks to new owner Monica Mancuso, this
hellish event was thrown onto Ed’s plate as she decided such a conference would
breathe new life into the Montecito.
Yeah, great
event. The casino had virtually been
taken over by the Secret Service to prepare for the conference, and during the
conference, all attendees had to wear computerized badges, and any public
patrons of his casino had to pass through metal detectors and were subject to
random searches.
Ten floors of the
resort were closed and reserved for conference attendees.
Worst of all, the
topless pool was going to be closed down during the conference.
Ed dealt with people
scrutinizing the security of his casino, despite millions of dollars worth of
security, surveillance, anti-theft and other pieces of equipment that made the
Montecito the most secure casino on The Strip.
That wasn’t good
enough for the Secret Service.
And now… the FBI was
here to conduct a covert mission in the middle of it all to prevent the leak of
sensitive information.
How could this day get
any more hectic?
“Ed!” yelled a voice
he was trying his best to avoid. He
looked to his left and Monica was hurrying to catch up to him, “I got wind of
something big going down in the middle of the conference,” she said, “do you
know anything about that?”
“I am on my way to
find out now,” Ed lied, “An agent from the FBI is waiting for us.”
“That’s where I’m
going too,” Monica said as they walked, “where’s Danny and Mike?”
“Dealing with
something, they’ll meet us there,” Ed said.
Monica stopped Ed,
“Dealing with what? I thought we agreed
I would be kept in the loop
when I took ownership.”
Ed turned to Monica
trying his best to keep an annoyed look off of his face, “I’ll keep you in the
loop, Monica. I will forward every
incident report to you my staff deals with, from purse thieves to old ladies
falling down the brand new stairs that are claimed to be up to code. Shit, I’ll even give you the reports that
come out of the new parking garage you built that is supposed to be safer with
wider spots. You know we’re holding bets
to see if dings or bums rank higher in the garage?”
Monica looked at Ed
straight-faced. With that face, he knew
Danny would want her on his poker team, “Well it looks like we have everything
under control,” she said.
“Yes, we do,”
Ed replied beginning to walk again, “although it seems the Secret Service has
all but fired us and taken over my facilities.”
“Oh relax, Ed, I gave
up ten floors of rooms, the topless pool, most of the casino and our new
conference center, you can stand to share your surveillance office,” Monica
said.
“That reminds me,” Ed
said before going into the conference room, “I’ll be sure to give you a report
of any illegal activities my team might have missed because we are baby sitting
the nation’s secrets.”
The two were at a
standstill for a few moments before they walked into the room.
Two of Ed’s staff,
Danny McCoy and Mike Cannon were already sitting in the room watching the FBI
agent begin his presentation.
Ed eyed the FBI agent
suspiciously. One would think an FBI
agent in charge of a security sensitive mission in the middle of one of the
nation’s most public places would be in a suit with his badge proudly hanging
from some piece of cloth. Instead, the
man was in business casual attire with a hairstyle that might be reserved for
someone ten years younger.
Next to the man, on
the massive screen on the front wall of the room was the face of a middle-aged
man with a rough-and-tumbled look. No
smile, if there were any muscles in such a hardened face to produce the
expression.
“This man,” said Agent
Paul Taylor speaking with a slight Southern drawl, “is Fred Wilson, the chief
of security for Northrop-Grumman, which just happens to be one of the Armed
Forces defense contractors. Wilson and
his staff will be accompanying Grumman’s CEO, Mr. Charles Acton to the
conference to provide security.”
Taylor pressed a
button and a picture of a man and woman came on the screen. “The man here is Acton. The girl in the picture is his new
girlfriend; a girl named Tanya, we believe.
“Unfortunately, Wilson
isn’t interested in any kind of security at all, instead he is infiltrating the
company from the inside out. He’s hired
his own staff and after tomorrow night’s opening ceremonies for the Defense
Contractors Conference, him and his staff will rip designs for the Tomcat-X,
Grumman’s newest jet-fighter to replace the Navy’s Tomcat fleet.”
“What the hell is
going on, Ed?” Danny whispered, “don’t we already have enough going on?”
“We have too much
going on,” Ed replied, “This is going to be a nightmare.”
“A small team of
agents from the Bureau will be conducting the takedown tomorrow night,” Taylor
said, “We plan to allow Wilson’s staff to carry out the theft and we will
conduct the take down before they leave the resort.”
“Where will you be
taking them down?” Ed asked.
“Two of our agents
have been able to infiltrate the team.
According to their intelligence, Wilson and his staff will have a
limousine waiting for them at the main entrance. We will take them down before they get to the
limo. Six agents from the Vegas field
office will be waiting in taxicabs for one of our agent’s signal. Their fare lights will only be half lit, so
warn the bellmen not to hail these cabs.
“You can’t miss
Wilson’s staff, he will be giving them orders the entire night. Warn your teams not to approach Wilson
or his staff.
“If all of you
understand tomorrow night’s operation, I expect you to field out the necessary
information to your teams,” Taylor said, “Do not tell the bellmen who is
in those taxicabs, just make sure they don’t hail them. Do not approach Wilson and his staff,
and for the love of God, do not get in the way.”
Ed shifted in his seat
and was about to say something. Monica
placed a hand on his shoulder and looked it him. It was obvious she hated that comment as much
as Ed did.
Taylor continued, “In
addition to the two undercover agent’s on Wilson’s staff, there will be one
more agent in the resort in the guise of a support staff member, and I will be
going back and forth between the casino floor and the surveillance office. Are we all clear?”
Everyone nodded. Ed was fuming.
“My team and the
agents have already been briefed, and consider yourselves briefed on the
information you need to know.
Dismissed.”
“Dismissed,” Ed
whispered to Danny and Mike, “it’s like we’re in the friggin’ military.”
“That briefing makes
me feel a hell of a lot better,” Mike said, sarcastically.
“Are they crazy to be
doing this now?” Danny asked, “Why does it have to be during the conference?”
Ed watched Monica
leave the room, “I think Miss Mancuso is having second thoughts. Look, we’ve had our share of attempted scams
during conferences before—”
Danny interrupted Ed,
“But we were the ones that stopped them.
Working with the Secret Service to provide security for the conference
is one thing, but now the FBI is here and they are ordering us to allow
a scam to take place?”
“Any other day and any
other conference, Danny, I’d tell that bastard up there to go screw himself,
but I don’t want to think what would go wrong if we took control.”
“Nothing would,” Mike
said, “that’s the whole damn point.”
Ed looked out at the
busy casino floor and let the noise fill his mind for a bit, “I hate the
government.”
Michael Long walked
into his bedroom and dropped his empty duffel bag on his bed. Quickly on his heels was his live-in
girlfriend Stefanie Mason.
Stefanie, whom Michael
liked to call Stevie, sat down on the bed and looked up at Michael. If Michael did not have his back to her, he
would have quickly noticed a definite sparkle of fear emanating from her
striking blue eyes.
Michael was filling
his dopp-kit and did not look at Stevie once as he turned to place it in his
duffel bag and moved over to his closet.
He was in his early
30s, and standing at 6’2” moved gracefully with long strides of legs Stevie
playfully said never ended. He kept his
light-brown hair well-trimmed and spiked, never once letting go of the military
hair regulations that seemingly followed him since his discharge from the Army
four years after the first Gulf War ended.
He had a chiseled
face, as if Michelangelo sat down and spent three decades crafting it
himself. His facial features were
imposing, giving a natural glow of leadership and authority. He had piercing green eyes that would often
change to grey when he was either angry or concentrating…
Concentrating on anything. Which is why Stevie would often request
illumination during their love-making.
Her eyes followed
Michael as he darted around the room in preparation for his red-eye flight to
Las Vegas. It was a full five minutes
before he noticed her sitting there. By
the time he did, he could see the look in her eyes.
“Stevie?” he asked
with a touch of concern in his voice.
Michael loved her – it was obvious.
In his heart, he knew he would do anything for Stevie.
Almost anything…
“I don’t want you to
go to Las Vegas,” Stevie said, looking at him while slowly spinning the
diamond-ring Michael placed on her finger two weeks ago.
“I can’t do that
Stevie,” Michael said as he packed his bag, “we’ve been working too hard on
this case,” he stopped and turned to her, “We’re going to break it wide open tomorrow
night. We are going to catch them. Besides, I don’t have a choice. I’ve been in communication with the criminals
for a few weeks now, and I am supposed to meet them in Vegas to be one of their
new musclemen.” He flexed and Stevie
laughed.
Michael grabbed his
wallet and dropped it. The outer flap
flipped open to reveal his FBI identification.
Stevie picked it up and looked at it.
“When we first met I
had you pegged as a loser… a career Army man with nothing left after the
service. No good ole war for you to
serve in, the glory days spent in the desert over… I couldn’t have been more
wrong. I never would have thought that
you were a G-Man,” she said.
“You never were good
on first impressions,” Michael teased, “you thought my brother was my father.”
Stevie laughed
again. She stood up to face Michael,
despite her forehead just reaching his nose.
“I have a bad feeling about this.
You know I have these sixth sense feelings about things.”
“One visit to a
soothsayer at the Delaware State Fair and you are convinced you are one,”
Michael said, smiling. This time, Stevie
wasn’t.
She put her arms
around his waist and hugged him tightly.
“I still don’t want you to go.”
“I know,” he said with
a voice that melted her heart, “but we can’t afford to lose this case. There is too much riding on it.”
He kissed her.
“What am I supposed to
do while you are gone?”
Michael picked up his
full duffel bag and stood in his bedroom doorway. “Well when you go into work at the Pentagon
on Monday, tell those generals not to let the defense contractors have
conferences in Las Vegas.”
“Just barge right into
the general’s office?”
“This isn’t the 80s,
babe. Send an email,” Michael said with
a wide smile.
Stevie grabbed
Michael’s backpack and walked with him through their Victorian-style townhouse
and out to the street.
Once his car was
packed, he went to her for the dreaded traveling-goodbye.
“I love you,
Michael. Please be careful,” she said
while hugging him tightly. She could
feel Michael’s head pull back in a way she knew he would exactly tell her that
he would be fine and for her to not worry.
Before he could, she stopped him.
“Please Michael… please be careful.”
Michael kissed her on
the forehead. “If I got out of Desert
Storm alive, I am sure I will get out of an FBI sting in Las Vegas.”
He got into his car
and started the engine. Stevie quickly
kneeled beside the driver-side window with a look of concern still in her eyes.
“I left something for
you in the kitchen. I’ll be back in a
few days. I love you, Stevie,” Michael
said.
Stevie put her hand on
the door in a last ditch attempt to somehow stop Michael. Or at least slow him down.
“I’ll be back. I promise,” he said. He kissed her again, a few seconds longer,
and put the car in gear and drove away.
Stevie let a single
tear escape her eye before she walked up the stairs to their Georgetown home.
Sitting on the kitchen
counter was a bouquet of fresh roses of all different varieties and vibrant
colors. On their third date, Stevie told
Michael she never could pick a single rose to enjoy and loved them all.
Also on the counter
was a slim white box. Stevie opened it
and gasped. Inside was a gold
heart-shaped necklace. On the inside of
the lid, Michael left a note for her:
Something to remember
me by.
The scent of roses
lingers... always.
Four hours later
Michael was in one of the Montecitos’s standard hotel rooms overlooking the Las
Vegas Strip. He was the last agent to
arrive to the sting as Lonnie was already in place with their target, Muntzy
was undercover with the resort staff, and Taylor was the agent-in-charge,
coordinating their operations with hotel security.
Agent Lonnie Sullivan
was the first to know the main details of the operation. She was the first to infiltrate Wilson’s team
once the FBI heard of the planned coup from a Grumman insider. The Bureau hadn’t heard from Lonnie in a
month before she sent a quick text message to Taylor, warning him to get ready. She was going to be the one responsible to
steal the designs for the Tomcat-X.
That was two weeks
ago. Lonnie was easily able to pull
Michael into the organization to be part of Wilson’s security staff. No one on Wilson’s staff except for a man
named Gray, Lonnie, and Wilson himself were to know about the operation. Michael and the other security officers were
supposed to be extra beef to give the illumination of a security officer caring
about protecting the company.
Michael looked out the
window at the Strip. He could make out
the Luxor beam amid the neon glow of resort hotels. He took an assortment of cards out of
his wallet and studied his new credentials. He checked into the hotel and was known among
Wilson and his staff as Michael Roesler, an ex Green Beret turned mercenary of
fortune.
Michael just settled
in to fall asleep when a heavy knock sounded on his door. He quickly got up and grabbed his FBI issued
Beretta 92FS and walked over towards the door.
He looked through the peephole and saw Lonnie standing outside with
another man. It was Wilson. He stuck the handgun behind his back through
his belt and opened the door.
“Michael!” Lonnie
said, bouncing in and giving him a big hug.
“Play,” she quietly whispered in his hear. She released him and looked at Wilson. “Mr. Wilson, this is Michael Roesler, your
new security guard.”
Michael nodded and
looked at Wilson. “Good to see you in
person, sir,” he squarely said.
Wilson, to Michael’s
surprise, extended his hand. Michael
shook it. “Shaking this hand, Mr.
Roesler, you’ve just accepted a contract and agreed that the only orders you
follow come from me, and just like the Army, you follow the orders without
question. Understood?”
“Clearly, sir,”
Michael said, tempted to salute.
“Good,” Wilson said,
“The conference’s opening ceremonies begin at 6 tomorrow night. From there on, everyone will be mingling
about in the casino. Your job is to work
with Gray and the rest of the security staff keeping a close eye on Acton and
looking around for anything suspicious.
Also, Mr. Roesler, Acton hates to cash in his chips from gambling if the
casino is crowded, so if he insists on taking them up to his suite, you stay on
his heels until he does, understood?”
Michael nodded.
“We begin tomorrow,
report to me in room 3019 for a final briefing with the security staff,” Wilson
said. He turned to leave and took Lonnie
with him before Michael had a chance to speak with her.
Michael hated the fact
that Lonnie had been out of touch for so long.
She must have been kept so close to the operation, or had the feeling
she was being closely watched, she couldn’t have given them any more
information than what they were working from.
He had half a mind to
go look for Muntzy, but decided against it to avoid blowing the agent’s
cover. Muntzy would be in place in front
of Acton’s suite to keep an eye on Lonnie as she went in for the theft. He would give her a two-minute head start
before he moved to the casino floor to assist in the bust.
Once Lonnie had the
Tomcat-X designs, she would return to a specified meeting point with Wilson and
Gray, and they would leave the casino, ditching Acton, his girl, and the
oblivious security staff.
Michael, Muntzy, and
Taylor would be in communication with each other on a coded frequency. Once they found Lonnie, Muntzy would tail her
while Taylor and Michael would wait at the front entrance. When they reached the limo, Michael would
give the signal to the agents waiting in the cabs and the operation would be
over.
Michael went to sleep
that night thinking the operation would be absolutely fool proof. He didn’t know he would be completely wrong.
After the opening
ceremonies of the conference, there was a mad dash to the casino floor, mainly
poker tables, craps tables, and blackjack tables.
Michael walked around
the casino and observed the action at the tables. The essence of the conference was a poker
game in itself as there were many players from either side trying to be dealt
in, some begging to be dealt out, and others just simply watching. Contractors from numerous companies mixed
business and social talk with representatives from the Department of Defense as
they played a few hands of the games.
Agent Jordan Muntzy
was a short black man around the same age as Michael. He wore maintenance clothes and carried a
toolbox in one hand, and a ladder in another.
He was walking down the hallway when he noticed a security guard
standing in front of Acton’s suite. Unwavering,
he kept walking until he reached a lighting fixture one door in front of the
suite. He flashed a smile to the guard
and began to set up shop.
“That light looks fine
to me,” the guard said with a suspicious tone in his voice.
“It looks just fine to
me too,” Muntzy said, “but we’ve had reports on it flickering over the past few
days.”
“I’ve never noticed
anything,”
“I’ve been up here
five times to fix it and it looked just like it does now. It must be an electrical problem, so I may as
well look at it before it turns into something worse.”
The guard grunted.
Michael found Wilson
and Lonnie, walking the casino arm in arm posing as a couple, and keeping a
close eye on Acton and his girlfriend who Michael met earlier that night. Her name was Tanya Walker and there was an
air about her Michael couldn’t place. He
looked at them again and noticed Lonnie was watching Tanya more than Acton
himself.
“What’s going on,
Michael?” Taylor asked over Michael’s virtually hidden
earpiece.
Wilson’s security
guards did not have any kind of communication equipment, as they were all
watching Acton in close or distant proximity.
Michael had to turn a certain way and pretend he was examining a slot
machine to reply. He looked up and saw
Wilson whisper to Lonnie. He handed her
a card-key and a piece of paper. Within
seconds, Lonnie left his side.
“Wilson just sent
Lonnie somewhere,” Michael quietly said, “can you get her on camera? Where is she going?”
“She’s headed towards
the elevators, I think she is headed your way, Muntzy.”
Michael looked up and
saw Wilson put away a cell-phone. “I
think Wilson just called someone.”
There were a
few seconds of silence before Muntzy’s voice came over the
band. “He must have called the
security guard in front of Acton’s door, because that dude just left. Said something about going to the casino
floor.”
“It’s happening,”
Michael said, “Wilson just cleared the way for Lonnie to get the designs from
Acton’s safe.”
“Be careful down there
Michael, you’re in a bed of snakes,” Muntzy said.
“Not as much as Lonnie
is, Muntzy, keep an eye on her.”
Lonnie felt
overdressed for such an occasion, but nevertheless, looked stunning in her
violet gown. She had long flowing brown
hair that ended in curls and was accented against her white skin. She saw Muntzy working on the light in the hallway
but didn’t say anything–didn’t even look at him as she opened Acton’s suite and
entered.
She quickly moved to
the safe in the walk-in closet. She took
out the piece of paper Wilson handed to her and entered the combination. The safe instantly popped open. She took out four mini CD-ROMs from the safe
and set them on a shelf. She opened her
purse and grabbed a portable CD scanner/data storage.
It took her just a few
minutes to scan the discs and save the data.
She put the discs back into the safe and made sure she didn’t disturb
anything. She took out a cell-phone and
called Wilson. “I scanned the discs, I
have it all.”
“Excellent work,
Lonnie. Did anyone see you?”
“There’s no one around
except for an electrician in the hallway.”
“An electrician?”
Wilson said with alarm.
“It’s fine, I’ve seen
him around here before, don’t worry,” Lonnie replied.
“Okay, well meet me at
Acton’s craps table, you can’t miss it once you get to the casino. The bastard’s winning big.”
“See you soon,” she said.
Muntzy was still
working on his light when Lonnie left the suite. “Nice night, isn’t it?”
Lonnie smiled and looked up at him. “You could say that,” she replied, walking
down the hall.
Muntzy wasn’t
comfortable giving Lonnie the original two-minute head start, so he counted a
few long seconds before he started to follow.
“I’m on her tail,” he said.
“Be careful, Muntzy, I
lost Wilson,” Michael replied.
“Relax, Agent Long,
I’m the original man of steel,”
“Wilson’s at the craps
table with Acton and Tanya. Acton’s
winning big, look for the giant cheering crowd,” Taylor
said.
Lonnie showed up by
Wilson’s side at the table. Michael
started to make his way over.
“There’s been a change
of plans, Lonnie. Take these keys and go
to the top level of the parking garage.
There is a silver Z. Get into the
car and wait for us to show up,” Wilson said.
Lonnie nodded and
started walking towards the parking garage.
Michael passed her as he just arrived to the craps table. She looked at him and then back at Acton… or
Tanya. Before he could process it,
Wilson approached him.
“Acton’s winning big,”
Wilson said to Michael, “so stick with him.”
“All right,” Michael
replied.
The table cheered as
Acton rolled a seven. “I can’t lose
tonight,” he said.
Acton’s girlfriend,
Tanya Walker, a platinum blonde stunner with dark-brown eyes that looked out of
place, warned him against jinxing his luck.
“I make my own luck,”
Acton said, kissing her.
Wilson stepped away
from the table and began walking towards the parking garage. Just ahead of him, he saw a black man in a
utility jumpsuit dash out of an elevator and into the parking garage. “Damn it.
Gray, they burned her. A
maintenance man is on her tail, take care of him.”
Michael watched Wilson
disappear around the corner. Apparently
Taylor watched the same thing on the cameras.
“All units, get ready. We have
a broken play; they are headed towards the parking garage. All other agents, wait for my signal.”
Michael was anxious to
run to the parking garage to back up his team, “Muntzy, be careful, I think
they’re on to you,”
Lonnie opened the car
door when someone called out her name.
It was Muntzy.
“Lonnie! It’s time, we have to—” Muntzy was cut off by
a gunshot. He fell to the ground, dead
with a bullet in his back.
Lonnie screamed and
looked up. Gray was standing behind
Muntzy, holding a gun.
The gunshot came over
loud and clear over the radio. Michael
flinched well enough for a few people to notice, including Tanya. There was too much at stake for Michael to
remain undercover, and he blew it in front of Acton and Tanya by speaking to
the agents on the other end of the frequency.
“Muntzy? Muntzy!”
“Man down! All agents to the top level of the garage,
man down!” Taylor yelled.
Michael wasted no time
in ditching Acton and Tanya and darted off to the garage.
Acton looked
pissed. He yelled after Michael. “Where the hell are you going?”
Tanya took off,
running after Michael.
By the time they got
to the garage, Lonnie, Gray and Wilson had just sped out.
Michael ran over to
Muntzy who was face down on the cement.
“Oh God,” his voice trembled as he approached his partner,
“Muntzy?” He examined Muntzy’s bloody
wound and felt for a pulse. He never
found one. “Shit!” he yelled, slamming
his hand on the concrete.
At that instant,
Michael knew Lonnie was in grave danger.
He leapt across the
hood of a cab and flashed his FBI badge to the driver. He got in and noticed Tanya was behind him in
the backseat.
“All agents hold off
pursuit, they’re mine,” he said. Michael
turned to Tanya, “Get out.”
“Michael, what the
hell is going on, you’re being paid to protect Charles, not ditch him in the
middle of a casino.”
Instead of replying,
Michael opened his wallet, ripped out the phony credentials and held the window
of his wallet with his FBI badge up so Tanya could see.
“FBI? You?
What for?” Tanya asked, surprised.
“I’ll explain
tomorrow, damn it, now out!”
“No, I’m going along,
you may need some help,” she protested.
Michael sighed. There was no time to argue, he hit the gas
and hoped he could find Lonnie before it was too late.
“Tell me now,
Michael. What is happening?”
“Acton’s Chief of
Security just ripped off Grumman of the Tomcat-X plans. Or at least he thinks so. Lonnie and Muntzy are FBI agents too, she
infiltrated the team months ago on a tip we received, and he’s undercover as
hotel staff. We have six months in this
and I was supposed to be right behind them,”
“No. I don’t believe you,” Tanya said.
“Your boss killed my
partner back there, I was supposed to be covering him, Tanya! Add murder charges onto industrial
espionage,” Michael yelled.
“There they are!”
Tanya said, pointing at the windshield.
Michael could see the
tail-lights of the Z in front of him.
They must have been caught in traffic considering the distance advantage
they had over Michael, and now he was able to catch up to them in the Vegas
outskirts.
Do something, Lonnie,
Michael thought as he pursued them deeper into the desert. Lonnie must have sped up or hit the brakes
because Michael’s vision was obscured by a large amount of dust in front of
them. He had to squint to see through
the cloud. Michael knew he couldn’t
catch up with her unless she slowed down.
His Dodge Caravan taxicab was no match for the Z she was driving.
His concentration was
broken when his cell-phone
rang. Taylor was on the other end
wondering where Michael was. “I have
Lonnie in my sights right in front of me.
Turn on the taxi’s GPS and send backup,” Michael said, not taking the
time to talk any longer. He put the
phone in his coat pocket.
The tail-lights of the
Z suddenly brightened and then went out.
But right before they darkened, Michael could see a slight swerve. He knew Lonnie ran
the car off the road, and prayed she didn’t hurt herself in
the process.
When Michael reached
the Z, he was relieved to see it in one piece and upright. Gray was already out of the car, and Wilson
was pulling Lonnie out of the car.
Michael hopped out of
the taxi and raised his gun. “Hold it
right there. If anyone moves, I
fire. Take out your weapons and toss
them over here,”
The two men did as
they were told and slid their guns towards Michael. Wilson’s gun hit Tanya’s foot. He tightened his grip on Lonnie’s arm.
“Looks like we made a
mistake,” Wilson said.
“Just an
underestimation,” Michael replied, “what did you plan to do with the designs?”
“Sell them to the
highest bidder, of course,” Wilson said.
“I’d call that
treason. It draw’s the death penalty,
you know,” Michael said. He looked at
Lonnie. The light from the taxi flooded
the desert scene, including her face.
There was a look in her eyes that made him think she was trying to tell
him something. He had a good idea that
the two men were still armed, and it might be awhile before backup
arrives. “Tanya, pick up that gun.”
“No Michael!” Lonnie
screamed. Wilson punched her and threw
her to the ground. She was out cold.
“Not necessary,
Michael. I have my own,” Tanya said,
taking a gun from her purse. She stepped
forward and aimed the gun close-range at Michael’s head.
Michael’s stomach
dropped and his mind raced.
He looked at them
again and noticed Lonnie was watching Tanya more than Acton himself...
Stevie laughed
again. She stood up to face Michael,
despite her forehead just reaching his nose.
“I have a bad feeling about this.
You know I have these sixth sense feelings about things.”
Lonnie nodded and
started walking towards the parking garage.
Michael passed her as he just arrived to the craps table. She looked at him and then back at Acton...
or Tanya.
“I believe the
underestimation is on your head now, Michael,” Tanya said.
“Give me that
gun. If you all cooperate, I can pull
some strings.”
“I’ve disappointed
you, haven’t I?” she asked.
“Among other things,
Tanya. Give me the damn gun.”
Without a word, Tanya
pulled the trigger and fired point-blank at Michael’s face.
A violent white flash
and searing pain consumed Michael’s entire world. He reached his hands up to his face only to
discover he was clutching just muscle, blood and bone. The force of the bullet pushed him back onto
the hood of the taxi and he grotesquely rolled onto the desert floor, blood
draining from his massive bullet wound into the sand.
Tanya tossed the gun
onto his back. “It’s all yours,” she
said.
As he was losing
consciousness, Michael could faintly hear the action around him.
“Where are the
designs?” Tanya asked.
“She destroyed
them. Erased the data storage.” Wilson
replied, “What should we do?”
“Get out of town
quick,” Tanya said, “what other choice do we have?”
“And what about her?”
Gray asked.
“Waste her,” Tanya
said.
The last thing Michael
Long heard was the gunshot that killed Lonnie.
Stevie’s tear-streaked
face was seen only in the street-lights that danced through the windows of the
car that was speeding towards the hospital.
“I told him not to go. I told him,”
she said in between sobs.
Taylor met her at the
airport after the FBI rushed her to Vegas.
Stevie was easily in a state of panic when he gave her the news. He would have preferred to wait to tell her
what happened until they got to the hospital, but when he called her 5 hours
ago, she screamed into the phone, demanding to know what exactly happened.
Taylor was left
speechless in the wake of the tragedy, and tried his best to console her. Word of Agent Muntzy and Sullivan’s deaths
and Michael’s wounding reached the Bureau in no time, and everyone was shaken
up. Despite it being 4am in DC, a group
of assistant directors called a meeting.
The attending
physician in charge of Michael’s care was waiting for Stevie and Taylor when
they arrived at University Medical Center’s ER.
He took the time to explain Michael’s grave situation.
“Michael’s in critical
condition. We have nurses and doctors
watching him around the clock. He was
shot point-blank in the head. The bullet
was on a trajectory that was headed right for Michael’s brain, but a metal
plate deflected it,” the doctor said.
“He got that in Desert
Storm,” Stevie said.
The doctor nodded
grimly. “That plate deflected the bullet
through Michael’s face,”
“Meaning?” Stevie
asked.
“Michael’s face was
completely destroyed, Ms. Mason. The
bullet shattered several bones, damaged a number of arteries, caused extensive
damage to his sinus system. We don’t
even know if he still has vision. We
speculate there is severe nerve damage but we can’t tell right now. We can’t tell half of the trauma induced
until his condition stabilizes.”
Stevie cradled her
head in her hands fighting back her tears.
“Ms. Mason, I’m sorry
to say this, but the odds of your fiancé surviving are less than 30 percent,”
That sent Stevie over
the edge. The lump in her throat swelled
to an extent that the only thing she could do was cry. She longed for all of this to be just a
dream, where Michael would wake her up, kiss her and tell her everything would
be OK.
This was no dream.
Michael was moved into
the ICU 72 hours later. Taylor walked in
and found Stevie dozing at Michael’s bedside.
It was hard to look at
him. For the first 36 hours, Michael
needed constant watch as his facial wound kept bleeding and his dressings
needed to be changed. Tubes and machines
were connected to him in every which way
imaginable.
Stevie looked
horrible. Taylor chided himself for
thinking that, but she hadn’t slept
since she arrived in Vegas. He tried,
but maybe caught 4 hours in the past three days. Too much was on his mind concerning this case
and Michael’s condition.
His bosses were not
pleased that despite the fact Wilson and his team were foiled in their
attempts, two agents were killed and another was seriously wounded.
Michael left his
cell-phone on the entire time. Taylor
heard everything, and was fuming to find out Tanya Walker was the mastermind
behind it all. His supervisors were just
as elated as he was.
He kept wondering what
the hell went wrong. Had Walker and
Wilson known all along? Did Muntzy jump
the gun by following Lonnie too soon? Or
were they never planning to meet at the front entrance, just in case?
Too many what-ifs were
running around in his mind.
“Hi,” a voice said
that broke him from his thought. It was
Stevie.
“Hi,” Taylor replied,
sitting down across from her on the other side of Michael’s bed.
Stevie could sense
something was wrong, “What is it?”
“I’ve been suspended,”
Taylor said.
Stevie began to cry
again, “No,” she said. “You can’t be
suspended, Paul. Who is going to find
them? Someone has to find them! You’re the only one who knows who they are.”
Before he could
answer, the room erupted into chaos as a bunch of doctors and nurses burst into
the room. They pushed past Stevie and
Taylor and surrounded Michael, all speaking at once.
A nurse quickly came
and escorted Stevie and Taylor out of the room.
Stevie strained to try to hear what the doctors were saying, but all she
could make out was medical terminology mixed around the words “crashing, trauma,
bleeding out, emergency surgery.” Before
she could catch what was going on, the swarm of doctors was wheeling Michael
out of the room.
“What’s going on?”
Stevie asked, frantically.
“We got a signal at the nurses station,” a nurse said who Stevie didn’t recognize, “they’re taking him up to emergency surgery.”
“Oh God,” Stevie said,
rushing after Michael.
A female doctor
stopped her at the elevator doors. “We
need to take him upstairs right away,” she said, “the nurse will take you to
the waiting room. We’re taking care of
him, Ms. Mason, I promise,” the doctor gave an assuring smile as the doors
closed.
The nurse could see
that Stevie was entering panic-mode. She
assured her that things would be just fine and walked her to another elevator
to take her to the OR waiting room.
Taylor turned around and followed them.
Had he not turned around at that moment, he would have noticed Michael’s
elevator skipped the OR-floor and went straight to the rooftop helipad…
Stevie sat at their
dinner table staring at the folded American flag some unnamed Army general
presented to her this morning at Arlington.
The gunshots from the 21-gun salute and the sound of bagpipes echoed in
her mind repeatedly.
The flowers he gave
her eight days ago were dead, the necklace he gave her was still around her
neck. She fingered it absently as she
read the note he left:
The scent of roses
lingers... always.
“If I got out of
Desert Storm alive, I am sure I will get out of an FBI sting in Las Vegas.”
“Why did you have to
go, Michael?” she asked, halfway expecting a reply;
instead the necklace felt warm. Stevie looked up and around the house. Their Georgetown home felt more than empty.
For the first time
since she was rushed to Vegas, Stevie exploded in grief. She grabbed the vase and tossed it across the
room, screaming and crying as it shattered on the floor. She cleared the table in one sweep of her
arm, sending the jewelry box, the American flag, sympathy cards, and a plate of
food she barely touched flying everywhere.
She tore off the necklace and fell to the floor, clutching the necklace
as hard as she could.
This still was not a
dream.
Darkness.
“His scars are nearly
healed,” a man said, with a clipped British accent.
“Mmm-hmm,” another man
replied.
“Doesn’t it strike you
that there is an uncanny resemblance between him and you as a young man?” the
British man asked.
The other man grunted.
“Just my imagination,
I suppose,” the British man replied.
“Stick to your task,”
the other man replied with a gruff and raspy voice, “have you found them?”
“We’re still working
on it, we’ve narrowed it down to three companies in two states,”
“And the Knight 2000?”
“It could be ready
within a month,” the British man said, excitedly.
“Excellent!” the other
man said, “I just hope I have a month left in me.”
“What have the doctors
said?” the British man asked with a concerned tone.
“Never you mind what
the doctors said, Devon. I’ll worry
about them… and Michael Long,”
Awake.
Who was talking?
Were there really
voices or was it a dream?
He couldn’t figure out
how long ago it was when his world plunged into darkness. Today, it still was. But something was different. He could feel it. Hell, he could actually feel for once.
Almost…
The last thing he saw
was the explosion from Tanya’s gun. The
last thing he felt was unimaginable pain.
Indescribable.
Unbearable.
Not only did he feel
the searing pain from the bullet exiting through his face, his head was
throbbing from the impact his plate took from deflecting the bullet.
He reached up to feel
his face not knowing what to expect. The
last time he felt his face, he could feel the edges of his skin where it was
torn apart by the bullet, his muscles, bones… much more than a person is not
supposed to feel. This time, he felt…
skin.
Michael quickly sat
up, opening his eyes and looking around.
He squinted, having not seen light in two weeks.
He let off a quick
scream, startled at the presence of two men at his bedside.
“Who the hell are
you?” he asked.
“Hello Michael,” the
first man said, “I’m Wilton Knight, and this is Devon Miles,” he said,
gesturing to another man.
Both men were older
than Michael. The owner of the British
voice, Devon, had to be in his late 50’s.
His grey hair was kept neat and he looked like he was born in the black
and silver three-piece-suit he was wearing.
Wilton, looked to be
15 years older than Devon, his hair was sparse and he was dressed
casually. Had it not been for an oxygen
tube feeding into his nostrils and a voice that made Michael want to clear his
throat, he would have looked just as healthy as Devon.
Or anyone for that
matter.
“How are you feeling?”
Devon asked.
Michael was still rather disoriented to
answer. “How long have I been here?”
“About a month,” Devon
replied.
Michael shot out of
bed, and stumbled. He had hardly any
energy. “A month?” he asked,
irritated. “I gotta go, I gotta get out
of here. I gotta get back to the Bureau,
call Stevie—”
Devon looked at Wilton
with a frown. “Michael,” Wilton said,
“there’s a great deal we have to explain to you—”
“Explain? No,” Michael said, looking for his clothes
and walking towards the sink. He
splashed water on his face and looked up, “I don’t have any time to—”
Michael’s blood ran
cold when he saw the face staring back.
Michael couldn’t
believe his eyes… literally. Instead of
his green to grey eyes, they were blue.
His eye sockets were slimmed down.
His hair was no longer light brown and spiky, instead it was dark brown,
wavy and out of regulation. His long
cheekbones were more subdued, and his teeth were whiter. The face in the mirror definitely wasn’t
Michael Long.
“My face… Oh my God,”
he said, “what happened to my face?” He
spun around to face Wilton and Devon. “What the hell did you do to my face?”
“I suppose you want
some answers,” Wilton said.
“No shit, otherwise I
wouldn’t be asking questions,” Michael replied.
“I promise I will tell
you everything. Trust me, son, we are
not here to hurt you,” Wilton said.
“Not here to hurt
me? You’ve destroyed me! What the hell have you done to my face?”
Michael yelled, noticing his new eyes matched Wilton’s.
“You’ll be much
happier with this face,” Devon said, “unless you wish to walk around with the face
of a man who could be killed… all over again.”
“What?” Michael asked.
“Everything will be
explained to you in time, Mr. Long,” Devon said.
“I’m trying to tell
you, I don’t have time—,”
“You do, Michael, more
than you know. Get dressed,” Wilton
said, “and I’ll explain
everything.”
Michael was about to
protest when Devon cut him off, “You’ll find clothes and other necessities in
the drawers. I’ll take you downstairs
when you are ready.”
The two men left, and
Michael was alone again.
What the hell was
going on?
Images flooded
Michael’s mind from over a decade ago.
He was in Iraq as part of the 4th Brigade Combat Team of the
101st Airborne. His battalion
came under heavy fire as they went through what they thought was an abandoned
town.
A sequence of errors
quickly followed, and Michael found himself captured along with some other
members of the battalion. They were
merely hours away from one of Hussein’s torture camps before they were able to
engineer an escape.
Him and a squad of 3
soldiers were able to overpower a team of Iraqi captors.
I’ll be damned if I
can’t get away from here, he thought.
Then, in almost an
instant of panic, he tore off his t-shirt and looked in the mirror. His muscles were still there, but what was
missing made his stomach drop and heart skip more than a few beats. His Screaming Eagle’s tattoo was gone,
completely erased from his body.
Michael sunk his head
low, wishing it was all a dream.
“Where am I?” Michael
asked Devon, as they left the hospital.
He squinted, having not seen sunlight for over a month.
“You’re in the Wilton
Knight Hospital and Medical Center on the Knight Industries campus,” Devon
replied, “Wilton was the man—”
“My face might be
different, but my memory isn’t, give me some credit, Devon. He’s also one of the world’s most richest men
and popular philanthropist. What does he
want with me?”
“I’m afraid that is
for Mr. Knight to explain,” Devon replied, as he walked over to a black
golf-cart with the Knight Industries logo on the side.
The circular logo was
the image of a medieval Knight’s head, set on an orange background with a black
border.
“Nice wheels, Devon,”
Michael said, sarcastically, “the old-man doesn’t pay you enough?” he said,
getting in.
Devon shot a look at
Michael. “Dear boy,” he said
half-laughing, “despite Mr. Knight’s generous philanthropy, I still get a
paycheck, which is none of your concern, I may add.”
“Where are we? How big is this place?” Michael asked,
looking around.
“We’re across the bay
from San Francisco,” Devon replied, “and
we encompass a large number of acres with enough ‘breathing room’ if you
will. Plus, a view to admire.”
Michael looked across
Devon and saw a sweeping view of the Pacific Ocean as they drove along a cliff
side. “Not bad. Not bad at all. What’s with the mansion? Let me guess, the old man lives there.” he
asked, gesturing towards a large mansion in front of them.
Devon grunted. “Mr. Knight lives there, yes. But that is also the headquarters for the
Foundation for Law and Government, Mr. Long.
Your new workplace,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
Michael asked, in an accent mocking Devon’s.
Devon grunted again as
they approached the mansion.
During the final
minutes of their trip, Michael tried his hardest to pull out information from
Devon as best as he could, but Devon merely grunted and repeatedly told Michael
that Wilton Knight would explain everything to him when he got there.
Michael hated being
out of the loop. Christ, that’s why he
joined the FBI in the first place, to be on the inside, to be a part of the
intelligence community.
Of course at that
moment he realized the interrogation training he received too. Not only was it his job to know information,
but it was his job to retrieve information.
But before he was able
to corner Devon into anteing up some answers, The Old Man was slowly walking
out of the grand entrance to his mansion towards them. Devon stopped and Michael got out.
“Good morning,
Michael,” Wilton said, extending his hand.
Michael shook it. “Glad to see
you up and about.”
“Barely,” Michael
replied, “I still need to get back in shape,” he said, stretching. Michael had been nearly immobilized for the
past month and felt the toll it took on his body. He was definitely out of shape, as if he was
in a body that was not his own… and definitely wearing a face that didn’t
belong to him.
“You’ll have time for
that,” Wilton said, “plenty of time.”
“What am I here for?”
Michael said, narrowly escaping out of Devon’s way as he drove off.
Wilton looked out
towards the sweeping view of the Pacific Ocean.
He looked up at the sky and inhaled.
“It’s a lovely day,” he said, “let’s take a walk outside.”
The two men started
walking down the path running along the cliff.
Michael couldn’t help but look down on occasion at the mighty drop to
the jagged rocks on the other side of the railing. After a few endless seconds of not speaking,
Michael began asking questions.
Wilton, instead,
shushed him off, telling Michael to enjoy the day and their surroundings,
informing him that he would spend a great deal of time here. Michael begrudgingly obliged.
After 45 minutes of
walking the grounds of the estate, Wilton spoke.
“I suppose you have
plenty of questions for me, Michael,” he said.
“Damn right,” Michael
sharply replied.
“Well to start off, I
am saddened to inform you that you are dead,” Wilton said, bluntly.
Michael stopped,
grabbing the old man by the arm. “What
the hell are you talking about?” he asked, sweeping some wind-blown hair out of
his face.
“Michael Long was
involved in a shootout in Las Vegas during a botched FBI mission to prevent
espionage within a defense contractor.
He died at University Medical Center in Las Vegas last month. His funeral was held two days later.”
Michael gave a cheeky
grin and turned his back to Wilton. He
grabbed the railing and looked out to sea.
“Unbelievable.”
“Don’t believe me,
Michael?”
“No, I believe
you. I know what people like you can
accomplish,” Michael said.
“People like me?”
“Powerful. Rich.
Donated so much to the world, got power in exchange. I just want to know how you did it.”
“And why, I assume?”
Michael nodded.
“You weren’t far from
death, Mr. Long, I must say. Your
condition was all over the place, and doctors fought to keep you in an induced
coma until the swelling around your brain subsided. That metal plate in your head saved your life
and bought us the opportunity we needed.”
“Opportunity for
what? I don’t know what you are going on
about here, but I just want to get on with my own life.”
“Your own life,
Michael? What life? You’ve been declared dead, given a few face…”
Michael turned to look
at Wilton. “Then what the hell am I here
for?”
“A chance for a new
life,” Wilton quickly said, “an opportunity that
might be hard to refuse.”
“You sound like the
Godfather,” Michael said, beginning to walk away. Wilton hurried to catch up.
“You have the chance
to walk away, Michael, but do you want to?
When your killers are still on the large?”
Michael stopped and
spun around.
Wilton smiled. “I knew that would get your attention.”
“What do you know
about them?” Michael asked, as he began to pick up stones and throw them over
the cliff.
“Enough to know how
dangerous they are,” Wilton replied.
Michael rolled his
eyes at that half-ass answer.
“First-hand knowledge,
Mr. Long.”
“What?”
“Six years ago, Knight
Industries was nearly destroyed by industrial espionage. They single-handedly toppled everything I
built, everything I worked for, stole multiple project designs and sold them
off to the highest bidder. I was in-line
to become a defense contractor for the Armed Forces, but her espionage cost
that contract. And my marriage.”
Michael looked at
Wilton with a tiny bit of sympathy.
“She wormed her way
into me every-which-way possible. I
should have known better, I should have been smarter. But I was 65, I was realizing the absolute
terror that there were more days behind me than there were in front of me. She was 28.
She was interested. Interested in
what? Not some 65-year-old
curmudgeon. His money? Perhaps.
What other reason was a 28-year-old woman doing with me? My power?
My secrets? She took it all. Took the most powerful projects we’ve been
developing—projects way ahead of their time, projects that could have
revolutionized multiple industries. In
toppling my empire, she toppled me, and my projects made billions for someone
else.
“It took awhile to
rebuild. She took my projects but she
didn’t take my staff; the smartest people you’ll find on the planet. We continued on, rebuilding Knight
Industries, rebuilding our connections, reestablishing our trust in the private
sector. If she thought I was too scared
to return, she was wrong. I had my
empire, I had my money, and I had everything you could imagine, but one thing.”
“Justice?” Michael
asked.
“Exactly,” Wilton
said, half-heartedly punching the air, “Tanya
and her force were off somewhere and the law enforcement agencies were
helpless. They were too big. The kind of criminals who operate above the
law, nobody could touch them.
“Instead, I sought to
create something powerful, something to make a difference, a way to fight in
the world of criminals who operate above the law—to champion the cause of the
innocent, the helpless, the powerless. I
created a private arm of Knight Industries, utilizing technology that is beyond
state-of-the-art. A firm that would not
be controlled by our board of directors, nor influenced by government or
politics. It would be a way for me to
continue philanthropy work in no other way imaginable. A free-lance law enforcement agency called
the Foundation for Law and Government.”
No doubt, Michael was
impressed, and was finally able to relate to The Old Man. “So how do I fit into all of this?” he asked.
“That’s up to you
Michael,” Wilton said, “you’re here for a reason, it’s up to you to figure out
what you want to do,” he walked away and Michael was left in thought, looking
out to sea.
This still was not a
dream.
Four weeks later,
Wilton looked out of binoculars from his rear patio towards a track. Michael was running laps. “How much longer?” he asked Devon, who
appeared behind him seconds earlier.
“We’ll meet the
deadline,” Devon said, “one more week.”
“Put the crews on
around the clock I want it done within the next 48 hours,” Wilton said.
An alarmed look
flashed over Devon’s face. “48
hours? Wilton, what have the doctors—,”
“Doctors say their
normal medical terms and give deadlines, much as I use technical terms and give
deadlines as well. Don’t worry about
them,” Wilton ordered.
“What have you told
him?” Devon asked, as Michael came closer on the track for another pass.
“I told him he fits
into my equation one way or another, and it’s up to him to decide how he wants
to,” Wilton said, “I told him he’s safe.
In the eyes of the law, Michael Long is legally dead.”
“Stealing a body from
the morgue, shooting its face off, replacing its teeth and fingerprints,
placing Mr. Long’s identification on it and overnighting it to Las Vegas is not
exactly playing by the rules in the eyes of the law,” Devon said.
“That body was donated
to the college of medicine anyway, they can get another one. Besides, I make my own rules. If the criminals we are after operate above
the law, why can’t we?”
“All right, but why
him?”
“That’s our man,
Devon,” Wilton said.
“How can you be so
sure?”
“He has the
drive. The dedication. His entire world was destroyed, far different
than mine. He’s felt he’s failed his
mission. He’ll want to pick it up,”
Wilton said.
“I still question your
choice, Wilton. He’s rather young—”
“He needs to be
young.”
“And inexperienced.”
“You’re grasping at
straws that aren’t there, Devon. He has
the law enforcement background necessary for this kind of job. We couldn’t ask for someone better
experienced in surveillance, research, and pursuit and capture. Desert Storm was no Vietnam, but it still wasn’t
a cake-walk.”
“He was captured
there.”
“He survived. He kept fighting. It kept him living, just like me.”
“How did he take the
fact that we knew Tanya Walker was involved the whole time?”
“He was angry, no
doubt. How would you feel, Devon, if you
found out you were chasing the wrong person for months?”
“Rather upset, I
suppose. I assume Mr. Long’s reaction
was triple that, however.”
“It was,” Wilton said,
“but still understandable.”
“He’s aggressive,”
Devon said.
“He’ll need that. I doubt our adversaries will be inviting him
to talk out their troubles over a spot of tea, Devon,” Wilton said.
“I’ll give you his
ability to work in a team,” Devon said, “but
the majority of his work will consist of him on his own.”
“Every man has the
ability and preparedness to work on his own.
Michael knows the value of a team, but knows the value of one man can be
a force greater than any army put together.
Michael Long is our man. He will
be the proof that one man can make a difference.”
Devon opened his mouth
to speak, but was left speechless.
“On your way Devon,”
Wilton said as Michael approached.
Michael dashed up the
stairs and collapsed on the stone bench, wiping sweat away from his brow.
“Aren’t you pushing it
a bit, Michael?” Wilton asked.
“I gotta get in shape
real fast,” Michael said, “I’ve been sitting around too long. I got one last score to settle,” Before
Wilton could speak, Michael added a powerful blow. “Alone.”
“Revenge?”
“Pursuit and
capture. I have a mission to finish.”
“You aren’t an agent
anymore. You aren’t even Michael Long
anymore. In a matter of speaking, you
aren’t even alive anymore. I told you
weeks ago that it’s up to you how you want to fit into the Foundation,” Wilton
said, “What if I told you
that by working together, we can take down Tanya and her friends. But they’re just the tip of the iceberg—”
“Mr. Knight, you gave
me a second chance to live, and for that I am grateful, but now comes the time
where we have to part ways. I blew it in
Vegas; I got my team killed. You of all
people should understand I can’t take responsibility for anyone’s life but my
own any longer.”
Michael checked his
watch. It read midnight. Despite the cold, he made his second pass
through the campus, a five-mile run, and planned to take two more. He passed by a building that resembled an
aircraft hanger. Last night, around this
time, the hanger was busy with activity, and stayed busy throughout the
night. During his first run tonight, he
noticed a small amount of activity. It
looked like people were wrapping up their work.
This time, the hanger
was dark and empty. Whatever they were
working on, they finished.
It was Michael’s
instincts that told him to check it out.
He walked towards the large set of hangar doors and approached a
nested-personnel door.
After picking the
lock, Michael entered the dark building.
The door closed behind him and the slam echoed throughout the
edifice. It also plunged him into almost
complete darkness.
A lone, dim, spotlight
shone on the floor in the middle of the warehouse. Michael stepped forward into it, looking
around. “Hello?” he asked, his voice
booming in the building.
Off in the distance…
or was it behind him… Michael heard a faint whirring noise. He squinted ahead of him and saw narrow red
lights chasing each other, as if they were scanning the building. They appeared as if they hovered in the
middle of the warehouse. The whirring
noise seemed to correspond with the mini-floating-light-show.
Suddenly, without
warning, four lights, two on either side of the scanner, turned on and nearly
blinded Michael. An engine roared to
life and what appeared to be a car began bearing down upon him.
Michael stood his
ground. The car screeched to a halt just
inches from his legs.
Bathed in light,
Michael could see he was looking at a sleek black sports car. A Cadillac XLR, to be specific.
The massive halogen
lights in the hangar illuminated, and Michael was able to finally appreciate
the size. The building was large enough
to encompass an Airbus 380 and seemed wasted on the car. A retro corporate jet sat in the far corner.
“Enough Devon,” a
voice said, echoing throughout the hangar.
Michael looked behind him. Wilton
was standing at the door and turned on the lights. “You’ve had your fun with our guest,” he
said.
Michael looked back
towards the Cadillac. Devon got out of
the car with a smug grin. “It is
impolite to sneak around uninvited,” he said.
“Be gracious, Devon,”
Wilton chided, “I think it’s time we explained ourselves.”
“You’re damn right it
is. What’s going on here? What is all of this? You could put a small country’s food supply
in here and still be a quarter full,” Michael said.
“I’m an inventor,
Michael. I like my space. That jet you see will revolutionize the
corporate jet industry. Your former
agency is in line to buy six, I believe,” Wilton looked around, and began
walking towards the Cadillac, “I don’t get to put my hands in the action
anymore, however,” he said, running his fingers along the car,
“but I still need a place to dream. A place to create my crowning achievement for
my newest mission.”
“So this is why people
have been sneaking in and out of here at all hours of the night,” Michael said.
“Look who’s talking,”
Devon said.
“Enough, both of
you. Let’s face the facts,
gentlemen. My clock’s ticking. The car is ready for Michael. He’s back in shape and healthy enough to
carry on—”
“Carry on what, Mr.
Knight?” Michael asked, slightly annoyed, “I thought I made it clear that no
matter how much I appreciate your hospitality and saving my life, I need to get
out there and restart it. Not to mention
find those who meant the most to me and convince them I am someone who has been
killed. How in the hell did you ever think
of that when you built this face for me?”
“That’s not very
grateful,” Devon said, “downright selfish.”
“How can you stand
there and say that when I had no control over what you did? Mr. Knight, thank you for the second chance
at life, thank you for offering your protection and a chance to work for you. But I need to piece together my life and go
after those who tore it apart,” Michael said, “If
you got this car for me, I appreciate it.
I’ll pull out of here tonight and pay you back—”
“Dear boy,” Devon
said, laughing, “there’s no possible way you could ever repay us for this car.”
“It looks like a 2006
Cadillac XLR to me,” Michael said, trying not to eye and drool over the car too
much.
“From this angle,
yes.”
“Fine, keep the car,
loan me bus fare. Whatever you want to
do, I owe you my life, Mr. Knight, but it’s time to go.”
Wilton looked
anguished but kept his poise. “Prepare
the car for him, Devon.”
A dumbstruck look
crossed Devon’s face. He stood there for
a number of seconds before he could manage: “But… sir…”
“I said prepare the
car, Devon. There’s a great deal he
needs to know about it before he can drive it safely,” he stumbled and caught
his balance on his cane. “I must go to
bed. I’m not… feeling well,” he said,
trying to walk quickly out of the warehouse.
Michael felt like he
knocked the cane out from under the old man.
Neither men spoke until Wilton was gone.
“You just struck a
dying man,” Devon said, angrily.
“I like that old man,”
Michael said, defensively, “I owe him my life—”
“A small price to pay
for what he offered you,” Devon shot back,” you wouldn’t even have a life if we
hadn’t brought you here—”
“And left Lonnie to
die.”
“Your partner was
killed instantly, Mr. Long, there was nothing we could do. What we were able to do was save you. You do realize there are people out there who
will kill you if they know you are still living?” Devon said, “Anyone who has
met you, I imagine.”
Michael shot a
disdainful look at Devon. “I’m legally
dead, Mr. Bond,” he said with a mocking-British accent, “I don’t even know
myself with this face.”
“So you plan on
running then, laying low and not avenging your own death?”
“Now wait a
minute. I never said that.”
“That’s what it
sounded like to me.”
“Then get your hearing
examined. I plan to take out Tanya and
her friends out. My way.”
Devon rolled his eyes. “Your way, Mr.
Long? If I recall correctly, your way
got you and two other FBI agents killed, and destroyed the career of your team
leader. If ruining multiple lives in
multiple methods is your way of doing things, Mr. Long, then good luck.”
“You know where they
are, don’t you?” Michael asked.
Devon stood
silent. “We begin our work
tomorrow. 6am.”
“6am, Devon are you
nuts?” Michael asked, looking at his wristwatch, “it’s midnight.”
“Then you should get
some sleep, shouldn’t you?” Devon asked as he walked towards the exit, leaving
Michael alone with the car.
5:45am. Michael had been awake the whole night. He strongly believed he could go it alone,
but knowing Tanya and her friends, would that be wise? How long could he last if he didn’t use the
Foundation’s resources? Suddenly, The
Old Man began making a hell of a lot more sense.
Michael quickly got
dressed and left his room in the Estate.
Devon was already waiting for him downstairs with the XLR already
running. “Good morning,” he said with
faux energy. He got the impression Devon
did not get much sleep either.
“Good morning,” Devon
replied, handing him a small thermos.
“It’s a blend of tea I use to wake up.
Discovered it in Greece.”
“Thank you,” Michael said,
taking a sip, “Not bad.”
“Why are we standing
around? Get in,” Devon said, gesturing
towards the driver’s side.
Michael got into the
driver’s seat and looked around. The
dashboard console had been heavily modified, if not completely replaced. Digital readouts were in front of Michael
displaying multiple types of information.
In the middle, five buttons on each side bordered a blacked out vertical
rectangle. Bordering the bottom of the
rectangle was a lighted yellow square reading “Normal.” Under that, a medium-sized plasma screen was
displaying a camera angle from the front of the car. Below the screen was a DVD-ROM drive. The modified dashboard curved around so two
small plasma screens and multiple buttons faced the driver.
The steering wheel
wasn’t spared in the massive redesign either.
Instead of a complete circle, a gull-wing wheel was in its place.
“This isn’t your ordinary Cadillac,” he said to
Devon who sat down in the passenger seat.
“You’re correct, Mr.
Long. Welcome aboard the Knight 2000.”
“Thank you. What is all this?” Michael asked, gesturing
towards the dashboard, “It looks like Darth
Vader’s bathroom.”
“You’re sitting in the
crowing achievement of Knight Industries.
It is a one of a kind car, Mr. Long, it is the most technologically
advanced car in the world. It is faster,
safer, and stronger than any car you have ever seen. It is virtually indestructible and completely
operated by a series of microprocessors that prohibit the car from being
involved in any kind of collision or mishap, unless specifically ordered by the
driver. In essence, the Knight 2000 can
deduce predicaments that might cause harm to the vehicle or the driver and
avoid those situations.”
“You’re telling me
this Caddy thinks? My car thinks?”
“We like to think of
it as our car,” Devon replied, reaching over. “Now, to propel the car forward, simply—”
“I know how to drive,
Devon, thanks,” Michael said, pressing the gas pedal.
The power that came
from the Knight 2000 was amazing and Michael was nowhere near prepared for
it. The car launched forward down the
driveway and crashed through the metal gates.
“Holy shit!” Michael
said, slamming on the brakes. “Oh God,”
he said, scrambling out of the car.
Devon got out too. Michael ran to
the front, looking at Devon, “I’ll pay to get it fixed, I will. It got away from me…” he trailed off, looking
at Devon, who was grinning from ear to ear.
Michael looked at the
prow of the XLR and his mouth dropped open.
Despite crashing through a large gate, the car was untouched. There was not a single scratch, or dent, or
chip of the paint.
“What the hell?”
Michael asked reaching forward and feeling the paint. “What kind of paint is this? It feels like baby skin. What’s this car made of?”
“It’s not paint,”
Devon said, “and it’s not fiberglass.
It’s a finish bonded to the molecular surface of a new substance. A specialized formula, developed right here
at Knight Industries.”
“It’s great the car is
indestructible, but you also said it couldn’t get into an accident,” Michael
said, getting back into the car.
Devon sat down next to
him. “Only when the system is operating,
Mr. Long. And for that, you must turn it
on,” he said, as he pressed a series of buttons on a console between them.
“You’re telling me I
can’t hit anything,” Michael said.
“Trust me,” Devon
said.
“That doesn’t make me
feel any better,” Michael said, pressing the gas again.
The XLR launched
forward again, this time streaking out of the Estate and quickly off the Knight
Industries campus.
The sun was just
rising as the car streaked along the Pacific Coast Highway. The ride was so smooth, Michael hadn’t
noticed he was handling the break-neck curves at 80 miles per hour.
“I’ll be putting this
car to the test, Devon,” Michael said gripping the steering wheel harder and
hitting the gas.
“Be my guest,” Devon
said, leaning back into the seat.
Michael eyed an
intense curve in the road instructing drivers to slow down to 30
miles-per-hour. He kept his speed at 80.
As he neared the curve
he could feel the XLR taking some control.
He felt it speed up. The square
reading “Normal” changed to “Auto.” He
looked at the digital speedometer and saw it reading 100. He then felt the car begin to steer itself.
“What the hell?” he
said as they navigated the curve.
“Devon, the car just took control and steered itself! It drove itself through the curve!”
“Splendid, isn’t it?” Devon asked, smiling.
“I hate it!” Michael
said. “I like to make my own decisions.”
“The computer systems
deduced you were acting in the contrary to your best and safest interests. It evaluated the appropriate measures to
maneuver through the curve and executed them,” Devon explained.
“Yeah, but why speed
up, why not slow down? It would have
been a lot safer that way.”
Devon sat silent,
obviously trying to think his answer.
“Devon? Why did the Cadillac speed up? Did I just find a flaw in your perfect
machine?”
“No… no flaw, I assure
you. The car had complete control, we
both felt that. It’s just…”
“It’s just what?”
Michael asked, anxious.
“It was showing off
for you,” Devon said, simply.
“What?!” Michael said,
stopping along the side of the road.
“Don’t blame the
Knight 2000 completely,” Devon said, “I had a small part in it. I could have set the system for certain
conditions. Such as actual road driving,
pursuit driving, or…”
“Or what?” Michael
asked.
“Or setting it to
react to a complex network of road conditions.
Any conditions imaginable. It can
drive itself, without an operator, if necessary.” Devon said.
“So this car can take
off on its own just like that?” Michael asked.
Devon nodded.
“It’d suck to be
working under it.”
“It wouldn’t do
anything to harm you. One of Mr.
Knight’s commands for programming the systems was the preservation of human
life. More specifically, your life.”
“By me, you mean
anyone driving it?”
“No,” Devon said, “I
mean you. Michael Arthur Long.”
By 8am, Wilton was
walking the grounds of the Estate, enjoying the day’s crisp weather. The Estate was just out of view as Wilton
walked along the cliff side, watching the ocean. Then he suddenly stopped, and gripped the
railing along the wall. He was running
out of breath, feeling dizzy. His right
arm refused to let go of the railing, as the rest of his body seemed to fail
and fall out from under him. As he was
slowly falling to the ground, he reached around with his free hand to his neck
and pressed a button on his necklace…
Sweat was all but
pouring down Michael’s face as he got the Cadillac XLR up to 200 miles per
hour. He looked at the red glowing
rectangle reading “Pursuit” under the mysterious black square. A tense look crossed his face as it was nearing
220. He was annoyed at Devon’s
comfortable look, as if he did this every single day.
By 225, Michael
flinched and hit the brakes.
“Two-twenty-five,” Michael said, “it wins. How fast does it go?”
“You don’t want to
know,” Devon said, chuckling.
Michael began driving
again, at a more normal speed. “Why am I
here, Devon?” he asked.
“It was no random
choice we saved your life, Michael. We
had been keeping our eyes on Miss Walker and her associates for some time
now. We were trying to gather enough
evidence to put them away for good.
Catch them in the act,”
“Is that why I’m
here?” Michael asked, “You wanted to use me to get them?”
“Don’t think of
yourself as a pawn, Michael,” Devon said, “we
saw something in you. It wasn’t your
fault the intelligence was wrong—”
“Lonnie knew.”
“Your partner was in a
dangerous situation where she could not tell you that Miss Walker was
involved—”
“She tried to send me
signals. I should have known them
better. I underestimated Tanya and her
team.”
“You had drive and
dedication to take them down against all odds.
You still do. The operation went
wrong, yes. Your partners lost their
lives, yes. But you were spared for many
reasons, Michael. Do you want it to go
to waste?”
While Michael was
thinking, Devon’s cell-phone began to ring and he answered. A grim look crossed his face. “We must get back to the campus immediately.”
Michael and Devon
rushed to the Estate and into Wilton’s dimly lit bedroom. He lay on his bed with his eyes closed.
“My God, we’re too
late,” Michael said.
Wilton’s eyes opened
slowly. They focused on Michael. “How was the car?”
“Amazing,” Michael
said, “that needs to be on
the market. It could save hundreds of
lives.”
“No!” Wilton wheezed,
“I have other plans for that car.
Besides, the corporations would do everything in their power to keep
that car off the market,” Wilton said, angrily, and coughing in between words.
Wilton took a deep
breath and looked at Michael again.
“Michael,” he said, “I am sorry for my distrust of your
organization. It’s that distrust that
inadvertently set you up for disaster.
But please think of the chance you have.
You do not exist, you are legally dead.
Your fingerprints have been altered, and no one can trace the source of
your funds or your identity.”
“But who am I?”
“You’re Michael
Knight.”
Michael stood still
staring at the dying old man. “You set
this up?”
“I put the ball in
motion, but you set it up yourself, Michael.
Your persistence to go it alone establishes your faith that one man can
make a difference. Keep that spirit with
you. Make it your obsession as much as
it is mine.”
“Mr. Knight… I wish I could stand here and tell you I can
take on the world. But I don’t know… How
am I supposed to stop them? I had a whole
team back there, Mr. Knight. Lonnie was
killed. Muntzy was killed. Hell, I was killed. My life is over, my friends and fiancé think
I am dead. I wake up in the middle of
the night soaking wet and shaking. I see
that gun going off in my face over and over.
I hear the second shot that killed Lonnie. I watch my world blow up again.”
“That’s what you need,
Michael. Don’t you understand that
memory is what kept you alive? It is
your baptism by fire into this new life.
Don’t turn in fear. Remember what
you are here for. Tanya Walker and her
group are just the beginning. There are
many more like them out there, and it will be up to you to get them. It’s up to you to continue what I started.”
A smile crossed
Wilton’s face and he reached out his hand.
Michael took it and fought back emotions.
The life was obviously
slipping out of Wilton. “One man can
make a difference, Michael. My adventure
is over… Yours has just… just begun.”
Wilton closed his
eyes. His smile faded to a look of peace
and comfort.
Days later, when the
media frenzy surrounding Wilton Knight’s death finally subsided; Michael was
virtually racing Devon to the large garage.
“Slow down,
please? I’m puffed,” Devon said, out of
breath.
“The Old Man could
keep up with me, Devon, and he was 15 years older than you and dying of cancer,”
Michael said.
“Where are you off to
in such a hurry anyway? You don’t even
know where you are going.”
“I suppose you do?”
Michael asked.
Devon stood for a
second, obviously contemplating his next course of action. “She’s in Goodyear, Arizona, working for a
corporation called ComTron. She is the
executive assistant to the CEO, William Benjamin,” Devon reported.
“ComTron? Sounds like a Disney movie rip-off,” Michael
said, opening the door and entering the garage.
Devon ignored Michael
and followed him inside. “ComTron is
another defense contractor specializing in communications equipment. It is currently developing a communications
system for the next generation of Army tanks.
The system is also being designed to be adapted for civilian use. A change that would revolutionize mass
communications. We believe Tanya and her
staff are after it.”
“If she’s in Arizona,
that’s where I’m going. Today.”
“Absolutely not,”
Devon stated.
“Are you forbidding
me?” Michael asked, mocking Devon’s accent.
“You bet,” Devon
replied.
“You can’t forbid me
to go,” Michael said.
“I’ll take away the
car.”
“I’ll find another
one. Besides, The Old Man said last week
this car is for me,”
“Not exactly,” Devon
said, reaching into his coat pockets. He
handed Michael a car registration slip.
The owner of the Cadillac was listed as Michael Knight.
“Michael Knight?”
“Michael Long is
dead. I doubt you’d want to die a second
time with that name.”
“How do I suddenly
become Michael Knight? I mean The Old
Man said it, but—”
Devon handed Michael a
black wallet. Michael took it and opened
it, thumbing through the contents.
“Drivers license… credit cards…”
“All on Mr. Knight’s
orders,” Devon said, “You will need to sign the credit cards, however. Be sure you use your new moniker.”
“Good to know Michael
Knight’s credit score is higher than Michael Long’s,” Michael said, opening the
door to the Cadillac.
Devon grunted. “There’s one possibility I’ve been reluctant
to mention. It could be extremely
dangerous.”
“What?”
“We’ve been
speculating that Tanya might not be the mastermind behind these thefts. There might be a chance she is working for
someone more powerful.”
“Who? What’s his name?” Michael asked.
“We don’t know. All we do know is that our criminologists are
observing a pattern she might not be, how you say, large and in charge.”
“You want me to find
out who it is?”
Devon nodded. “And stop Tanya. Putting her and her team behind bars is your
first priority. After that, we can
interrogate them.”
“The Old Man had
something long term in mind when it came to me, didn’t he?” Michael asked.
“Against his better
judgment, yes,” Devon replied. “You are to be the operative for the Foundation
for Law and Government. The Operative Program
is a project Wilton was creating simultaneously with the Knight 2000.”
“And he wants me for
the program? That’s a hell of a job
offer, Devon.”
“I urge you to think
about it while you are after Miss Walker,” Devon said.
“I will.”
“Good, and I will use
the time to hold on to the thought you will decline.”
Michael ignored him
and got into the car. He pressed the
POWER button on the dashboard extension to his right and the car came to life.
In a last ditch
attempt to protest, Devon spoke. “Please,
there are so many systems of the car you don’t know yet.”
“That’s all right,”
Michael said, “I am a fast study. I’ll
learn them on the way. I have a long
drive ahead of me.”
“That’s very
foolhardy—”
“We don’t like each
other, it’s obvious. But it was The Old
Man’s wish we at least work together cordially to take out Tanya. I can be polite, how about you?”
“Naturally,” Devon
said through grinded teeth.
“Then get off my back,
Devon. The Old Man must have known
something when he picked me as his operative.
He trusts you Devon, completely.
Maybe it’s about time you trusted him,” Michael said, putting the car
into gear and sped out of the garage.
After fighting traffic
for more than an hour, Michael finally was on open road headed towards
Bakersfield. He was examining the
elaborate dashboard and all the functions.
The one thing he
couldn’t figure out a use for was the black square above the central
monitor. He hadn’t seen it light up or
do anything since he began driving. The
button below it read Normal, and the only time he watched that display change
was when the car took over and drove itself around the curve.
“All these expensive
gadgets and they don’t give you a stereo or a clock?” Michael said, believing
he was speaking to no one in particular.
“The time is currently
8:45 AM, Pacific Daylight Time,” a voice said.
Michael jumped and hit
his head on the roof. His heart must
have skipped four beats. Who the hell
was in here with him? “What the hell was
that?”
“You may access my
stereo functions through the touch screen on the central monitor,” the voice
said as a feature appeared on the monitor, “I am equipped to receive standard
AM and FM radio signals, in addition to XM Radio. If you have a peripheral system such as an
mp3 player, you may plug that directly into my port system located underneath
the dual monitors to your right.”
Michael was left
speechless for a few minutes as he drove.
As the voice spoke, three bars, composed of tiny rectangles, moved up
and down in the once-unknown black box.
They moved from the center out in both directions in conjunction with
the voice.
“Who the hell are
you? How are you listening in?” Michael
asked, loudly.
“I am reading your
multiple interrogatives quite satisfactorily, there is no need for raised
volume,” the voice said.
Michael pulled the car
over to the side of the road. “Who are
you?” he asked calmly, his heart still racing.
“I am the voice of the
Knight Industries Two Thousand microprocessor.
K-I-T-T for easy reference. You
may call me KITT if you prefer.”
Michael watched the
bars move as KITT spoke. “KITT?”
“Yes.”
“You’re the car?”
“I am the voice of the
centralized system that operates this vehicle,” KITT replied.
What the hell was
going on, Michael asked himself. Devon
said to trust him. Michael determined at
this moment he would never trust anyone again.
“You’re a computer?”
“I am many things,”
KITT replied.
“Well that’s great
KITT,” Michael said, sardonically, “but I don’t quite fancy driving around a
car that can talk back to me, so either clam up or get yourself a new driver,”
“I’ve not been
programmed to overrule your wishes, Mr. Knight,” KITT said.
Michael noted the
distinct sound of KITT’s voice. Annoying
as it was that the car could carry on a conversation with him, it still was a
soothing voice, with a slight touch of a Boston accent. Michael appreciated the detail that went into
the programming. But…
“Good to know, because
I don’t wanna hear a peep out of you until I can find the mute button,” Michael
said. He noticed a small bar light up on
KITT’s voice display. He interrupted
it. “And don’t think of offering any
musical suggestions.”
The voice display went
blank.
“A car that can talk
back to me. What else did The Old Man
think of?” Michael asked, half expecting KITT to reply. When he didn’t, he started breathing
easier. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
Running. Michael was running somewhere, but he
couldn’t tell. He was running at top
speed, apparently trying to reach something, quickly. He couldn’t see where he was going. He couldn’t see where he was.
Soon, he reached a
pair of doors, and burst through them.
He recognized where he was immediately, but how the hell did he end up
in the Montecito?
He looked behind him
and the doors were gone. He was standing
with his back against the wall. He
partially jumped when something in his ear squawked. He reached up and felt his earpiece.
What the hell?
The casino was
packed. People were looking at him as
they passed. He began to slowly walk
forward, looking for something.
Anything.
Wait a second.
Stevie? What was she doing here?
Michael watched as
Stevie coasted through the crowed. She
stood out above everyone else.
Michael followed her
as she disappeared into an excited crowd at a craps table. After he gave up trying to find her in the
mess, he spotted Acton and Tanya, with Wilson close by their side.
“Looking for someone?”
a voice said from behind.
Michael spun
around. Gray was standing there with his
usual smug grin. He also was holding a
gun. No one seemed to notice this gun in
plain sight.
“Just your boss,”
Michael coolly replied, turning around to watch the crowd. Tanya had gone. Stevie was in her place. “What the hell? What do you want with her?”
“Don’t ask us. You’re the one who brought her here.”
“Me? No. I
told her to stay home. I knew this would
be too dangerous.”
“Did you?” a different
voice asked. It was Tanya. “Did you truly know the outcome?”
Michael watched Stevie
blow on the dice right before Acton tossed them. “How could I know?”
“You didn’t,” Devon
said, “it wasn’t your fault.”
Stevie looked up
across the craps table right at Michael.
The entire casino quieted. Half
of the crowd was looking at her, while the other half was staring at
Michael. “You said you’d be right back…”
Stevie sobbed.
Michael’s first
instinct was to walk towards her. It’s
not fair. He was going to be right
back. That’s what he intended all along. Someone grabbed his arm before he could
move. It was Wilton.
“You have a new life
now, son. Going after her would only put
her in danger.”
“I don’t care,”
Michael said pulling away. He started
running towards the craps table, pushing the crowd out of his way. The table seemed farther and farther away
with each step he took towards it.
Suddenly, Michael
stopped. Gray was standing behind
Stevie. His gun aimed at her back. Michael screamed her name, but no sound came
out. Gray fired and Stevie fell.
“Stevie!” Michael
yelled again. Only this time, he was
standing behind the wounded body… at the parking structure.
Michael ran forward,
falling next to the body. It was
Muntzy. He was dead. Again.
Only this time, blood was pouring out of his wound. If the blood was coming that quickly, he
might be alive after all.
Michael pressed his
hardest against the wound, trying anything to stop the bleeding. Somehow, it only made Muntzy bleed faster and
harder.
Under his own energy,
Muntzy turned around to face Michael. He
reached up and grabbed Michael’s shoulder.
“Go after her, Michael. Don’t let
her get away.”
“Who? Who, Muntzy?”
Muntzy gestured over
towards a silver Z. Stevie was sitting
inside of it.
“No…” Michael said in
anguish as the Z sped off. Stevie
pressed her hand against the window, calling out to Michael. “Muntzy, you gotta hang on!” Michael
pleaded. But Muntzy vanished.
Another gunshot got
Michael’s attention. This time, it was
right in front of him. Tanya killed him
again.
Michael felt himself
thrown against the hood of the car, but this time, did not feel any pain. He was still conscious and alert when he hit
the ground, but couldn’t move.
“Where are the
designs?” Tanya asked.
“She destroyed
them. Erased the data storage,” Wilson
replied, “What should we do?”
“Get out of town
quick,” Tanya said, “what other choice do we have?”
“And what about her?”
Gray asked.
“Waste her,” Tanya
said.
Michael watched Gray
take out his gun, aim it carefully at Lonnie’s head and fire. But a split second before her brains were
blown out, her face transformed into Stevie’s.
“NO!” Michael
screamed. His eyes flew open. He was still inside the car. Sweat was pouring down his face. Tears were pouring out of his eyes. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t focus.
He slammed on the
brakes and the car stopped. He looked
over and saw it was in Auto Cruise.
Not knowing how long
he slept, or where the hell he even was, Michael got out of the car and walked
down the empty roadway, wiping the sweat off his brow and catching his
breath. “Oh God,” Michael said, “What
the hell am I doing here?”
He stopped, letting
loose a barrage of expletives out loud and in his mind.
This wasn’t supposed
to happen, Michael thought. It should
have been an in and out operation. All
they needed to do was to catch them with the evidence and arrest them.
Michael kept seeing
Lonnie’s non-verbal cues over and over again.
She might as well place a neon sign over Tanya’s head. How could Michael have missed those?
He was better than
that. It was his entire fault. If he had been paying more attention instead
of…
Thinking of Stevie…
No.
No. Michael refused to blame her for what
happened. It wasn’t her fault she was on
his mind. They were in love. Excuse me for having emotions, he thought.
But she did cloud his
mind. His mind was not focused on the
mission.
But he loved her.
But he was supposed to
be paying more attention.
“Shut up!” Michael
yelled out loud to no one.
Michael finally
stopped walking and calmed down.
Everything would be ending soon.
He was going to get Tanya.
No matter what.
He turned around,
expecting to begin walking back towards KITT, but found the damned car right
behind him. He semi smiled. He took a step backwards.
The car moved forward.
He took a few more
steps backwards.
The car moved forward
more.
He took a step to the
right.
KITT’s wheels turned
to the right.
He took a few steps to
the left.
The wheels turned
left.
Michael laughed and
walked towards the driver’s side door.
It opened for him.
“Thanks,” he said,
getting in and sitting down. “Where are
we?”
Instead of the car
replying, an image was displayed on the central monitor. Michael saw they were just outside of a town
called Wickenburg. He didn’t know how
long he was asleep, but knew he slept through Las Vegas.
How fitting.
Michael pressed the
Normal Cruise button and slammed on the gas.
He had one hour left to drive and found himself more focused than he
ever was in his life.
A few miles down the
highway, two policemen sat in their cruiser, obviously bored.
The cop in the
passenger side seat was halfway snoozing, while the cop in the driver’s seat
was fiddling with a radar gun pointed at the road. He dug a cell-phone out of his trousers and
dialed a number.
“Hey hun, it’s me…
It’s James, who the hell do you think it is… No… no one today… What can I say,
it’s a boring town… I don’t know when I will be up for promotion, you ask me
this every damn day… I’ll get off when I get off… No, I probably wont meet my
quota… I can’t make em… Yes I am hiding…”
A beeping sound
stirred the cop out of his conversation.
He looked over at his radar gun.
“I’ll call you back,” he said, examining the readout.
He nudged his partner
awake. “I got something here,” James
said.
The partner woke up
and grunted. “What?”
“I got something down
the road. It’s at… whoa… 80 miles an
hour!”
“Damn kids think they
own this road,” the partner said, rubbing his eyes.
“Good god… 160. 190?
225?! It’s off the scale!” James tapped the radar gun lightly, thinking
he was seeing things.
The two cops got out
of their cruiser and looked down the road.
A black form was bearing down upon them, and the only thing they could
hear was a faint hiss.
“Maybe it ain’t a
car,” the partner said.
The black form zoomed
by at such a high rate of speed; it blew off their clip-on ties. They watched the car speed away.
“What was that?!” the
partner asked.
James turned to his
partner, a blank stare in his eyes. “A
Cadillac.”
“Show me ComTron,”
Michael said as he passed a Goodyear Town Limits sign.
The dual monitors to
his right came to life. Their current
position was shown on the left monitor, while ComTron’s location was shown on
the right. It was only a few minutes
before Michael arrived at the plant.
“Looks like nobody’s
home,” Michael said, checking the time.
It was 8pm, “time for some recon,” Michael looked at the multiple
buttons on either side of the steering wheel.
One of them said Silent Mode.
“What’s Silent Mode?”
Nobody responded.
Michael waited a few
seconds before he asked again.
Still nothing.
He began to wonder if
he dreamed the entire conversation with KITT.
“KITT, you there?”
“Where else would I
go?” KITT replied.
Michael shot a
‘smart-ass’ look to the car, but then wondered if it could see. “KITT, is Silent Mode what I think it is?”
“If you think Silent
Mode is a system that can dampen and virtually eliminate the sounds emitting
from the vehicle, then you are correct,” KITT replied.
“Good,” Michael said,
pressing the button. Three LED lights
were above the button. A green LED lit
up to signify the function was activated.
In addition to the dampening of KITT’s engine, his lights turned off as
well. “So we’re totally silent?”
“Aside from our voice
communications, yes.”
“Good,” Michael said,
driving onto the plant’s property. He
intended for a look around.
Michael was able to
pull the silenced XLR around to one of the plant’s loading docks and stopped.
“Might I remind you,
Mr. Knight, the legal ramifications of breaking and entering?”
“No.”
“I would also like to
inform you that penalties are more severe for those who break into and enter
the premises of a federal—”
“Shut up, KITT,”
Michael said, getting out of the car, “go hide somewhere.”
KITT drove away as
Michael climbed onto the loading dock platform.
He put on a pair of gloves and quietly examined the many doors on the
platform, looking for a way in. All of the
doors were alarmed with what appeared to be a time sensitive alarm. Probably armed at a certain hour, Michael
figured.
He needed a diversion.
Michael turned and ran
towards one of the loading doors. He
took out his lock-picking tools and picked the lock, quickly and quietly.
He opened the door and
violently kicked it in. He grabbed one
of the poles to a light and swung himself above the door and out of sight.
A ComTron guard with a
flashlight and a very small gun appeared in the doorway.
Michael swung from his
hiding spot, landing squarely on the guard.
The guard struggled and tried to throw Michael off. Michael kept a hold around the guard’s neck
as they both fell to the ground.
He pulled them both to
his feet and slammed the guard into a wall.
The guard’s gun was knocked out of his hands. Michael grabbed it and aimed it at the
guard. “Shut the alarm off,” he said
with his face obscured in shadows, “Shut it off!”
The guard slowly
reached into his pocket, and flinched as Michael closed in on him with the
gun. He took out a remote control and
shut off the alarm.
Michael handcuffed the
guard upside down to a pipe and ran off into the dark factory.
Not too long after,
Michael came upon a lighted office in the corporate area of ComTron. He quietly moved around the sea of cubicles
and edged closely to the open door to eavesdrop. From what he could tell, there were three
women in the office.
“I told them to meet
us at the House of the Rising Sun in a few minutes,” a woman said.
“Our
usual stomping grounds,” another replied.
“Stick to business,”
the first woman said, “those guys are one of the last few problems we need to
get through.”
“Do I need to get a
sitter tonight,” a third woman asked.
“More than likely,”
the first replied, “we have to get the information out of them tonight. It doesn’t matter how we do it, just get it
done. $10,000 to each of us if we get
what we’re after.”
“Definitely wont be an
orgasm,” the second woman said, sarcastically.
Michael rolled his
eyes. Using sex to get intelligence
during pillow talk or climax was one of the oldest tricks in the book, he
thought. No way in hell three loose
women would be able to pull the information out of three ComTron executives.
They obviously were
after some sort of information stopping them from completely stealing the
designs.
But what?
Michael passed the bar
they were talking about on his drive into town.
He probably could beat them there.
He quietly made his
way back the way he came in when his watch began beeping. He knew he didn’t set the alarm. He didn’t know how. It was given to him by Devon shortly after
The Old Man’s funeral.
He found a button on
the watch and pressed it. Nothing
happened.
Almost.
“I probably should
inform you that the guard you have incapacitated has been freed and is looking
for you with backup,” KITT said over the watch.
Michael looked at the watch and brought it to
his mouth, “Can you hear me too?” he asked.
“Yes.
This is an open communication line,” KITT replied, “but
you must exit the building quickly.”
“Do you know where they are?”
“They are still in the
production section. I’ve scanned a side
exit not too far from your location that is not alarmed. Head to the end of the hallway ahead of you
and turn right. There is a janitor’s closet
on your left. The door is in there, but
it has been boarded up by plywood.”
“It will do the trick, KITT, thanks,” Michael
said, running off.
Not too
long after, Michael parked into the crowded parking lot of the bar. Many of the cars in the lot had ComTron
parking stickers on their windshields.
“Social gathering
places where alcoholic beverages are consumed in excess create an environment
in which indiscretion becomes commonplace,” KITT said.
“Wanna try to
translate that?” Michael asked, annoyed.
“You’re here for
business, not pleasure,” KITT replied.
“I would have never
guessed, KITT,” Michael said with a more angry tone to his voice, “You’re about
as much fun as a divorce, which is not a bad idea for this partnership,” he
said, getting out of the car.
“I demand custody of
myself.”
“I wish I never turned
you on, because now I can’t shut you up!” Michael yelled into the car. He looked up and saw he attracted the
attention of a small group, including the loose women from ComTron, “Good
evening, ladies.”
“Start early, don’t
you, blue eyes?” one of the women asked him.
Michael smiled and
noticed another girl jab the first woman gently in the ribs.
The three women went
inside the bar, on the heels of three men who went in ahead of them just
seconds earlier.
An hour later, after
watching the three women work to seduce the men, and making eyes at the woman
who spoke to him, Michael had a small buzz, and a large tab.
What’s next?
Michael got this far
and was so close to Tanya he could smell her annoying perfume. He was fighting the drinks he consumed and
was trying his best to work out a plan.
Not too far away from
him, someone dropped broke a glass.
Michael’s entire world
silenced. He looked around. The bar was empty.
Breaking glass was the
last thing he heard before…
A bullet ripped
through the windshield sending glass everywhere. Without notice, a huge explosion obliterated
the APV. It knocked Michael and the
other soldiers off their feet.
He tried to stand, but
his balance and orientation were completely eliminated. A drone sounded through his ears and he could
barely see.
A warm liquid was
flowing freely over his face. Soon, he
felt his body give out, and he was face down in the sand…
“Unless you want to end up sucking dirt, I
wouldn’t get involved with anyone at that table,” a voice said, snapping him
back. The voice sounded alarmingly
familiar, but Michael thought he was imagining things.
“What?” Michael asked,
turning to face the person.
He didn’t expect that
person standing at his table to be Paul Taylor.
Michael tried his
hardest not to be alarmed or startled.
After all, he was dead.
The disgraced agent
sat down at Michael’s table as Michael looked at him with wide eyes. “Do I know you?” Michael asked.
“I’m with the
FBI. Or at least I was. And I just saved your life, so I think you
owe me a drink,” Taylor said.
Michael gently eased
back from the man. The alcohol coming
off of his breath was staggering. He was
surprised Taylor had the energy to walk over.
He was even more
surprised Taylor was drinking. He never
drank.
“What are you doing
here?” Michael asked, signaling a waitress.
“Saving your ass, what
does it look like?”
Taylor used that line
on Michael before. What the hell was
going on? How could Taylor know who he
was and where he would be?
“Couldn’t save the
other guys, last month. Damn shame,” he
said. The waitress came over and Taylor
ordered an expensive shot. He made sure
to tell the waitress to put it on Michael’s tab.
“What other guys?”
Michael asked, “What’s going on here?”
“More than you know,”
Taylor said.
“I wouldn’t say that,”
Michael said.
“Oh really? Then who are you, and what are you doing
here?” Taylor asked.
“I’m looking for
someone,” Michael said, with an idea that Taylor was looking for the same
thing, “someone important in this town.
She works at ComTron,”
“Most everyone in this
bar does,” Taylor said. He licked his
lips as his shot arrived.
“Do you work for
them?”
“No. I stay as far
away from them as I can. You should stay
farther.”
“It’s not gonna be
that easy,” Michael said, “I’m here to put a few people away, for good.”
“If you’re after, who
I think you are after, don’t bother,” Taylor commanded, downing his shot
without flinching, “I’m on it. It wont
be long before the FBI makes their move,” Taylor slowly stood up.
“If they didn’t make
it in the past two months, when do you think they will, Paul?” Michael asked.
Damn.
Taylor turned around
and looked at Michael. “How the hell do
you know my name?”
“You told me,” Michael
said without missing a beat.
“The hell I did,”
Taylor yelled, getting the attention of people in the bar, “stay away from them
and Tanya Walker unless you want to end up dead!” Taylor stumbled a bit and caught his balance,
but not for long. He fell face first
onto the table Michael was sitting at, out cold. The drinks on their table flew everywhere,
some landed on Michael.
The bartender rushed
over and picked Taylor off the floor, “This happens sometimes,” he said
apologetically.
“It looks like it,”
Michael said. He was annoyed Taylor
created such a scene, but more annoyed to see how badly his former boss
deteriorated, “I guess I should get out of here before anything else rains
down.”
Michael scrambled out
of the bar and walked over to the XLR when one of the girls stopped him. It was the same girl who flirted with him
outside of the bar.
“I heard your drunk
friend told you to stay away from Tanya Walker,” she said, “if you’re looking
for her, she’s already seeing someone.
Me however—”
“I’m not interested in
her body,” Michael said, interrupting, “I’m interested in her money.”
“Excuse me?” the woman
asked.
“I got something on
the market. Worth a lot of money that
would interest her and her friends,” Michael said.
“What’s for sale?”
“That’s between her
and I,” Michael said, getting in the car.
“Who should I say is
calling?”
Michael smiled at the
woman. “Tell her it’s an old friend,” he
said, starting the car and driving away.
The woman grabbed a
pen out of her hair and wrote down the license plate.
“You aren’t sober
enough to drive,” KITT said, taking control from Michael.
Michael slammed the
Normal button without saying a word. He
glared at KITT’s voice modulator. “When
a car starts yelling at me about how much I’ve had to drink, I’ve had it.”
KITT stayed silent as
Michael drove out of the parking lot.
“Leave it, leave it,”
said a man’s breathless voice as a cell phone rang.
A familiar blonde
figure rose from between the man’s legs, crawling over him to reach the phone,
“I can’t,” she said, “it could be something important from the office.”
The man let off an
exasperated and annoyed grunt as the woman picked up the phone, “This is
Tanya,” she said.
“It’s Sally. Someone’s trying to track you down. He was with that creepy guy who is always in
the bar. He says he’s an old friend and
wants to sell you something.”
“Did he say anything
else?” Tanya asked.
“He pretty much
refused to talk to anyone but you. Drove
off before I could grill him for more information. I got his license plate.”
Tanya grabbed a piece of paper and pen, “Give it
to me.”
“He’s driving a 2006
black Cadillac XLR. The license plate
was from California and read K-N-I-G-H-T.
Knight.”
“Knight?” Tanya asked
with a bothered tone in her voice. She
was obviously contemplating something.
“Thanks Sally.”
“Come back to bed,”
the man said after Tanya hung up.
“I have a fast phone
call to make,” she said, going to reach for her phone.
The man moved it away.
“William…” Tanya said.
“Nothing’s going to
happen to me. You think there is a
kidnapper around every corner,” he said, handing her the phone.
Tanya dialed a
number. “This is Tanya,” she said when
someone picked up, “someone’s come into town and could cause us some
problems. I want you to check it out.”
“Go ahead,”
Gray said.
“It’s a black Cadillac
XLR with California plates reading knight, with a K.”
“That’s it,” Tanya said, “check it out.”
“If it’s another cop
we’ll handle it like the rest,” Gray said.
“My thought’s
exactly,” Tanya said before she hung up.
She turned to the man. “As this
company’s president, Mr. Benjamin, you are a valuable and irreplaceable asset. You know someone broke-in tonight and we have
the shareholder’s meeting tomorrow. In
this day and age there are all kinds of people who want to try and get their
hands on a rich man like you,” Tanya said, kissing him.
The man returned the
kiss in wild and almost animalistic fashion.
He madly kissed Tanya and pulled her back into bed. She got on top of him and looked down into
his eyes. “You should be grateful you
have me to look after your interests.”
No matter how hard he
tried, he couldn’t keep the gushing blood from obscuring his vision. He could hear someone speaking Arabic in the
background. He reached up and felt most
of his forehead missing…
Michael shook awake
and wiped the sweat off of his face. He
looked at the sunlight seeping through cracks in the curtains. Someone was knocking on the door.
He got up, pulled his
jeans on and walked to the door. Now
would be a good time to have a gun. No
one knew he was here except Devon.
“Who is it?” he called
out.
“It’s Taylor and I’m
sober. Open up.”
Michael opened the
door and looked at his caller. Taylor
looked cleaner and more together than last night, but it still wasn’t the man
he knew from his old life.
“How the hell did you
know I am here?” Michael asked.
“I told you I worked
for the FBI, give me some credit, Mr…”
“The name is Knight,
Michael Knight.”
“Sorry for last
night,” Taylor said, inviting himself into the room, “I’ve been here for a
month trying to capture a group of people.
Last night was just a time to drown myself and wallow in self-pity.”
“Let me guess,”
Michael said, “You’re after Tanya Walker and her goons.”
“You got it. She’s neck-deep in industrial espionage and
now murder,” Taylor replied, “what do you know about them?”
“Enough to make my
life misery. Much like yours, I
imagine.”
“That bitch and her
staff killed my entire team in a botched bust in Las Vegas. I got the blame for being reckless and they
got away.”
“You were fired?”
Michael asked.
“Pretty much,” Taylor
replied, “the bosses were none
too happy at the death toll and the loss of our primary targets.”
“So what are you doing
here?”
“I have plenty of
contacts in various places. It took me a
month to track them down. When I found
them, the Bureau wanted nothing to do with it.
They informed me I was no longer trustworthy or needed and I was
summarily dismissed,” Taylor said.
“So what have you
found out while you’ve been here?”
“Apparently shortly
after she fled Vegas, Tanya was able to get a job at ComTron as a temp. In the two months she was here, she wormed
her way to the top and is the executive assistant for William Benjamin, the
CEO. She started making tons of changes
and brought in Wilson and Gray to head up the security team. Slowly but surely they all started taking
control, first they owned ComTron, now they practically own this town,” Taylor
said.
“What else do you
know?” Michael asked.
“Pretty much what I
just told you,” Taylor said, “I haven’t been able to get close enough to find
what they plan to rip off.”
Michael contemplated telling
Taylor the information he received. He
knew he could trust Taylor, but the better question was if he should trust him?
“As they’ve been
getting stronger, it’s hard to get close enough to get more information. Not to mention the bodies that are showing up
of people who asked too many questions.”
“You mentioned that
last night,” Michael said, “you said you couldn’t save the others?”
“Two weeks ago, a
group of developers and programmers were not happy with the new structure
ComTron quickly adopted. They started
asking too many questions to all the wrong people. Their bodies were found a few miles outside
of town in a ditch. Burned beyond
recognition. The official police report
stated they were drinking and driving, lost control of the van and ran off the
road. Here’s the thing… not all of these
employees were friends, the only way they knew each other was through their
unhappiness of their company and demanding some answers.”
“What have you found?”
Tanya asked walking into the ComTron security center.
“Something
interesting,” Wilson said, typing on a computer. A picture of Michael’s driver’s license
appeared on one half of the screen. On
the next half, an image captured from video appeared. It was a picture of Michael inside ComTron from
last night.
“I’ll be damned,”
Tanya said, “it was him who broke in?
Did he steal anything? Look at
anything?”
“No,” Gray said, “he
walked around, not really looking for anything, stopped outside an office, we
suspect he was eavesdropping on someone, then he talked to his watch and left
through an old entrance that was blocked.”
“Talked to his watch?”
Tanya asked. “Let me see the footage.”
Gray typed on the
computer and the footage of Michael outside the office appeared.
“That’s Sally’s office,”
Tanya said, “Damn it, he knows they were planning to extract the info from the
developers.”
“It doesn’t matter,
the girls got it last night anyway.
We’re almost ready to bust and run,” Wilson said.
“What else do you know
about him?” she asked.
“His name is Michael
Knight and he doesn’t exist. We checked
his license and ran his credit card number from the bar. Up until two months ago, there was no Michael
Knight.
“I heard there is a
shareholder’s meeting today,” Michael said, remembering he caught a quick
glimpse at a memo last night, “I need to get close to Benjamin.”
Taylor laughed. “Good luck.
He barely goes into public as it is.
And when he does, Tanya is always close by at his side. Hell, she even stays at his estate. Today is a special occasion. ComTron is offering more stock options and
the business community is more than interested.”
Sounds easy, Michael
thought. I guess it’s time for me to
explore some stock options.
“Phony credentials
don’t surprise me,” Tanya said, “he said he was here to sell me something.”
“When did our
operation go public?” Wilson asked.
“Since that isn’t the
first black XLR associated with a Knight,” she said coolly.
“You aren’t thinking—”
“It wouldn’t surprise
me. It didn’t take long for the old fart
to bounce back.”
“It’s one thing to
sneak out of a lab with design secrets, but to steal an entire prototype? Something is terribly wrong, here, Tanya, and
I smell a set up,” Wilson said.
“Did you run his
fingerprints?”
Wilson shook his head,
“We don’t have them. He wore gloves
while he broke in and the glasses he drank out of were broken when that drunk
passed out. Besides, even if we did have
his prints, we couldn’t come up with any kind of matches unless he has a
criminal record.”
“I got a horrible
feeling he might show up at the shareholder’s meeting today,” Tanya said.
“If he does, we’ll be
ready.”
A security guard in
plain clothes watched a black Cadillac XLR pull up along the curb to the red
carpet. A valet scrambled to the
driver’s side door and opened it. A man
in a black suit got out of the car and seemed to be talking to himself.
Wait, was he talking
to the car?
Before he knew it, the
valet was driving the car away and the man was walking towards the entrance of
the ComTron Conference Center.
The guard reached up
to his lapel and spoke into a small pin, “Michael Knight has just arrived.”
The conference room
was abuzz with wealthy investors and ComTron executives. Michael made his way around the room and kept
an eye on Tanya and Benjamin. He tried
to make his way forward through the conference attendees.
Out of the corner of
his eye, he caught a glimpse of a security dome. He knew a camera was inside and had this
suspicious feeling he was being watched.
He caught Tanya’s eye
and smiled. She looked none too happy
that they saw each other.
Michael knew this was
the time to approach, and began making his way towards her.
Tanya was cornered,
she was stuck at Benjamin’s side and surrounded by investors. The nearest exit was too far.
“You watching this?”
she whispered.
“I have you on
camera,” Wilson said over her earpiece, “it looks
like he is headed right for you.”
Michael smiled at
investors and continued looking at Tanya.
At the last moment, he side stepped to the left and had Benjamin full on
in his sights.
“Oh Christ, he is
walking straight towards Benjamin, do something Tanya!” Wilson
said.
“What the hell am I
supposed to do?” Tanya asked hastily under her breath.
“Shoot him! Do anything.
Don’t let him get so close. All
guards, get ready.”
“No!” Tanya whispered, “I want to see what he
does.”
“Mr. Benjamin, it’s an
honor to meet you,” Michael said extending his hand. Benjamin ignored it at first.
“And you are?”
“Oh my name is Michael
Knight and I represent some very interested students from Arizona State. They are looking at purchasing some of the
newly opened shares of the company.”
“Ah yes, Mr. Knight,
we’re glad you could join us,” Tanya said, shooting an angry glare at Michael.
Benjamin finally shook
Michael’s hand, “Thank you for coming, Mr. Knight. ComTron has always had an interest with
college students, especially those who have an interest in us. Believe me when I say we take care of our investors
very well, especially those who are interested in furthering their
education. They treat us right, we’ll
treat them right.”
“I’d love to tell them
that, they’re around here somewhere.”
“Make sure our current
shareholders welcome Mr. Knight and the students from ASU, Tanya,” Benjamin
said. He excused himself from the group
and briskly walked over to a wealthy looking man who just entered the
room. Tanya stayed behind. She grabbed Michael’s arm as he began to walk
away.
“I know who you are,
Mr. Knight and I know who you are with,” Tanya said.
“Then you should know
why I am here. I got something valuable
up for grabs, something I know you’d be interested in.”
“I’m not.”
Michael leaned in
closer. His heart began pounding at his
chest, “I know why you are here Tanya.
And I know you’ve seen that car before.
Why not step outside and take a look?”
“Hey,” Gray said,
looking at a monitor. Taylor was dressed
in a suit and walking into the conference center.
“That’s Knight’s drunk
friend, isn’t it?” Wilson asked, thumbing through papers and finding a picture
captured from the bar’s security cameras.
“He’s sober, but
yeah.”
“Run his image through
the national database. I want to know
who this bastard is now.”
“I’m not interested,
Mr. Knight, and I believe you are wasting your time.”
Michael opened his
briefcase and handed her a folder with the Knight logo on it.
“The details of The
Old Man’s miracle car are in this folder, Tanya. You’d be a fool not to buy, and the offer ends
soon.”
Tanya grabbed the
folder and tucked it under her arm.
“I guarantee you’ll be
looking for me after the meeting,” Michael said.
The two silently squared off for endless seconds. The only thing running through Michael’s
veins was adrenaline. The last time he
stared down Tanya, he was killed. What
would be next?
Gray and Wilson stared
at the monitor as it was rapidly flashing images, searching for any kind of
image record of Taylor. It finally
stopped and made a positive match.
Taylor’s FBI ID was
displayed on the screen.
“Oh shit,” Wilson
said.
“Should we take him
and Knight down?”
“In the middle of the
conference in front of all these people, are you nuts? We’ll blow the whole operation,” Wilson said,
standing up, “No, I got a better idea, come with me.”
Michael was watching
Tanya as Benjamin spoke. She hadn’t
opened the folder yet. She looked around
the room nervously, as if she was waiting for something big to happen.
Michael suddenly found
himself in an uncomfortable, if not dangerous position. Once again he was watching only one piece of
the puzzle and had no idea where Wilson or Gray were.
Someone sat down next
to him and spoke softly. “You think she
bought it?”
“Too early to tell,”
Michael said, looking out the corner of his eye at Taylor,
“she hasn’t opened the folder. She might smell a set up.”
“There are cameras all
over the place,” Taylor said, “and tons of security guards.”
“Wilson is around here
somewhere. Probably looking for us,”
Michael said.
“I’m going to have
another look around,” Taylor said, quietly getting up,
“Be careful.”
“Relax, Agent Taylor,
I’m the original man of steel,” Michael said.
Taylor stopped and
looked at Michael with a slight form of recognition. He dismissed it and walked away.
Michael looked up as
the lights were dimmed and a slideshow was projected onto a screen at the front
of the room. A security guard just left
Tanya’s side and she seemed to be speaking into a hidden microphone.
Michael looked off to
the wings and saw a security guard posted by every door. They weren’t there a minute ago. Two more guards entered through doors on
either side of the stage.
He looked behind at
the massive bank of doors at the rear of the room. No guards were standing there, he was sure
there were plenty of guards on the other side of those doors…
Taylor managed to
sneak into the service areas of the conference center undetected. He wasn’t sure what to expect to look for
yet.
What he might have
found, he wasn’t sure. Michael Knight
was too much like someone else he knew to just be a pure coincidence.
But it couldn’t
be. The man he knew was dead. The man he is working with is very much
alive. Yet, deep down in his stomach, he
knew something wasn’t right.
Taylor knew he was
here for one single reason. He made a
promise he would bring these murderers to justice. Not only for Michael Long’s fiancé, but for
his own personal scruples as well.
But what if he wasn’t
dead?
“Freeze!” a voice
yelled from behind.
Taylor stopped and put
his hands up. He could hear the person
walking towards him. Whoever it was
cocked their gun and placed their left hand on his shoulder.
Before the person
could spin him around, Taylor beat them to it.
He spun around and punched the armed guard in the stomach. The guard doubled over and Taylor clenched
his fists together and brought them down on the guard’s back.
He grabbed the gun
from the now unconscious guard and ran further down the hallway.
Suddenly, he
stopped. A security guard opened the
door in front of him and aimed his weapon at Taylor. To his left, a guard came out of a hallway
and aimed his gun just inches from Taylor’s head.
Taylor found himself
cornered. His only option was to turn
around the way he came and make a run for it.
He spun on his heels
and ran right into Wilson.
“Agent Taylor,” Wilson
said with a cocky grin and taking the gun, “we’ve
been expecting you.”
Now would be a good
time to leave, Michael thought as he watched Tanya give some kind of order. He figured the order was to have the guards
in positions to take down Michael, because it seemed they were closing in on
them. Plain-clothed security guards
joined the uniformed guards and were making their way towards Michael.
Michael slowly got
up. He banked on the fact no one would
make a scene during the meeting and was right.
The uniformed guards
followed Michael with their eyes and the plain-clothed guards slowly walked
down the side aisles as Michael made his way to the rear exit.
Michael pressed the
button on his watch and brought it up to his mouth and whispered, “KITT, I
think I am going to need you at the front door in a few seconds.”
He sped up but
remained walking so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself, and then politely
opened one of the rear doors and walked through.
Instead of a small
army waiting for him, Gray was standing there with his gun aimed at
Michael. The plain-clothed guards joined
them in the lobby.
“Why don’t we take a
walk, Mr. Knight?” Gray asked.
“I don’t think so,”
Michael said, “besides, I am waiting for Tanya after the meeting.”
“Ms. Walker requested
we pick you up,” Gray said, “and if you are waiting for her at the end, why are
you out here now?”
“Thought I’d get a
little fresh air,” Michael said.
“My thoughts exactly.”
“I know you don’t want
to make a scene,” Michael said, “after all, ComTron is still in business until
you rip it off. They got important
things to do in there with important people.
I know you aren’t going to shoot me, because how would it sound in
there? Gunshots in the lobby? Please.
Besides, how would it look to the shareholders when they come out here
for punch and cookies in 15 minutes; a massive bloodstain is on the carpet and
my body is under a sheet? Do you really
think Mr. Benjamin and the shareholders would appreciate that?”
Gray stood his
ground. The guards behind Michael did
too.
“I plan to walk out of
those doors behind you and to my car which should be arriving any minute now,”
Michael said, “and if you wont make a scene… I will!”
Michael lunged at Gray
who was taken by surprise. He wrestled
the gun out of his hands and twisted Gray’s arm around his back and used him as
a human shield.
“How’s it feel to be
staring down the opposite end of a gun, Gray?” Michael said into the man’s
ear. He backed away from the guards
until he was at the door. He heard
KITT’s screech to a halt outside.
It was just the
distraction Michael needed to make his escape.
The guards took note the car was driving itself and Michael pushed Gray
into the guards, knocking them off their balance.
Michael scrambled out
the doors and ran over to KITT who had the driver’s door already open. He hopped in and slammed the gas, spinning
the tires and screaming away from the conference center.
The guards ran out
just seconds later and aimed their guns at the back of the XLR.
Gray grabbed one of
the guard’s hands and pushed it down, “Hold your fire, damn it, are you
crazy? You want to everyone in there to
hear you? Go call Wilson, now.”
“Damn,” Michael said,
hanging up his cell phone after the tenth call to Devon and no answer.
Michael figured Tanya
must have been sitting rather nervous after he made it perfectly clear he was
breathing down her neck. She was
probably going to get the designs and skip town tonight. To stay any longer would be suicidal.
How did Taylor
fare? What did he find out? Michael left in such a hurry, he had no time
to think of that.
Michael merged onto
the highway to head towards his hotel the next town over. It was where he and Taylor agreed upon
meeting later in the day.
The sun was beginning
to set and was staring down Michael as he drove west. He was looking towards the bridge for a few
seconds of shade.
The grooves cut into
the road were creating a soothing hum that helped clear Michael’s mind. At least until…
Slam!
A sickening thud
rocked Michael out of his concentration.
The windshield of the XLR was covered in blood and a body was laying on
the hood in a twisted position. Michael
slammed on the brakes, an action that sent the body flying off the car and onto
the road.
Traffic stopped all around him. Some cars were honking, some drivers were
yelling. Michael got out of the car and
ran over to the body. “Oh God,” he said
as he looked at the broken body of Paul Taylor.
Paul was twisted in such a way no living person
could handle without screaming out in pain.
His eyes were open and his jaw was hanging grotesquely. His neck was broken, as were his arms and
legs in multiple places.
Michael looked up at the bridge he drove under
just seconds earlier. He couldn’t see
anyone along the side, but it looked like a car was speeding away. Someone set this up and Michael knew exactly
who.
The highway patrol and paramedics showed up in
record time. A cop walked over to
Michael and began asking him questions.
Before Michael could answer, three drivers scrambled from their cars and
ran to the cop.
“I saw him do it,” a driver said,
“that man walked into the highway and this man plowed right
into him.”
“He didn’t even swerve,” a second driver said,
“there was plenty of room to avoid him but this guy kept going.”
“This is ridiculous,” Michael said before the
third driver could lie, “that man was dropped off the bridge. Any autopsy could prove that. Why would I run this guy over, he’s a friend
of mine!”
Michael’s protests didn’t do any good and he was
placed in the back of the police car while the cop questioned other drivers.
He watched the
paramedics pronounce Taylor and load him into the back of the ambulance, with a
sheet draped over him.
KITT was loaded onto a
flatbed tow truck and driven away.
How the hell was he
going to explain his way out of this one?
Thirty minutes later,
Tanya, Wilson and Gray watched the flatbed tow truck pass through the main
gates of ComTron and drive by them on its way to the warehouse.
“I want that Cadillac
examined top to bottom, inside and out,” Tanya said.
“What will that
accomplish?” Wilson asked.
“I want to know
everything about that car,” Tanya said, “now that it’s in our possession.”
“Didn’t Knight give
you a dossier?” Gray asked.
Tanya held up a folder
with the Knight logo on it and opened it.
She dumped the contents onto the grass.
Wilson bent down to pick some of the papers up. “They’re blank,” he said.
“I opened this a few
minutes after Knight left the shareholders meeting. Just in time to see the writing on these
pages disappear.”
“Disappearing ink,”
Gray said, “so he was setting us
up.”
“But he didn’t anticipate
our move,” Wilson said.
Tanya smiled. “And now the car is ours. Benjamin’s engineers should have no problems
stripping the car and finding out all its secrets.”
“You’re where?!” Devon
asked, an astonished look crossed his face.
“Let me guess, it’s a
trumped up charge. Isn’t it always?”
“I…I don’t know.”
Devon’s jaw dropped,
“You don’t know? You practically drive
over my foot with a 25-million-dollar car the other day in a hurry to get out
to Goodyear, and now you are in jail and have lost the Knight 2000?”
“Hey, if I had more
time, we need to sit down about that car and some of the features you neglected
to tell me, Devon. I didn’t lose the
damn thing, they impounded it when I was arrested, but I think ComTron talked
the local police into releasing it into their custody.”
“Congratulations,” Devon
said, “you are managing to
live up to every one of my expectations.”
“Any other time I
would love to match wits Devon, but if you come through now we have them
exactly where we want them.”
“Oh I see, so we are
‘we’ now? We’ll have to discuss that
when I arrive. In the meantime, we may
have to resort to other methods temporarily.”
“What the hell do you
mean by that Devon? You better not be
thinking of leaving me here. My dad did
that and I didn’t speak to him for a year.
Devon? Devon!”
Devon looked like he was about to speak but
stopped. Instead he hung up the phone.
An hour after the car
arrived, Tanya was fuming and eating her words.
Gray and herself watched the engineers and technicians try
unsuccessfully to break into the Cadillac XLR.
“What the hell is that
car made of?” Tanya asked.
“Looks normal to
me. Even if it was bulletproofed, our
technicians could still find a way inside,” Gray replied.
A technician walked up
to Tanya holding a smoking drill. “We’ve
gone through three diamond bit drills,” he said.
“Get a fourth one,”
Tanya replied, sharply.
“Do you have any idea
how much diamond bit drills cost, Miss Walker?”
“Not as much as your
funeral if you don’t break this car!”
“You aren’t going to
believe this,” Wilson said, entering the room in a hurry. He handed a piece of paper to Tanya. “DPS fingerprinted Knight when he was
arrested. These are the results.”
“No identification
possible?” Tanya asked, reading the fax.
“His prints were altered?”
“Expertly done,”
Wilson repeated from the memo.
Tanya stood in thought
as she watched a technician bend a crowbar in half after he tried to use it to
jam the passenger door open.
“We’re leaving
tonight,” she said.
Wilson did a double
take, “Are you kidding? We’re days away
from penetrating all of ComTron’s technologies.”
“We already have the
telecommunications equipment, what we came for remember? It’s worth more than all the other patents
combined. I can get it out of the
database tonight and we fly out.”
“You’re panicking over
nothing, Tanya. Even if he and his FBI
friend had proof, he would have told DPS what he was here for,” Wilson said.
Tanya shook her head,
“No, it’s obvious, Fred. Someone from
very high up is watching us very closely.
Not only did we have an FBI agent snooping around undercover, but Knight
Industries sends an agent too.”
“That agent was the
same agent in charge of the botched sting the Bureau tried on us in Vegas. He was fired.”
“And what about
Knight? I could feel it when I looked
into his eyes,” Tanya said. “He’s no
ordinary cop. He’s far more
dangerous. Get these people out of here
while I go into the database.”
“What do you want us
to do with Knight?” Wilson asked.
Tanya smiled, “Show
him where his friend died.”
January 20, 1991.
Michael looked at the
date over and over again on his watch.
He tried to figure out how many days he was in this damn desert, but it
was no use. He was too distracted. He was trying to figure out how the hell he
got here in the first place.
A career in the Army
always interested him. He grew up with
it in his blood after his father served most of his life in the Army
Rangers. The bloodlines of Long’s in the
Army ran as far back to World War I.
When the recruiter walked up to Michael Long after high school
graduation, Michael was ready to sign immediately.
He heard his fair
share of soldiers bitching and complaining about this war being pointless, and
echoing Vietnam, but Michael didn’t care.
He loved every second of it and couldn’t wait to keep going.
The only thing that
sucked about Operation Desert Storm for Michael was the heat. He tugged at his Desert Cammos. It had to be 100 degrees and it was only
midnight. The warm breeze on his face
was a small solace as the convoy sped through the desert.
“Long! Long!” a voice yelled.
“What?” Michael asked
over the roar of the diesel engine.
“I’m getting out of
here,” the soldier said, “the girlfriend’s almost at full term!”
“I thought you were
both lesbians,” a male soldier yelled.
Michael chuckled.
“Artificial
Insemination,” the female soldier replied, “before I enlisted, we drew straws
to see who would get the seed.”
“Hey,” Michael said as
he felt the convoy begin to slow. He
peeked his head out a window and saw they were coming upon a town, “Okay, who’s
in the pool this week?”
The soldiers in the
Armored Patrol Vehicle began digging in their pockets. “Take fire or don’t take fire?” the female
soldier asked.
“What was it last
week?” Michael asked.
“Last town we went
through was harmless,” the male soldier replied.
“Okay,” Michael said,
“let’s see if we take light fire.”
“I’ll take that bet,”
the female soldier said, handing a few dollars to Michael.
“Thank you, Lundy,”
Michael said, taking her money, “who else?”
“Three-to-one
against,” the male soldier said.
“Against?” Lundy
asked, “You won last week when you bet with the house, Jacobs.”
“I feel lucky, this
morning, what can I say?” Jacobs replied.
“Is that because you
got lucky last night?” Michael asked.
“Wasn’t she only 15?”
Lundy asked.
“Hey, 15 is like
middle-aged to these people,” Jacobs said, grinning.
“What’d she charge?”
Michael asked.
“Nothing,” Jacobs
said, “she wasn’t a whore, just a horny teenage villager.”
“You’re a stand up guy
and a gentleman, Jacobs,” Lundy said, sarcastically.
“You’d tap that
Arab-ass if you were single. What about
you, Long? You were gone for a while
last night. I think all her friends are dying to get laid… you find one of
them?”
“I was on recon all
night,” Michael replied.
“Stand ready, gents,
we’re comin’ into town,” yelled their commanding officer.
“You in, Lieutenant?”
Michael asked.
“You kidding?” the
lieutenant asked eyeing them suspiciously, “put me in for ten.”
“You’re our good luck
charm, Lieutenant Osborn,” Lundy said, “don’t let us down tonight.”
Michael made sure his
handgun was loaded and grabbed a rifle.
Lundy and Jacobs grabbed their respective machine guns. They each took a position on either side of
the vehicle, while Michael stood out an open porthole in the roof with his
sniper’s rifle ready. “All bets are
closed,” he softly said to himself.
The last person to
exit the room was Wilson, and that was 15 minutes ago.
In the darkness and
silence, the Cadillac XLR sat alone.
Given up on by the ComTron engineers due to its invulnerability.
First, the darkness
was broken. The red-scanner light on the
prow of the car illuminated and began scanning the room.
Next, the silence was
broken. A faint whir sounding like
systems starting up filled the air.
Inside the XLR, KITT’s
systems activated themselves one by one.
Images of the garage appeared on the monitors as the rest of the
components on the dashboard illuminated.
The warehouse was
bathed with light as the headlights turned on with KITT’s engine. The engine revved a few times before the car
launched forward, plowing through two giant glass doors.
Shards of glass rained
down on the XLR and the street as KITT sped away from ComTron.
On the center monitor,
a map of Goodyear appeared. A lone red
beacon signified Michael’s current location.
“That engine’s gonna
make us a fuckin’ target,” Jacobs said, as the diesel engine of the APV echoed
through the town.
Michael turned on his
night vision goggles to get a better view of the pitch-black town. It had the look of being abandoned, but
Michael knew better. “Come out, come out
wherever you are,” he whispered.
“I think you’ll get
your wish, Long,” Lundy said, over his headset, “I got some movement behind
us.”
Michael turned around
very slowly so he wouldn’t arouse suspicion.
He was looking behind them and couldn’t see anyone, “Gimme your eyes,
Lundy.”
“Look to the left and
right, they are weaving in and out of buildings,” Lundy reported.
Michael squinted
through his goggles and could faintly see human figures following them, using
the wreckage of buildings for cover.
“Sir, we have confirmed movement behind us, we have a tail, repeat we
have a tail.”
“Copy
that, Long, lead vehicle reports shadows as well,” Osborn replied.
“Request
permission for flash flare,” Michael said.
“Granted, all snipers
pick a towel and get ready to wipe,” Osborn said.
“Get
ready to flash, Lundy,” Michael said.
“I
don’t think these boys’d wanna see my titties,” Lundy said. She took a flash flare out of a case, “my
girlfriend though, that’s another story.
Get ready.”
“All
snipers, compensate for flash illumination,” Michael said. He turned a dial on the side of his goggles
so the flash wouldn’t blind him.
“Flash
‘em,” the officer said.
Lundy
pulled a cord at the end of the flare.
It launched into the air and exploded, lighting up the sky.
Michael
fired at his target, hitting the man in the head. The other snipers fired at the same time,
taking out all their targets. The
frequency was filled with yells from the snipers confirming their hits.
The
remaining insurgents opened fire on the unit.
“Stop
the convoy,” Osborn yelled. “Open fire.”
Lundy
and Jacobs used the truck for cover as they opened fire on the remaining
insurgents.
Michael
flipped a switch on his rifle and joined them in the firefight. Sparks erupted around him as bullets got too
close for comfort. He ducked back into
the APV. “You lose, Jacobs,” he yelled.
“Eat
me, Long,” Jacobs yelled over his machine gun.
The two men hit the
floor of the APV as an explosion rocked the convoy. The lead vehicle exploded.
“Where the hell did
that come from?” Michael screamed.
“Mortar blast! Find me who’s throwing, Long,” Osborn yelled.
More explosions hit
around the convoy. Michael thrust
himself out of the porthole and looked through his sniper scope, “Cover me!” he
barked.
A silver Jeep Liberty
with a light bar and markings reading: ComTron Security pulled up in front of
the police station. Wilson and Gray got
out.
“Do you have the
release?” Wilson asked.
Gray took an envelope
out of his coat and handed it to Wilson, “Typed it up myself,” he said.
The two men walked
into the building and woke the sleeping desk attendant.
“Officer, I have a
court order for Mr. Knight’s release,” Wilson said, handing him the paper.
The cop looked the
paper over and eyed the men, “I guess he’s all yours.”
Lundy and Jacobs laid
down fire as Michael frantically searched for a target. The shockwave from another mortar blast
jolted through his chest.
Michael found exactly
what he was looking for. The assailant
was about to load another shell. “Not
this time, asshole,” Michael said. He fired
his weapon and hit the Iraqi solider right between the eyes, “Got him,” he
said, calmly, lowering his weapon.
“Incoming!” Jacobs
yelled seconds before a shell exploded a foot from the APV.
The concussion from the blast was enough to cause Michael to black out for a
few seconds. Shards of metal and sand
were flying everywhere and the APV was blown onto its side.
“Where the hell did
that come from?!” Jacobs yelled.
“Behind us!” Lundy
said.
Michael ducked into
the APV just seconds before it was blown over.
More machine gun fire rained upon them as Iraqi soldiers fired
relentlessly.
“We’re sitting ducks,
like this,” Michael said.
“Got anything better?”
Lundy asked.
“Communications are
down,” Michael said, “and so is Osborn.
We gotta get out of here!”
“We’re kind of
sideways, Long, and under fire from both sides,” Jacobs said.
“The Humvee is still
intact,” Michael said, looking past the burning wreckage of the convoy, “we
could make a run for it.”
“We probably shouldn’t
give them another target,” Lundy said, “we’re easier to hit out there than in
here.”
A bullet ripped
through the windshield sending glass everywhere. Without notice, a huge explosion obliterated
the APV. It knocked Michael and the
other soldiers off their feet.
He tried to stand, but
his balance and orientation were eliminated.
A drone sounded through his ears and he could barely see.
A warm liquid was
flowing freely over his face. Soon, he
felt his body give out, and he was face down in the sand.
His hand shook as he
tried to clear his own blood off of his face.
No matter how hard he
tried, he couldn’t keep the gushing blood from obscuring his vision. He could hear someone speaking Arabic in the
background. He reached up and felt most
of his forehead missing…
The XLR spun around a
corner and was just a few feet from the police station where Michael was being
held.
A computer rendering
appeared on the central monitor as KITT scanned the building for Michael’s
location.
KITT pulled up to a
wall between two police cars. Michael
was in a cell just on the other side. A
brick wall, a tiny corridor and some steel bars separated them.
The car, still driving
itself, backed up to the other side of the parking lot. A distinctive whir and hiss filled the night
air as KITT’s turbine engine activated.
The engines revved a few times before the car rocketed towards the wall.
Within seconds, the
Cadillac was doing 100 miles per hour in the parking lot, closing in on the
wall.
Closing…
Closing…
At the last possible second, KITT activated jet boosters and…
The blast that awoke
Michael wasn’t from his wounding 13 years ago, but
from outside.
He groggily sat up in
his cot and looked towards the wall where the intrusive sound came from.
Seconds after the
blast, the wall exploded in front of him and a familiar black form plowed
through. Bricks flew everywhere and the
XLR tore through the metal bars like they were jelly.
Wilson, Gray and the
cop ducked as the car bore into the building.
The cop leapt from his desk and ran back towards the holding cells.
The car stopped just
under Michael’s cot, knocking him onto the hood. He coughed when dust from the debris flew
into his face.
Aside from the dust,
the XLR was spotless.
Michael scrambled off
the hood and over to the already-opened driver’s side door, “I don’t know how
you did this KITT, but thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” KITT
said.
“Stop him,” Wilson
said, running up to the bars on the other side,
“he’s getting away!”
“Freeze!” the cop
said, aiming his gun at Michael.
Michael ignored him
and got into the car, just seconds before the cop opened fire.
A shower of sparks
filled the cell as the bullets bounced harmlessly off the windshield.
“The bullets are just
bouncing off,” the cop said, emptying his clip onto the car.
Michael put the car in reverse and slammed the gas pedal down.
Wilson and Gray pushed
past the cop and ran back towards the entrance.
By the time they got back outside, Michael sped by their car.
“How the hell did that
car get here?” Wilson asked, getting into the Jeep.
“Beats the hell out of
me, that car was locked in the warehouse.
He’s got a partner in town somewhere,” Gray said.
“Can’t be. There’s no way someone could be that
incognito or get into the warehouse,” Wilson said, starting the engine and
taking off after Michael.
“You aren’t saying the
car drove itself?”
“That Cadillac was
virtually impenetrable. You saw it after
it came through the wall, there wasn’t a mark on it.”
“Well he’s flown the
coop, you know he’s going to get backup.
He must be on his way out of town,” Gray said.
“What makes you say
that?” Wilson asked.
“Well what else is out
this way?”
Wilson looked at Gray
with a scowl, “Take one God damn guess.”
Michael pulled
alongside the street in front of the main parking lot of ComTron, “I wonder if
anyone is home?”
“Is it all right to
respond?” KITT asked.
“Yes, it’s fine,”
Michael said. “Are you able to scan the
building and tell me who is inside?”
“The normal security
staff of 10 armed guards is on duty in the corporate complex.. The industrial complex in the rear has a full
staff producing materials. I am also
reading one more person on the upper floors of the offices,” KITT replied.
“Can you tell who?”
Michael asked.
“It’s a female and she
is in one of the executive offices logged into a computer terminal.”
“Whose office, KITT?”
“Tanya Walker’s.”
“That’s her. Is there any way to get onto the grounds?”
Michael asked KITT as he looked at the security fence surrounding the complex.
“I’m afraid not, Mr.
Knight. After your break-in the other
night, their security measures have been upgraded drastically. The only things aren’t alarmed in the entire
complex are skylights on the roof of the main offices.”
Michael looked up at
the roof. It was a long eight floors up,
“Is there any part of the building that runs along side the street?”
“There is,” KITT
replied. “If you drive one hundred feet
forward and turn left, the main office building borders the driveway that leads
to the main gate.”
“Main gate, huh? That’s cutting it kind of close,” Michael
said. He pressed the button marked
“silent mode” and turned the lights off.
“I hope you can see in the dark,” he said.
KITT slowly drove to
the spot he described for Michael and stopped, “The guard in the booth is asleep,”
he reported.
“Good,” Michael
said. “This is the only time sleeping on
duty will work to my advantage,” he craned his head out the open window and
looked up. The roof looked farther up
than it did a few hundred feet ago.
“Damn. I really wish I stayed and
listened to Devon. KITT, this building
is eight stories high and I got to get to the roof. Any suggestions?”
An image of the
building appeared on the interactive central monitor, “If you use the Emergency
Eject feature, and set the pressure adjustment to correspond with the required
distance, you should land quite smoothly.”
“You plan to blast me
out of this car and expect me to land on my own two feet?”
“If everything is set
to the required parameters, then yes,” KITT replied.
“The hell with that,”
Michael said. “I’ll be splattered on the
side of the building or fall right back into you.”
“I am not able or
permitted to put your life into danger, Mr. Knight. If you like, I can establish and set the
parameters for you,” KITT said.
Michael looked at the
building and looked back at KITT’s voice box, “Okay, let’s do it, partner.”
He shifted his weight
as he felt his seat slightly incline to the left. He felt like a bullet being aimed in a gun.
“Finished,” KITT
replied.
“So all I do is press
the button? Up I go?” Michael asked.
“It would help if you
lowered the convertible roof,” KITT replied.
“Smart ass,” Michael
said as he pressed a button. The
hard-top convertible roof raised and folded neatly into the space behind the front
seats. Not wanting to fool himself into
any kind of security or preparation, Michael pressed the Eject Left button on
the switch pod and flew into the air.
He soared past the
floors on a very light angle and instinctively let his arms fly out from his
side.
This must be what it
feels like to fly, he thought. Soon
enough, he felt what it was like to land.
Michael was unprepared
for the landing as he was living in the moment of flying. He hit the roof somewhat softly, and stumbled
as he tried to keep his balance. He
looked over the edge and saw KITT still sitting there.
This car had to be
something else.
“When the hell did
this car get here?” Tanya asked. She
stood with her arms crossed and was visibly pissed.
“I just saw it on my
rounds. The engine is still warm,” a
guard replied.
Tanya turned to a
second guard with a grimace on his face, “And what the hell were you doing in
the booth to miss this? Jerking off?”
“I… erm… fell asleep,
Miss Walker,” the guard replied with a cracked voice.
Tanya narrowed her
eyes at him. She looked at the XLR and
then back at the guard. “You’re fucking
fired.”
The Jeep Liberty
security car screeched to a halt in front of them, bathing everything in white
light. Wilson and Gray hopped out.
“Where’s Knight?”
Tanya asked, angrier.
“This damn machine
broke him out of jail,” Wilson said.
“Just great,” she
said, turning to the first guard. “Where
is he?”
“I don’t know. The car was putting its roof up by the time I
got back,” the guard replied.
Everyone looked to the
upper floors of the building. A light
turned on in one of the suites. Tanya
gasped.
“There’s no way in
hell he could get in without being seen,” Wilson said.
“How much do you want
to stake on that? I’m going up to finish
securing the designs—”
“Are you crazy? You’re going upstairs while he’s on the
loose? He could be armed. We never did find the guard’s gun from
Knight’s first break in,” Gray said.
“If he is, we’re
even,” Tanya said, brandishing a gun.
You take care of Knight, shoot to kill, he’s breaching national
security.” Tanya ran off back into the
complex.
“You heard the lady,”
Wilson said to the guards standing around, “there
is an armed man trying to steal ComTron’s top secrets. Stop him at all costs.” The guards nodded and ran off. Wilson stopped the first guard who discovered
KITT, “Stand by this car and don’t move an inch. If Knight returns, kill him.”
“Yes sir,” the guard
flatly said.
Tanya quickly walked
into her office, looking over her shoulder.
She walked in and looked in every corner of the office to make sure she
was alone. She gripped the gun tightly
in her hand. She closed the door
slightly and looked behind it. No one
was there.
She sat down at her
computer and put in a blank CD. She
drummed her fingers as the burning process seemed to go longer than it
should. She set the gun down on her desk
and chided the computer for taking so long.
The phone rang and she
jumped, “This is Tanya… the data is transferring now. Call the airport and tell them we are flying
out per Benjamin’s orders. What about
Knight? … Fine, keep looking… No I haven’t seen him. Once you take care of him, meet me at the
field—”
A noise at her doorway
startled Tanya. She gasped and looked
over at her door. It was pushed open.
“I’ll be there soon,”
she said quickly into the phone and hung up.
The designs finally
burned onto the CD and Tanya took the disc out of the drive and put it into her
purse. She grabbed her cell phone from
her purse and dialed a number.
“It’s Tanya,” she said
when someone finally picked up. “I got
the designs. We’re flying out of
Goodyear tonight…”
From behind Tanya, a
hand reached out. Someone approached her
from behind.
“It was no trouble at
all, just some interference but we disposed of them…” She glanced toward her
desk and did a double take. Her gun was
gone.
Slowly… slowly. The hand was inches away from her head.
“I’ll see you soon,
Cameron,” Tanya said, nervously.
The instant she hung
up the phone, Tanya was grabbed from behind.
The assailant grabbed
Tanya by her hair and flung her out of the chair and onto the floor. The person planted their knee firmly into the
small of her back and bent down to speak into her ear.
“Who’s Cameron?” asked
Michael Knight.
Tanya shrieked and
fought to get out of Michael’s grip.
Michael got off of her
and grabbed her by her shoulders. He
pulled her to her feet and slammed her against the wall. He aimed her gun squarely between her eyes.
His heart and mind
were racing. He was finally where he
wanted to be.
Do it, Michael. Pull the trigger…
You are in
control. You have the power…
“Thank you for
organizing all the evidence for me, Tanya,” Michael said.
“Please don’t do
this! I know you work for Knight
Industries, but it can’t be worth what I can do for you,” she said.
Michael’s grip
hardened around the gun. He could feel
the blood rushing through the single finger quivering on the gun’s trigger.
She killed you...
“Would you rather I do
this?” he asked, gesturing with the gun.
“It’s not a starry night in Vegas, but it will hurt just as much.”
Tanya gasped and a
wave of recognition crossed her face, “Oh my God… it’s you.”
Michael stepped back
and straightened his arm. He reaffirmed
his aim and intent.
“Michael, please. What I did to you in Vegas was wrong. I can make it up to you. There’s millions of dollars for us to share. All the money is safely out of the
country. If I didn’t shoot you, Wilson
would have. I didn’t want to do it, but
I didn’t have a choice. Those were his
orders.”
A violent white flash
and searing pain consumed Michael’s entire world. He reached his hands up to his face only to
discover he was clutching just muscle, blood and bone. The force of the bullet pushed him back onto
the hood of the taxi and he grotesquely rolled onto the desert floor, blood
draining from his massive bullet wound into the sand.
“You had a choice
then, just like I do now,” Michael said.
“We both have a
choice, Michael,” Tanya said. “We can
both have it all.”
“How can we share the
money if Wilson is calling the shots, Tanya?
You’re in control of this operation, not him. Come on, Tanya. You’re in charge, no one else.”
Tanya stood for a
second. A few tears escaped her eyes. Michael wondered if they were real or not.
“Fine,” she said. “I’m in charge. We could use somebody like you. There’s more companies to hit. The more people we have on our side, the
better.”
“Even if you do call the shots out here in the
field, I don’t think there’s much to share with Cameron in the way,” Michael
said. “I know you’re working for
him. If you want me on your side, he
better disappear. No one is hounding my
share. Period.”
“That can be arranged,” Tanya said.
“There’s only one problem.”
“What’s that?”
Kill her now…
“I think you’re full of shit.”
In the lobby, Wilson, Gray and the guards
reacted as a series of shots echoed throughout the building.
“Find out where the fuck those came from! Now!” Wilson barked.
Tanya’s office was eerily quiet. In the doorway, a guard lay dead and
bleeding. A few feet from him, Tanya lay
on the ground, unconscious, a bruise quickly forming around her left eye.
A trail of blood ran from the spot she was
laying to outside her office.
Nearby, in a cubicle, Michael was holding his
left shoulder tightly.
He could have done it. He was ready.
The bullets that sailed into the guard’s head and chest were meant for
Tanya.
Deep down, Michael knew killing Tanya in cold
blood would have easily put him on her level, and he would have become the same
kind of person she was when she killed him two months ago.
But how many dead people have the chance to come
back and face their killers?
Whatever the answer, Michael knew he had to get
the hell out of there. Two guards were
approaching.
“Ill check it out here,” a guard said, as his
partner ran further down the hallway.
The guard drew his weapon and walked into Tanya’s office. “Miss Walker?” he asked after checking the
guard Michael killed.
Tanya stirred and looked up, “Where the hell is
Knight, where did he go?”
“We’re looking for him, ma’am.”
“When you find him, shoot the son-of-a-bitch,”
she said, grabbing her purse and running out of the office. She ran in the opposite direction of
Michael’s location and down a set of stairs.
“Closer, closer, come on,” Michael whispered to
himself as the guard approached his hiding spot. He slowly slid a metal drawer out of the desk
and held it in his hands, ready to strike.
The guard flashed his light around the room, and
then onto the floor. It was there he
noticed drops of blood leading towards Michael’s cubicle. He held his flashlight firmly in one hand,
and his weapon in the other.
As he reached the entryway of the cubicle, Michael
slammed the guard in the face with the drawer.
It was a perfect hit, and the guard was on the
floor, out cold.
Tanya wasted no time
in flying down the eight flights of stairs.
She burst out the doorway leading to the parking lot and ran over to her
car. After fumbling for her keys, she
got in.
She turned the dome
light on and looked at her reflection in the rear-view mirror. One entire side of her face was red and
beginning to bruise. She lightly touched
it and reacted to the pain.
She started the car
and sped off towards the airport.
Wilson and Gray were
sitting at the front desk frantically searching the security cameras for
Michael. There were over 100 in the main
office building alone.
“Nothing in
accounting,” a guard said over a walkie-talkie. “What about you Baker?” There was silence as nobody replied.
“There’s got to be a
faster way to do—” Gray started but was cut off. Wilson pointed to the walkie-talkie.
“Nothing here,”
a strange voice said over the frequency.
“What is it?” Gray
asked.
“That wasn’t Baker,”
Wilson said.
Michael came out of an
emergency exit a few hundred feet away from the guard who was watching over the
XLR.
“Freeze!” the edgy
guard said, raising his weapon.
“Whoa! Don’t shoot.
It’s Baker,” Michael lied.
The guard holstered
his weapon and walked towards Michael, who did his best to keep in shadows,
“What the hell is going on, man?”
Michael was about to
answer when Wilson’s voice came over the frequency, “All guards be
alert. Baker’s uniform has been
stolen. Knight is now wearing a security
uniform.”
The guard quickly drew
his weapon and aimed it at Michael, “Hold it right there, Knight.”
Michael sighed and
slowly raised his hands in the air. The
movement aggravated his wound and he winced in pain.
“Mr. Wilson, I got
him.”
“Out here by his
car. Dead in my sights.”
“Don’t let him move an
inch and you got yourself a ten thousand dollar bonus,”
Wilson said.
“Yes sir!” the guard
said, smiling. He closed in on Michael,
“Well, well, well. I guess you almost
made it. But I was a little too smart
for you, fella.”
Michael looked over
the guard’s shoulder and smiled. He knew
he was being watched, and not by cameras or the idiot guard. He gave a very subtle nod.
“Sorry…” he said
through the pain exploding from his shoulder.
“Don’t look behind you.”
The scanner activated
on the XLR’s nose.
“There’s no one behind
me for hundreds of yards, Knight,” the guard said.
“What about the
Cadillac?”
“There’s no one in
there either. I checked!”
Without warning, the
lights on the XLR turned on along with the engine.
The guard turned
around and raised his hand to shield himself from the lights.
The XLR’s engine
revved.
Suddenly, it launched
forward, bearing down on the guard and stopped just a few feet short.
Startled, the guard
leapt backwards and dropped his gun.
Michael raised his.
“Oh don’t do this!”
the guard said. “I can’t die a virgin.”
If Michael’s shoulder
wasn’t on fire, he would have erupted into laughter. “I’m sick of everyone from ComTron begging
for their lives. Get up against that
wall.”
The guard obeyed
Michael. It sounded like he was
beginning to sob.
Michael moved close to
the guard and cuffed him. “You know, if
that was you playing bad cop earlier I’d hate to see what your pussy-ass looks
like playing the good cop.”
He ran painfully over
to the XLR. KITT opened the door for him
and he got inside.
Michael put the car in
reverse and slammed the gas pedal. He
spun around when he hit the street and sped away.
A minute later, Wilson
and Gray ran outside.
“How the hell did you
let him escape, you idiot?” Wilson asked.
“The car!” the guard
wailed. “The car!”
Wilson took out his
handgun and fired a single shot into the guard’s head. Blood splattered onto the wall as the guard’s
body fell to the ground. “We’ll blame
that on Knight,” he said to Gray. “Alert
the units guarding the driveway.”
They ran to their Jeep
and gave chase.
Michael fought the
array of colors hounding his sight and squinted through the pain to look at
something out the windshield. Two
ComTron Jeep Liberty security vehicles with their lights on had the road
blocked.
There was no turning
back now.
Michael pressed harder
on the accelerator and watched the digital speedometer climb to 120
miles-per-hour.
The guards nervously
stood their ground and opened fire.
Their jaws dropped when the bullets bounced harmlessly off the XLR.
“What’s that?” Michael
asked as a beeping filled the cabin.
“Proximity alarm,”
KITT replied. “I must assume control to
avoid a collision.”
“No you must not,
KITT,” Michael replied. “Manual override
or whatever the command is, we’re going through.”
“As you wish, Mr.
Knight,” KITT said.
Michael could have
swore KITT just sighed.
At the last second,
the guard scrambled from their cars and took cover.
The XLR tore through
one of the Jeeps like tinfoil, sending
pieces of the Jeep careening into the other.
A massive explosion obliterated both Jeeps as KITT emerged from the
flames in pristine condition.
Wilson and Gray
stopped at the wreckage of the Jeeps.
“Forget using cars,” Gray said.
“There’s only one way
we can stop that machine now,” Wilson replied, getting out his cell phone.
On the dark road
leading to the airport, Michael began to swerve. He drifted off the side of the road and
quickly refocused, “You there KITT?”
“Where would I go?”
Michael wearily
smiled, “I know we had our share of words exchanged, pal, but I don’t know if I
am going to make it through this.”
“You should be in a
hospital, not at my controls,” KITT said, as Michael’s vital signs appeared on
the far-right monitor, “your vital signs are stable for now. But you really should seek medical treatment.
“Not now, KITT. They’re going to be coming at us from all
directions. We can’t stop… We can’t
stop.”
“What can I do?” KITT
asked.
“Can you get a hold of
Devon?”
“Mr. Miles is en route
to Goodyear as we speak,” KITT replied. “I can reach him by telephone.”
“Do it, KITT, fast.”
Michael heard a dial
tone and then numbers dial over the speakers.
Devon picked up almost immediately, “What the devil is going on? How are you out of jail?”
“Devon, they would
have killed me if it wasn’t for KITT,” Michael said.
“What have you
learned?” Devon asked.
“Tanya did it,
Devon. She has the designs, they’re on
their way to the airport now. There is a
mastermind, Devon, you were right. All I
got from her was somebody named Cameron.
I’m going after her… if I last that long.”
“Mr. Knight has been
wounded. He is losing blood, Mr. Miles
and vital signs are falling out of stability.
I believe I should assume control,” KITT reported.
Michael felt the car
shift into Auto Cruise, “You aren’t assuming anything, KITT,” he said, taking
control again,
“Michael you are
putting your life in danger. We can take
them down another day,”
“There isn’t going to
be another day, Devon. She knows Knight
Industries is after her and thinks we are working with the FBI. If she gets away, we aren’t going to catch
her again.”
“No! Local cops are under ComTron’s thumb. Call the FBI and the State Police and have
them standing by at the airport. If I’m
going out, I’m taking these bastards with me.”
Wilson grabbed a hold
of his tie and tried to keep his jacket from blowing as he approached the
running helicopter. He threw open the
door and hopped inside.
“You think Tanya’s at
the airport by now?” Gray asked.
“She better be,”
Wilson said. “Otherwise we’re screwed.”
“I’ll have us there in
a few minutes,” Gray said as the chopper began to lift off.
“No, we gotta take
care of Knight first,” he said as he grabbed the walkie-talkie. “This is Chief of Security Wilson, patch me
into ComTron truck dispatch,” Wilson said over the whirs of the chopper as he
looked onto the roads below, “I want all trucks on the road to standby for special
instructions.”
Michael’s mind was drifting in and out of focus
again. The road in front of him
disappeared and reappeared.
Something at the end of the road caught his
attention. His vision was so blurred, he
stopped the car and leaned forward to try to bring it into focus.
“What… KITT, what is that?” Michael asked.
The central monitor zoomed in onto the
obstruction. It was a ComTron semi
truck.
“Great…” he said.
“I see nothing great about this,” KITT said.
“What’s going on?”
Devon asked.
“Road blocks,” Michael said as he looked at the
truck. “What the hell am I supposed to
do now?”
“Turning around is always a good option,” KITT
added.
“Not a chance, KITT. Nothing’s stopping me,” Michael said. He glanced at the buttons to his right.
AUTO.
NORMAL. PURSUIT.
“Two-twenty-five,”
Michael said, “it wins. How fast does it
go?”
“You don’t want to know,” Devon said,
chuckling.
“Let’s find out,” Michael said, pressing the
Pursuit button.
He kept his foot on the brakes and pressed the
gas pedal.
The tires spun feverishly and screamed, waiting
to be released and to tear down the road.
The engine roared as the power raced through the
machinery.
Release.
Michael was thrust back into his seat as the XLR
rocketed down the road towards the truck.
Within seconds, the car was passing 150-miles-per-hour.
175.
Michael focused on the once-tiny form of the
truck, now getting bigger.
200.
Bigger.
225.
Michael didn’t flinch this time.
250.
Closer.
275.
“If you aren’t planning on stopping, Mr. Knight,
will you allow me to activate the Turbo Boost?” KITT asked.
290.
“The what?!” Michael asked, perplexed.
Three-hundred-miles-per-hour.
“There’s no time to argue or explain. Allow me,” KITT said as the truck was only a
few hundred feet away.
What happened next tossed Michael into a world
he had never been in before.
A small jet blast emanated from the XLR’s
undercarriage near the front, and milliseconds later, a larger one from the
rear. Without warning, the car was
propelled into the air.
Michael was thrown into his seat by the
pressure. The last number he saw the
digital readout display after the blast from the back of the car read 325.
He closed his eyes as the car sailed through the
air…
And also through the truck.
Twisted and deformed metal scraped along the
surface of the car as it tore through the trailer. Boxes filled with ComTron merchandise bounced
everywhere, as the car emerged unscathed.
The XLR hit the ground and a shower of sparks
shot out from under the vehicle.
Michael opened his eyes and looked behind him,
just in time to see the trailer collapse.
He laughed.
“This car really is something else,” he said.
“Jenkins, give me a report,” Wilson said.
“I blocked the road to cut him off,”
came the weary voice of the driver of the truck Michael just tore through.
“Did you stop him?”
“No.”
“No?!” Wilson asked, angrily.
“He drove right through the semi,”
Jenkins replied.
Wilson sat there and stared at the microphone
for a moment. “Are you drunk?”
“Not yet.”
“I don’t know if there’s anything that’s gonna
stop that machine,” Gray said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Wilson said, “it’s just a
luxury convertible.”
“Then I hope you have something better in mind.”
“This is Wilson to any and all trucks on the road. I’m offering a $25,000 cash bonus to the
driver who smashes that Cadillac XLR head on.
It’s currently heading East on US-85.”
“This is Stevens in Truck 22 on 85. Are you out of your mind? What good is the money if you’re dead?”
“Jump clear, you moron! Just make sure you level that XLR,” Wilson
said.
“Forget it.”
“I know how much you make, Stevens. Twenty bucks an hour and you don’t even work
full-time. I know that slum you
and your wife and kids live in. I know she doesn’t work and I know you spend
a lot of money on the whore you have on the side plus your kids she is
raising. $25,000… Oh hell, let’s call it
$35,000. $35,000 instant cash, tax free,
can solve a lot of your problems.”
“You’re an asshole, Wilson.”
“Destroy that XLR, you’ll be kissing mine when I
hand you 35-grand.”
There was a silence over the air.
“That bastard better do it or I’ll give him
problems that will take more than $35,000 to fix.”
“I’ll give it a shot,”
the driver replied.
“You gotta be shitting me,” Michael said as he
eavesdropped on the conversation between Wilson and the driver.
“I suggest we reach the airport before we reach
the truck,” KITT said.
“Devon, you know what KITT can do. Could he make it?”
“I don’t believe we’ve put KITT to that precise
test,” Devon said.
“If I may interject,” KITT said, “I’d rather not
take that test.”
A lone set of headlights appeared over a rise in
front of them.
“There they are,” Michael said, “you ready for
this KITT?”
“No.”
“Good.
Neither am I.”
Wilson looked down at the speeding XLR. “He’s out of his mind.”
“Knight or the truck driver?” Gray asked.
“Both.
There’s no way the driver can jump clear in time, and even if he does
he’ll hit the pavement so hard they’ll probably need to peel off his body.”
“And what about Knight?”
Wilson shrugged.
“Hopefully there won’t be anything worthwhile to scoop up.”
The truck was nearing them quickly. Michael squinted as the massive headlights
flooded his vision.
“I’m not gonna be able to swerve in time to miss
it, KITT,” he said, “We need to do that thing again. What was it, KITT? Turbo blast?”
“Turbo Boost,” KITT replied,
“and you got it.”
Michael was thrown back into his seat by the
pressure and G-forces of the jump. A jet
blast was heard as the XLR launched into the air once more. It sailed over the semi, clearing the end by
inches.
It slammed onto the ground in a shower of
sparks, and once again, was completely unharmed.
Wilson and Gray sat in the chopper
wide-eyed. For a second, Gray
accidentally let go of the controls.
“It just…”
“Jumped the semi-truck.”
Wilson turned around and grabbed a shotgun
from behind his seat.
“It’s either this or crash the chopper into it, and I don’t think either
of us want the latter.”
“You really think bullets are going to stop that
thing?”
“What other choice do we have?” Wilson said,
loading the gun. “Take us closer.”
Gray lowered the chopper to just a few feet off
the ground and inches away from KITT.
Wilson opened a small window and aimed the gun at the passenger side
window. He had a clear shot of Michael’s
torso.
Wilson pulled back on the trigger and…
Bang!
The bullets hit the window straight on and
sparks erupted immediately. The bullets
ricocheted and sailed straight into the body of the helicopter.
It jerked and Wilson grabbed a handle, “What the
hell are you doing?”
“You just shot us!” Gray said, fighting the
chopper for control.
“Shut up and make another pass!”
“If you want to make another pass, you can jump
out,” Gray said as the chopper jerked upward and the engine began to sputter,
“we’ll be lucky enough to… oh Christ hold on!”
The chopper jerked upward some more. After hanging in the air for a few seconds it
began to sail back to earth as the engine sputtered some more. At this point, recovery was impossible.
Down and down, the chopper fell. It slammed onto the roadway a few hundred
feet in front of the XLR.
A loud and sickening crunch was heard as the
metal frame of the downed-helicopter caved in upon itself and twisted in every
direction possible. Glass exploded
outward, and the once-spinning blades sheared off and flew in different
directions when they hit the ground.
Michael had no time to swerve, no time to stop,
and no choice but to plow through as the wreckage exploded.
“We’re ready to go, ma’am,” the pilot said.
Tanya looked at a fireball rise into the night
sky, “That better be Knight,” she mumbled under her breath.
“Miss Walker, are you ready?” the pilot asked.
“Hold on,” she said. “I’m waiting for Wilson and Gray.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Tanya squinted in the distance as she could hear
the faint squeal of tires over the jet’s engines. Her jaw dropped open when she saw red chasing
lights between two bright headlights heading straight for them, “We’re going,
now,” she said, climbing into the jet.
“What about Mr. Wilson and Mr. Gray?” the pilot
asked, following her inside.
“They’re dead.
If you don’t get this plane off the ground before that Cadillac reaches
us, so are you.”
The pilot pulled the lower stairs up and locked
them into place. He reached up and
pulled the door shut.
Michael’s reflexes were slowing down and he
accidentally drifted off the tarmac. He
quickly recovered and widened his eyes.
“Mr. Knight you are on the brink of
unconsciousness,” KITT reported.
“I know, KITT.
I have to do this. We can’t let
them get away.”
“We better hurry, Mr. Knight. The plane is approaching the runway.”
Michael cut the wheel hard and turned onto a
taxiway, “So are we.”
“You’re what?!”
Devon asked.
“There’s only one way to stop them, now
Devon. Unless this machine has guns or
missiles.”
“The Knight 2000 is not designed to harm people,
you know that,” Devon said, alarmed.
“If that plane gets in the air, Devon, we’ll
never get catch them again. I am not
letting them get away.”
“Mr. Miles, I’m afraid Mr. Knight is in no
condition to be making these kind of decisions,” KITT said.
“I wholeheartedly agree, KITT, but as long as
Michael is conscious and alert, he is in control. An absurd set of circumstances if you ask
me.”
“My thought’s exactly,” KITT said.
“Devon, you should know better than anyone that
Wilton Knight believed in the power of the individual. He looked at me as he was dying and assured
me one man can make a difference.
Believe me when I say I’m putting that to the absolute test,” Michael
said.
“At what cost?
Your life?”
Michael didn’t answer. Instead, he turned the wheel again and lined
the XLR up perfectly with the airplane barreling down the runway.
“If you are doing what I think you are doing,
you only have a few seconds before the airplane lifts off,” KITT said.
Michael pressed the accelerator to the floor and
stared directly into the lights on the landing gear of the plane.
There’s no turning back now.
Will this kill her?
If it does, who cares?
Will this kill you?
What does it matter?
You’re already dead…
Michael shook the thoughts out of his mind and
maintained his course.
The XLR glided under the nose of the jet and
violently ripped off the front landing gear.
Sparks flew everywhere as the XLR’s roof made contact with the plane’s
belly.
The car slid out from under the tail between the
rear landing gear and fishtailed around.
The plane arched through the air for a few
seconds, before it slammed onto the runway.
It slid along, releasing a barrage of sparks as the nose of the plane
grinded along the tarmac.
After a few endless seconds, it stopped.
Michael looked anxiously out the windshield
towards the burning plane. To his
dismay, Tanya stumbled out, coughing.
She ran away from the crippled aircraft as fast
as she could and was knocked to the ground as it exploded. She ran far enough to avoid the brunt of the
blast, but laid on the ground, bleeding.
Finish her.
Michael revved the engine.
That got Tanya’s attention.
She looked up at Michael with a look of disdain
and hate.
There was only one thing left to do now.
He revved the engine again, and put the last bit
of strength he had into slamming his foot onto the accelerator.
The XLR lurched forward at an amazing rate of
speed, bearing down on Tanya.
Tanya stood, for what reason, Michael didn’t
know, but as he fought passing out, he could see her searching herself for any
kind of weapon to use against him.
Too late.
This ends now.
Michael gripped the wheel and pulled himself up;
anything to keep himself from dying first.
“Mr. Knight, my programming won’t allow me to
strike her,” KITT said.
“Override…” Michael said through gritted teeth.
“I am unable to do so, Michael…” KITT said,
sounding sympathetic, “I am unable to harm another human being.”
“Now that is an absurd set of
circumstances,” Michael said, keeping his foot on the gas pedal.
Closer.
Michael could see the fear in her eyes. It was growing.
He watched her stand still.
Frozen.
Not for long.
The nose of the car slammed into Tanya’s legs
with such force, they were shattered and she was thrown face first onto the
hood of the car. The impact fractured
her skull and broke her ribs, sending the shards of bone into her heart and
lungs.
She was lifted from the ground and carried over
the car, arms and legs flailing as she flew.
She rolled over the roof and bounced off the trunk onto the tarmac with
a sickening crunch.
She landed in a bloody broken heap.
Still.
Dead.
A screeching noise caught Michael’s
attention. The brakes were engaged.
Stopping from such a high rate of speed jolted
Michael. His vision was out of focus,
his mind was wondering.
He snapped out of the trance and looked out the
windshield…
Tanya was still alive.
She was still standing there, shaking, afraid.
The XLR stopped a mere inch from her legs.
KITT stopped the car.
“I’m sorry, Michael,” he said.
Michael wanted to be angry.
He wanted to yell.
He wanted to jump out of the car and blow her
away.
But he couldn’t.
He had nothing left.
Before he could think, the entire scene was
bathed in white and blue lights as a dozen FBI vehicles encircled them.
Agents got out of their cars and fixed their
guns on Tanya. She put her hands behind
her head and got down to the ground, laying in the XLR’s headlights.
Michael watched the agents run around his car
and over to Tanya. He fell back into the
seat and tried to watch the melee.
He glanced over when someone tapped on the
window.
It was Devon.
“Roll… window,” Michael weakly said.
KITT rolled the driver’s side window down and
Devon peered inside.
“How… long… When… did you land?” Michael asked.
“About 15 minutes ago,” Devon said. “I figured once I de-planed, if I followed
the explosions, I would find you and KITT.”
Michael wearily smiled.
Devon looked at Michael’s vital signs on KITT’s
monitor, “Get him to the hospital, KITT, quickly. I’ll take care of things here.”
Dejected and defeated, his life slipping away,
Michael leaned back and looked at Tanya being placed into the back of an
unmarked FBI car, “It’s all yours, KITT.”
The Auto Cruise shifted into control just as
Michael passed out.
Darkness.
“He’s in good condition,” a male voice
said. “And lucky to be alive.”
“I’m relieved to hear that,” another voice
replied. It was Devon’s.
“He’s a fighter, and a quick healer,” the man
said. “He could be ready to go home
today.”
“That fast?” Devon asked.
“Mmm-hmm, he’s stable and healthy enough.”
“Good.
Thank you, Doctor.”
Awake.
Who was talking?
Were there really
voices or was it a dream?
He had been here
before.
Like before, something
was different again. This time, it
wasn’t physical.
It was mental.
For the first time he
knew…
He felt…
He was Michael Knight.
“Tanya Walker has been placed into federal
custody and is awaiting trial,” Devon said as he and Michael walked out of the
hospital. “It’s likely she will be charged
with treason, murder, accessory to murder, extortion; multiple counts of each,
plus more charges. There’s already
rumors prosecutors will be asking for the death penalty.”
“Good,” Michael said.
“It is fortunate KITT stopped in time,” Devon
said.
Michael grunted.
Devon stopped, “Can you stand here, looking me
in the eye, and tell me you were truly prepared to kill Miss Walker?”
“But I didn’t,” Michael said. “KITT’s programming kicked into gear.”
“It did.
But what if something malfunctioned?
Or what if he wasn’t programmed to protect human life?”
“And what if Stevie showed up at my bedside,
Devon? Come on, we’re talking about
things that didn’t happen and won’t be anytime soon,” Michael stared into the sun. He knew Devon was sizing him up. “I wanted to kill her, Devon. I had the chance to make some kind of amends
for the lives she’s ruined. Lonnie’s. Muntzy’s.
Paul’s. Wilton’s. Stevie’s.
Mine. I wanted to see her pay for
what she did. I wanted to see the life
slip away from her. I wanted to see her
suffer, to hurt. I was the only one left
who could do it. I’m sitting in KITT and
the same thought is running through my mind: If I am going to die, it will not
be before her. I didn’t shoot her in her
office. The only chance I had left was
at the airport. But… KITT stopped the
car.”
“It is not as if he wanted to, Michael. He had to.”
“And I had to take an oath of justice when I
joined the FBI. I had to swear an oath
to my country when I enlisted. I wanted
to try and run for Congress and if I won, I was ready to take an oath to my
country. I may not be the same man who
took those oaths. But it doesn’t mean I
wont follow them.”
Devon looked at Michael in surprise.
“I joined the Army and the FBI to be a part of a
team that would either solve conflicts or bring criminals to justice. Still, there was a part of me that wanted to
do these kind of things on my own terms, on my own rules. The Old Man handed me a new life on a silver
platter and—”
“And you almost declined,” Devon said.
“Mmm-hmm.
How silly of me, old bean,” Michael said, once again mocking Devon’s
accent.
“We have a
lot of things to talk about,” Devon said as a flatbed truck with the Knight
Industries logo drove by them. “But
first things first, we must get KITT back for some maintenance and repairs.”
“Repairs?” Michael asked as they followed the
truck to where KITT was parked. “I
thought this car had that M&M shell or something.”
“The Molecular Bonded Shell underwent numerous
tests in laboratories and in controlled experiments. Your mission was the first to put it to the
test in the field.”
“And it failed?”
“Absolutely not.
The purpose of the MBS was to protect you and the Knight 2000. It passed.
Unfortunately some stress was endured to the shell. I told Wilton as he was considering you for
this position only you would be able to dent this car.”
Minutes later, the flatbed truck carrying KITT
pulled onto the tarmac at the Goodyear airport.
It drove to a hangar where a collection of Knight Industries vehicles
were waiting.
Three semi-trucks, four vans, and the Knight Industries jet were set up in the
hangar and a group of Knight
Industries technicians were awaiting their arrival.
“Looks like you’re getting ready to invade a
small country, Devon,” Michael said, hopping out of the cab.
“When KITT indicated the MBS suffered amounts of
stress, our chief technician and mechanic assigned to the Knight 2000 mobilized
a team to drive all night and rendezvous with you here in Arizona. Of course, I wasn’t expecting this
much,” Devon explained.
“I’ll say,” Michael said, getting out of the way
of some technicians. “The day I shipped
out for Iraq had less activity on the post than this. What’s this guy’s name?”
“Who?”
“KITT’s mechanic? Is he AAA certified?”
“It’s a she actually,” Devon said. Michael looked shocked. “Bonnie—”
“Bonnie?” Michael said, interrupting. “Let me guess. Portmore?”
“Barstow, actually,” a
voice said, behind him.
Michael turned around and faced a brunette wearing
white cover-alls. She didn’t stand there
long and walked over to the XLR as it was lowered onto the ground. She examined the hood and the roof and ran
her hands along the surface. “There’s
some minor abrasions and buckling,” she said leaning closer and putting on a
pair of nerdish glasses. “Only thing
that could have done this is extreme heat,” she looked up at Michael.
It took him a lot to stop from laughing as she
stared at him through thick-lens and black-framed glasses. He imagined a white piece of tape holding
them together in the middle.
“How many fires did you drive through in one
night?” she said, stroking the spots as if she was petting the car.
“I didn’t really drive through fires,” Michael
said, smiling. “Just drove through objects
that exploded on impact. A jeep… a
crashed helicopter… oh and I tore the nose gear off of a jet.”
Bonnie stood there, flabbergasted. Her jaw dropped and she was lost for words.
Devon obviously found some humor in the
situation and turned his head to smile lightly, “Well Dr. Barstow, it looks as
if you have things handled here. Mr.
Knight and I will be making our way back to San Francisco. He turned and walked towards the jet, and
signaled Michael to follow.
“That’s great, Devon. Leave me here to deal with it while you take
that maniac behind the wheel back home and send him on another mission where I
am sure he can find ways to damage KITT,” Bonnie yelled after Devon. She climbed into KITT and watched Michael
board the jet. “Kind of a cute maniac.”
“Really, Bonnie…” KITT chided.
Michael settled into his seat on the plane and
looked out the window as it taxied out of the hangar.
Devon sat next to him and handed him a drink.
“Thanks,” Michael said, taking a sip of the
expensive brandy.
“Wilton Knight was not just a colleague and my
employer, Michael. He was a close friend
and a confidant. I’d be lying to you
right now if I told you I supported every move he made,” Devon said.
“That part’s obvious.”
“But it is still my duty to ensure his legacy
and dream become reality. The mission of
the Foundation for Law and Government has always been to protect those who have
no means to protect themselves. But it
goes further than that. The cases Wilton
has designated us to take on are those of the nature where our clients have
exhausted all legal means possible.”
“That’s where I come in?”
Devon nodded, “These are the people who are up
against the kind of criminals and organizations with no regard for law and the
knowledge to stay just outside of the law’s arm. Wilton intended you to be the Foundation’s
operative and lead investigator.”
“Okay.
How does KITT fit into all of this?”
“Wilton speculated there would be cases where a
more direct form of action and involvement would be necessary. The Knight 2000 is part of the pilot program
he developed, pairing one car with one man.”
“And that man is me, isn’t it?” Michael asked.
This was his chance. This was his opportunity. Michael knew he was a fool for not wanting to
take on the responsibility at first.
“Against all my better judgment, yes,” Devon
replied.
“Then you’re stuck with me,” Michael said,
smiling. “We both know what The Old Man
wanted from me. What he wanted from
you—”
“And who are we to deny a dying man his final
wish?”
“Exactly.”
The jet began to rocket down the runway and was
soon airborne.
Michael peered out the window as the cityscape
below grew smaller.
“I have some news for you in regards to this
Cameron individual. Our legal teams are
currently researching leads and our criminologists are conducting an
investigation as well,” Devon said.
“I want him next, Devon. If he is anything like Tanya, countless lives
are going to be destroyed. Many more
companies are going to be ripped off. I
can’t… I won’t let that happen.”
“I promise you will know everything and kept in
the loop. And you’ll have the
Foundation’s full support.”
Michael still stared out the window. “This is my dream come true,
“It is a tremendous sacrifice, Michael. I’ve only known three people who were
capable of handling such a thing,”
“And who’s that?” Michael asked.
“Wilton Knight, myself, and you…”
Michael leaned back in his chair, “So what’s
your story,
Michael smiled back, “I know we’re not going to
see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, but I know we have the same goal,”
“And what goal is that?”
“The righting of wrongs… protecting those who
cannot protect themselves... Living one man’s dream.”
The glasses clinked as they toasted the
beginning of a new partnership.
The beginning of a new life.
And the end of another.
t h
e e n d
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