The room was dark and silent, the only light coming from the screen of the computer which was flickering in a greenish blue light. A single person was in the room, facing the computer, hands hovering over the keyboard. It was a man of indetermined age, hair graying slightly at the temples, the face broad and bony, the artificial light reflecting off the angles and the dark eyes.
COMMAND: _
The single word glowed against a black screen background, the cursor blinking patiently. The man lowered his fingers onto the keys and types 'Execute Database', each key stroke deliberate and almost planned in its execution. His eyes never left the screen.
A soft whine could be heard, coming from the outside, and the room seemed to rock ever-so slightly. The whine was that of a turbo engine and the sleek Gulfstream IV business jet the room was located in began to taxi toward its assigned take-off position. The man on the chair ignored it. He was in the database he wanted to be in and he was slowly maneuvering toward the intended file.
'Vital Statistics', he typed. 'Date of Birth', 'Social Security Number', 'Country of Origin', 'Blood Type'.
SUBJECT NAME: _ the computer demanded.
The turbines changed in frequency and were running faster now as the plane prepared to gather the necessary energy to propel it over the asphalt and into the air. Lift-off was smooth and uneventful as the man waited for the answers.
DATA RETURN ON SUBJECT: _
DISPLAY? Y/N
He smiled and hit 'Y'.
SUBJECT NAME: UNKNOWN
CURRENT NAME: Nicholas MacKenzie
GOVERNMENT I.D.: UNKNOWN
CURRENT MILITARY: NONE
SOCIAL SECURITY #: NONE
FIRE ARMS REGISTRATION: NONE
I.R.S. CURRENT: NOT AVAILABLE
The man watched the words 'unknown', 'none' or 'not available' fill the screen as nothing what he had requested was delivered to him. Still, there was no disappointment or anger in his eyes. He nodded to himself, then reached for the flight phone, nodding as the pilot relayed information to him. He hung up, leaning back, a small smile on his features.
* * *
The bar was just like any other bar; ordinary and nothing of the likes movies loved to show as the setting of a crime. There were no sleazy customers, no twilight corners, no rowdy drunks who tried to get another beer from the barkeeper. It had quite a nice atmosphere, everything was decorated in wood, the walls were covered by pictures of the owner's photographic excursions to one place or another. Here and there some beer or liquor commercial plaques hung between the pictures. Country music played from hidden loudspeakers and the soft murmur of the early afternoon guests was a constant background noise. Some of the tables were occupied and some guests had chosen a place at the counter, swapping stories with a friend, reading a paper or just watching the football game on the TV mounted into one corner.
Nicholas MacKenzie sat on one of the bar stools, surveying the clientele of the bar, a half empty glass of coke in front of him. From his position he had a good look at the entrance, as well as to the doors leading to the restrooms or the emergency exit. He had been watching the bar's occupants ever since he had arrived about fifteen minutes ago and he had categorized them all already, judging danger, possible hidden weapons and targets. It was something he did automatically and nothing he could suppress. Karr sat outside in the parking lot, silent and waiting. His partner had yet to start voicing his doubt about their latest case or remind him that they had better things to do that earned more money.
Nick smiled and sipped at the cold soda. Of course he could make money more easily with another case, but this wasn't about money. It was about vacation and taking it easy. Some people would point out to him that taking on a case was not exactly the definition of a vacation, but to MacKenzie it was. Depending on the possible danger and the severity of a case, the vacation factor was either high or low. After the mess with Jennifer Knight and Kitt, after having his whole life turned upside down, and after his neuro implant had been stressed beyond the limits, Nick knew he was entitled to an easy case, something to relax him. Sarah Patterson represented this easy case.
Michael had voiced his doubts, almost like Karr had, though for different reasons, but Nick had simply let the objections glance off him. He wanted to be away from the Foundation, from Devon Miles, from everything connected to FLAG, and even from Kitt.
Karr sent a soft rumble and he immediately responded with a gentle sigh. It was automatic, a reminder from the ordeal they both had gone through in the past weeks. Karr was desperately trying to get back to what he defined as normal, but he couldn't deny the leftovers of Kitt's touch of his mind. He had changed ever-so slightly, but it was a profound change when it came to his behavior. Karr proclaimed that he hated it, that he would change back to what he was soon, but Nick knew it would never happen. Kitt and Karr had discovered a link, a connection they had always had and Kitt had come to be aware of after the disastrous events, and now Karr had finally acknowledged it. In a way it was beautiful; in a totally different way it was frightening.
The door to the bar opened and a young woman stepped inside. Nick's trained mind registered her immediately. She was in her early twenties, looking a bit shy, her light brown hair falling openly over her shoulders and back. She was wearing a white sweater and jeans, a bag slung over one shoulder. She uncertainly looked around the bar, searching for someone. Nick kept on watching her as she took several steps toward the bar, then slid hesitantly onto a stool. The barkeeper approached her and she ordered something to drink, which turned out to be a soft drink. Nick remained where he was, just watching and waiting. It was not yet time for their 'appointment' and he wanted to make sure she was alone.
Anything?> he asked his partner.
She came in alone. No car> was the cool reply. I detect no suspicious presence anywhere>
All right> Nick slid off the chair and walked over to the young woman, his glass in one hand.
"Sarah Patterson?"
The woman looked up, hesitation in her whole manner. "Yes?"
"I think you called."
She nodded, looking him up and down. "Mr. MacKenzie?"
Nick sat down, placing the coke next to him. "You told a friend of mine you needed help."
Sarah nodded empathetically. She started to explain, words spilling over her lips, trying to tell him all within as little time as possible. Nick listened, frowning now and then.
"You have to believe me!" she finished. "Something is going on."
"What makes you believe it is not a rumor?"
"I know what's going on. I've been working for Marker for more than three years."
"As an assistant," Nick said calmly.
Sarah sighed. "Yes, but I know the system. Something is terribly wrong! You have to help me. I have the money!"
"I know you do. Why don't you just go to the head of your division?"
Her eyes widened slightly. "Because I don't know how far this thing goes! If he is involved, I'll be dead within an hour! Please, Mr. MacKenzie....."
The barkeeper approached, nodding at them and the empty drinks. "That'll be five," he said.
Nick started to reach for his wallet, but Sarah stopped him, pulling her bag on her lap.
"Wait, I'll get it."
She reached into her bag –
-- and pulled out a gun, pointing it at him.
Nick didn't hesitate for a second and jumped aside as the first shot shattered a bottle and the slug buried itself into the upholstery of a chair. He dove onto the floor, somersaulting forward as more shots were fired, all in his direction, shattering more glass which rained down on him. His mind was running on pure reaction to a lethal threat and he didn't stop to think about anything else. He came out of the somersault and jumped for the emergency exit, pushing it open in one fluid motion just as the pinball machine next to him wheezed and went up in sparks as a bullet ended its electronic life.
Nick darted out of the bar's rear exit, aware that he was hotly pursued by the young woman, who was firing endlessly at him. A garbage can 'pinged' loudly as she hit it with another bullet and he ducked behind it. The window of a near-by parked car shattered, two more bullets ending up in its metal skin. Suddenly there was the hollow clicking of an empty clip and Nick dared to raise his head.
Sarah Patterson stood in a shooting stance, legs apart, holding the weapon with both hands, pulling the trigger over and over again. No more bullets came his way. Nick rose further and approached the young woman. She met his eyes, suddenly swept by panic, and the gun clattered to the asphalt. She looked over her shoulder, then at the approaching man, and started running toward the near-by main street. Nick sprinted after her, gaining on the young woman. She looked over her shoulder, eyes wide, face distorted in what his mind registered as a mixture of fear and confusion.
Karr!>
There was an angry hiss as his partner tried to circumnavigate the traffic without running anyone over. Not that he would actually mind, but it would get them into more trouble than it was worth.
Sarah reached the street and stopped, looking at the traffic. Nicholas reached the exit of the alley and his eyes darted to the left, widening. A city bus was coming their way.
Time seemed to stop.
Sarah stepped out onto the street, her whole demeanor calm.
The bus driver hit the horn, the noise deafening.
Sarah looked at Nick, confusion and an eerie calm on her features, as if she was battling with herself.
"No!" Nick heard himself scream.
Karr rounded the corner behind him, coming to a screeching halt.
And the horn of the bus drowned every other noise.
* * *
Nicholas leaned against the black Stealth, eyes closed. His face was a mask of barely hidden inner turmoil and he valiantly fought against letting it slip. His mind's eye replayed what had happened over and over again and the face of Sarah Patterson was burned into his memory. Karr was silent, a shielded presence in the back of his mind, the neuro implant a direct connection neither wanted to use right now. Not far from where they were parked, the police were trying to get themselves a detailed description of the events. Photographers were taking pictures, the coroners wheeling off the body of Sarah Patterson, and a shaken bus driver was treated by the paramedics.
What had happened?
Why?
Nick had no answers for it, though he had been there. He had been shot at by a young woman who had then committed suicide.
Why?!
He didn't know Sarah, had never heard of her, and when he had run a background check he had come up with a perfectly normal background. She had been an ordinary young woman with a problem, and he had wanted to help.
Why had she shot at him?
Someone's approaching>
Nick opened his eyes and turned to look at a plain clothes police officer. He was looking weary and tired, probably from not enough sleep and too much coffee. Now he had to deal with a suicide case and attempted murder.
His name was Lieutenant Paul Jackson and he was someone Nick knew from years earlier.
"I wouldn't have thought to see you again," Jackson greeted him, raising one eyebrow.
Nick gave him a humorless smile. "Wasn't my choice."
"What happened?"
"I already made my statement."
Jackson sighed softly, shaking his head. "And you have nothing to add?"
"No."
Another sigh. "You haven't changed."
"I take that as a compliment." Nick rubbed his forehead. "Listen, can I go now?"
Jackson frowned, then shrugged. "I think you know the routine: don't leave the area because of further questioning and leave a phone number and address where we can reach you."
Nicholas nodded and pulled out a card, handing it to the officer. Paul gave it a cursory glance, then stopped and read over it again.
"Foundation for Law and Government? Nick, you just keep surprising me."
"Thank you."
"Still driving the same car, I see."
"Family heirloom," MacKenzie cut off any friendly conversation Paul Jackson might have in mind.
And Jackson got the hint. He nodded, pocketing the card, walking off toward where the crime scene team was collecting more evidence. Nicholas slid into the driver's seat and started the engine, easing Karr away from it all.
"What now?" the AI asked after they had cleared the immediate zone.
"Now we find out what happened."
* * *
Michael Knight couldn't say he was enjoying himself. The last few weeks had been constant stress and try as he might, he couldn't relax just yet. Kitt was trying to help in his own way, but as much as the AI wanted to forget the pain as well, he was reminded of his ordeal wherever he went. They were currently not on FLAG premises and it was a first step, but still..... Michael felt like he was under observation. Ownership of the Knight 2000 had been transferred to him and he should be happy, but it also was a dark cloud hovering over them. Jennifer Knight was in the hospital, Devon Miles was a shadow of his former self, trying hard to let normal life come back, and Bonnie Barstow was battling her hatred of everyone involved with the experiments. They had spent a week in Vancouver to relax and it had given them both a bit of breathing room, but Kitt was always there to remind him of the pain.
//Michael?//
The soft voice intruded into his ever-darkening thoughts. Michael winced and shoved them out of his mind.
//Yes, pal?//
Their ability to communicate by mind link was getting better the more they did it, but it was still tiring.
//Please don't//
He sighed, understanding what was meant. //Sorry//
//You are entitled to feel this way. I feel this way. But we have to deal with it. Both of us//
Michael smiled gently and looked toward where Kitt was parked not too far away. He was currently sitting at Malibu Beach, enjoying the sun and warmth, enjoying the life around him.
//I know. Thanks//
Kitt smiled, then he suddenly frowned.
//What's wrong?//
//I'm not sure....//
//Karr?//
As much as it still confused him, as much as he was still slightly suspicious of the darker AI's bond to his partner, Michael knew that those two shared a very tight link. Whatever seeped through had to be something Karr either couldn't control or something he wanted Kitt to know -- which was rare enough. Michael had had to force himself not to let his negative emotions concerning Karr flood through sometimes. He had done so much for Michael and Kitt, had risked his own sanity and had insured Kitt's..... but the old memories of his furious attacks and murderous attempts on their lives were still there in his memories. As they were in Kitt's, but his partner had forgiven.
//I think..... Something happened, Michael//
Michael sat up, more alert. //Bad?//
Kitt was slightly puzzled. //I don't know//
Michael looked in the general direction Kitt was parked, then rose and slowly walked to the parking lot. He threw the soft drink he had been nursing into a garbage can, then proceeded, evading roller-bladers and smiling half-heartedly at some bikini girls.
//He is blocking me// Kitt added.
Which was nothing new. Karr had been furiously blocking the lighter AI ever since they had solved the Jennifer Knight problem; ever since Kitt had connected to him. Nick had only shrugged, but the expression in his eyes had said it all: Karr was trying to make it all undone, to force Kitt into keeping away. But the more he fought, the more Kitt responded and the deeper their relationship grew.
"Where are they?" Michael asked out loud as he got into the car.
"San Diego. Nick took on another case."
Michael smiled and nodded slightly. Yes, Nick's way of having a good time. Just like Michael himself, Nick had needed time away and being alone in the warehouse had apparently not appealed to him.
"Do you want me to call him?" Kitt asked.
Michael shook his head. "No, not yet...."
Suddenly Kitt's presence stiffened and he seemed to tilt his head. "Someone attacked Nick," he said, voice slightly distant.
"What?!"
The AI dug gently deeper, trying to get more out of Karr. "I can't get a clear explanation or picture, but it is disturbing them both."
"It's disturbing me!" Michael muttered and ignited the engine. "We're heading for a trip to San Diego."
"Michael, I don't think Nicholas would appreciate your 'help'."
"You know, I really don't care."
Kitt smiled, the smile transmitting through the link. "He might not even let you help."
"I don't care about that either. Nick is a very stubborn individual who might have more experience in certain matters of killing, assassination and espionage than I do, but he is also my friend. And I will help if I can." Michael frowned darkly. "He helped us, Kitt, and I will never be able to repay him for what he did. He doesn't like it, but he has a friend here who cares."
"I know," Kitt said softly.
Michael inhaled deeply, knowing that if he confronted Nick he needed quite some argument as to why he offered his help. Nick was a loner and liked to keep his distance, but throughout the last year or so he had come closer than he had wanted to. He had become more human in a way.
Michael eased the black TransAm onto the highway and Kitt showed him a plotted route to San Diego, as well as the estimated time of travel.
"Do you want me to send Bonnie a message?"
He wrinkled his forehead in thought. "Yes, but just that we are going to San Diego. Until we know what is going on I don't want to alarm more people than necessary. And we are, technically, still on vacation."
Kitt sent a smile and Michael mirrored it, then concentrated on driving. In his mind he was contemplating what had happened and how Nicholas was involved. Who had attacked him? Why? What was going on?
* * *
"I'm surprised," Paul Jackson stated, voice level, face not betraying a single emotion. He only raised one eyebrow. "I thought you'd be knee-deep in computer files by now, not doing leg work."
"Paul, stuff it," Nicholas advised.
He was sitting in one of the two battered looking chairs in front of the lieutenant's desk, eyes roaming over the pictures on the walls, the honor medals, the books and some private stuff the police officer had carried into his office with him.
"So, what gives me the honor?"
Paul Jackson and Nick had known each other for almost fifteen years now. They had run into each other when Jackson had still been a rookie and somehow Nick had managed to involve him and his career in some of his dealings over the time. Jackson couldn't say it had been totally bad for his career, but sometimes he wished he wouldn't know so much -- even though it was comparatively little -- about Nicholas MacKenzie.
"What do you have?" Nick wanted to know.
"Computer broke?" he teased.
Nick scowled. Of course he got a lot from the net, but hacking into police files when there was a perfectly good informant on the inside was not his style.
"All right," Jackson muttered, settling back. "First of all, the girl's name was not Sarah Patterson. She was Linda Catherine Carpenter, 22-year-old student at the local university in her third year. She took art, psychology and social studies. Comes from a well-settled family with some money, good grades, no prior involvement or affiliation with crime; not even a parking ticket. Her background reads like a normal family. Two brothers, both younger, pet cat – all perfectly normal. "
Nick raised both eyebrows, a sarcastic smile on his lips. "And she pulls a gun and tries to blow my brains out, then jumps in front of a bus." He shook his head. "Something's missing."
"Toxicology reports are negative; no drugs, no alcohol, no nothing. She's clean. Death was caused by body trauma." Jackson smiled wryly. "She impacted with a bus, but you know that already."
"Anything else?"
"Nope. We contacted the family and her parents are coming to San Diego tomorrow to pick up the body."
"What about the gun?"
"No luck there. Linda had no weapons license, she never bought or owned a gun, and we can't trace the one she fired at you. The lab is currently trying to find where this gun came from by examining the slugs. Looks like a dead end though."
"What are you going to do now?" Nick asked levelly.
"Do? Nothing, Nick. She is a suicide case. A young woman who might have had trouble at the university, who couldn't take the stress, got a gun from somewhere, went amok and then committed suicide. Case closed." MacKenzie scowled again and the lieutenant sighed. "Nick, you know the system; I know you do. There are no leads that this was more. She threw herself in front of a goddamn bus, for crying out loud! She tried to kill people in a bar before that!"
"She tried to kill me."
"But I can't very well write that in my report and you know it. And I realize that if I try, the report ends up lost in cyberspace. Nick, give me a break!"
Nicholas nodded slowly.
Paul Jackson regarded him critically. "So what did she want to see you for?"
"That's off topic."
"No, it's not."
"The case is closed, Paul, you said so yourself."
He rolled his eyes. "I hate it when you do that, Nick."
"I try to please." A dry smile flew over his lips.
"Okay, I get it. No more questions. Officially the case is closed; suicide. I don't care what you do in your own time, just as long as you don't run into local law enforcement -- which is me."
"You won't hear a peep."
"Which is even worse than seeing you every day," Jackson muttered.
Nick rose, smiling. "Thank you for your time."
"What if I want to relay information to you?" Paul asked, rising as well.
"The old email is still active. Modem me."
With that Nick left, weaving his way through the clutter of desks in the squad room, eyes roaming over every table automatically, just in case he might see something he could need later. Then he was outside, walking around the block to where Karr was waiting. He wordlessly got inside, switched into gear and let the Stealth roll slowly into traffic.
* * *
Michael arrived in San Diego early in the afternoon. The sun was out, but it was still not warm enough to run around in shorts and a T-shirt. He drove aimlessly through the streets, trying to avoid the more livelier rush-hour packed areas.
"Anything?" he asked after a while.
Kitt, who had been totally quiet ever since they had entered the San Diego area, was looking for Karr. He was trying to find a way around his brother's shields and pinpoint his location.
"Nothing so far," he answered after two seconds had ticked by. "Karr is here, but he refuses to give up where exactly 'here' is."
"Keep trying."
Two hours later they were none the wiser and Michael decided to find himself a motel first. While he dumped some stuff in the room the innkeeper had assigned to him, Kitt's presence suddenly changed.
//Found him// he whispered, excitement in his voice.
//Then let's go!//
Michael was out of the room and in the car in a flash.
"You know he won't like us popping up here," Kitt remarked as they closed in on where Karr was.
"So what?" Michael called, grinning.
Kitt only gave a mock-annoyed sigh.
* * *
And Nicholas MacKenzie really wasn't amused. He broadcast this feeling quite openly, his face a frigid mask of displeasure, and his icy blue eyes bore into Michael's with cold anger. Karr was parked behind him, radiating his usual darkness, the absence of a scanner where you might be able to read him, making him even more alien. Michael tried to ignore the hostility. He should be used to it by now. The rare occasions when Nick dropped his defenses partially or, which had happened only once before, completely were rare enough, and even then he wore masks. Kitt was a content, slightly bemused though worried presence in the back of his mind. He was satisfied to have found Karr, he was amused over his brother's attempts to shut him out, and he was worried because of the latest crisis at hand.
"What are you doing here?" Nick asked levelly.
"Extending my vacation," Michael replied amiably. "What a coincidence we ran into each other."
"Coincidence," Nick echoed coolly. "Yes."
"I heard you ran into trouble?"
Nick shot him a vicious look which glanced off Michael. "Nothing serious."
"Aha. Do you want me as to inquire how much truth there is in this statement or will you tell me everything on your own?"
Another dark look. "It's personal."
"Nick....." There was almost a warning in Michael's voice.
"It is personal," Nick repeated.
//He was shot at//
Michael thanked Kitt silently, then fixed a stare at his friend. "Someone shot at you."
Nicholas' face froze and he directed a furious look at the silent Stealth.
//Karr?//
//In a way. He won't say it openly, but he somehow... told me//
Michael was slightly surprised. "Nick, please... what happened? You know I'll find out eventually because you won't get rid of me before this is solved."
MacKenzie snorted, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "It wasn't an attack. Some probably cranked kid shot at me in a bar. She ran in front of a bus when I tried to apprehend her."
This sounded almost too easy. Something didn't add up here. Nick had come to San Diego because of a case -- and someone had tried to take him out?
"Connected to your case?" Michael wanted to know, keeping his voice neutral.
"I don't know."
Yet. It was a silent addition to the statement.
//Kitt? Look for the police report//
"So, are you going to investigate?"
None of your business, Nick's eyes told him quite clearly. He didn't immediately answer, but finally he shrugged.
Michael rolled his eyes. "Someone's trying to kill you and all you do is stand here and wait, right? Tell me another one!"
"Don't go there, Michael." It was another warning.
"Why? Nick, tell me why? You are starting to close up again -- toward your friends! I want to help and you are making it very hard!"
"Good."
"Stubborn mule!" Michael muttered under his breath.
Nick raised one corner of his mouth into a quick, humorless smile. "Stay out of this, Michael. It's my life, my personal problem, so you can go back to enjoying your time off."
"The hell I will. I won't leave San Diego before you tell me what is going on or I find out what this is all about!" Michael whirled around and walked back to Kitt, anger radiating off him. "He'll never learn!" he exploded as he closed the door after him.
"Probably not," Kitt agreed with a faint smile.
"Anything from Karr?"
"No, he is walling himself off again. I think what he leaked was all he wanted us to know. I'm still trying to get the police report, but it will take a while longer."
Michael nodded, guiding the TransAm back onto the street. "We'll get to the bottom of this -- whether Nick wants us to or not!"
* * *
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Nick asked, trying to keep the hot rage out of his question. He kept his question even and didn't raise his voice. He rarely did, but his even voice was more threatening than any yelling.
Karr was silent.
"You told Kitt!" his driver accused.
"It leaked. He was as always too close and picked it up," Karr told him emotionlessly.
Nick snorted in disbelief. "I thought you didn't want him close."
"He is the one approaching me, not the other way around."
Another snort. "That's why he came now. Damn, I don't need this right now!"
Karr was silent once more. Nicholas glared at the dash, finally floored the accelerator and they quickly moved into the flow of cars on the street.
"Try not to leak anymore," he finally growled.
There was no answer, not even through the link. They drove in total silence for a while, Nick going over what he already knew and running through a list of possible contacts. He had to link up and search for who he could ask a few 'favors'. That meant back to his hotel room. Nicholas signaled and turned right, then wove his way through small, busy streets to a hidden hotel in a narrow alley. Since it was far outside the financial districts or downtown area, the hotel saw few tourists. Nick knew the owner well enough to get a room on short notice and to be left alone, with a key to the hotel, at all times. He parked Karr behind the hotel, grabbed the Powerbook and headed for the entrance. He met no one on his way inside and locked the door to his room behind him.
The room was furnished for functionality, not overly plush and rather modern. A desk, two chairs, phone, TV set, even a VCR were available beside the bed and wardrobe. A small bathroom linked to the room, featuring a shower. Setting up a satellite uplink Nick immersed himself in his work.
*
Karr was left to his own devises and he pondered whether what he had done had been the right thing to do or not. He hadn't actually 'told' Kitt; he had leaked it. And he hadn't really done it consciously. Ever since the two AIs had completed their link, Karr felt different. He hadn't changed so much in character but in his thinking; at least slightly. He tried to fight it, tried to fight off Kitt, but his younger brother was with him even if he walled him off. And in a unique way, Karr appreciated the warmth and conditionless love Kitt held for him.
Now Nick was in trouble and as before -- before Jennifer Knight had happened -- he tried to deal with it on his own. Karr thought that maybe this was a bad decision. Michael Knight could help and Nicholas had responded quite well to the option of someone he could finally trust without having to think twice about it. Knight was trustworthy, as was Kitt. But Nick wanted to exclude him, just like Karr tried to exclude Kitt.
The dark AI sighed deeply, aware that Kitt was just beyond the barrier that he had erected around his mind. He didn't push, he didn't wheedle, he was just there. Karr grumbled softly. Kitt's silent persistence was grating on his nerves and he found himself giving in to his own feelings -- which had risen quite often lately -- more and more. Curse the gentle white light that was the other AI!
Scanning Nick, Karr found he was deeply involved in some cyberspace activity or other, searching and prodding, trying to get more information. Karr brought up a barrier and then turned to where he knew Kitt was waiting. He chewed a virtual lower lip, contemplating what to do. He could just sit back and shut down for a while to rest and regain some mental strength; or he could give in to the quiet yearning to communicate with his brother. Ever since they had been so close to each other, Karr felt he had a special bond to Kitt and he enjoyed the young, light presence. It was so totally different from his own appearance that it sometimes gave him a feeling of strength, the strength to go on.
With a deep sigh he approached the barrier, still hesitating. He didn't want to anger Nick and he didn't want to act behind his back, but Nicholas was marked by the stress of the past weeks and he was pouring all his energy into this case, trying to find out what was going on. It seemed to be more than met the eye, but whatever he decided on, he wouldn't leave the case alone. Someone who had asked him for help was dead; suicide -- after she had tried to kill him. Something was going on.
Karr dropped part of the barrier and was greeted by a warm wash of light. He closed his virtual eyes, enjoying it, shivering at the close contact.
_Hello!
There was a friendly, very warm bounce in Kitt's voice and Karr smiled despite himself. Kitt touched him with a tendril of his self, assessing Karr's state-of-mind, and then sent a bit of worry.
_I'm okay, the older AI calmed him, involuntarily shutting negative emotions out. Kitt's emotional state was still not one hundred percent stable. He hated to upset him.
_What happened, Karr?
_I'm not at liberty to reveal this to anyone.
_I understand. I hope you also understand that Michael won't leave before he has his answers. He can be very persistent.
Karr smiled briefly. _We both know. Nick just can't confess that he would appreciate help.
There. It had been said. If Nick got a whiff of it.... Karr sighed deeply. Damn Kitt for the changes he always evoked. He was mellowing again! Bah! He grumbled to himself, clouding himself in darkness.
Kitt sent a chuckle. _I know.
Karr had no idea whether this was a response to what he had said or to what might have accidentally just leaked of his feelings. He only replied in form of a rumble.
_But just in case, Kitt continued, _I'm here.
_Of course, Karr growled darkly.
Kitt didn't reply, just stayed where he was. Karr was most comfortable with that in any way. No pressure, just a friendly presence. For now it was enough.
* * *
The email had come in from his old account and it was no great feat tracing where it had originated from or who had sent it. Lt. Paul Jackson.
"She wasn't the first one," Nick muttered, pacing the room, mind working on overdrive. Karr hovered in the back, silent, listening. "Six suicides in the last three months. All students at the San Diego university."
More pacing.
Paul had told him that it was a campus issue and that a team of psychologists was currently trying to evaluate it all, find out what was going on. Jackson had added that all kids were your average student and only Linda now stood out because she had tried to take out someone like Nicholas MacKenzie.
Six normal kids.
One who had tried to kill him and had failed, ending her life maybe because of it?
Nick stopped in front of the computer screen, still waiting for his program to crack the university's coding and get him where he needed to be: the student files. Paul had promised that he'd try to keep this out of the paper as long as he could. No one had been shot at, nobody had stepped in front of a bus. If reporters inquired too much, then the police would release sparse information and mumble about further investigations. Witnesses were another problem, but they could be kept under strict silence for two days, maybe even three.
Suddenly the laptop chimed softly and he immediately slid into the chair, eyes scanning the cover screen of the site. Nick glanced at the notes he had made from the various newspaper articles. Then he started typing them into the university search engine, asking for a common base.
The computer acknowledged and told him to wait. After a while he got back a list on the students, including Linda Carpenter. All had partaken in several outside courses, none matching. Some had been in sports groups, others in computer courses, and again others had been quite active in the student community. But there was only one matching course.....
Abnormal Psych 2.
* * *
Michael sat in Kitt, sighing as Bonnie posed the all important question: "What now?"
"I'm not sure, Bon. Nick is obviously trying to solve this alone, but whatever 'it' is, I think he needs help. This isn't some easy case. I know he wanted to relax by taking on something light, but someone trying to kill him is far from what I'd call 'light'."
"Do you need the Semi?"
Michael shook his head. "No, not yet. Kitt and I are fine so far. I'll go and have a look at the police reports and so on."
"Flashing some FLAG ID around," she chuckled.
"Helps."
"You know this is not official Foundation business."
"I could make it official in no time," Michael teased.
"Devon will be sooo thrilled."
Michael tried to keep the dark cloud from visibly crossing his features. He still wasn't completely at ease with Devon and he might never be again. Bonnie, if she saw the change, apparently decided to ignore it.
"I'll call when I have something," he promised.
"Okay. Good luck."
The connection was terminated and Michael sat in the silent car, chewing his lower lip. Where to start? He had to have a look at the police files, so setting Kitt to this task might be a first step. Then he needed to find out about the person who had tried to shoot Nick.
"Kitt, get me the investigation file for the shooting and suicide. I also want everything you can find on the shooter."
"I'll get to it, Michael."
"Thanks."
*
Half an hour later Michael had all the details. Linda Carpenter, 22 years old, student, no prior charges. A no name kid. Puzzled, Michael stared at the small screen, trying to make sense of it. A young woman had tried to shoot Nick in a bar, then had committed suicide by stepping in front of a bus. The gun could not be traced and the police had filed it away under 'suicide'. Case closed.
Something was wrong.
Terribly, terribly wrong.
Michael's forehead wrinkled into a deep frown. Nick had obviously met with the young woman because that was what Karr had leaked to Kitt. It should have been an easy case; no industrial espionage, no killings, no computer hacking. Why should she try to kill him? A student?
"Her parents live in San Diego?" he asked out loud.
"No, but I saw a note in the files that they are flying to pick up their daughter's body."
Michael didn't like it, but he had to talk to the parents. "Run me a search for their flight, Kitt. I know it'll be a while, but I need to talk to them."
"You think something was wrong?"
"Obviously. No 22-year-old kid with her background should run amok and then jump in front of a bus!"
"She obviously was in trouble because she contacted Nicholas," Kitt said slowly.
"Yes, but I doubt she came with the intention to kill."
Kitt had to agree.
"Anything from Karr?"
"No. He is shielding pretty well."
Michael sighed. "Okay. Let's grab something to eat. I want to read the police report again, then we question the people who were in the bar at the time."
With that decided, he drove toward the next drive-through.
* * *
"There is no way on this planet that you could be my room mate! No way!"
Andrea Demarco couldn't decide whether she should laugh or cry. This was outrageous! This was probably unprecedented! And it was happening to her. She looked at the other occupant of the room and shook her head again.
"There must be a mistake!" she repeated again.
The man was tall, dark-haired, rather handsome, and he walked with a slight limp. Right now he rested his weight on a walking cane as he shrugged. His blue eyes were hidden behind glasses and they were sparkling slightly.
"No mistake," he said, talking with a small accent. "It says here," he held up a piece of official looking paper, "'room 341, Edwards Hall'. This is 341 in Edwards Hall, right?"
Andrea felt herself nodding, then she shook her head again in anger. "So I can read! I got one like that too, but that doesn't mean you can sleep here! This is my room! Mine and Linda's."
"Ah, but I understand that Linda is currently not here, but I am." He smiled. "I'm jumping in for her absence."
Andrea shook her head again. "No!"
"It says so here on the paper...."
"I don't care what it says! You can't sleep here! Even if Linda is on a several weeks leave!"
He gave her an innocent smile. "But it's my room."
She groaned. "This is a girl's room!"
"Administration told me it's a mixed dormitory."
Andrea couldn't believe the guy! "Mixed dorm, yes. Mixed rooms, no! You are a man, I'm a woman. We don't share rooms!"
He sighed. "Listen, it's late, I'm tired, I got this paper from Administration...."
"Then we go down there and change it!" she interrupted angrily.
"Administration is already closed. They won't open up before 10 tomorrow," he pointed out reasonably, looking around the room. His eyes fell on one of the beds. "This is Linda's? Good."
"Whoa, wait!" Andrea protested as he started to walk over to the bed and dumped his backpack on it. "We can't spend a night in the same room!"
"Why not? We're both grown up."
She inhaled deeply, trying to find a way out of this rather embarrassing situation. "If my friends hear about this...."
"Who would be telling them?"
She glared at him. "What's your name anyway?"
"Ray de la Croix." He held out a hand, smiling openly and Andrea found it to be a rather nice smile. "Pleased to meet you."
She stretched out her hand and shook his numbly. The whole situation had an unreal feel to it. There was a man, who was apparently much older than her, about to spend a night in the same room she was in!
"Listen..... Hey, what are you doing?"
Ray had started pulling a partition across the room. Linda had bought it once and it had served as a kind of mobile wall to pile stuff behind. Now it separated Linda's bed from hers.
"My side of the room," Ray said, smiling, then pointed toward her bed, "your side of the room. Easy. Tomorrow we ask Administration."
Andrea tried to find the right words. "But...." she sputtered. "You can't...."
Ray gave her a mild smile. "I'm totally harmless."
"Says you," she muttered.
"First dibs in the bathroom," he announced and marched over to the small bathroom.
"Ey!" she protested as Ray opened the mirror cabinet, peering inside. "That's Linda's!" she told him forcefully as he took out a bottle of eyedrops and looked at it. "And we got to talk to someone about this in the morning. I mean, we can't just live together for the rest of the semester!"
The semester would end in a few weeks and evenif Linda was on a leave of absence, it was no reason to have a new room mate! And a male one on top of that!
Ray bestowed a smile on her. "Well, I think it's preferable to jumping into marriage. You can cook, I'll take out the garbage and clean, hm?" He put the bottle down, limping out of the bathroom. "And we see how it all works out."
Andrea was frozen in disbelief for a second, then turned slowly, shooting him look. "That is not what I meant!" A smile flickered over her face, but it was already visible in her eyes.
Ray grinned an obnoxious, silly grin. "Oh, watch out, I made you smile. I might get you to do so more often till the end of the semester if you are not careful, and it might just ruin all this terrific fighting."
"This is insane!" she declared. "Don't you find this situation at least a little bit uncomfortable?"
"Well, I always say you need all the experience you can get in life for a well-rounded education."
She stared at him as he disappeared behind the partitioner. "How old are you anyway?" Andrea finally asked.
He gave her another smile. "Not old enough not to learn any new tricks."
* * *
"I didn't really pay a lot of attention to her," the barkeeper said, shrugging. "She was one of many customers. Nothing springs to mind."
"Ordinary girl."
He nodded. "Exactly."
"Except that she suddenly pulled out a gun and tried to shoot a customer," Michael added.
The barkeeper, whose name was John Reese, sighed and shrugged again. "You can see the damage she did. The police was here the whole day and took prints and stuff."
"How much of what happened did you see?"
"Hell, I was standing right next to her when it happened!" Reese said, slightly agitated. "She could have shot me!" Then he frowned. "Aren't you with the police?"
"No, I'm with the Foundation for Law and Government. We have an interest in the case and I'm reassessing all statements," Michael answered smoothly. It seemed to be enough of an explanation for Reese.
"Well, okay... I told the guy who was with her how much the two drinks were and she said she'd get it. I know she looked nice enough and she smiled, reaching for her handbag. Then she pulled out a gun and started shooting. It was kinda weird...."
"In what way?"
John gave him a wry look. "Hey, I don't get shot at every day!"
"Aside from that?" Michael probed.
"Well," the barkeeper said hesitantly. "She smiled. She looked like she was in a totally different world. Not a mad or crazed grin, just a pleasant smile. It was eerie. And she kept firing and firing."
"At who?"
"Uhm, mostly at the guy she had talked to."
"Had they come in together?"
"Nope. I know he had joined her a few minutes earlier because he vacated a stool at the end of the bar and I know he was still on his first drink."
Michael smiled. For someone who claimed that he had not paid a lot attention, John Reese knew some details.
"Has the woman ever been here before?" he now wanted to know.
"Nope. That was the first time I ever saw her."
"Thanks for your time, John." Michael rose and left payment for the drink on the counter, then left.
"Anything new, Kitt?" he asked as he got back into the car.
Kitt knew what or to whom he was referring immediately. "No. I received faint echoes from Karr about an hour ago, but he won't talk to me."
Michael sighed. Nothing new there. "All right, let's see if we can interview someone who knew Linda Carpenter. Do you have her college address?"
"Yes. She roomed with a young woman called Andrea Demarco." Kitt displayed the campus address. "I also have a list of her teachers from the university files."
"Then let's see what they might be able to tell us."
* * *
"We have a new player."
There was no one in the room to hear the statement, nor was there an open communications line to another person. The room was empty except for the highly sophisticated computer equipment and the one who had spoken.
"Interesting," he stated.
Slender fingers entered a command into the computer.
'MICHAEL KNIGHT', the computer answered. 'FOUNDATION FOR LAW AND GOVERNMENT'.
"Ah." A smile flitted over his features. "Crawling back to Wilton now, are we?"
* * *
Abnormal Psych 2.
Nick sat in a row of the class room, listening to the teacher go on about sociopaths, showing slides of brain scans and suchlike. It was rather interesting, he thought, filing some of it away for later. Professor Oliver Bolt was a man who was passionately involved in his subject, he noted, and had a vast knowledge of his topics. As the bell rang and the students began to rise, he raised his voice.
"Only four more weeks till mid-term and those of you who haven't done so, please complete your lab hours. Ten are required to pass the course!"
Someone crouched down beside him as his row emptied. Nick smiled his 'Ray smile' at Andrea Demarco.
"Hey," she greeted him with a genuine smile.
"Hey back."
"How are you?"
"Fine. So... what happened to you this morning? When I woke up you were already gone," the young woman remarked. She leaned forward, a teasing smile on her lips. "You don't jog or do any healthy things in the morning, do you?"
Nick raised both brows and glanced meaningfully at his 'stiff' leg, which he had stretched out a little.
Andrea grimaced, aware she had just put her foot in. "Sorry." She shook her head in embarrassment.
"It's okay," he assured her, rising and slowly starting up the steps to the exit.
Andrea fell in step beside him. "So, you are majoring in Psych?"
"That or Computer Engineering. Haven't decided yet."
She pulled a face. "Computers? What a bore!"
"Say, what's it with the lab hours?" he asked curiously.
"Something Bolt came up with. You have to spend ten hours in the lab to pass the course. You know, lab rats, labyrinths, brain scans, the like."
"Huh, charming."
"Wait till you catch the Bolt Groupies," Andrea said, sounding dismissive. "Then we'll talk about charmed."
Nick gave her a curious look. "Bolt Groupies?"
"Yeah, Linda used to hang out with that crowd."
Nick wrinkled his forehead in thought as if he didn't know who Linda was at first. "Oh!" he then exclaimed.
"Ri-ight. Linda, my deposed room mate," Andrea lauded. "You remember. Anyways, those guys are really, really weird. Hang around Bolt like a bunch of rock band groupies, waiting for him to hand out assignments and then racing and falling head over heels to keep him happy."
"So, how do I get my lab hours?"
She stared at him. "You serious? This late in the semester?"
Nick gave her a brilliant smile. "It's never too late. And someone with your mind and personality surely can pull some strings to get me in.....?"
She shot him an annoyed but flattered look. "Only if you pull lunch," Andrea told him.
Nick grinned and they walked down the corridor to the building's exit.
* * *
Michael had spent most of the early morning and afternoon interviewing teachers and students and he had discovered a frightening fact: Linda Carpenter had not been the first student to suicide. Six suicides in three months! Seven if you counted Linda. That was way above normal! And looking at the fact that all had been students of the San Diego university and none had shown any prior tendency to taking his life or had even remotely been judged as a problem student, this was even more strange. Some of those kids had even been brilliant, with high grades and a talent for their chosen major. No one could explain why they had killed themselves, though many agreed that they had acted very strangely before the actual act.
Walking back to Kitt, Michael tried to make sense of it all. What had happened to those kids? Why had they done it? All had killed themselves in different ways: overdose of tranquilizers, jumping off buildings or bridges, hanging, cutting their wrists and bleeding to death.... and Linda had tried to take Nick with her. Why him? And why ask him for help before attempting to shoot him? The barkeeper had explained that she had acted normally and that the way she had fired at one of his customers had been eerie.... as if it hadn't been her shooting?
"You think someone set Linda Carpenter on Nick?" Kitt asked.
Michael nodded. "Someone used her. But if she was forced or used, why did she appear so normal? Reese said she didn't seem to be under stress when she entered."
"Maybe he didn't look closely enough," Kitt said thoughtfully.
"Well, yes, maybe, but Nick would have noticed it as well. He wouldn't have talked to her at length and let her reach into her handbag if she were suspicious."
"True."
Michael chewed on his lower lip. "Okay, next on the agenda is talking to Linda's room mate Andrea. Maybe she can help shed some light. But before I scare her with my growling stomach .... food!"
Kitt sent a grin and then supplied him with a list of restaurants and diners close by. In the end Michael ended up in a MacDonald's drive-thru.
* * *
"Isn't it awfully late to start with a new course this late in the semester?"
The casually posed question let Ray smile disarmingly and Nick suddenly turn cautious. He was lying on a reclining chair, electrodes taped to his head. The room he was in was rather large and dominated by three giant video screen in front of him. Beside the chair was a control station to which the wires from the electrodes ran. Professor Bolt was at his side, controlling the settings. A small printer displayed what twitching needles read in Nick's mind. Erratic lines formed on the endless paper.
"I'm a quick study," Nick said, glancing at the read-outs.
Bolt smiled slightly. "What made you choose this career, Mr. De la Croix?"
"Well, I figured it's never too late to do what you always dreamed off and never could afford or had time for." He gestured at his leg. "After the accident my girl left me, my business had to be closed and sold, and I was left with too much time on my hand and the money to attempt a new career move." He grinned. "One that doesn't require too much walking."
Bolt smiled again, but it wasn't a real smile. He held out a small device to Nick. "Will you hold this in your left hand for me? It's the 'abort' switch, so to say. Whenever you feel the stress is too much, just push the button."
Nick took it, innocently looking it over. It was nothing but a tube with a button.
"Normally you are required to spend ten hours in the lab to pass the course," the professor went on. "I'm going to cut this in half for you. What we are doing now is a simple eye-brain-stress test." He gestured at the equipment. "All you do is watch the show and we watch you."
"Okay."
"Please take those glasses off, will you?"
Nick complied, watching the other man take a small bottle looking not unlike – no, just like! -- the one in Linda's mirror cabinet. He dripped a few drops into each eye, then stood back.
"These drops will dilate your pupils. Now just relax."
He walked out of the room and Nick slid the glasses back on, looking at the screen as the room went dark. The screens lit up with various images. Stripes, bright colors, animals attacking other animals, landscapes, explosions..... It all poured into his mind and his mind fought them back, something it did automatically by now. He had been taught to; he had been told to. Somewhere inside another presence stirred and he felt Karr's worry, but he reassured him that everything was fine. The images came faster and more violently, assaulting his mind and he felt himself grow cold. It wasn't a physical cold, more like a numbing of the mind, as if his whole persona was freezing shut. Nicholas MacKenzie was going into the defensive, battling the images, slipping into total defense mode.
He forgot that he was linked to another sensory channel.
He forgot that he channeled part of what he received that way.
And Karr was on the receiving end.....
In the small room next to the lab, Professor Bolt watched the read-outs, noted the stress level. He didn't hear the door opening and was surprised when he heard the voice.
"He doesn't fit the profile."
He turned and looked at a tall man of undefined age in a business suit. The man's eyes were fixed on where a monitor screen showed them the subject: Ray de la Croix.
"Did you give him the drops?"
"Just the first treatment," Bolt answered, slightly confused.
A bemused smile crossed the other's features. "No one ever said fifteen years of medical university and several degrees made anyone smart." Dark eyes rested on the screen, appearing intrigued. "He doesn't fit the profile."
"But...."
Now the dark eyes held his, cold and calculating. "He doesn't fit any profile. You are looking at the one man who might be capable of unraveling everything you put together."
Bolt felt shock course through him. "What?"
"He was supposed to die yesterday morning."
"You know him?" he asked.
The man smiled coldly. "I've known him for many years, professor. I created him."
* * *
Kitt winced, not sure what had just occurred. He had felt a spike of something brush over his mind's shields, something so strong and brief that he had had no chance to even grasp the essentials of it. Except for its origin.
_Karr?
He approached the shielded CPU of his brother through the link and came up against a barrier. He brushed over it, noting the shivers racing through the obstacle between him and a closer contact to Karr.
_What is wrong?
_Nothing, Karr whispered hoarsely.
He sounded shaken, disturbed... stressed.
_Is Nick okay?
_Yes.
Kitt wasn't sure it was the total truth, but it also wasn't a total lie. Nick was obviously not hurt, he was under mental stress, he deduced, and Karr was suffering with him.
_Let me help.
_No, Karr croaked. _Don't.
Kitt remained outside the barrier, touching it gently, trying to let the darker AI know he was there and someone who would support him if necessary. But Karr remained shielded. Deeply worried, Kitt contacted his driver.
*
Michael shook his head, chewing on the last few fries. "I can't go blazing in wherever he is and demand an explanation," he finally said, wiping his hands on a napkin.
"But he is obviously under a lot of stress," Kitt pointed out.
"And has been so before. We only know it now because of Karr's outburst. I don't want to alienate him even more, Kitt. I need to talk to Linda's room mate, then we consider our next step, okay? Just keep an eye on Karr."
Kitt sighed and Michael knew his partner didn't like it. Something was wrong. Of course something was wrong! Someone had tried to kill Nick without so much as concealing it and now MacKenzie was trying to figure out what was going on. Whoever was behind this, he had a lot of guts to use a young, innocent woman – because Michael believed that Linda had been nothing but a tool. She wasn't the killer, only the executioner. Someone else was pulling the strings. Who? He had yet to find out and Andrea Demarco was his next stop.
* * *
Nick sat inside the Stealth, eyes closed, trying to keep his mind from reacting to the subconscious emotional stress he had been put through. He knew what the test had been all about and he knew it was slightly more than normal. Okay, so this was Abnormal Psych 2, but it didn't mean trying to flash weird pictures at kids and treating them with eye drops. It normally meant rats, mice and mazes. He felt Karr shyly probe him, nothing more but a surface probe, but it told him that his partner was worried. Openly worried. It happened rarely enough and had only been so plainly open because Karr had started to learn from Kitt – subconsciously.
"I'm okay," he muttered.
"Your stress level is up, your blood pressure has risen and the adrenaline..."
"Karr?"
"Yes, Nicholas?"
"Shut up." Nicholas glared at the screen displaying his vitals. He knew that the session had stressed him more than he had let on. It shouldn't have happened. "Can you detect any foreign, chemical substances in my blood?"
"Not without a blood sample."
Nick nodded. "Blood sample you want, blood sample you get." He opened a Swiss army knife and punctured the skin of one finger. Then he let the blood drip onto a piece of plastic, placing it into the open analyzer.
Karr set to work.
* * *
"Andrea Demarco?"
Michael smiled at the young, blonde woman, trying to look reassuring, but he knew she was intimidated.
"Yes," she said slowly. "Can I help you?"
"Michael Knight, Foundation for Law and Government," he introduced himself. "You are Linda Carpenter's room mate, right?"
She nodded again, looking at the card he had held up. "Uhm, is she in trouble?"
Michael sighed silently. "In a way. Listen, Ms. Demarco... could we talk inside?"
Andrea hesitated, then nodded and opened the door wide to let him in. Michael took in the typical dorm room with the two beds and crammed looks of two people sharing room space along with books and papers.
"What trouble did Linda get into?"
He inhaled deeply. "I'm sorry, but Linda is dead....."
*
"This was definitely not one of those things I like about my job," Michael muttered as Kitt drove away from campus.
Revealing the death of her room mate to Andrea Demarco had been as straining and emotionally bad as when he had still worked for the police and had had to do the same job. It was never easy, be it relatives or just good friends. Their suffering touched him -- and who wouldn't be touched? -- and Michael always felt low in a way. Even if he had never met the person, he sometimes wondered if he could have done something to prevent this senseless death. The answer was always the same: no.
Andrea had been shocked and it had taken some gentle coaxing to get her to tell him about Linda. There had been few totally new facts. Linda was an average student and liked by everybody for her easy-going nature. She was obsessive when it came to studying sometimes, but otherwise nothing out of the ordinary.
But then there were the pictures.
Michael tapped Kitt's steering wheel, thinking. Linda had been an art student and she had had quite a lot of talent. Andrea had shown him the artwork Linda kept in a large folder or in her walk-in wardrobe. They had been incredible. Landscapes, objects, people, animals.... all done very life-like and with a lot of love. But throughout the year her art had changed from light colors to darker ones, her pictures turning into thunderstorms, storm-ravaged landscapes and torn people in pain. She had drawn screaming faces, demonic backgrounds and generally dark and moody expressions of herself. Michael knew it was an important new clue.
Linda had changed and because of it her art, the expression of herself, had changed.
"It's like someone touched her soul and twisted it," he muttered to himself, eyes staring through the windscreen, unfocused. "She changed."
Andrea had told him that she had started to hang out with the Bolt Groupies more often, a group of students who hung around one of the psych professors. She had distanced herself from other friends, even her room mate, had spent too much time in the lab and generally neglected everything else. Maybe he should talk to Professor Bolt and some of those Groupies. And maybe he should talk to the parents.
* * *
Ray de la Croix listened to Andrea's shaky recap of the visit of 'some guy from something called Foundation for Law and Government' while Nicholas MacKenzie seethed with anger and cursed Michael for snooping around in things that didn't concern him.
"I can't believe she killed herself!"
Andrea's pain-filled voice interrupted his dark thoughts and he switched back to 'Ray'.
"She was the most stable person I knew! I used to be a nervous wreck before exams and Linda coached me through it all! She was a wonderful person and ...." She bit her lower lip.
"And?" Nick prodded.
"Nothing. I mean," she went on as he smiled consolingly at her, "she did start to hang out with the lab weirdoes. I never understood why. Professor Bolt said she had hidden potential in the field of psychology, but I never took her as a Bolt Groupie. Art was her life and she had only taken the course out of interest. She had never planned to major in it! She wasn't even interested in science!"
Nick nodded slowly. "I saw some of her art," he remarked casually. "She was really good."
Andrea sniffled a bit, shrugging. "I always told her how good she was and she worked hard on her techniques and stuff." Gesturing at the open folder of painting and drawings she added, "But then she stopped doing what she did best and changed."
Nick leafed carefully through the artwork. Like Michael before him he noticed how everything got darker and more vicious, very demonic and painful. And the theme was always the same: someone trapped in a surreal world of monsters and shadows, trying to get out. Alone....
He swallowed. Yes, he knew what Linda Carpenter had tried to express and he shivered inside as his mind made the right connections -- and also flashed back several years. What he saw was not unlike what he had felt all that time ago, when he had been younger, when he had started his 'career'. You needed iron control and a mind steeled against everything to survive this -- and Linda had given in. The pain had ripped her wide open. She had surrendered to the monsters and she had been swallowed, trapped in an eternal darkness that had seeped into her soul and stayed.
"This was her last picture," Andrea said, snapping him out of his reverie.
Nick blinked, shuddering. He felt Karr's inquiring probe and simply slammed a shield between them. He regretted the harsh action immediately since it would be painful for Karr, then he squelched this emotion and cursed himself. Contact with Michael and Kitt had really started to change him!
Turning his attention to the picture he studied it, ignoring his own feelings as he was used to. It was a dark and depressing landscape, gnarled trees reaching for a pale sun. Dark clouds hovered in the background with demonic eyes leering out of them -- looking at a thin, fragile looking figure of a woman. The woman was naked; at least he guessed she was since there were no visible clothes. She knelt on the ground, curled in on herself, her face a mask of absolute suffering. The picture was incredible in its detail and the horror the artist had captured in every stroke of her brush.
Linda's last cry for help.
"All her artwork changed throughout the last semester," Andrea said as if to herself. "I mean, this was the third semester we roomed together and we were really good friends. She showed me each and every new piece of art and she was such a ... sunny personality. Suddenly everything was different. She missed art classes, got into science and when she wasn't into her chemistry books she was studying her lab notes. She became so distant I sometimes thought she lived on another planet."
A planet of total horror and fear lurking in every corner, Nick thought. No pain, no pleasure, just machine-like thinking. Linda had tried to stay alive inside this endless dark tunnel. She had failed.
"It's time for class," Andrea said softly, rising. "Thanks for listening, Ray."
He summoned a convincing 'Ray' smile. "No problem."
"Say, did you go to Administration yet?"
Truth to tell: no. But he also had no intention to stay tonight. He smiled again and nodded. "Problem is solved. I'll move my stuff the moment they assign me the new room."
Andrea nodded. "If you need help, I'll be out of class by four....."
"Thanks."
She waved and left. Nick sat back and closed his eyes, battling old demons not unlike the ones depicted in the artwork. He knew the state Linda had been in, the dark tunnel, the endless nightmares. He knew how it had threatened a tiny spark of individuality, his survival. Nicholas MacKenzie had survived; barely. He inhaled deeply, going through the routine of walling his vulnerable inner self off from the pain, then opened his eyes. He felt Karr with him but he ignored him.
Something had happened to Linda Carpenter and it had to do with Professor Bolt; that he was sure of. All he had to do was find a way to get to the scientist.
How much did you tell Kitt?> Nick asked after a while.
Nothing>
Then why does Michael snoop around?> Nick asked acidly.
Karr was silent, but it was a pointed silent. Nick knew why his friend was here: he wanted to help, but Nick didn't need help! This was his case and he could solve it alone!
How about you work on your shields a bit more?> he growled.
Karr hissed in indignation and slammed a shield right into his face. Nick winced and shook his head. Okay, he deserved that. Karr was linked to Kitt and even if he shielded completely, emotional stress might still leak through because the shields grew porous. Kitt in turn would be worried and inquire, which would lead to Michael getting suspicious or, even worse, worried as well.
Damn the link! As if a direct link to a machine, an AI, wasn't bad enough! Now he also had an indirect link to a second AI and the driver connected to the other machine!
Nick caught himself thinking so viciously and swallowed. He inhaled deeply, wishing he knew why he was suddenly slipping back. This was not normal! This was Nick from years before! He regretted his thoughts immediately, especially since Karr hissed again, this time enraged. It was a reaction he had never thought his partner would show, but he and Kitt had grown close, they had a connection, and Karr would defend him.
Sorry> he whispered, aware that his hands were trembling ever-so slightly. You know I....> He swallowed, shaking his head again. Emotional openness was still alien to him. Forget it>
Karr approached him, his darkness almost overpowering. Nick tried not to flinch away as the old memories rose again and confronted him with another darkness, vicious and cold, not smooth and warm like Karr had grown to be. His partner touched him briefly and Nick shivered.
It's not you> he whispered.
I know. I wish you could share>
Nicholas swallowed. Not yet> he answered roughly. Maybe when this is over.... when I know what happened to Linda Carpenter>
Karr knew almost everything about Nicholas MacKenzie, but there was a tiny island of total isolation, guarded by strong walls and an impenetrable shield. He had never dared to reach out this far and Nick had never opened up. It was his past, the beginning of his life – it was *the* beginning. Now he simply curled slightly around his human friend in a kind of hug, then retreated.
Nicholas smiled, then closed himself off again, shaking the feeling of.... humanity. He raised every shield and inhaled deeply.
He still had a case.
* * *
"Do you want to tell me just what the hell is going on here?"
The question was asked calmly, but there was a tone of slight irritation and anger in it, and a warning that the person asking wanted an answer.
The dark-haired man behind the heavy oak desk looked at Professor Bolt, smiling briefly. "I'd be happy to, professor. What's going on is that I own you. Let's be very clear about that."
Bolt's face turned a shade angrier, eyes flashing.
"I'm the money behind you; I'm the power. I'm supplying you with all the funds you need for your pet project, and you, in return, are supplying me with an army of psychopaths."
The professor frowned.
"You are in way over your head, professor," the man in the business suit went on conversationally. "You are already hitting rock bottom and still sinking, so don't get any funny ideas. If the medical community, let alone the police, gets wind of what you are doing, you can call yourself lucky if they still let you treat ingrown toe nails in prison." He steepled his fingers, looking at the scientist. "So don't get any ideas about taking me down with you. That would be difficult – because you have no idea who... or what, for that matter, you are dealing with."
Bolt's cheek muscle twitched, but he kept his silence. The man nodded, an almost cheerful smile on his lips, though his eyes were cold.
"So... what the hell is going on here is, that the next time you come to my office – remember who asks the question. Do you understand?"
Bolt nodded, lower jaw clenched in self-control.
"Well, now that's settled." The man leaned forward, hands clasped and resting on the desk. "So, do tell me, professor, how many of my new elite is ready and fully treated?"
"Three," the teacher answered. "Maybe four. Cancer II is still questionable and we lost Virgo."
"Another suicide?"
"Now look...." Bolt started. "Those suicides were unavoidable until I got a firm profile! If you had told me from the start that you'd be shipping them off as assassins, I would have told you that they break under pressure!"
The other man met his angry gaze. "If I had told you from the start, I wouldn't have been able to convince your... ego... that all of this was done in the name of medical science." He made a flourishing gesture to undermine the term 'medical science'. "Or to put it another way....," there was the cold smile again, "I threw out the worms, professor, and you eagerly and happily swallowed the hook."
Bolt's face froze, then he briefly closed his eyes, inhaling. "Okay," he hissed. "Okay, I understand. There shouldn't be any more suicides."
"Oh, but there was. Sagittarius."
The professor stared. "She wasn't ready....!" he sputtered.
Anger crossed the man's features and Bolt stepped back automatically. "I decide when someone's ready!" he told the hapless man, voice sharp and leaking threats. Then the pleasant mask slid back. "I sent her after our friend from this morning, Mr. De la Croix. She failed. It's been kept out of the papers so far. She attempted the kill, failed, and stepped in front of a bus."
"She needed more treatments!" Bolt reminded him, voice a bit too sharp again.
"Well, I guess it's too late for that now. I'll call Pisces III."
"You said he's out of the country."
The man smiled again. "This is getting maybe a bit too hot after the failed kill. I'd like to have my best closer in case I need them."
"Now wait a minute...." Bolt started again. "There is no need to bring him back on campus....!" Fear was audible in his voice.
"He is the best," his employer repeated.
The professor sighed, shaking his head. "It's your funeral."
"Oh, no." This time the smile could have frozen an ocean. "Not mine....."
* * *
"It affects you."
The statement was delivered neutrally and without any hint of judgment, but Nicholas felt the challenge nevertheless. He stopped his work at the laptop and looked at the black vehicle.
"I can feel it," Karr added. "Or better: there is a lack of communication I can feel. You are shielding."
"So?" Nick asked coolly.
"Something is bothering you."
"Don't try psychology on me, Karr. It won't work!" he snapped. Rubbing his forehead, Nicholas fought the slow headache creeping his way.
"I'm not trying, I'm just noticing."
"Then stop noticing as well!"
Karr was silent for a while. "I apologize," he then said stiffly.
Nicholas sighed deeply, aware that he snapped and was lashing out, and he didn't even know why. Something about this had started to freak him. That Karr was trying to get past his shields only added to it. What old memories had been stirred had to remain with him. He shut the laptop and rose. He should take a walk and then get back on campus. Karr remained behind, scanners keeping an eye on Nick.
"Hey!"
Nick looked up and thanked whatever had made him wear 'Ray's' glasses as he discovered Andrea. She walked toward him, books in her hands, a backpack over one shoulder. She looked a bit pale but composed and he smiled at her hesitant expression.
"You busy?"
"Nope." He shut the laptop, putting it next to him.
"Wow, you got one of those neato laptops. I think I'm envious." Andrea sat down next to him.
"How are you?"
"You mean after you told me that my room mate is dead? I don't know. I've tried to explain it to myself why she would have done it, but I can't find any reason. Linda was not suicidal! She loved life!"
Nick nodded slowly. Yes, she had loved life and someone had driven it out of her, had twisted her and turned her against herself. She had fought the change, which meant she had not been a willing subject. Maybe she hadn't even known what was done to her. Nicholas felt something trying to push to the surface, some kind of old knowledge out of his past, but it drifted away again before he could grasp it.
"Earth to Ray?"
"Hm?"
Andrea smiled slightly. "Ah, still among us. You know, you still owe me dinner."
Nick chuckled. "Is that a hint?"
"Just a friendly reminder. And I could use some cheering up."
And you are just the right person to cheer someone up> Karr whispered nastily.
Nick sent back a spike of annoyance, still smiling at the young woman. "Okay, you're on. Know any good restaurants?"
* * *
It was already dark and only a few students lounged around, talking, laughing, or waiting for a friend to go out for a beer or a movie. Andrea and Nick returned from an enjoyable lunch at a local diner and Nick had to confess he had actually enjoyed it. Andrea was a nice person to be around and though she still mourned for Linda, she was almost back to her bouncy self.
"..... I mean she suddenly started hanging out with all the creepy Bolt Groupies. Lee Takaro, Jim Coven, Peter Crown, Eddie French..." She tagged them off at her fingers.
"Tanja Houghton, Irene Weathers," Nick finished, nodding.
"Yup, the Kamikaze Squad." She grimaced as he shot her a look, shrugging.
"What do you know about them?" Nick wanted to know.
"Aside from the fact that they all killed themselves?" Andrea asked back, eyebrows rising. "Let me tell you one thing, with friends like these, I'd probably do the same."
Nick thoughtfully leaned on the cane.
"What's going on here, Ray?" Andrea wanted to know. "Are you some kind of cop? Like this Knight guy?"
Nick managed to look totally surprised and slightly offended. "Do I look like a cop?"
Andrea gave him a wry smile. "If you look like one, you'd be a bad cop. It's just that you ask an awful lot of questions. And then there was Knight..."
Nick leaned forward, giving her a bright smile. "I just want to know some things about the person whose bed I'm sleeping in." He walked on.
Andrea's jaw hung open, then she hurried after him. "Bed? I hear bed! You said you had it all cleared with Administration!"
"And I cleared it. It's just that the guy who was supposed to clear the room is still there for two more days and so I'm stuck in my old room."
"What?! But...." she stuttered. "You can't do this to me!"
Nick looked all innocent. "Do what to you? Last night was okay, right? Nothing happened. I promise I'll behave, Andrea." He held one hand. "Cross my heart...."
She snorted. "I'm *the* topic on campus! We are! Soap central is on an absolute high. And the main attraction to talk about throughout commercials is... us!"
"What do they say?" Nick asked, grinning.
Andrea looked slightly aloof. "I'm not telling you!" she teased.
He was starting to enjoy this, he knew. Karr made another nasty remark and he kicked him out, but he knew there was a grain of truth. He liked this easy-going, human contact. It was like with Michael, Bonnie, Justin and Kitt. No hidden agenda, no secrets, no traps. Andrea began talking about soaps and what she didn't like about them. Nick listened to her, amused, letting himself be swamped by her youthful innocence.
Suddenly there was a brief, shooting pain in his ear and he moaned out loud, collapsing on his knees. One hand was still clutching the cane and he tried to stabilize himself with it. Images flashed by his inner eye. Colorful and strange, animals and war, attack and kill. He swallowed heavily and inhaled deeply.
"Ray?!"
That was Andrea. She was at his side, one hand resting on his shoulder and he knew it was only because he was so confused that he hadn't fought her off instinctively.
"Ray, are you okay?"
"Shooting pain....," he managed. "In my head...."
She stared at him. "Like Linda...." Horror was in her eyes.
Nick got to his feet again and she helped him, worry shining in her bright blue eyes. "I'm okay," he whispered.
Karr was in the back of his mind again, just as worried, asking what was wrong. He had felt the pain, though not as acutely as Nick, and he tried not to hover, though he was deeply disturbed.
"Are you sure?" Andrea wanted to know.
He gave her a forced smile, walking toward their room. "Yeah, I'm fine." He breathed deeply, trying to push away the images.
Andrea searched through her pockets for the key to the room and finally got it out, approaching the door. Nick rubbed his ear, feeling his partner's inquiries again.
I'm okay>
You were in pain for no reason!>
But I'm okay now> he snarled dismissively.
Nick...!>
Get out of my head!>
Karr retreated, almost flinching away, and Nick regretted his words and actions, but he didn't apologize.
Andrea pushed the key into the lock. Nick heard something click from inside the dorm room and his mind registered what it was immediately. His movement was almost a blur as he pulled Andrea aside.
Bullets shattered the wood of the door and lined the wall opposite with dark holes. Andrea gave a silent gasp, eyes wide as saucers, shock taking hold. Nick ignored her, his body and mind going into fight mode.
The door opened.
Someone stepped out – probably to check on his success.
Nick reacted on automatic. He grabbed the man's wrist and pulled, then threw the totally surprised assailant into the opposite wall. The semi-automatic he had used to turn the door into a sieve clattered to the floor. But instead of dazedly stumbling back, the dark-clad figure pushed back and swung his fist, connecting with Nick's cheek bone. Nick was stunned for a second, totally surprised by the quick counter-attack. He shifted into a fighting stance, blocking the next blow with one arm and lashing out with the other. His attacker snarled, the youthful features turning into a vicious but still cold mask. He kicked at Nick, who blocked it again, then started running.
And Nick followed.
The pursuit stretched over the corridors, then up a flight of stairs and finally came to a show-down on the roof of the dorm. The young assailant turned, baring his teeth, aware that he was trapped. Nick approached, body tense, his cheek smarting from the prior blow. This guy was good!
"It's over," he said. "Give up."
The attacker did the opposite. He charged. Nick was hard pressed, especially since he really didn't want to hurt the young man seriously enough. He would be able to break some of his bones with ease, but that wouldn't get them anywhere. If this was just another victim...
A vicious blow to his head let him stumble and every thought of going easy flew away as he felt blood drip out of an open wound. His fist drove into the man's ribs and he gasped, doubling over. Nick sent him flying back with another fist to the chin. Still, he stumbled to his feet again, staring at Nicholas, sizing him up and down. They circled each other, feinting blows, fighting each other off. Suddenly the attacker charged again.
Nick let him come. He waited. And then he stepped aside.
With a silent scream, his mouth opening but no sound coming out, the attacker sailed over the roof of Edwards Hall.
Karr!>
There was actually no need to call. The black Stealth was already there, harsh white light illuminating the body on the pavement. Nick, breathing hard, looked down, his face not betraying a single emotion. Finally he straightened and started to walk down the stairs.
*
Kitt came to a sudden halt next to Karr, who was parked only a few feet away from the body of a young man. Michael got out, grimacing. The boy – for he was just a boy – was dressed all in black. He had landed face up on the pavement, eyes staring sightlessly into the darkness. There was little blood, but Michael doubted that there was a single whole bone in his body. Nick was approaching, looking slightly disheveled. There was a bloody bruise over his left eye and smudges on his cheekbone. His eyes were alight with barely constrained fury. Michael steeled himself for the meeting.
"What are you doing here?" Nick asked, voice level.
"I'm still on vacation," Michael answered, smiling.
Nick scowled, then looked at the dead boy. His face went almost completely blank.
"Is he the guy who attacked you?" Michael wanted to know.
Nick didn't have to ask where he knew that fact from. He also didn't have to ask why he was here. He knelt down beside the boy, going through his pockets. He found an ID card. It was from the San Diego university and issued to one Eric Derringer.
"Kitt called the police."
He nodded. He had expected it.
"Nick?"
Nicholas looked up.
"What's going on here?"
"Are you all right?"
The second question interrupted whatever Nick had wanted to fling back and both men looked at Andrea Demarco as she breathlessly came to a halt next to them. She looked at Michael in surprise, then her eyes fell on the dead boy and she gasped. Nick rose quickly, grabbing her shoulders and turning her away. He looked at Michael.
"She has to be brought to a safe place."
His tone of voice gave Michael a good idea what he thought of the idea of FLAG safe houses. So he just nodded. Wherever Nick wanted to drive the young woman, it would probably be very safe.
Kitt was parked next to Karr, almost as close as when Karr had helped him through his nightmares, and he carefully and gently reached out for his brother. He felt his inner turmoil and his emotional disturbance. Karr was worried and tried not to show it; he was afraid and he tried to hide it; he was shocked by what had happened and he tried to deny it. It created a whirlpool of conflicting emotions.
_Karr?
_What do you want? Karr demanded harshly.
_I want to help.
_I don't need help.
Kitt sighed, letting Karr hear it. Why was he still fighting the other side he had developed? Why didn't he try to accept it. He didn't have to change, just accept that development was necessary. Oh, he accepted it in a way, but he didn't want it to rise to the surface.
_You are worried about Nick.
_He is able to take care of himself, Karr growled. _He doesn't need my nurse-maiding.
Kitt chuckled softly. _Of course not. I'd never imply that.
Karr glared at him and Kitt smiled even more. It irritated the older AI and the more irritated he got, the more he let the other side surface because it gained in strength.
_Does Nick know who tried to kill him?
_No.
Kitt watched Michael talk to Nick, trying not to eavesdrop. Nick was apparently trying to get a grip on himself and a quick scan of his body chemistry told Kitt that he was still under a lot of stress induced through the fight. Nick was visibly trying to tune down and convince himself there was no enemy anymore.
_Karr?
Karr rumbled.
_Let us help?
The darker AI looked at him, then retreated a bit further. _It's not my decision, he answered levely.
Kitt followed him, reaching out. _Please?
* * *
"You live here?" Andrea asked, disbelief in her voice.
"A friend of mine does. Make yourself comfortable." Ray threw some mail he had taken out of the mail box onto a table, then went to check on the windows.
"You must have one terrific friend that he lets you use it," Andrea muttered, looking around.
The house was more of a mansion. The room she was in was held in oak, larger than the ground floor of her parent's house and there was a fire place. Everything looked expensive.
"He owed my a favor," Ray said dismissively.
"I don't even want to know about the car," Andrea added.
He smiled. "I wouldn't tell you anyway."
"Charming. Well, that blows my cop theory. Who the hell are you?"
Ray turned, his face suddenly very serious. "My name is Nicholas MacKenzie," he said, voice calm. "I'm not a cop." He leaned against the fire place. "I met Linda Carpenter three days ago in a bar, just before she jumped in front of the bus."
Andrea's mouth formed a silent 'o'.
"And she tried to shoot me."
"What?!" she blurted. "But... but Linda doesn't even know how to hold a gun, let alone how to use it! She could never shoot someone!"
"Well, she gave quite a good impression of shooting me, Andrea. She failed in her mission and that's why she killed herself."
"Mission? What are you talking about, Ray... or Nicholas... or whoever you are? Linda is no killer and she would never ever shoot at a person!"
Nick looked seriously at her. "But she did."
Andrea jumped up, pacing, shaking her head. "No! What is going on here? I don't understand it! What is this all about? You come into my room with some hoaky story about being an overgrown undergraduate student and the next thing I know is that people are trying to kill you! Tell me what is going on! I have a right to know!"
Nicholas sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Yes, you are right," he conceded, feeling Karr's rumble in his mind. "All these kids, including Linda, were students of Professor Bolt and taking his courses, including the lab sessions."
"What's that supposed to mean? All they do is look at dots, count patterns or watch rats run a maze! That is not very threatening!"
Nick tapped his temple. "Eye drops?" he reminded her. Andrea tried to say something, but he raised his hand to stop her. "Bolt is using the eye drops to dilate the pupils in a test, but I have a hunch that he is doing more than just dilating pupils. I think the professor has found a way to directly control the brain."
Andrea stared at him as if he had lost his marbles.
"He is turning these kids into text book psychopaths," Nick added seriously. "He is creating killers. But there is a side effect."
She shook her head, but the disbelief was slowly draining away. "The pain? The headaches?" she asked weakly. Nick nodded. Andrea turned her head away, staring at the floor, sighing. "Let's just say you are right," she said after a while. "Let's think that this is real. What is a psych professor doing with an army of killers? Tell me! What is the reason?"
Nick leaned back again. "There is a market out there," he said quietly. "Killers, assassins, spies.... you name it, they need it. We are talking about kids here. Young, no history, no background, able to easily blend in and never be suspected. They can be sold to everyone and used everywhere. No limits."
Andrea watched him, noting the monotone of his voice. Finally she shook his head, erupting into movement again. "I don't believe this! This is too far out of reality! It's over the edge!"
"Then what caused the suicides?" Nick asked sarcastically. "Bad grades? Exam stress? Home life? Broken heart? Yes, young people tend to be extreme and sometimes kill themselves over comparatively small things, but seven suicides in three months? All students of Professor Bolt? All acting weird? You are right, this is too far over the edge." He rose and walked over to her, his features softening a bit. "Andrea, I want you to stay here." He met her troubled eyes. "I don't want you to go back to your room until this blows over, okay?"
She wiped tears out of her eyes, her body reacting to all the stress she had been put under lately. "Where are you going to sleep?" she asked.
"I'm not," Nick answered, smiling slightly. "Go to bed. It was a long day."
* * *
"Eric Derringer. Twenty-three, student of the San Diego university. Majoring in psychology and physics. Quite a brilliant kid if you go by his teachers." Paul Jackson played with a bottle of the eye drops Nick had retrieved from Andrea's room. "Sixteen months ago he dropped out of sight. No contact to his parents, no idea where he went – he just disappeared."
"Until he tried to kill me."
Paul smiled wryly. "You really do attract them, do you?"
Nick mirrored the smile, no humor in his. "It would help to know where 'out of sight' was."
Jackson shrugged, leaning back. "When do you tell me what you have?"
"When I got what I need – then you get what I have."
The lieutenant sighed and shook his head. "Why did I think you had changed?" he asked philosophically.
* * *
"What is going on here?" Michael muttered.
"I wish I could tell you, Michael."
He smiled at his partner. "I know. Thanks, pal. Anything from Nick or Karr? Well, mostly Karr...."
"No. He is as silent as a grave, to put it that way." Kitt sounded a bit worried. "I've tried to talk to him, but he refuses to let me close. I think something is wrong with Nick. I'm not sure what it is, but he and Karr seem to have... differences."
"Well, they always have," Bonnie spoke up. She and the Semi, driven by Peter, had arrived two hours ago after Michael had called in. He didn't know if he needed her technical back-up, but it was good to have her here.
"Yes, on the outside, but they are partners and they are neuro-linked," Kitt argued. "Karr has accepted his driver a long time ago and Nick is more at ease with him."
Michael nodded. He knew that. Karr's whole character and personality didn't really 'allow' him to voice his emotions or show them, and Nick had the same problem. One had been programmed, the other had... Michael wasn't sure. Had someone programmed Nick as well? In human terms it might also be called 'trained', but it meant the same. Nick was not so unlike Karr and sometimes they were frighteningly alike.
"Nick has to get his information about the case from somewhere," he now mused out loud. "Either Karr is hacking into the police files or he has someone who keeps feeding him information."
"So what do we know?" Bonnie asked. "Seven suicides, including Linda Carpenter, in three months. All students at the San Diego university, all taking psych classes."
"Kitt ran a check on most of them and all had broken off contact with their parents several months back, some even over a year," Michael nodded. "They estranged themselves from their friends and family."
"Let me guess: all have the same professor?" Bonnie asked.
Michael nodded again. "Professor Oliver Bolt. I had a look at his file. Quite impressive. He's teaching both psych classes, and he runs the lab. I haven't talked to him yet."
Bonnie leaned back in the plush seat of the sitting area inside the Semi. "You think he has something to do with it?"
Michael shrugged. "It's just strange that all the kids usually hanging out with him, his so-called groupies, are turning into suicide cases. Still, instead of declining, the group gains new members and stays about the same size. Two of them are no longer at the university. They just dropped out and disappeared. No word to the parents, nothing. Something is going on and I know Nick knows more about it at the moment than we do."
"What about asking Karr again?"
"I don't want to pressure him," Kitt spoke up. "He'd simply move away and I might not get through again until he decides to let a shield or two down."
"And I don't want you to pressure him," Michael told his partner. "What he already leaked was enough for us to appear here. Nick was not happy with it, but I think he needs our help – in whatever way we can give it. I'll go and talk to Bolt." He walked toward the black TransAm.
"Good luck!" Bonnie called.
Michael smiled, then closed the door and waited for the ramp to lower. Five minutes later he was on his way to the campus.
* * *
"Well, well, well, what shall we do about your friend, Nicholas?" The man was again talking to himself. "He's snooping around and about to stumble onto things that don't concern him, that ae way too dangerous for him to know."
A cold smile spread over his features and he turned, eyes seeking out the shadows of the room he was in.
"Get rid of him."
The shadows moved and formed into a young man. He was barely in his early twenties. Now he nodded and moved silently out of the room. The man turned back to his computer screen, still smiling.
* * *
The door flew open, the lock breaking under the force applied, and it banged against the wall. Nick MacKenzie strode into the office of Professor Oliver Bolt, face set.
"There must be something wrong with that door. It was locked."
Bolt stared at him in shock, then lunged for the phone. Nick was faster, grabbing his hand and twisting it away. The scientist yelped and sat back, rubbing his wrist. Nick smiled at him as he lifted the phone and placed it out of reach, his fingers sticking a small chip to it as he did so.
"And just what do you think you'd do?" he asked pleasantly. "Call security?" A sneer appeared on his features.
"What do you want?" Bolt demanded.
"What I want? Oh, let me see. Eyedrops, professor. Ring a bell?"
"Who are you?"
Nick smiled. "Bad memory for names? Ray de la Croix, psych major. Remember me?"
Bolt moved back in his chair and Nick approached. MacKenzie leaned forward, placing one hand on the back of the chair, the other on the edge of the desk, trapping the professor.
"This isn't just a social call," he said, voice dropping several degrees. "You see, I know what you are doing, professor, and who it is you are working with." Bolt swallowed nervously as those cold blue eyes fixed him mercilessly. "I just thought I'd come by and give you a field report." His smile was without a trace of humor. "In case you are keeping score," he added nastily.
Nick straightened and turned, leaving the shaken professor alone again. He walked down the almost empty halls of this wing of the university.
Karr?>
He has picked up the phone> his partner answered immediately. He is dialing>
Nick quickened his pace. Can you get the number?>
Of course>
Nick had refrained from tapping into the conversation. He didn't need to know what Bolt was saying, only where the receiver of the call was located. As he arrived at his car, Karr opened the door, the monitor already displaying three of the eight numbers. Number four clicked into place just as Nick sat down. As the last were determined, Nick ignited the engine.
"Trace?"
"I'm on it."
* * *
Michael had parked Kitt on the official parking lot and walked toward the building containing Professor Bolt's office. It was late in the afternoon on a Saturday and the campus was almost empty. Here and there a few students milled around, but many were in the process of leaving. He knew Bolt was still in his office and that was where he would confront him. As he rounded a corner he suddenly had the feeling of being followed. Michael stopped and looked around. There was no one here, at least no one suspicious. Two students were standing close by, backpacks slung over their shoulders. Michael's eyes narrowed on them, but they moved on and he tried to relax.
Michael?> Kitt's voice penetrated the tension. He must have felt it.
Nothing, pal. Seeing ghosts> Michael shrugged and walked on.
Suddenly there was movement again and this time it was coming from in front of him. Something flashed toward him and Michael ducked instinctively, hearing a 'chink' as metal struck stone. He glanced around and discovered a shuriken, a Japanese throwing stars, lying in front of a stone pillar. He had no time to gape at it because someone came at him, dressed all in black. Before Michael had a chance he was kicked savagely into the ribs and the air was driven out of his lungs. He fell back, gasping, rolling around to get away from the foot coming toward him once more. Jumping to his feet he blocked the next blow, grunting as a second one glanced off his arm. His opponent was wearing a mask.
Michael hissed as the attacker landed the next blow, then finally got his act together and started to strike back. He might not be a martial arts expert, but her knew how to defend himself. Still, he was the one who was at a disadvantage here; whoever the masked attacker was, he had been trained much better and more intense. They traded blows and Michael was able to draw on some of the moves Nick had once shown him, but he was not as practiced as he wished he were. A few hours of getting used to this stuff didn't make up for the training his opponent had received. Michael stumbled back and connected with the wall, gasping for air. A blow to the head made him stumble and stars exploded in front of his eyes. Another blow hit his neck.
"Hey!"
The voice penetrated the fog that had started to cloud his mind. His attacker turned and Michael forced his head to turn, discovering one of the campus security guards. The man was coming toward them, hand resting on his gun, about to draw. His attacker reached behind his back and drew another shuriken.
"Watch out!" Michael yelled hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper.
The guard stopped, drawing his gun and going into a shooting stance. "Hands up!" he bellowed, disregarding Michael's warning.
Michael pushed himself away from the wall and tackled the attacker, but he got a vicious blow to his already bruised ribs and doubled over, groaning.
Michael!>
Michael left the call unanswered, pushing himself up. He had to take out this guy before....
There was a strangled scream and then the sound of a body hitting the pavement.
"No!"
Michael pushed himself up, but got a foot into the face for his troubles. Everything around him exploded into bright lights and then dark blobs. He fought unconsciousness, but the next blow drove him back down again. His ribs throbbed with each breath and his ears were ringing.
Hold on! I'm coming!>
"Kitt?" he murmured weakly.
Kitt blazed onto the campus grounds and switched on his headlights, flashing them, activating the loudspeakers. A siren could be heard, very much like a police car's.
"Police! You are under arrest!"
His sensors picked up the black-clad form of Michael's attacker as he whirled away from his victim and dashed off. Some people, the few remaining students, were already coming out of the buildings and converging on the scene. A dead body lay close to where Michael was kneeling next to a pillar, desperately trying to catch his breath. Kitt didn't need to be told; he called the police.
Michael?> he asked softly.
I'm okay> came the rather weak reply.
I called the police. Your attacker ran off and the guard is dead>
Thanks>
A few students came closer, a young woman giving a scream as she discovered the dead guard, another inquiring how Michael was.
The police arrived ten minutes later.
* * *
Andrea had woken around 8 am. After taking a shower and discovering that Nick had apparently rummaged through her wardrobe – she'd have to talk quite seriously to him! -- she had dressed. A note had been stuck to her door, telling her where the kitchen was and that the fridge was well-stocked. She had found the kitchen and made herself breakfast. Then she had explored the house, snooping around a bit, and finally coming back to the living room. Andrea's eyes fell on the unopened mail and she picked it up, looking through it.
Peter Masters.
Each letter was made out to Peter Masters. She frowned. So was Nicholas Mackenzie Peter Masters? Or was Peter Masters his friend who left the house to him to use while he was away. She sighed. When had her life turned so complicated?
Andrea didn't hear the soft click as the front door was picked.
She didn't hear the almost silent steps of someone approaching her from behind.
She only saw a quick movement out of the corner of her eyes, then something was pressed onto her mouth and nose. Then there was nothing.
* * *
Michael winced as he lowered himself into the seat of the Semi's sitting area. Bonnie shot him a questioning, worried look and he smiled reassuringly at her.
"I'm okay," he repeated what he had told her twice already.
"You don't look like it." Bonnie raised a critical eyebrow.
"I swear I am okay! It's nothing but a few bruises!"
"You have three bruised and one cracked rib, a bruised larynx, a slight concussion...." Kitt started, sounding slightly devious, but maybe Michael was just hearing things. Nevertheless he glared at the black Trans Am.
"*Thank* you, Kitt!"
Bonnie grinned, then grew serious again. "Do you know who the guy was?"
Michael shook his head, regretting it immediately. The pain-killer had not yet taken effect again after he had prolonged taking it as much as he could. This mild concussion might not be too serious, but it gave him a killer headache!
"No. He was masked. What about the police?"
"Devon took care of it. He has constructed a FLAG case around it." Bonnie sounded slightly surprised that their boss would do this, but since he was suffering from continued guilt, Michael suspected it had something to do with that. "He says there won't be any problems. Anything on Nick?" she wanted to know.
"No. Kitt?"
"Karr is still shielding himself," Kitt answered immediately.
Michael rubbed his forehead, cursing the headache.
"How about you lie down for a while and get some rest until we hear of Nick or Karr?" Bonnie asked.
He grimaced. "Bonnie....."
She put on her sternest face. "Michael Knight! Don't play hero here. You have no idea where to go except back on campus and that's crawling with police! Lie back, get some rest, or I'll chain you to the Semi!"
Michael raised his eyebrows. "Yes, Ma'am," he smiled. He eased himself further into the chair and winced once again as his bruised ribs protested. "Damn, I'm getting too old for that stuff!"
Bonnie laughed, bent down and gently kissed him. "Not from where I'm standing. Maybe you should just take it easy."
"It wasn't me attacking that guy! He was attacking me!" Michael protested weakly.
"Get some rest," Bonnie repeated, then walked over to Kitt to give him a check while Michael was here.
I'll keep an eye out for Karr> Kitt told him through the link.
Michael was already drifting off, the pain-killers finally taking effect. Thanks>
Sleep well>
* * *
The house was in one of the wealthier parts of San Diego and it was a very quiet area of the city as well. The outside looked new and as if recently cleaned with a big duster. White window frames gleamed, the glass reflecting the rays of sunlight. Ten steps led up to the heavy wooden door and the stairs were made out of gray checked marble. The railing was polished brass. Twin lions sat beside the door, keeping silent guard.
Nick watched the house, but there was no traffic. No one came, no one went. Everything was quiet. "Scan," he ordered.
"Unable to. Someone has installed interrupters everywhere," Karr replied emotionlessly.
Nick swallowed a curse. "Okay, let's try the frontal approach then." He opened the door and got out.
Karr watched his driver walk toward the house. The same old worry he had felt ever since they had delved deeper into this case was slowly worming its way back into his thoughts. Something was affecting Nick, and ever since the lab session it was getting stronger. Karr doubted that one session in Bolt's 'chamber of horrors' had already changed his partner, but something was still wrong – and getting more wrong by the minute. Nick was shielding and when they talked he was always close to snapping. His control was slipping erratically.
He felt Kitt's presence again and was tempted to acknowledge him. He needed to talk to someone about Nick! Several months back he wouldn't have acted this way, but now... after they had linked... it was different. He felt like he was doing something terribly wrong when shielding and hiding, but another part of him was snarling at his softer side that this was what made him what he was. He didn't need constant contact! He wasn't weak!
Karr sighed.
Nick carefully checked the house. There was no name on the bell button and no mail in the mail box. The back garden was surrounded by a fence and a lot of trees and other plants. Nick decided that a frontal approach might not be the best tactic and so he sneaked through the garden. The fence had been easily circumvented. Child's play. Now he quickly picked the lock of the glass sliding doors leading inside and slipped into the room. He ducked, eyes roaming the room, scanning for danger. He was in a living room which contained quite a lot of antique and expensive furniture. Oak, mahogany, teakwood.... and a display case full of antique silverware.
No one was here.
Nick moved slowly closer and walked around the desk on which sat a rather modern looking computer. He found all drawers locked, but the computer was on, fish swimming happily around a virtual tank. He experimentally clicked a key and the screen saver disappeared.
ENTER PASSWORD: _
He frowned slightly.
"Don't waste time on guessing, Nicholas. You wouldn't find it in time."
Nick looked up as the voice cut into the otherwise silent room and felt his blood run cold as his mind recognized it. Then his mind froze as well as he came face to face with the owner of the voice. A man stepped into the room, well-dressed in a dark business suit, impeccable just like Nick remembered him, with the same arrogant air to himself – just a bit older.
"So we meet again. You haven't changed, my boy," the man said pleasantly.
"You have. You look old," Nick heard himself reply flatly.
The man chuckled. "It's been a while. I've been watching you; you are good."
"I had good teachers." Nick straightened, his body going through the first stages of preparations for a fight, but the well-dressed man held up one manicured hand.
"Don't even think about it. One wrong move and your little student friend dies."
A man Nick had never seen before but who was probably hired to enjoy shooting or hurting people, stepped into view – dragging the bound and gagged form of Andrea Demarco with him.
Nick knew he had lost.
* * *
"Jackson Nash."
Michael looked up from where he had been rereading the police report of Linda Carpenter's supposed amok run and suicide and blinked. His eyes went over to where Kitt was sitting silently in the back of the Semi, close to the diagnostic center.
"What?" he asked, voice still hoarse.
"I... it's name I just got from Karr," Kitt said, sounding mystified. "He dropped his shield for a fraction of a second and all I got was the sense of danger and this name."
"Anything else?"
Kitt was silent for a moment, then seemed to frown. It was a sensation Michael got through the neuro implant. "Military, I think."
"Run the name through all the known data banks, pal. Do you know where Karr and Nick are?"
"No. I'm trying to get through but the block is in place again."
Michael cursed softly. "We better get out of here nevertheless," he then decided.
Bonnie walked over, giving him a disapproving frown, but she didn't say anything. Michael kissed her, then headed over to Kitt and five minutes later they were on the road again.
* * *
"So, what side are you on this time?" Nick asked casually, hands clasped in front of him. "Theirs? Ours? Yours?"
Nash smiled. "That's still the difference between us. You still haven't learned that it doesn't matter. I'm on the side that matters: my side."
Nick met the cold eyes with equally cold ones. "That's just one of the many differences between us. I'm still a member of the human species."
Nash chuckled. "Barely.... But this is one thing you always had a problem with, didn't you? Morality. Morality doesn't have a place in politics and war, Nicholas. And this is war. You are a tool to be used, not to think of whether or not it is right or wrong."
"My mistake," Nick remarked with an inhuman smile.
Nash mirrored it. "Your mistake," he answered slowly, "was trying to judge me."
"No, my mistake was believing that the system was self-cleansing. I thought they'd have dealt with you by now." He raised one eyebrow, ignoring the ever-growing pressure of his partner in the back of his mind.
"Well, that was your second mistake, my boy. Your employers didn't have your high standards." There was an audible sneer in his voice, though his features remained even.
"That's why I freelanced," Nick replied with a pleasant smile. "I have no one to account to but myself. Saves me a lot of sleepless nights and stomach ulcers. And it simplifies communications."
Nash chuckled, then turned serious. "Once you took me down, Nicholas. It was a hard fall, though I had the cushions to keep me from getting hurt too much. Twice would be too much."
"That's why you set a killer on me? A kid?" Nick shook his head. "I had hoped for a classier showdown."
The other man smiled again. "I apologize, but it had the effect I wanted it to have – and it was a nice testing ground that revealed a lot of flaws in my latest project."
"Programmed killers," Nick spat.
"Ah, yes, the master plan. You can see it as well, can't you? It's brilliant."
"It's sick!"
Karr was almost oppressive and Nick fought him off. His partner decided that this was enough and Nick felt him start to move.
Karr, no!>
But it was too late. The fence and some bushes fell victim to the armored prow of the Stealth and he plowed through the grass, stopping only a few inches in front of the glass sliding doors. Nash didn't even turn around. He merely pulled a gun and casually pointed it at Nick.
"Don't think your computer friend can help you," he said coldly, aiming the gun at Karr now. It didn't really look like a normal gun. It seemed heavier, though more slender and colored totally in a reflectionless gray. "I've studied you. I come well-prepared."
Karr growled dangerously, engine a barely audible hum. His darkness seemed to radiate off him like a living creature and he was prepared to jump.
"I always found it highly amusing. You and a machine." Nash smiled without humor, though his eyes held a darkly amused expression. "One machine and another. A human assassin, trained and beyond humanity; and a machine that had only its self-interest in mind, that would protect itself before anyone else, would preserve only its own life." He chuckled. "A match made in Hell."
Nick clenched his teeth, feeling Karr's low rumbles of rage.
"I thought it had never worked," the general went on. "I thought Knight had failed. Looks like you still fulfilled his dreams in the end. The old man saw what you really are, didn't he, Nicholas?"
"What do you want?"
Nash regarded Karr. "What I wanted was you, your life, and then the machine. Now it has changed. You have changed, Nick, but not for the better. You were the best, no one could beat you, and I was proud of my creation. You had it all, and you had the potential to go further."
"To kill more, you mean," Nick snarled.
"Kill..... what a negative word. Depose, remove, neutralize.... yes, neutralize sounds very good. Do you know that I tried to find a substitute for you when you decided to leave? It was hard and all the promising candidates turned out to be a shameful copy of you. It was embarrassing."
"Flattery won't get me back, Nash, you know it."
"A few years ago I would have welcomed you back with open arms. Months ago I wanted you head. Now I'm willing to be appeased with your mere death."
As the general approached the ex-agent, Karr's engine howled in protest, the roar of a predator about to strike. He jumped forward, mowing down whatever was in his way. Nash only turned, raised his hand holding the strange weapon and aimed. Something shot out of it, clung to his hood and --
-- Nick cried out in pain as white-hot agony buried itself like a spike in his mind. He clutched his head, doubling over, trying desperately to shut out the pain signals coming from his partner. Karr screamed, his circuits frying under the high power assault, tires screaming on the floor. With a loud crash he buried himself in the wall of the house, destroying more of the building. He was oblivious to the destruction, aware of only the fire in his mind, the mind-numbing pain everywhere. He tried to shut out Nick's part of him, but it was impossible. And then darkness rolled over him, pulling him into its depth.
Nicholas broke down with a sob, tears streaming out of his eyes, his mind assaulted by Karr's pain, burning with it. He couldn't fight it anymore. Karr shut down abruptly, plunging him into the loneliness of his own mind, and Nick gasped, eyes widening.
"I knew you were weak," he could hear Nash's voice. "And this neuro implant weakened you even more."
Hands grasped him, roughly pulling him to his feet. Nicholas fought for composure, but his shields were still not back to normal because of the prior stress with Kitt and Michael. He was at a disadvantage and his chances were dwindling rapidly.
Nash's broad face hovered in front of him. "You should not have left me, son. You should have remained with me, at my side. We could have changed everything."
"Go to hell," Nick rasped. "You were always insane."
"But insanity is such a safe state-of-mind."
He glared, trying to muster the strength to fight back, but he was much too weak.
"I'm sorry, Nicholas, but I think this is the end of the road for the two of us," Nash said pleasantly.
"It ended the day you gave me the kill order," Nick hissed.
Nash tsked. "So much passion. And I had thought I had broken you. I have to confess it was foolish to believe that a character of your strength could be broken by a mere tool." He turned to his henchmen. "Get rid of him."
* * *
Kitt had no chance to prepare and neither did he have the necessary warning. The pain rolled over him like a steam engine train and he was shoved back, helplessly trapped in the confines of the link, gasping and struggling.
_KARR!
The agony seemed to double, then triple, a shrill scream of utter pain echoing inside the tortured CPU of his brother, then died down abruptly. Kitt frantically surged forward, trying to find out what had happened, but all he met were cold, mental walls. Karr was unconscious, but the shields were intact -- at least those leading to Kitt.
_KARR!!!
Kitt forced his way through the shields, not minding what he did. Something had severely hurt the other AI -- so bad that he had had to shut down. That meant a lot of stress.... and Karr was used to being under a lot of pressure and he had much stronger shields than Kitt had......
The shields cracked slightly under Kitt's insistence and the AI wriggled through. He arrived in a dark, bleak world, now and then lit up by what once been fully functional circuitry. Kitt gasped in horror at the damage. Something had been thrown at Karr, mangling circuits and catapulting him into agony and finally oblivion. He caressed one twisted and scarred area, feeling a subconscious tremor race through his brother.
_Karr? he whispered softly.
A moan answered, weak and full of denial. It hurt him -- even more than it hurt Karr.
_It's okay.....
_Nick, Karr breathed, struggling to get back to full consciousness, but the pain of mangled and tortured circuits crashed down on him and he collapsed with a moan.
_Where are you? Kitt asked urgently.
Karr fought back the temptation to just slip into darkness again. He managed to send the coordinates, but his mind voice was growing weaker and weaker.
_We're on our way. Hold on.
The darker AI called out for Nick again, then succumbed to the pain and shut down once more. Kitt winced in sympathy, stroking the small knot of black light caringly.
_I'm here, he murmured. _I'll protect you.
Karr tore away, screaming in fear and pain, trying to find his driver. Kitt shuddered as a new wave of agony crashed down on him.
*
Michael had needed probably the shortest time to get from his coordinates to the location of the house. It was all Kitt had been able to get out of Karr before the other AI had kicked him out for good, keeping the pain inside and shutting Kitt out. Now he ran toward the house. The door was not locked and he stormed inside – nearly into an armed man. Michael didn't really think; he reacted. The man managed to land a glancing blow, then he was sent to the land of – hopefully bad – dreams.
//Where?// Michael asked briefly, trying to ignore the throbbing ribs. The blow might not have done any damage, but it had reawakened the recent pain.
//Rear// Kitt answered through the rising headache in his forehead. //Hurry!//
Michael reached the living room and stopped, taking in the situation. Nick was half unconscious as it seemed, kneeling on the floor. He was shaking badly. Karr had crashed through the glass doors and was currently not moving. The goons were with them, one aiming a gun at Nick's head.
"Am I too late?" Michael called.
The two whirled around, the gun coming up. Michael kicked out, catching the man's wrist and he lost his weapon. It didn't mean that they gave up though. Both charged and Michael had suddenly all hands full to keep the upper hand. He belted one, moved out of the way of a knife the other was suddenly holding. He grunted in pain as one of the two managed to land a blow on his battered ribs and finally got rid of goon number one. Out of the corners of his eyes he briefly saw Nick starting to move, then number two was upon him, trying to stick his knife into him.
Karr's engine rumbling to life distracted him briefly and only a fast duck to the right saved Michael from a hole in his shoulder. The knife glanced off his lower arm and he hissed in pain as it cut through the jacket and shirt into his skin. He swung a right fist and sent the attacker sprawling.
"Nick!!" he yelled as Karr backed out of the ruined living room. "Nick, goddamnit! What are you doing?!"
But Nick didn't hear him. Karr turned tightly, then sped off through the already ruined garden and disappeared.
//Kitt!//
//No chance. He's blocking me//
Michael cursed whole-heartedly, holding his blazing ribs. Damn, they hurt!
//But he is not blocking a tracing signal// the AI added, sounding slightly pleased.
//Call the police! Inform the Foundation if necessary//
Michael tried to catch his breath, shaking his head. His head was spinning and hurt abominably, but there was no time to stop. Damn MacKenzie! Nick was in no shape! Well, neither was he, but this was not about him. Sighing deeply he started to tie up the two unconscious men, then went out to Kitt.
"Michael, you are hurt," his partner commented.
"I know," he managed through clenched teeth, trying to find a position that didn't hurt. It was impossible.
"You should go to a hospital," Kitt tried, though he knew it was a futile argument.
"Kitt....."
The AI gave an audible sigh. They started their pursuit.
* * *
Nick fought a blinding headache as he steered the damaged Stealth through the streets and out of the San Diego city area. Karr was a barely detectable presence somewhere at the other end of the neuro implant link and right now he didn't care. He had to get the fugitive! Karr's mind was a confused, pain-filled mess from whatever Nash had shot at him. It had been some kind of electric impulse and he would have to look into it when this was over, but right now he couldn't really bother himself with it. The car was still functional.
Nick winced as the next spike hit him and he nearly lost control of the car. He fought it down again, fumbling for the first aid kit he had gotten out of the trunk. He blindly swallowed several pills, willing them to work. Nick knew where Nash was going. There was only one airfield close enough.
"I'll get you this time!" he whispered.
* * *
Michael pushed the car through traffic as fast he could dare, cursing softly under his breath as he hit rush hour and nearly got stuck in a jam twice. Kitt quickly calculated an alternative route and finally they were out of the city. He floored the accelerator.
"How far ahead are they?"
"About ten minutes if we continue at this speed," Kitt answered. "And I still can't get anything from Karr. It's like he... is comatose," he added, sounding worried again.
"Something hit him," Michael muttered, keeping both eyes on the traffic. He had seen Nick and knew that Kitt had been struck by something from Karr as well.
"Yes, quite severely. I don't know what it is, but I think he overloaded. It was very painful."
Michael started cursing again, this time aiming it all at Nicholas and his stubbornness.
* * *
The general smiled. It was a cold and evil smile, one without humor and without remorse. There wasn't a single emotion in it, though if there could be, it would be pure evilness. Nick's hand was steady as he pointed the gun at him, his eyes focused on the hated figure, cold and gray, no remorse in them either. His face was white as chalk and he knew he was in no condition to prolong this. His head was still killing him and the pain-killers had numbed his mind. Karr sat behind him, a half-aware shadow of his former self. He would be no great help. His control over the Stealth was minimal and he was blocking himself from whatever impulses came through.
"You won't shoot me," Nash said calmly.
"I wouldn't bet on it," Nicholas replied hoarsely.
"Because if you do," the general went on, "your little friend will die. Don't think I went without an insurance."
Nick's face showed not a flicker of emotion. His finger caressed the trigger.
"If you don't believe me....." Nash made a little gesture and the door to his limousine opened.
Nick didn't twitch a muscle but inside he screamed. Andrea Demarco sat bound and gagged on the back seat, eyes wide, tears streaming down her face. Nash pointed his gun at her.
"You won't shoot her," Nick told his enemy coolly. "Not your style." His voice dropped to an acidy sarcastic level. "You'd have to wash your hands; maybe get a manicure."
Nash's eyes hardened. "I do what I have to do. And this," he went on and held up the small squarish box, "is a bomb. Plastic. Don't let the size fool you." He smiled humorlessly. "I know you, Nicholas. You have a weakness. It's more pronounced now than years ago: you always have to play the hero. I knew it would come out if you were left on your own without control for too long; no one believed me."
The driver of the limo got out and Nash nodded again. He did something inside the car again and suddenly the vehicle started rolling forward slowly. The bastard had put it into Drive!
"A timer is strapped to her," Nash went on conversationally. "Sixty seconds. If you shoot me, you'll blow up as well. I know you don't really care, Nicholas. But then your young friend dies as well, and I know you care for her. You have developed emotions. It was never good for you."
Nick seethed with rage. His eyes darted after the slowly rolling car. Nash smiled and started to walk toward the waiting helicopter. Nick screamed inside, then started running after the car. Suddenly a black TransAm skidded onto the airfield. Tires screamed and the car shot toward them, aiming for the slowly rolling limo. Kitt braked, slid to one side and the limo bumped gently into him. Michael jumped out.
"We'll get the bomb!" he yelled.
Nick didn't question the statement and simply started to sprint toward the helicopter, hands clenching around the gun. Nash, who had watched the scenario, was suddenly in quite a hurry. He jumped into the black, unmarked Bell Ranger and gestured at the pilot to get going. The turbines whined and the aircraft started to leave. Nick doubled his speed, legs pumping, lungs burning with strain.
The helicopter lifted off.
Nick knew he had no chance to reach it -- except by gun.
The helicopter started to turn away.
He fell into a crouch, breathing hard, raising his gun. With a flick of a finger he activated the laser guidance. He aimed.
The helicopter gained height.
His finger pressed on the trigger and the bullet flew, embedding itself in the metal shell of the aircraft. Another bullet followed, then another, all precise hits.
The helicopter labored higher, whining with strain. Black smoke belched suddenly out of its turbines and it started to tremble.
Nick lost one last shot and -- missed. The wobbly flight of the helicopter continued and it finally clawed its way to safety, rising and disappearing.
*
Kitt was jamming the bomb's circuits, but he couldn't do it indefinitely. Michael was carefully detaching it from the shaken and crying young woman, then darted away, finally throwing it as far away as he could. Kitt's jamming signal stopped and the last fifteen seconds ticked by. In a near-by field, part of the grass was blown to smithereens.
A high, labored whining alerted Michael to the fate of the helicopter. He heard the shots and looked around, watching Nick taking aim at the retreating 'copter. He forced himself to ignore it and freed the distraught young woman, who tried to bite back her sobs.
"It's okay," he told her. "It's over."
"Who.... who are you?" she asked, trembling.
"My name is Michael Knight. I'm a friend of Nick's...."
The helicopter's whine retreated and Michael looked up to see the smoking machine rise slightly and fly away, though he doubted it would get far. Still, it had escaped them. Nicholas straightened slowly, gazing at the now empty sky, his weapon hanging loosely at his side.
Michael walked over to him. "It's over," he said softly.
Nick wordlessly met his eyes. "It will never be over," he said emotionlessly, then he walked away.
* * *
It had been 24 hours ago and still Andrea Demarco was shaking now and then. She had been kidnapped, threatened, nearly blown to pieces, and then rescued by Knight. She knew that Ray had something to do with it as well, but she hadn't seen him since then. Something that had helped her through this was an artificial intelligence called Kitt. She had met the computer when Michael had driven her home. Well, before that really. Michael had accompanied her to the black TransAm, had sat her onto the co-pilot's seat and then promised her he'd be back in a moment. And Kitt had started to talk to her, trying to help her as she had shaken and still cried from the stress of it all. His soft, gentle words had not really registered as that of another human being; just as someone who was there.
And Andrea had gotten to know Kitt. When Michael had come back, he had been only slightly surprised, his smile as gentle as Kitt's words, and she had started to feel safer. The police had asked her to come down for a statement and she had been excused from several classes, though she was determined to be back soon. She needed something to distract herself.
Professor Oliver Bolt had been arrested and everyone who had partaken in the lab tests had been placed under protective custody. She didn't really know all the details of what had happened, but she knew enough to understand that what Bolt had done had been highly illegal and that he was responsible for the suicides. She doubted they'd ever see him again.
As for Ray...., well Nicholas MacKenzie, if that was his name. She wondered where he had gone. Some of his things were still in her room and she had gone through them. Nothing special; just some clothes. Andrea knew now that he was neither a cop nor some private investigator. Michael had explained that he worked, kind of, for the Foundation for Law and Government as well, though more or less on a freelance basis and mostly undercover.
As she rounded a corner she suddenly discovered a well-known figure sitting outside in the open court-yard. A smile lit up her features and she saw him return it. Nicholas was dressed totally in black, a pair of sunglasses on his head. Andrea looked briefly around the near-by car park to see if the second black car that been at the airport was parked close by. She it had to be Nick's. She couldn't see it.
"Hi," she greeted him.
"Hi," he answered. "I didn't want to leave without seeing how you were. So, how are you?"
"Managing," she answered truthfully.
Up close she discovered some fine lines of stress on the sun-tanned features, as well as the healing cut over the left eye and a bruise on the cheek bone.
"You look like you haven't slept in days," she remarked casually.
"Ah, caught again," he joked.
Andrea grimaced. "You are leaving?"
Nick nodded.
"And here I was getting used to having Ray de la Croix as a roomie." Her eyes twinkled. "People were already playing the wedding bell lottery."
Nick raised one inquisitive eyebrow. "Sorry to blow the chances of a winning ticket."
Andrea laughed, then grew serious again. "I guess I'll never see you again?"
He shrugged. "You never know."
"Don't make any promises you can't keep."
"I never do."
Andrea looked into his ice blue eyes and noted how hard they were, how little emotion seeped through. Ray had been different and she wondered whether or not she had seen another side of Nicholas MacKenzie then. She would never know. Michael hadn't really explained all that much about his friend and Andrea wondered if he actually knew more.
"So this is what you do for a living?" she asked.
Nick didn't answer and she sighed, shaking her head.
"You are one weird guy."
"I take that as a compliment."
"Wanna go and grab a cup of coffee?" Andrea wanted to know, her hopes not very high.
Nicholas hesitated, then slowly shook his head. "I can't. I have to go."
"Where?"
He shrugged. "Somewhere."
Andrea sighed more audibly this time. "Like I said, weird guy. Oh!" She bent down and opened her backpack, rummaging around and pulling out a small roll wrapped in colorful paper. "This is for you."
Nick took it, eyebrows rising. Then he unwrapped it, unrolling the paper inside. It showed a landscape, wild and breathtaking, an eagle soaring high up in the sky, the mountains in the distance.
"It's one of Linda's paintings," Andrea explained shyly. "I thought you might want to have it. It's kinda... a way to remember what's on the other side, the beauty and the freedom."
Nick looked at her, smiling. "Thank you," he said, the cold look gone out of his eyes, real warmth in them for a moment. He leaned forward and gave her a little kiss on the cheek. "I have to go."
Andrea watched as he disappeared. She wondered who he was, what made him tick and why he did what he did. She knew she's never get those questions answered; and she'd probably never see him ever again.
* * *
The warehouse was silent and empty. Nick didn't actually like the silence, but right now he preferred it to whatever else might be an option. Karr was at the Shop, receiving very necessary repair to some circuits. Kitt and Michael were wrapping up whatever loose ends the case still had. Case. He snorted. His case. Well, not any more. Devon had jumped in when the police had started to ask questions and declared it was a FLAG case and that this made it kind of 'official'. He puzzled over why Miles had done it. It had definitely *not* been a Foundation case and Nick was not really a member of the organization. And he and Devon were not on what he might call friendly terms; they tolerated each other's presence, but that was about it.
Nicholas sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head. He should be happy because he had won, but he wasn't. Yes, he had finally ended a nightmare that had begun so many years ago, but the remnants would linger on. What Nash had done remained. His heritage.... Nick was just one of many who had 'functioned', who had turned out as the mad man had imagined his 'elite warriors' to be. He had had the strength to leave, but many had died. Not physically, no. Mentally. Their minds had given up the battle against what had been implanted in then and they had died. Their bodies had continued, they had been used, and finally they had been disposed of.
Someone walked up the stairs and Nicholas looked up, startled that he hadn't heard anyone arrive. As not other expected it was Michael. He no longer looked as pale as the last few days and Nick was reminded once more that Michael had been injured as well. The fractured rib had broken when one of Nash's goons had hit him and he had been in hospital to get it taped. He had refused to stay the night and had instead gone home – with Bonnie grumbling and protesting.
"I'm not in the mood for talking, Michael, so forget whatever it is you wanted to say," Nick said with a lot of hostility in his voice.
Nick was still fighting what Nash had stirred inside him again. Professor Bolt had ignited the old fire again, making him flash. The images from the lab had not really gotten through, but they had started it all. He had retreated, had pushed even Karr away, and it hurt.
"I wasn't about to say anything," Michael said calmly. "I just wanted to let you know that Karr is almost back to normal. I think he and Kitt were briefly in contact, but since Karr hates to confess he is hurting and continually shuts himself off, I'm not really sure." He smiled.
Nicholas nodded, staring down on the floor again, leaning on the railing. "I don't need company," he finally remarked.
Michael shrugged and went over to the couch group. "You are always assuming things, Nick. I'm not here to keep you company. I *live* here, my friend, in case you already forgot." He flashed him an obnoxious smile.
Nick sighed silently. Of course Michael lived here. He kept on staring down onto the lower level, finally turned and walked to where Michael was flipping through the channels. Knight didn't comment and didn't even look up as he checked his favorite channels and the TV guide. Nick walked over to the fridge and looked inside. He reached for a beer, then stopped and took a can of soda. Somehow drowning his pain in alcohol didn't sound like a plan – mostly because he'd probably lose control. If he drank, it was when he had control of the situation. His current state-of-mind suggested he didn't and might go over the top.
Sinking down in an armchair he pressed the can against his aching forehead. He knew the pain was nothing but an echo, but it was a lingering one; it was an insistent one. Finally he opened the can and sipped at it. Nick hesitantly probed the neuro link and found the exhausted and resting presence of his partner on the other side. Karr was sleepy and worn out by the repairs, but he replied carefully.
I'm fine> Nick muttered.
Karr snorted softly. Your lies were better> he replied.
Nick smiled a bit, closing his eyes. Guess I have to train harder>
It would help to know what I'm facing the next time>
He winced. I.... it was personal!> Nick then almost snapped. He caught himself, shakily drawing a virtual breath. It's nothing I want to share>
You know all of me, down to the deepest, darkest pit of malicious, vicious hatred and you know what I did> Karr replied evenly. You know my pain, my secrets, what others define as 'evil'. How can you be worse or have been more evil, Nicholas?>
Nick sighed. Yes, how could he be different from the machine he had been chosen for? They were so much alike, down to the fact that both had been manipulated by those who had created them. Still, Karr was a programmed machine, an AI, but still programmed. Nick had been born a human being, he had lived his childhood as a human until .... until They had found him. He bit his lower lip.
We all are programmed> Karr replied philosophically.
Oh, shut up> Nick growled, but there was no anger in his voice. He was just tired. Tired of running, tired of hiding.... tired. Nash had escaped once again and Nick felt like screaming. Again, and again, and again... he had escaped just to pursue his dark business somewhere else. Nick had no doubt they'd meet again somewhere down the road, and it would not be pretty.
Looking up he caught Michael gazing thoughtfully his way. Is Kitt with you?>
No>
MacKenzie smiled wryly. He should give Michael at least so much people skills that he knew when someone else was brooding or deep in thought.
"Don't say a thing," he said quietly.
Michael raised his hands as if in defense, one eyebrow rising in the silent question 'Who? Me?'. Then he smiled and went back to watching a soccer match.
Nicholas just shrugged. His gaze wandered over to the framed picture of Linda Carpenter; one of her beautiful works. It had been an expression of life and joy, of freedom and beauty. It had existed prior to the darkness and despair, the pain and the hopelessness. Nick didn't know if this side had ever existed inside him, and neither had he ever really lived on the dark side. He lived in the shadows, trapped and unable to go either way. He shook his head, losing those dark thoughts.
There was a companionable silence in the warehouse now, the only sound the TV soccer game. Neither asked, neither expected answers.
A level further down Kitt smiled, then shut down to rest.