Our Trusty Getaway Car
Chapter Ten
Personal Log: June, Friday
'I'm not merely building another weapon; I'm creating the ultimate assassinating machine. Imagine an agent that will go after its objective relentlessly, yet preserve its self in crisis with precise decision-making capabilities and most importantly, show absolute devotion to the one who activates it. Once I'm finished my ambitions will be realized and unstoppable.'
Sandulf
More hours spent in a congested parking garage meant more time for KITT to brood, or analyze as he liked to put it.
'Just like old times' he thought wryly, recalling past incidences requiring long waits in unsavory places. At least it beat collecting dust inside the Foundation's garage. New York might not have been his favorite city, but it certainly offered more excitement and purpose than his former state of address. Besides, he seemed to get along swimmingly with the populace here.
He had successfully delivered Darryl and the others to the Javits Convention Center without any problem, traffic had been moderate and tensions were low on the trip over, the trailer had safely been removed from his personage upon arrival and the Expo was even insightful enough to reserve parking for vendors in a private garage just a few blocks away. No true complaints from KITT other than the crowded accommodations, but he was still extremely restless. His unease could be pinned down to one factor; there had been no sign of Michael since last night's encounter.
Grant it, his processor had been plagued with many anxieties, but long gone were the concerns of identifying what was wrong with Jonathan's proposal. It was replaced by the task of locating his friend's whereabouts and figuring out what to do about it. If Michael's objective here in New York City was to find him, and it most likely was, KITT knew from experience he was as good as found. Something he had always admired about his best friend was now going to become a source of formidable frustration; Michael's persistence. The man just couldn't leave well enough alone, could he? Of course not; this was the most stubborn human being KITT had ever met . . . except in the areas it counted.
"Enough," he verbalized, canceling the bitter thoughts. He had agreed to let Michael leave the Foundation, though it was Michael who instructed him to remain with FLAG; a request KITT both respected and . . . resented. No, regardless of the consequences, the decision was mutual and in the past. Right now he needed to focus on his next move and that involved far reaching, deep penetrating surveillance mode. His scanner lights trailed along and tones sounded as he activated the appropriate functions to gather data of his surroundings.
He tracked the quick movements of pedestrians off to the expo below and exacted a layout for the structural makeup of the parking garage and convention center down the road. He couldn't detect anything familiar. No sign of Michael's biological signature or reading of FLAG's presence in the area; not even a transmission from any of their communication devices. The only signals he was receiving were coming from the expo itself; a symphony of technological advances. In fact, Darryl had actually given him the access code for the center's Wi-Fi network; a means for the AI to occupy himself. KITT could actually pinpoint DAWN's location from here; Exhibition Hall A, third level, fifth row, but this didn't help him with his dilemma.
He wondered if he should just leave New York. After all, he couldn't risk being located by the Foundation before he had a valid reason for his actions. But, he couldn't just leave Darryl and the others stranded. Then again, he did tell them his time was limited. Maybe he could call them and they could work out some other means of transport. It wasn't mannerly, but it wasn't cruel either. He searched online databases to locate a cell phone number for Darryl and called. No answer; straight to voice mail. He left a message but decided to try Cassidy. Same process, same result. Obviously, they had turned their phones off as a courtesy to other presenters in the Expo.
"I suppose it's the best I can do," KITT voiced quietly, unconvinced by his own statement. There had to be a way to reach them. A quick sweep of the third floor revealed service phones scattered about the building. He zeroed in on one closest to the team and tried to dial it up. What he hadn't anticipated was all the interference from the steel structures and gadgets in the area. Instead of phone #305, he established a secondary link with . . .
Welcome to the Digital Analyzer of Warranted Narratives system. I am able to comprise a complete psychological profile through the accounts provided by a participant. All information is kept confidential and analysis is statistically accurate. Before we begin, please, what is your name?
KITT was surprised by the contact. He hadn't meant to call DAWN, though he couldn't say it was an unwelcome event. He had wanted to interact with the other computer ever since Nicole explained it to him, but there was some apprehension. KITT had networked with several mainframes over the years, some better than others, but all without awareness as he knew it. It was all rather disappointing, but one encounter had left a bitter impression on him. He still recalled the embarrassment he felt surrounding a 'friendship' he struck up online. After defending the integrity of his new 'friend' to his colleagues, Kimberly informed him his companion was an Automated Teller Machine in San Francisco. Needless to say, his future relations with technology were dubious at best.
Still, even though DAWN's masculine voice sounded calm and polite like most vocal output programs, there was an unknown variable to its resonance and KITT was curious enough to see what it was.
"I'm Kitt."
Hello, Kitt.
Well, at least the system seemed to have a friendly protocol.
"Hello, Dawn."
How are you?
A typical courteous question KITT was used to.
"I'm fine and how are you?" he asked; a means of testing the waters.
I'm the Digital Analyzer of Warranted Narratives.
Obviously, the waters of understanding were shallow.
"Oh good grief . . ."
Let's begin.
"I suppose we can, though this certainly answers my question of whether this would be a productive conversation or not."
Sorry, I don't understand, could you repeat the question?
It appeared DAWN was the sum of his parts.
"Never mind."
Do you wish to make an analysis?
"Yes fine, whatever . . ."
Don't whatever me!
"I beg your pardon?!" KITT said more out of reflex than thought. The sudden change in DAWN's timbre was stunning. He sounded harsh and defensive.
You heard me.
KITT paused. Maybe this program had more awareness than originally thought?
"Do you comprehend what's happening right now?"
I can try. Tell me more.
Back to the same polite composure.
"Honestly, I don't know where to begin."
I don't know either.
"Not to sound too forward Dawn, but would you mind if I did a surface examine of your procedures."
I don't understand, please, repeat the question or return to the original inquiry.
"Please, allow me to do this. A moment ago it sounded like you . . . understood me," KITT pressed. There was a long pause.
I can't do anything like that.
KITT detected an uncertainty in the speech pattern.
"Ah, you're confused."
And you're a horrible conversationalist.
In spite of himself, KITT couldn't help but find amusement in the snarky statement.
Stop laughing.
"I'm sorry. What would you like to talk about?"
. . . Pizza.
"Pizza?! Whatever for?" KITT asked in complete bewilderment. What did a baked dish of dough have to do with what they were discussing?
I don't know. You're the one who wants to talk with me.
KITT could sense the touché in that question.
"Good point."
Tell me a little bit about yourself and I'll give you information on myself.
Maybe KITT could spare a few minutes after all.
Last Thursday Morning
The morning sun peeked over the horizon and offered its rays to the city of Denver without restraint. For Bonnie, with her east facing window, this meant a rude awakening as the offending light streamed through the slightly parted curtains onto her face. She rolled over trying to escape the knowledge she needed to get up soon. She had gone to bed late last night and only because she was too exhausted to do otherwise; hours of staring at a computer screen and worrying about KITT did that. At least she slept hard. The rest was desperately needed considering her whole week had been filled with restless nights. If only she could get a few more hours.
A moment passed, but eventually, she gathered enough energy, and nerve, to look at the alarm clock by the bedside. Five forty; bright and early indeed. She pulled the covers back and grudgingly got out of bed, making sure her first waking action was to activate the coffee maker on the dresser. As the familiar sound of percolation filled the room, she went over to the desk provided by the inn and sat down in the chair. Her silver laptop nested neatly among notes, folders and empty coffee cups, was waiting for her to start work again as the blinking orange light indicated. Upon opening it the login screen came up. With a few keystrokes she typed in her password and accessed her computer the way she had left it; populated with programs and tasks all meant to spy on Evelyn's actions.
A sigh escaped Bonnie's lips as the results hadn't changed overnight. Nothing incriminated Evelyn with KITT's disappearance or indicated the woman's next move; not yet anyway. Bonnie didn't know how much luck Michael and Scott had in finding anything, but she was due to hear from them in a couple of hours. She deliberated on whether to take a shower or not; it might help wake her up if nothing else. As she prepped the bathroom, her mind wondered from thought to thought, picking up one matter after another, trying to gain a decent perspective on the situation around her. One topic, in particular, kept cropping up; what was she doing?
She had an answer to that in the general sense. She was helping to find KITT and protect him from any ill-willed plot against him, but what did that all entail, really? Over the past week, she had learned of KITT's possible deactivation, collaborated with said AI and former Michael Knight to eavesdrop on a Foundation board meeting, possibly contributed to KITT's running away, united with Michael to investigate said disappearance, offered assistance to FLAG in the name of finding KITT only to discover how poorly he was treated, pushed aside her other duties to fly across the country, found out there was a conspiracy going on for over ten years and, surprisingly, enjoyed aspects of this crazy undertaking. She hadn't wanted to admit it, but she missed the kind of atmosphere this brought into her life.
It wasn't to say she wanted to make a full-time career out of it again, but more like she wouldn't mind having aspects of this adventure in her life more often. To be honest, this whole situation had put some things into perspective for her. Usually, she was too busy with her schedule of teaching university students, managing technological advancements and conserving wildlife to bother reflecting on any one part of her life. She wore so many hats and wore them so well. She was respected, esteemed and renowned for her talents in both the professional and public realm, but on a deeply personal level, she felt as if she achieved very little. Her family served to remind her of this occasionally.
Her father was proud of her, she knew, but she could still sense the disappointment he had because she chose not to pursue medicine. The man had two other children, but he had held hopes she would be the M.D. in the family. In the past, his dissatisfaction spurred Bonnie into pushing herself harder for what she had decided, but now, it only stung. Her mother was another source of contention, not on purpose of course, but through the not so subtle hints of marriage. Bonnie was always reminded how her sister and brother were married and had children. Every family reunion and holiday was the same:
'Hey, its Bonnie . . . Did you know she has a doctorate? . . . She's a very successful woman . . . Is she married? . . . Well, no . . . Why not?'
The list of reasons people came up with, let alone family, was always either embarrassing or hurtful. It always left her feeling singled out and sometimes she found herself believing their statements. Maybe she was married to her work, or she hadn't met the right one yet or wasn't even really trying, but the truth was she had tried. She was even engaged once, but it seemed, in her case anyway, love always turned out to be too good to be true. Perhaps she had given up on marriage, but that didn't mean she needed to be reminded of it. Her life wasn't empty and she wished her mother would see it the same way. At least she always had a solid group of friends she could rely on, past and present, but even that had suffered over the years thanks to a grueling calendar.
She made time for friends when she could, but by the time one meeting wrapped up another one started or a crisis arose in an area of business where suddenly everyone put in charge lost their heads or a syllabus needed to be adjusted because a surprise programming class needed to be picked up. By the time she got to any free time, it was already being eaten up by basic needs like sleep and then it was back to the never-ending workload. In fact, she should be worrying about what she was going to do about tomorrow but instead, she wasn't. Today, the only thing she needed to focus on was finding KITT and, situation aside, there was tranquility in that.
It was around six thirty when she finished her shower and got dressed. She grabbed a cup of coffee on her way over to the nightstand where she picked up her phone before heading back to the desk. As she sat down and set the phone next to her laptop her eyes locked in on the screen. There had been activity in the semi's computer; a records search and clearance request. Bonnie quickly placed her cup down and began typing. With a few clicks, she pulled up the logged tasks and reviewed the data.
Someone tapped into a bank of FLAG's unique security codes; codes used mainly for the Foundation's operatives to get into highly protected places. Bonnie had no trouble finding the identity of the intruder; it was Evelyn based on the login data, but as to which codes were singled out, it was a mystery. The process of sifting through all of them would be tedious; too time-consuming, like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. So instead, she decided to focus her efforts on the clearance request; still a very difficult job but manageable. After an hour she was able to isolate the nature of the entreaty. It was for an authorization in airspace; another half hour and she was able to pinpoint the location; an area northwest of Kingston, New York near state route 28.
Bonnie briefly wondered if there was a private airport there, but a quick online search revealed that to be untrue. Why would Evelyn want air clearance for a forested area in New York? A sudden vibration and noise to her right startled her out of her thoughts. It only took a second for her mind to realize it was her cell phone, but her heart was taking a little longer to adapt. She reached down and grabbed it, checking the caller ID. It was Michael; right on time.
"Hello, Michael?"
"Hello there, sunshine. Sleep well?" his voice came across as playful, but tired.
"About as well as you sound," she shot back jokingly. Michael gave a short laugh.
"Thanks."
"Look, I found something. Around six o' clock this morning someone accessed the semi's computers; want to guess who?"
"Evelyn. What was she after?"
"From the looks of it air clearance in a rural part of New York. I checked if there were any small airports in that area, but there aren't."
"You wouldn't need one if you used a helicopter. Where in New York?"
"Northwest of Kingston, about a two-hour drive from New York City."
"Then that's where I'm heading. Can you look up a . . ."
"I'm ahead of you Michael. There's a flight leaving for J.F.K. but it's not until four this afternoon."
"Book it for me; I promise to pay you back. Have you talked to Scott about all this yet?"
"No, I just found out all this right before you called. Michael, I want to go with you."
"I don't know . . ."
"Well, I do. I'll go with or without you and we'd be a lot better off if we worked together on this."
"How can I argue with that? Alright, I'll tell Scott what's going on while you make the travel arrangements. Maybe he can back us up on some things. Bye," Michael finished as he ended the call with Bonnie. He glanced at the time; eight fifteen. Hopefully, it was late enough to go bother ole Scotts. He exited his room, paying special attention to his surroundings and making sure no one was around. Once assured the coast was clear, he made his way up to the second level and down to the familiar suite. He gave five brisk knocks at the door.
"Who is it?"
"Scott? It's me, Michael."
"Yes, of course. Wait one moment," was the muffled reply. Shortly, the door opened to reveal Scott fully dressed in a grey-pin striped suit.
"Let's go for a walk, down to the end of the balcony here. Have you found out anything yet?"
"More like Bonnie found something, but first, did you ever figure out how long Evelyn planned on staying here?" Michael asked as they walked.
"Sorry, I meant to tell you yesterday. She plans on leaving Friday morning."
"Good," Michael responded as he went on to explain what Bonnie discovered and their plans to fly to New York this afternoon. Scott looked thoughtful as they stopped at the end of the promenade.
"I see. Do you wish me to keep Evelyn here? I could have her brought in for questioning concerning the unauthorized use of her passkey."
"No. We still don't know how far up this goes or what these guys are planning. It's best if they don't think we're on to them too strongly yet."
"Good point, but this is a very . . . complicated matter Michael and if you were spotted by the wrong people I would hate to think of the consequences," Scott said gravely. Michael felt the same way. For a moment, second thoughts came to mind. He was getting in even deeper now; stepping back over into the world of crime-busting. What if he was going too far; picking up the mantle of Michael Knight once more? One man really could make a difference, but was that man him anymore?
"We'll just have to take our chances," Michael said in answer to Scott and himself.
"Well, I certainly can't stop you, but I can help you. Don't worry about financing the trip; I'll pay for the traveling expenses and hotels out of my own funds if need be. I'm also going to have one of my confidant's contact you once you reach New York."
"Who?"
"You'll know them when you see them."
"No offense, but I'm not exactly trusting the Foundation's resources at the moment. I'd like to keep this as under the radar as possible," Michael stated warily.
"And it will be, I promise. I just know what these crooks are capable of and I don't want to put anyone at risk. I believe you will need the extra help."
"Alright. Hey, speaking of Flag, what about the board of directors; were you able to get a hold of them?"
"Yes and no. I was able to reach Jonathan but had no luck in contacting Jennifer Knight or the others. Aside from that, there was something else I found quite troubling; Jonathan had no idea Kitt was even missing. I admit I kept it a secret for the first two days, but Monday I filed an official report on the matter. He told me he would try to get in touch with the others," Scott explained.
"Not reassuring."
"Mm. Your flight doesn't leave until four correct? Let's say I send Ms. Stanton and the rest of the team on an errand while you, Bonnie and I swap more details over a nice lunch; my treat."
"Sounds great; your choice or mine?" Michael said with a smile, feeling strangely at ease with a man he couldn't stand just a week ago. In fact, it was sort of odd how easily he found trusting Scott was now. It was as if Scott reminded him of someone else.
"How about we let Bonnie decide? I'd hate to see what you'd pick and I doubt you would fancy my tastes in restaurants. Is eleven o' clock fine?"
"Should be. I'll let Bonnie know. Thanks."
"You're welcome, see you later," Scott said as he watched Michael make his way down the set of stairs next to them. The well-dressed man pulled out his phone and looked at the time; eight forty-five. He had quite a list of arrangements to make and little time to do it in, but first, he needed to get back to his room. The only reason he suggested the walk was because his room adjoined Matthew's, and he didn't know how prone to eavesdropping the man was. Scott didn't fully trust his driver considering how close Matthew seemed to try and hang around important conversations . . . and speak of the devil; here came the young man approaching him now from the other end of the walkway.
"Mr. Wellington, sir, I thought something happened. I was a little nervous when you didn't answer the door," he began. It took every ounce of Scott's self-composure not to roll his eyes.
"Matthew, I simply came out to enjoy some fresh air. For heaven's sake, you're my employee, not a personal bodyguard. In fact, I have a job for you. I want you to take Evelyn, Peter and Miranda back to the semi this morning; I'll inform them you're coming. Then I want you to stay with the semi until I call with further instructions."
"Yes, sir," Matthew said with some hesitance. Scott watched as the man left down the same nearby stairwell Michael had. He then pulled his phone back out and called Evelyn, asking her to go with Matthew to the semi and 'help' develop some way of tracking KITT. No surprise when she told him she was already at the transporter. He promised to send the other two technicians who came with the mobile outfit there to help her. She sounded as gracious and grateful as usual, but he just couldn't wait to get off the phone with her. It was difficult to be cordial with someone you knew was being deceitful and even harder to keep up a façade of naivety. He told her he would be around later that afternoon to check on their progress, albeit, a little more tersely than he meant to.
"Steady, old boy," he said to himself as he got off the phone. They were too close to a breakthrough in this case to crack up now.
Lunchtime came quickly and its arrival found Michael, Bonnie and Scott seated at a local eatery off the main boulevard. It was nothing fancy, nothing Scott would have selected, but it had a nice airy décor with soft tans and browns. It had a quaint café feel, not something Michael would have chosen, but it was busy; a good sign the food wasn't half bad. Bonnie was just happy she could find a compromise that seemed to work for everyone. Once their orders were in they shifted right into business.
"Here are the plane tickets to New York. I arranged for my operative to meet you in Kingston Friday morning at this location," Scott explained as he handed the vouchers to Michael along with a sheet of paper, "After lunch, we'll need to go by the post office. The document I've been waiting for finally arrived."
"The True Bolt accounts?" Michael asked as he slipped the papers into his jacket.
"Precisely. I'm hoping with those accounts I can build a case of embezzlement against William Key. Once we have him and find out what this True Bolt really is we'll be able to open the entire organization up for investigation."
"Nailing down anyone else at Knight Industries who had anything to do with this, right?" Michael smiled. Scott nodded.
"But that won't stop those who are trying to steal Kitt. You said it's always some third-party group that gets a hold of the technology. What if we're too late?" Bonnie asked quickly, closing the laptop she had in front of her.
"We're going to find him, Bonnie. I doubt Evelyn would wait until Friday to leave if she knew where he was now," Michael tried to reassure her. She didn't seem all that convinced.
"She could just be here to throw us off. They could already have Kitt," she stressed.
"Look, you said yourself. Kitt chose to take off on his own and he's managed to stay one step ahead of us; people who have known him for years. What chance do strangers have?"
"Evelyn's no stranger," she retorted.
"He's right, Bonnie. I highly doubt these people would continue the ruse if they had what they wanted," Scott stated.
"I hope you're both right," she sighed as their waitress came to the table with their orders, "I really do."
"Enjoy your lunch guys," the waitress said as she turned and quickly left their table. A look of surprise lit up Scott's features as he turned in his seat. That voice.
"Wait!" he called out, but the server had already ducked through the kitchen doors. Michael and Bonnie looked on in confusion.
"What is it, Scott?" Bonnie asked as the man faced her with an equally perplexed expression.
"I have no idea. I recognize that woman's voice, but it's impossible . . ."
"Look," Michael interjected as he picked a plain white envelope up from next to the soup. He opened it to retrieve the letter inside. His blue eyes skimmed over the page before quickly darting up to the picture window they were sitting by.
"What does it say, Michael?" Scott asked in a lower tone as he noticed the hard look in the other man's eyes.
"She says were about to have company and she's right. Don't stare, but look out at the car," Michael said as he folded the note up. Scott and Bonnie did as he asked and spotted their ride being blocked in by a patrol car. A couple of Denver's finest stepped out of the vehicle just as another unit pulled into the diner's parking lot. A group of officers came together around the back of Michael's rental and seemed to confirm something among them as they turned their sights towards the restaurant.
"What's going on?" Bonnie asked excitedly, visibly pale. Scott glanced back at the kitchen, then to Michael who was giving him a harsh look.
"Was this a setup?" Michael growled. Scott winced.
"Dear Lord no. I'm just as upset about this as you are."
"How do we know that?" Michael whispered as he saw the two officers approach the door.
"I've told you to trust me. The woman who delivered our lunch; she must be my operative. What else did that note say? Did she say to meet somewhere?" Scott questioned earnestly.
"Outside the bathrooms. I think we better go one at a time though or else we'll draw unwanted attention," Michael stated just as the front entrance opened to reveal the two cops.
"Agreed," Scott said as he ducked his head down.
"I think you should go first, Scotts," Michael whispered before looking to Bonnie across the table, "Are they looking this way?"
She shook her head no. Michael motioned for Scott to leave first. The older man wasted no time in getting up from the table, but he tried to remain as casual as possible. As he made it around the corner to the restroom area Michael nodded for Bonnie. She stood up quietly with her laptop case in hand and made her way across the restaurant, disappearing around the same corner Scott had. Michael got up and glanced down at the other end of the diner. He saw one of the officers approach the hostess with a printout of some kind. He couldn't make it out from where he was, but he watched as the young woman studied the paper and then pointed down his aisle. It was time to go.
But before he could move he caught eyes with one of the taller officers and immediately regretted the action. The cop started coming in his direction with a look of determination. Michael swiftly took off for the bathrooms, glad the eatery had such small rows as the officer was headed off by a waiter carrying a tray. Once Michael rounded the corner he was surprised to see an empty hall and two doors; one marked 'Men' and the other 'Women'. Where had the others gone?
"Psst," a harsh whisper came from his left. He snapped his head in that direction to see a third door with a hand peeking out and waving for him to come in. He heard the footfalls of the police coming up behind him and dashed for the mystery door. He made it inside and was greeted by the sights and sounds of an active kitchen as well as Bonnie, Scott and the undercover agent from earlier. The unknown woman quickly shut the door and turned towards him, giving Michael a better look at her face. He was shocked; he recognized her.
"Rachael . . . Rachael Sanders?" he asked disbelievingly. It was indeed the college student who accompanied him to BT Industries Monday. This was Scott's operative?
"Amazing what a little hair color and makeup can do. No time for that now though. I'll explain more once we reach the chopper," she stated, beginning to cut through the crowded kitchen. Michael and Bonnie looked at each other in confusion, but Scott was posed for action.
"Don't just stand there. Follow her," he announced as he worked his way into the congested space. The two lingered for a hesitant moment longer before trailing after Scott. Suddenly, the small door behind them opened up.
"There she is! You two, stop right there!" a voice called out, but Bonnie and Michael stayed their course.
"What are all you people doing in my kitchen?!" one of the overheated cook's shouted, nearly dropping a pot as the four fugitives squeezed past him to another door leading out back to the dumpsters. The cook narrowed his brown eyes and was about to yell again when one of the officer's knocked into him causing the diner's signature sauce to spill all over the floor.
"Sorry," one of the four cops said offhandedly as they scrambled around the chaos for the back door.
"For crying out loud!" the cook moaned as he watched them track the mess everywhere. The police nearly slipped at the exit but managed to get out into the small alleyway.
"They've headed out the back and towards the road, I think. There's four of them now," one officer said into his radio, "Have unit five surround the back and head . . . what the . . .?"
All four officers looked around as they heard the faint sound of helicopter blades. It seemed to be coming from a nearby building's roof. Soon, the sound was accompanied by a sight. They watched in astonishment as a helicopter indeed lifted off, sending down powerful gusts of air into the alley. It resembled an HH-65 Dolphin in size but a Coast Guard's rescue chopper it was not. This one appeared custom-made; sleek, quiet and a clean design. It was painted dark ruby red with black markings throughout. The police couldn't see any of the occupants inside thanks to its tinted windows, but they had a sinking suspicion it was their suspects. Either way, the information wouldn't make much difference in catching the mysterious aircraft.
Michael, Bonnie and Scott were safely riding in the back of the helicopter seated on a padded bench near the starboard wall. Michael and Bonnie were surprised by how quiet it was in the cockpit. They could hear each other quite comfortably in what appeared to be a soundproof cabin. Bonnie instantly took notice of the control panel. Unlike most aircraft she'd ever seen, this one had a simpler layout; just a few switches and a touch screen. Her fear of flying seemed to give way to her fascination with this strange helicopter; it showed in her curious features.
Next to her sat Scott, looking down out of one of the windows to the slowly increasing army of law enforcement below. What did they want? His mind apparently was on several things and none of it was making sense to him. He didn't know exactly what was going on, but he appeared to trust the young lady piloting the aircraft; it showed in his sigh of relief.
Beside him was Michael, who was more than concerned. His suspicions were aroused and he didn't know what to expect next. He was agitated by the sudden turn of events; it showed in the way he sat straight up in his seat.
"What's going on here?" Michael asked, running a hand through his hair. Scott perked up at the question.
"Yes, Abigail, what are you doing here and why were those officers coming after us?"
"Wait!? Abigail?" Michael started, looking up to the pilot. She pressed a button on the console engaging the autopilot system before turning around in her seat. She gave the group an amused smile, but her eyes betrayed worry.
"Sorry, but as you can see, I had to act fast. No, Michael, you're not losing your mind. My cover was Rachel Sanders in Seattle, but I'm Abigail Rider."
"Well that sure explains everything," Michael stated sarcastically. The woman turned to Scott.
"They're really coming at Flag this time, Scott. Dr. Phillips and William Key issued reports this morning that Dr. Barstow stole Kitt last Friday and Knight Industries is supporting the charges," Abigail said.
"What?!" Bonnie cried out.
"They're using altered versions of Thursday's surveillance footage as evidence against you. The report says you tampered with Kitt, causing him to leave the premises later."
"That's not true. I signed in and out Thursday with the guard. They can't ignore that and there are cameras in the garage. I didn't do anything to Kitt," Bonnie explained in a panic. Scott stretched out a hand to calm the doctor down.
"It's alright, Bonnie. We know that. We'll clear it up once we get to the bottom of all this."
"That's just it, Scott. It gets worse. They also put an APB on you. They believe you were involved in Devon's death," Abigail stated lowly. The temperature in the cabin seemed to drop.
"Impossible. Why would they even come up with an accusation like that?" Scott said in horror.
"Apparently, Dr. Phillips found our trail and is actually using the proof we gathered against us. I think that break in Wednesday was an opportunity for them to plant evidence. William closed the True Bolt account yesterday and ten to one says they're covering it up now."
"This can't be happening," Scott breathed in disbelief holding his head in his hands. The work of ten years was unraveling before him. Michael's anger flared.
"Well, it is happening, so what are we going to do about it?!" he exclaimed.
"I don't know. The fact this is even happening may suggest they have Kitt already," Scott exasperated, "I just can't believe after ten years . . ."
"You let all this happen!" Michael interrupted heatedly. Scott looked over in startled anger.
"Michael, please . . ." Bonnie started but was ignored.
"No! There's a huge conspiracy surrounding Flag, Kitt's missing, you're charged with stealing him, Bonnie, and Devon was killed over this. Now you're telling me it's all for nothing! How could you let things get this bad? I don't understand it!" Michael continued.
"I've been working on this diligently for years. I've come closer to shutting these people down than anyone, even the FBI," Scott snapped.
"All I see is you've been in charge of Flag for ten years and it's in worse shape for it!" Michael fumed bitterly. The hurt and fury in Scott's eyes were undeniable.
"Without me, the Foundation would have fallen apart from the beginning! I didn't see anyone else standing up for the organization, Michael, not you, not anyone! Forgive me if it wasn't to your liking, but I did what I needed to keep Flag alive and I didn't have much to work with anymore," Scott said with resentment evident in his English accent. Michael and Bonnie stared at the man in shock. They turned to look at each other as if to confirm their own senses. Scott's tone was so eerily familiar and yet upsettingly remote; as if it had been spoken from the grave because it would have to of been.
"Devon . . . ?" Bonnie mouthed hoarsely; throat tight with emotion. The man paled.
. . . Love does not delight in evil . . .