The highway stretched out as far as the eye could see. There were very few
cars on it and at the moment save for a big semi headed east there were no
cars to be seen. Jet black with a gold knight-chess piece insignia the rig
roared through states keeping just under the speed limit but trying to get
to it's destination as fast as possible. In the trailer Devon went through
reports that were mundane but necessary. His heart just wasn't in them
though. Bonnie had questioned his judgement on sending Michael out on a
case without Kitt. Personally he agreed with her, professionally he knew he
had done the right thing. This case was too important, people's lives where
at stake. Devon knew that deep inside Michael also knew this and despite
his arguments he also knew that Devon was right. Devon snapped out of his
thoughts only to find he had continued to sign papers without even reading
them first. Sighing he pushed the papers aside. Bonnie sat at one of the
terminals. She looked tired but had grim determination evident in her face.
Devon's gaze wondered to the end of the semi, to the place Kitt usually
occupied. It wasn't like Kitt to vanish like this. Or was it? Devon didn't
like to admit it, but he didn't "know" Kitt as well as he should. He knew
the Knight Industries Two Thousand, the modified Pontiac frame, but the AI.
Closing his eyes just for a second, Devon made a silent wish to get to know
Kitt better if, no WHEN he corrected himself they found him.
The model 380 Mercedes headed down the highway at a relative crawl. At least that's what it felt like to Michael. He was pushing the sporting Mercedes to it's limit and to anyone else the speed would have seemed dangerously fast, but to Michael who was used to Kitt's speeds it was indeed a crawl. Michael had not stopped since leaving California save to fill up. He was worried sick about Kitt. The radio kept up a steady stream of noise but he really missed Kitt and their conversations together. Watching the white line fly past he realized just how lonely this job would be, if not for Kitt. Glancing down at his car phone he tried to will it to ring. He knew the semi was nowhere near Tennessee. They had left at about the same time, Michael about a half and hour after the semi. He had passed it long ago and been acknowledged with a flash of the big truck's fog- lights. To give himself something to occupy his mind he started reviewing his case.
A young lady had contacted the Foundation concerning shady activities at the local gazette. During business hours she managed the press. She had gotten suspicious after finding the machines messed with. The Staton City Gazette was a small town newspaper and as she was the only one with the training to run the press machines and know when they had been tampered with no-one believed her when she suspected that someone other then her was using the press. The local police where busy with an onset of two gangs fighting for territory. For small town sheriffs this gang fighting occupied all their man-hours. The police had dusted for fingerprints and gone through their routine but had come up with nothing. She had requested surveillance, but after two nights of that the police decided to go back to "real" work and leave Miss Brandon to look after her press. Her boss Mr. Myers bluntly accused her of making up the whole story of the press being used at night. John Myers had never liked her, but couldn't very well fire her as who else would make the paper? A discouraged Joyce went back to her job, but found bits and pieces of evidence every now and then that the press was indeed being used by someone else as well. Some months after the local police had shrugged the case off, Joyce Brandon decided to take matters into her own hands. Joyce hired a car and parked across the street from the press. When she saw Myers head into the building at one o'clock she knew something was diffidently wrong. Hours passed and a Chevy pulled up. A briefcase changed hands. Joyce had been a timid woman all her life and this was no different. She knew she was well out of her liege and she had contacted FLAG. After chatting with Joyce Michael took the burden of surveillance. For almost a week nothing happened. Michael had not spoken to John Myers for the fear of scaring him off. He simply waited with Kitt night after night knowing that if something was up Myers was sure to revile himself sooner or later. Six nights later Myers' Oldsmobile pulled up. Kitt woke Michael to watch. Kitt taped into some small surveillance cameras that Michael had installed and they both watched in amazement as Myers expertly changed the inks and plates of the press and begun to print dollars, hundreds and hundreds of them. After several hours he replaced his inks with the press' own and left, carrying a fresh set of brand new dollar bills. Now the only question remained: Who where the people in the Chevy that Joyce had seen? Three weeks later there was still no sign of the Chevy though Myers had visited the press nearly every other day. New cases demanded Michael's attention and they decided to catch Myers. Perhaps he would revile the mysterious men in the Chevy. The evidence now firmly locked in Kitt's memory banks, Michael snuck inside and confronted Myers. Myers panicked, grabbed one of the ink trays and hurtled it right at Michael. Temporarily blinded Michael contacted Kitt who blocked Myers' escape. The police were called in and they took John Myers in for questioning and a very lengthy jail sentence. Joyce had assumed command of the entire Gazette and had treated Michael out to a privet dinner to thank him for clearing her name as a liar.
Now Myers had apparently been quite the little bird with the police. Devon had handed him the reports but Michael hadn't had time to read them. In fact they were sitting in the passenger side seat right now. He glanced at them. Usually Bonnie would have downloaded the data into Kitt's databanks and Kitt would fill him in providing more information as it was needed. Now Michael was on his own and as much as he hated to admit it, he didn't have a very good feeling about this case at all.
The model 380 Mercedes headed down the highway at a relative crawl. At least that's what it felt like to Michael. He was pushing the sporting Mercedes to it's limit and to anyone else the speed would have seemed dangerously fast, but to Michael who was used to Kitt's speeds it was indeed a crawl. Michael had not stopped since leaving California save to fill up. He was worried sick about Kitt. The radio kept up a steady stream of noise but he really missed Kitt and their conversations together. Watching the white line fly past he realized just how lonely this job would be, if not for Kitt. Glancing down at his car phone he tried to will it to ring. He knew the semi was nowhere near Tennessee. They had left at about the same time, Michael about a half and hour after the semi. He had passed it long ago and been acknowledged with a flash of the big truck's fog- lights. To give himself something to occupy his mind he started reviewing his case.
A young lady had contacted the Foundation concerning shady activities at the local gazette. During business hours she managed the press. She had gotten suspicious after finding the machines messed with. The Staton City Gazette was a small town newspaper and as she was the only one with the training to run the press machines and know when they had been tampered with no-one believed her when she suspected that someone other then her was using the press. The local police where busy with an onset of two gangs fighting for territory. For small town sheriffs this gang fighting occupied all their man-hours. The police had dusted for fingerprints and gone through their routine but had come up with nothing. She had requested surveillance, but after two nights of that the police decided to go back to "real" work and leave Miss Brandon to look after her press. Her boss Mr. Myers bluntly accused her of making up the whole story of the press being used at night. John Myers had never liked her, but couldn't very well fire her as who else would make the paper? A discouraged Joyce went back to her job, but found bits and pieces of evidence every now and then that the press was indeed being used by someone else as well. Some months after the local police had shrugged the case off, Joyce Brandon decided to take matters into her own hands. Joyce hired a car and parked across the street from the press. When she saw Myers head into the building at one o'clock she knew something was diffidently wrong. Hours passed and a Chevy pulled up. A briefcase changed hands. Joyce had been a timid woman all her life and this was no different. She knew she was well out of her liege and she had contacted FLAG. After chatting with Joyce Michael took the burden of surveillance. For almost a week nothing happened. Michael had not spoken to John Myers for the fear of scaring him off. He simply waited with Kitt night after night knowing that if something was up Myers was sure to revile himself sooner or later. Six nights later Myers' Oldsmobile pulled up. Kitt woke Michael to watch. Kitt taped into some small surveillance cameras that Michael had installed and they both watched in amazement as Myers expertly changed the inks and plates of the press and begun to print dollars, hundreds and hundreds of them. After several hours he replaced his inks with the press' own and left, carrying a fresh set of brand new dollar bills. Now the only question remained: Who where the people in the Chevy that Joyce had seen? Three weeks later there was still no sign of the Chevy though Myers had visited the press nearly every other day. New cases demanded Michael's attention and they decided to catch Myers. Perhaps he would revile the mysterious men in the Chevy. The evidence now firmly locked in Kitt's memory banks, Michael snuck inside and confronted Myers. Myers panicked, grabbed one of the ink trays and hurtled it right at Michael. Temporarily blinded Michael contacted Kitt who blocked Myers' escape. The police were called in and they took John Myers in for questioning and a very lengthy jail sentence. Joyce had assumed command of the entire Gazette and had treated Michael out to a privet dinner to thank him for clearing her name as a liar.
Now Myers had apparently been quite the little bird with the police. Devon had handed him the reports but Michael hadn't had time to read them. In fact they were sitting in the passenger side seat right now. He glanced at them. Usually Bonnie would have downloaded the data into Kitt's databanks and Kitt would fill him in providing more information as it was needed. Now Michael was on his own and as much as he hated to admit it, he didn't have a very good feeling about this case at all.