Michael pulled the Mercedes into a parking spot marked "Employees only" in
front of the Staton Gazette Press. Though it was a Saturday he could see
Joyce at work with the press. A man was with her. Getting up Michael took
in the morning sunshine for a while then walked into the building. Neither
Joyce nor the man heard him enter over the hum of the machines. Joyce
seemed to be showing the man how to use the press. "She must have hired
help." Michael thought to himself then raising his voice to be heard over
the machines he called out to Joyce: "PRESSed for time are we?" Joyce spun
around and upon seeing Michael ran up to give him a hug. "Michael! Devon
told me you were coming back. I didn't think you'd come by here though.
This press is squeaky clean of crime from now on." Michael smiled. "I am on
my way to see sheriff Harris, I just wanted to drop by to say hello." Joyce
looked out the window. "Did you bring Kitt? I think I'll go say hi." She
was just about to leave when Michael caught her arm. "I came alone. Kitt.
Kitt is missing." Joyce opened her mouth to speak but upon see Michael's
pained expression she desided against it. "Sheriff Harris is waiting for
me. I want to get this case wrapped up as soon as possible." With a final
squeeze of her hand Michael left.
Sheriff Harris was a heavyset man a bit taller then Michael. He stood up to greet the FLAG operative with a grim look on his face. "Michael, good that you could come on such a short notice. My deputy found the Chevy that Miss Brandon talked about. The trouble is it was reported stolen months ago by a local industrial millionaire. By the amount of dust on it I suspect the last time it was used was when Miss Brandon said she saw it. There where no prints, no nothing on that van to incriminate anyone. We thought John Myers was working for himself using the van to transport the funny money out of Staton, but he was hired for the job." Michael began leafing through the report Harris had handed him. "Who hired him?" Harris leaned back. "Now that's the tricky part. He doesn't know, so we don't know. He received his instructions by phone, and no. we haven't been able to trace the calls. He was to only print ones and fives, why he doesn't know. He obviously did know how to work the press even though he had never let anyone know he had that skill. Probably to get out of working the press here. He was supplied with the paper, plates and ink. He received his share in real money once a week. He never asked questions and the money just kept rolling his way. It was only when Miss Brandon started ´nosing around´ that he panicked, but just for a bit. As her boss, he convinced her that she was imagining things and thought she agreed with him. He was real careful not to leave any obvious clues around and caus' he was working there the fact that his prints where found there wasn't enough to convince us about it. There was just no proof for us to arrest him. It was just Joyce's word against his." Michael got up. "So you want me to find whoever is behind this money laundering? I think I'll start by going to see this millionaire you talked about. Mr Adler wasn't it. I'd like to know more about this Chevy of his..." Michael turned to leave when Sheriff Harris stopped him. "Michael, Mr Adler is a respected individual in this town and a long-time friend of mine. He wouldn't be involved in anything like this. Why would he need to launder money when he has tons of the real stuff?" "I didn't say he was involved. Just that his Chevy was." With those words Michael exited the office.
Michael gave a low whistle. This place made the Knight mansion look middle class. To his surprise the gates were open and he was able to drive straight into the vast grounds. He parked the Mercedes next to the front door. And glanced at the dash. He just caught himself before he told the Mercedes to keep his scanner peeled. How he wished for Kitt again. Using an old fashioned loin-head knocker Michael pounded on the massive wooden door and waited.
Inside the mansion Thomas Adler whirled at the knocking sound. He wasn't expecting anyone. In fact he was alone in his mansion. His regular butler being away to visit relatives. His heart pounding in his chest, Thomas quickly crossed his study to close a simple looking business style briefcase, full of five-dollar bills. Locking it he set it on the floor next to his working desk. Now nothing would look out of place. Then he went to see who was interrupting his daily business.
A man in his mid forties opened the door. He was beginning to lose his hair and had reading glasses tucked in his front pocket. Sticking out his hand Michael asked "Mr Adler?" The other man's handshake was brief, but it was enough for Michael to realize that Mr Adler's palm was sweaty, a classic sign of nervousness. "My name is Michael Knight and I work for the Foundation for Law and Government. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind answering some questions about that Chevy that was stolen from you some time ago?" Adler's eyes darted behind Michael almost as to check if there were any other people with him. Satisfied that Michael seemed to have come alone and was on official business Adler opened the door wider. "Sure. Come on in. Can I get you anything?" He led Michael towards his study, the place clearly reserved for meeting visitors. "No, thank you, Mr Adler. If you could just tell me." Michael's gaze settled on the briefcase next to the desk and Thomas Alder followed his gaze. Swallowing hard Thomas realized that in his hast to close the case, half of a fiver had been left outside, and now this investigator had seen it! Thomas Adler was many things, but he wasn't a calm tempered man. He was no good at making up fast excuses and he knew it. Mostly he relied on extensive planning. He had no plan for this so he did the only thing he thought up: pulled out the small gun he always carried and pointed it at Michael.
Sheriff Harris was a heavyset man a bit taller then Michael. He stood up to greet the FLAG operative with a grim look on his face. "Michael, good that you could come on such a short notice. My deputy found the Chevy that Miss Brandon talked about. The trouble is it was reported stolen months ago by a local industrial millionaire. By the amount of dust on it I suspect the last time it was used was when Miss Brandon said she saw it. There where no prints, no nothing on that van to incriminate anyone. We thought John Myers was working for himself using the van to transport the funny money out of Staton, but he was hired for the job." Michael began leafing through the report Harris had handed him. "Who hired him?" Harris leaned back. "Now that's the tricky part. He doesn't know, so we don't know. He received his instructions by phone, and no. we haven't been able to trace the calls. He was to only print ones and fives, why he doesn't know. He obviously did know how to work the press even though he had never let anyone know he had that skill. Probably to get out of working the press here. He was supplied with the paper, plates and ink. He received his share in real money once a week. He never asked questions and the money just kept rolling his way. It was only when Miss Brandon started ´nosing around´ that he panicked, but just for a bit. As her boss, he convinced her that she was imagining things and thought she agreed with him. He was real careful not to leave any obvious clues around and caus' he was working there the fact that his prints where found there wasn't enough to convince us about it. There was just no proof for us to arrest him. It was just Joyce's word against his." Michael got up. "So you want me to find whoever is behind this money laundering? I think I'll start by going to see this millionaire you talked about. Mr Adler wasn't it. I'd like to know more about this Chevy of his..." Michael turned to leave when Sheriff Harris stopped him. "Michael, Mr Adler is a respected individual in this town and a long-time friend of mine. He wouldn't be involved in anything like this. Why would he need to launder money when he has tons of the real stuff?" "I didn't say he was involved. Just that his Chevy was." With those words Michael exited the office.
Michael gave a low whistle. This place made the Knight mansion look middle class. To his surprise the gates were open and he was able to drive straight into the vast grounds. He parked the Mercedes next to the front door. And glanced at the dash. He just caught himself before he told the Mercedes to keep his scanner peeled. How he wished for Kitt again. Using an old fashioned loin-head knocker Michael pounded on the massive wooden door and waited.
Inside the mansion Thomas Adler whirled at the knocking sound. He wasn't expecting anyone. In fact he was alone in his mansion. His regular butler being away to visit relatives. His heart pounding in his chest, Thomas quickly crossed his study to close a simple looking business style briefcase, full of five-dollar bills. Locking it he set it on the floor next to his working desk. Now nothing would look out of place. Then he went to see who was interrupting his daily business.
A man in his mid forties opened the door. He was beginning to lose his hair and had reading glasses tucked in his front pocket. Sticking out his hand Michael asked "Mr Adler?" The other man's handshake was brief, but it was enough for Michael to realize that Mr Adler's palm was sweaty, a classic sign of nervousness. "My name is Michael Knight and I work for the Foundation for Law and Government. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind answering some questions about that Chevy that was stolen from you some time ago?" Adler's eyes darted behind Michael almost as to check if there were any other people with him. Satisfied that Michael seemed to have come alone and was on official business Adler opened the door wider. "Sure. Come on in. Can I get you anything?" He led Michael towards his study, the place clearly reserved for meeting visitors. "No, thank you, Mr Adler. If you could just tell me." Michael's gaze settled on the briefcase next to the desk and Thomas Alder followed his gaze. Swallowing hard Thomas realized that in his hast to close the case, half of a fiver had been left outside, and now this investigator had seen it! Thomas Adler was many things, but he wasn't a calm tempered man. He was no good at making up fast excuses and he knew it. Mostly he relied on extensive planning. He had no plan for this so he did the only thing he thought up: pulled out the small gun he always carried and pointed it at Michael.