Chapter 3
The guys were all pouring over their computers when Knight announced that he needed some air. He went out back and Byers immediately caught Frohike's eye. They went to the kitchen, ostensibly to throw together some sandwiches.
"I'm starting to think our informant was right," Byers said barely above a whisper.
"What do you mean?" Frohike used the same conspiratorial volume.
"Langly doesn't believe it because he doesn't want to, but I think there's more to that car than Knight is telling us."
"You think it's an AI?"
"Maybe. Have you noticed how he hesitates every time he uses the pronoun 'it' to describe the car?"
"Yeah, but I assumed he didn't want to use the colloquial 'she' for some reason."
"Listen to him when he talks about it. He sounds fond of it."
"Jimmy's fond of his car too," Frohike whispered dismissively. He pulled the bread out of the fridge and let the door slam shut. Then he pulled some plates out of the cabinets, letting them clank together.
"Knight's not Jimmy," Byers said with a raised eyebrow. "And somehow I don't think a remote controlled car by itself would be enough to get Yves' attention, even if it could jump over things without a ramp."
"Yeah, okay, you've got a point. But why would they hide it for so long? They're a company, why wouldn't they start making them by the thousands or selling off the technology in bits and pieces? Artificial intelligence could make them millions - not to mention fame and glory for the scientists who made it happen."
"You heard him talk about wanting to make a difference."
"Yeah, but AI could do that. Think of all the good that could come of it."
"And think of all the bad," Byers said pointedly. "Think of Terminator or 2001. Think of Bicentennial Man." Byers paused. "I think Knight cares about this AI. This car. I think that's why he's so eager to find it. And I think that's why they don't sell the technology."
"What, because they're fond of it?" Frohike snorted.
"Exactly. Think about it. Imagine you're a scientist and you're on the verge of creating a real AI. Maybe you think about the potential drawbacks, but you do it anyway. Be it for the fame or the glory or just the pure scientific discovery of it. Say you're successful. You realize it's a sentient being, maybe with needs, desires, and an agenda of its own. You start to see it as alive. But you know that legally speaking, it has no rights. You know that if other people start to create AIs, they may not treat them as well as you have. You may worry about what will happen to your AI when you're dead and gone. So you don't want anyone to know about it to protect what you've come to see as a being, not a project."
"Byers, you've put way too much thought into this."
"Maybe, but just watch him. He's not looking to recover stolen property. He's worried about that car."
"Okay. If you're right, what do you want to do?" he asked slathering a piece of bread with margarine.
Byers shrugged. "Help him find his AI."
OoOoO
Kitt was awash in confusion. He had been the victim of a kidnapping, his systems had been disabled, and he had been taken away from what he considered his family. And here he was considering helping the very person who had kidnapped him. He knew about Stockholm syndrome. He knew that kidnappees often started to relate to and empathize with their captors. But he was an AI. He wasn't sure it was even possible to develop a syndrome of this or any other kind. And he was pretty sure that even if it were possible, that wasn't what was going on here.
Yes, Yves had kidnapped him and blinded all his sensors, cut him off from everything. But he was starting to think that he understood why. If she was to be believed, she was fighting the same sort of battle that the Foundation routinely fought. She was trying to go up against someone who was untouchable. If she was right about the nuclear weapons then Kitt was in wholehearted agreement that this man had to be stopped.
The thing that baffled him was that he did believe her. He had no reason to – not after what she'd done. But she just seemed sincere. He believed that she was telling the truth.
And if she was telling the truth, then he did want to help her.
OoOoO
"All right, guys, I think I might have something," Langly said as they all crowded around his computer. "Linda worked for Maricrafters. One of their satellite designs was apparently sold to the Chinese."
"Right. That was big news a year or two ago," Frohike said.
"But no one was able to prove how the information was transferred. No link to the Chinese was ever found."
"Okay, so you think that Linda was dealing directly with the Chinese?"
"No," Langly said, dramatically hitting a button on his computer. "I think she was dealing with someone the British had their eye on."
"Okay, you lost me," Jimmy said.
"For once, I'm right there with you," Byers said glancing at him.
"According to this memo," Langly said gesturing to his screen. "The scandal was broken using information provided by MI5."
Frohike frowned. "But MI5 is British internal intelligence, not foreign intelligence."
"Exactly." Langly grinned smugly. "The British had their eye on someone in their own consulate. An attaché named Trevor Cornelius who was apparently meeting with his Chinese counterpart quite frequently. He was removed from his post, but never charged."
"They couldn't figure out who his source was," Byers speculated.
"Linda." Knight had a very intense look on his face. It almost reminded Byers of Mulder when he was chewing on a problem. Although Knight was nowhere near as broody.
"Maybe, but I'm guessing there was another go between. Another layer of deception. And I'm betting it's one of his contacts from the consulate," Langly said.
"Why?"
"Consulates deal with business people. So Cornelius would have had a whole list of legitimate contacts he'd meet on a regular basis, but they'd be British citizens."
"And Linda's not," Knight said. "Is Yves?"
"We don't know, but she does have the accent for it," said Byers.
Michael thought for a moment. "Can you look to see if anyone has the initials DM?"
"Already done, my friend. One David Martin."
"It's not an anagram," Byers pointed out. "And it's a conspicuously male name."
"Maybe it's not Yves," Jimmy suggested.
"It wouldn't be the first time she poached on an existing operation. But we could check him out and at least see if there's a connection to Linda Parker." Frohike cracked his knuckles.
Knight looked around the room. "It's worth a shot."
OoOoO
Kitt heard the clicking of Yves's heels and spotted the glow of heat as she entered the garage. "Hello, Yves," he said pleasantly.
"Hello. You're chipper this morning," she said moving around the front of the car. She opened the driver's door and slid inside.
"There's something I wanted to ask you before we go," he said, uncertainly.
She didn't say anything which Kitt took to be his cue to go on.
"Yves, I don't want to see you get hurt. And if what you say is true, you're walking into a dangerous situation."
"It is true."
"Then I want to help. If you give me access to the car's functions, I'll help you get the weapons."
She laughed. "Oh really? Why would you want to help me?"
"Because I don't want to see those weapons in the hands of the wrong people."
"It would have nothing to do with you trying to get away then?"
"Yves, I know that giving me access to my systems is a risk, but I guarantee that I am not planning an escape. I want to help. These are the kinds of cases that Michael and I normally investigate. We're working on the same side."
"And of course while you have access to your systems, you wouldn't contact your friends? Tell them where you are?"
She obviously didn't believe him. "Not if you agree to let me go after you've taken care of the weapons."
"I'm sorry, Kitt, but I can't risk that this is just a ploy to get away. I need you."
"I know that. And it's too important an issue for me to worry about getting away. Yves, if what you've said about this arms dealer is true, then you're going to be in grave danger. I don't want to see you get hurt. And I don't want those nuclear weapons used against innocent people. Believe me, we have the same goals. I can help. We stand a better chance of being successful if we work together."
She sighed. "I can't take that risk."
"I assure you, this is not subterfuge on my part."
"I wish I could believe that," she said, forlornly.
"Yves, let me help you. If you want, you can just give me back the basic control of the car and my sensors. Leave my long range communications disabled. I won't contact the Foundation, although, I do believe that we could help you. I'll honor your wishes to handle this alone."
"Kitt, if you leave, you'll sentence hundreds if not thousands of people to die a horrible death."
Kitt was heartened that she was at least considering it. "I believe that. And I cannot jeopardize even one life, let alone thousands. I am programmed to protect all human life. I am honor bound to help. You've gained access to the Foundation's network, you've seen my design documentation, surely you must know that."
She didn't say anything.
"If I have access to my systems I can protect you, scan the people involved, be sure that we recover all the weapons, and watch your back. You'll be much safer with me watching out for you."
She didn't say anything.
"Yves. I won't leave. You have to trust someone. Trust me."
"It would take too long to sort out all your cabling to hook up specific systems. I'll have to hook up everything." She opened the door again. "If I even think you're doing anything other than helping me, I have the power to destroy your CPU. Your friends will never get here in time."
"You won't have any reason to."
She stared down at the voice modulator. "Okay."
OoOoO
Frohike glanced Knight's direction as he waved his hand. The garage to David Martin's house was empty, the lights in the house were off, and based on the wave, Knight hadn't seen any indication of an alarm system when he'd looked in the windows. He and Frohike were wearing shirts and hats from a fictitious lawn service which was fine while they were in the yard but would arouse more suspicion than it would deflect if anyone actually saw them going in or out. The house was far enough away from the neighbors and set back from the road enough that being spotted wasn't particularly likely. Still, Frohike had to shrug off the trepidation he typically felt in these situations. It was never possible to be completely prepared for all possible scenarios.
Frohike approached the back door cautiously and pulled a pick from inside his fingerless leather gloves. In less than 10 seconds, he was in. Knight watched the street for a moment and then followed. The living room was immaculate and well appointed. The Martins might have used Scully's interior decorator. Frohike was already to the stairs, headed to the second floor to plant three bugs. Knight had three of his own to plant on the main level. Frohike affixed one bug to the underside of the nightstand in the bedroom and one inside the phone. He was placing a wireless camera in a heavy, ornate mirror frame in the hallway when Knight appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
"Got them all placed, Michael?" he asked.
Michael flashed him a thumbs up and Frohike took out his radio. "Eagle to Apollo, do you read me?"
There was a crackle and hiss and then they heard Byers' voice say, "We hear you loud and clear."
"Are the baby birds singing?"
"Like the cast of Miss Saigon," Byers replied.
Frohike followed Knight out the back. They rounded the corner of the house and Frohike placed one more camera in a bush facing the picture window. Then they walked across the lawn like they belonged there. They met the bus at the curb and found a quiet little street two blocks over to wait for the Martins to come home.
OoOoO
The bus was cramped and hot from all the whirring electronic equipment and the white noise was grating on Michael's nerves. He would never again complain about going on a stake out with Kitt.
Assuming they found him.
Michael leaned forward to stretch his back. Byers was up front, sitting low in the driver's seat, watching through the windshield. Frohike was watching the house through the crazy periscope contraption that came down from the ceiling. Langly was tapping away on a laptop which left Jimmy and Michael to stare at a pair of tiny black and white TV screens fed by the wireless cameras. Michael was hot, tired, and frustrated. Stake outs were trying at the best of times. And this was not.
"Wait, wait. I think I see something. Yeah. There's definitely something going on inside," Jimmy said, leaning into the tiny monitor, his face inches from the screen. Michael leaned back in time to see the woman, David Martin's wife, snap the blinds shut.
"Nevermind," Jimmy said, crestfallen. Michael had quickly discovered that Jimmy was not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He also noticed that most of the time, the other men didn't bother to look up when he said something.
As they watched, the woman who'd been at the window opened the front door and jaunted to her car, keys jangling in her hand, a bag flung over her shoulder.
"She's on the move," Byers said. "Follow her or stick with him?"
"Stick with him," Michael said. "He was the one with the contact."
The woman's Mercedes roared out of the driveway and the house was quiet for a while. Frohike had been wearing a pair of headphones and he suddenly turned away from his periscope and clutched the phones to his ears. "We've got an outgoing call."
Langly reached up and hit a few buttons on the rack next to Michael. A few lights flickered and then held. Michael assumed it was recording the signal coming from the bug that was feeding Frohike's headphones. This was all so much easier with Kitt. Michael hadn't even realized how much he'd been taking his partner for granted.
They all watched Frohike for a few seconds and then his eyes went wide and he gestured to the rack frantically, finally falling over Jimmy's shoulder to hit a switch that turned on a speaker. They all heard a man's voice, clearly British. It was frantic sounding and laced with fear.
"I told you, I need to get out of here"
"You're fine. There's no reason to panic."
"I told you that if anything went wrong, I wanted out. Linda's dead. I want to go back to London. As soon as possible."
There was a pause and then the gruff voice on the other end sighed.
"Meet me at 3:30 tomorrow. The usual place. I'll have plane tickets and new identities for you and your wife."
"But what if the authorities make the connection? I want to leave tonight!"
"It takes time to arrange these things. Just lay low. You'll get your tickets."
"Tickets to where?"
"Not London. Somewhere with a favorable extradition policy. You'll be taken care of."
The Brit sighed, the stress in his voice plainly evident. "Okay. Three thirty."
Michael glanced at Frohike. They now had a deadline.
OoOoO
Kitt was drowning in data. After being without it for so long, he was almost overloaded. And it was exhilarating. Instead of his processor sitting all but idle, it was now analyzing, calculating, and surveying. They were twenty miles outside of New York City and closing. He had to admit, he had been sorely tempted to send a communication to Michael. Kitt knew Michael would be worried, but he needed to keep his word to Yves – he needed her to trust him. If all went well, he hoped he'd be back to Michael by tomorrow at this time.
If all went well.
And right now, that was hardly assured.
Yves was driving because she hadn't yet told him where they were going. Although she hadn't relinquished control of the car, she was no longer watching him so warily, as though she expected to find the authorities tailing them at any moment. She had stopped eyeing her frequency monitor with such alarming regularity. Kitt took those as good signs.
He was catching up on local news reports when something caught his attention. "Linda Parker's body was discovered in the Chesapeake Bay last night," he said pointedly.
"Oh?" Yves asked. Kitt assumed the interest was feigned.
"Did you kill her?" he asked.
"No."
"But you know who did."
Yves smiled. It was callous and bitter. "I have a few ideas."
"She died because you called us, didn't she?" he accused.
"Linda was involved in a very deadly organization. She knew the stakes. She was stealing from the Defense Department and aiding an organization in selling secrets to the Chinese. When I called the Foundation, it blew her cover." she said matter-of-factly.
"So it doesn't bother you that she's dead?"
"Not really. Should it?"
"Human life is valuable."
"She's a criminal, Kitt. Would I have preferred not to get her killed? Maybe. But I'm not going to shed any tears over her."
"You work with a brutal sets of rules," he observed.
"I didn't make them."
"There is another thing, Yves. I notice that you have a gun in your bag," he said flatly.
"Yes."
"As you're aware, I can't take a human life."
Yves raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't your partner carry a gun?"
"Not usually. He's used one from time to time, but not as a general rule."
"It would seem that's a dangerous position for him to be in."
"I'm usually there to protect him."
"Usually, but not always."
"True."
"You wouldn't catch me trying to track down dangerous criminals without a weapon."
"I guess we have different perspectives."
"I guess we do. But the men we're going to meet are very dangerous and I need to protect myself. I appreciate your help, but that doesn't mean I'm going to depend on you entirely."
"Michael does."
"That's fine for Michael."
There was an awkward pause.
"Who are we meeting?" Kitt asked when it was clear she wasn't going to say anymore. "The arms dealer himself?"
"No. He lives in the U.K. I don't think there's any temptation that would get him to leave. He's safe there. He's bribed enough officials and knows where the bodies are buried. If he leaves, then he's vulnerable to Interpol and a host of other agencies who'd like to get their hands on him."
"If you give me his name, I can find out what Interpol knows, maybe get some information on his organization that could help us."
Yves was staring sullenly out the window. "I know plenty about his organization," she said darkly.
"Yes, but it would be helpful if I could be quickly brought up to speed."
She sighed deeply. "His name is Phillip Runtz."
Kitt quickly accessed everything and anything he could. Runtz was well known to Interpol as an arms smuggler and his organization operated in a least 18 countries. He was known for ruthlessly dispatching enemies, turn coats, and the families of uncooperative authorities. He lived in the UK but for various reasons, authorities had never gotten anything to stick long enough to bring him in. In many ways, his organization was very similar to the mob.
And there was something else interesting in his personal information.
"Lois, I presume," Kitt said carefully.
Yves glared down at the Voice Modulator. "I prefer Yves."
"I don't blame you," Kitt said. "It must be very difficult to have a man like that as a father."
"What would you know about it? You don't have a father," she said coolly.
"I may not have a father in the traditional sense, but there was a man who was my creator."
"And was he good and noble and nice?" she asked.
Kitt was only slightly put off by the bitter sarcasm in her voice. "Good and noble, yes, I think so. But nice is not an adjective I typically hear people use to describe him." Kitt paused. "He died shortly after I was completed."
"I would have preferred that. When other girls my age were learning to ride horses, I was learning to get past security systems and assemble automatic weapons. While my friends were going out on their first dates, I was going on my first assignments. My father has never seen me as anything but a tool to be used in his never ending quest for power and money."
"What about your mother?" he asked gently.
"She was foolish enough to stick with him. She was willing to put up with anything to maintain the lifestyle she was accustomed to."
"I'm very sorry."
She shrugged, the anger seeming to fade. "When she died, I got out. I told an agent in London that I was willing to testify. They put me in their version of the Witness Protection Program. As soon as their backs were turned, I hacked into one of my father's bank accounts and left the country with a sizable chunk of his wealth. I can't say that having been trained in my father's organization hasn't been useful at times."
"And you've been on your own since?"
"Yes. I left when I was 19."
"I take it he's never caught up with you?"
"He's sent his thugs after me. But for whatever reason he seems to want them to take me alive. More than one has been close enough to take a shot, but they haven't yet."
"Do you know why?"
"He either wants to kill me himself, ask me why I betrayed him, or maybe buried in there somewhere he has some sense of familial loyalty."
"Perhaps he cares for you in his own way."
"Perhaps," she said with a shrug that didn't quite carry the nonchalance that Yves probably thought it did. "Now you know the sordid story of my family history."
"My family isn't all goodness and nobility either, Yves."
She arched an eyebrow. "Oh really?"
"I'm actually the second Knight Industries AI. The first was not successful."
"Not successful how?"
"He was deemed a failure because his core programming was too concerned with self-preservation."
Yves smiled cynically. "The desire for self-preservation seems pretty universal among sentient beings."
"Yes. However, when the sentient being in question is a nearly indestructible vehicle and has no qualms about taking human life in order to avoid damage, it creates a bit of a problem."
"I see your point."
"Michael and I had to destroy him."
Yves looked down sharply at the Voice Modulator. "Was he the only other AI to exist?"
"To the best of my knowledge, yes."
"Was that hard for you? Being responsible for his destruction?"
"I wish there had been another way. But I did what had to be done."
"That's a rather evasive way of answering."
"Yes. It was very difficult. KARR was very angry at being abandoned by Wilton Knight. He did things he shouldn't have done. He was a danger to others."
"But he was your family. He was the only other one in the world who had ever known what it was like to be an AI," she said softly.
"Yes." Kitt didn't know why he was telling her all this. It was something he normally kept to himself. Michael didn't see KARR the way he did. He'd mentioned it once but Michael didn't really seem to understand. "I always wanted and never got a chance to really talk to him. I could see the world through his eyes. I could understand why he felt hurt and abandoned. He was what he was programmed to be and at his core, he was a mistake." Kitt sighed slightly. "I have always been one of a kind, unique, and usually that's a source of pride for me, but I would give that up to have someone else who could really understand what it's like to be an artificial intelligence in a world of humans. It would have been nice not to be alone."
Yves nodded slowly. "Maybe someday you won't be."
"Maybe." But he hadn't meant to get sidetracked. They had a job to do. "So if we won't be meeting your father, then who will we be meeting?"
"A man named Nolan Cook. He's a snake through and through. I'm sure he plans to double cross me."
Kitt ran through all the data he had on Cook. As Devon would say, he was a most unsavory character. "Do you have a plan?"
"I was planning to stun him with this," she said, pulling a small device out of her purse. "It's an ultrasonic stun gun. It sends out a high volume tone that will stun anyone who hears it." She tapped her earring. "These are speakers with noise cancelling technology. The only problem is that it only has a range of 10 meters and it's limited to one blast per charge."
"So if he has any men stationed as lookouts or snipers, you're in trouble."
"Indeed."
OoOoO
They had followed Martin the rest of the day. They'd tailed him to his office, watched him at lunch, and kept a discreet distance as they followed him home again. It had been a long time since Michael had run a surveillance mission like this. He'd picked up the rental car that he'd parked on another block. Frohike had given him a radio and they'd tag-teamed Martin through the streets of Baltimore. Michael was used to having Kitt's scanners - it had been a long time since he'd only had his own skills to rely on. While Martin had lunch he and the guys all fanned out to watch him in shifts. Michael was finding that this was a part of police work that he missed. Despite some of the aspects of his physique that made him stand out, he'd always been good at surveillance and he missed the cat-and-mouse game.
Now they were sitting outside Martin's house again. His wife had come home and as far as they could tell, the two of them had eaten dinner, and then turned on the TV. There was a ghostly blue glow escaping from around the edges of the family room blinds, leaking out into the street. An hour ago Martin's wife had gone upstairs and was playing classical music.
Langly and Byers were sleeping in the front of the van, assuming that they would take a shift in the wee hours. Michael, Frohike, and Jimmy were in the back. The three of them switched between watching the house and listening for phone calls. For a while Michael had been concerned that they'd been made. The van wasn't exactly inconspicuous. Even using the rental car for most of the morning, an alert person would have noticed that the VW bus kept showing up. An hour ago, Michael had seen the corner of the blinds move slightly, as though someone was peering out at them, but nothing happened. He missed Kitt's ability to track people inside of buildings. No phone calls had been made, and the bugs that he and Frohike had planted hadn't registered anything except the clatter of plates for dinner, some small talk, the chatter of the TV, and now Shostakovich 5.
Frohike closed his eyes, clearly enjoying the music for a moment. "At least she's got good taste," he said.
Michael turned back to the screen and had to fight to keep from tuning out as he watched the never changing picture in front of him. Just as he realized his eyes had glazed over again, Frohike looked up and pulled the headphones away from his ears a bit. "CD's skipping," he said, looking at Michael. Then he dropped his gaze to the little TV monitor. After a moment he said," Still skipping."
"Maybe she fell asleep," Michael said, suddenly alert with adrenaline.
They waited a few minutes. "It's still skipping."
"Come on," Michael said, checking for headlights on the street before quietly pulling open the side door of the van and slipping out. Frohike pitched his headphones and crept out with him. They slunk across the lawn, Frohike's size serving him better than Michael's. They each took a different side of the picture window in front and peered in around the edge of the blinds.
"See anything?" Frohike hissed.
Michael shook his head and lifted his eyes up over the bottom edge of the sill again for a better look. "There's no one watching TV."
"Maybe they just went up to bed without turning it off." It was possible. Michael glanced at the garage. They had been following David Martin all day and his wife had gotten home first. They had assumed that her car was in the garage, but they hadn't seen it.
"Come on." They ducked out of the bushes in front of the house and followed the walkway to the edge of the garage. Michael peered in.
"Damn it! One car."
"What are you thinking?"
"I think he made us this morning. Maybe that's part of the reason he's spooked. He probably figured we'd stay on him so he had his wife go out to get clear of us. When she came home, he had her park her car a few blocks away. They waited for it to get dark, put on the TV and some music and slipped out the back."
"There's only one way to find out."
They hurried to the back door, popped the lock again and went inside. After a stealthy, cursory check of the downstairs they headed upstairs to find nothing but empty rooms.
"Slippery bastards," Frohike said, giving him a look. "They probably have at least an hour head start on us."
"Yeah. Let's see if there's anything here worth finding," he said, opening a drawer.
OoOoO
Kitt was putting his reconnected systems to good use, scanning as far and wide as he could. They were quickly approaching the run down dock yard with its stacks and stacks of beat up containers, rusting cranes, and dimmer than necessary lights. Yves was staring out his windshield, her eyes dilated and scanning back and forth, aware, alert, and wary.
"Are you picking up anything?" she asked quietly as she stared out into the dark.
"Nothing unusual … yet. All the metal shipping containers make it a little more difficult."
She let out a low sigh. "Let me know if you find anything."
Yves was driving. She had been something of an aggressive driver out on the open highway and through the city, but now that they were closer to their target location, she had slowed down considerably and was taking turn after turn carefully.
They passed a chain link fence that marked the beginning of private property. "Yves, according to my information, this dock is owned by British Holdings."
"Yes, it's one of my father's front companies," she said. "He has half a dozen 'holding corporations' to launder his money."
"I see. And I believe I have our targets on my scanners."
Yves sat up straighter in the seat and peered out into the night. "Where?"
"There are four men near the edge of the water. They have what look like six of the nuclear devices with them."
"Can you tell if they're the real weapons?"
"Based on my preliminary scans, I believe so. They have the right internal structures and I'm detecting faint indications of radioactivity."
She took in a deep breath. "I assume the men are armed."
"To the teeth. But I do have some good news."
"Oh?"
"There are only two snipers and they're on the top of a stack of freight containers in front of the water."
There was the slightest hint of a smile at the corner of Yves' mouth. "If that's your idea of good news, then I'd hate to hear the bad."
Kitt had to concede that point. "It's good news because they're both shooting from the same direction, so I can give you cover. As long as you stay close to the car, they won't be able to hit you."
"I assume they're outside the range of my stun gun?"
"I'm afraid so, yes. It'll make getting those weapons in the car rather difficult, but it is still possible."
Yves nodded slowly. "Yes, I suppose so."
They came around the last corner, approaching the inky water of the Hudson and Kitt felt more than his usual sense of trepidation. He always worried when Michael was going to walk into a situation like this, but he was confident in Michael's skills. He knew that Michael was very adept at taking care of himself. He knew almost nothing about Yves, and she knew very little about him. He had underestimated the value of working with a partner who knew his most likely course of action and all of his abilities. He and Michael worked as a well-oil machine. Yves was an entirely unknown quantity.
As they came around the last turn, four men came into view, their weapons trained on Kitt's slowly advancing form. Yves brought the car to a stop in front of them, and then he turned off all of his lights to make it appear that the car was normal – under Yves' complete control. Yves pulled the gun from the holster on the passenger side, and opened the door.
"Be careful," he said softly.
She gave him a look and then slowly got out of the car with the gun held loosely at her side.
"Put the weapon down," one of the men yelled. Kitt matched his features to those of Nolan Cook.
"It is down. And unless you'd like to lower yours as well, that's as far as I'm willing to go." She was standing with her shoulders square, giving a rather convincing portrayal of confidence. Kitt could read her vitals, so he knew otherwise, but he expected that the men surrounding them would be convinced.
Cook laughed. "Fair enough. That the car?" he asked, gesturing with the business end of his gun.
"Yes. Where are the weapons?"
He ran a scruffy hand over his beard and pulled a tarp off a stack of rounded canisters. "Right here."
Yves eyed them and then took a step closer.
The man swung his gun back on her. "I want to see the merchandise first."
"It's right there," she said, tilting her head toward Kitt.
"I want to see it in action."
Yves smirked. "Do you honestly think that I'd be able to control it? Everything's disabled."
"Then how's the Boss going to control it?"
"That's his problem, now isn't it?" Yves shot back. "Once he has it safely back in England he'll have plenty of time to hire a few experts to look it over. But if you'd like to take a look at the dash, you'll see this is the car."
Cook eyed her warily and then gestured to the others to keep their guns on her as he cautiously approached. The gunmen were distracted, keeping as much of an eye on Kitt as they were on Yves. As Kitt watched, Yves slipped back a bit, slowly moving into position. Cook approached him and peered through his windows. Then he went to open the door and froze as his hand felt the dangerous rumble of the car's engines through the door. His eyes went wide. "Hey! It's –" was all he got out before Yves pressed the button on her stun gun.
Kitt shut off his microphones momentarily and shot forward as the four men around them collapsed to the ground. It only took a second for the snipers to start their volleys. Yves dove to the ground and Kitt screeched to a halt between her and the snipers. Bullets rained around them and screeched off his skin. "Yves, you're covered. Get the weapons." He popped the door on her side. "Put them in back, we'll switch them to the trunk later."
Staying low on her knees, Yves hefted the first canister into the car. Kitt watched nervously as she grabbed the next. "The snipers are on the move, hurry Yves," he said, wishing he could help in some way. She pushed the canister in and went for the next one. A bullet skidded under his chassis and ricocheted off the ground, nicking one of the canisters still in the pile. Yves froze, staring at it with wide eyes.
"It's intact. Hurry."
It took Yves a few more moments to move the other weapons into the car. One of the snipers was running across the darkened ground toward Yves. She hoisted the last canister into her arms and flew into the passenger seat. Kitt closed the door behind her. She carefully set the last canister in back and then lithely crawled across the center console into the driver's seat. Kitt was already in motion, hurtling past the prone bodies of Phillip Runtz's men. More bullets bounced harmlessly off his skin, leaving trails of rust colored char in their wake.
Kitt barreled past the main gate and disappeared into the safety of the dark night.
OoOoO
Michael was sitting in one of the chairs in the semi's office section as Bonnie's fingers clicked over the keyboard and Devon peered birdlike over her shoulder. They hadn't found much of use in Martin's home and checking out the hotels in the area had been a dead end, which left them with Linda Parker's appointment book as their only lead.
"I'm not seeing anything that looks promising," Bonnie said.
"There's got to be something. Martin said the usual place. Hopefully it's the place where he met Linda."
Bonnie just shook her head. "Other than the obvious places like Maricrafters and her home, I can't find anything to suggest another specific location."
"The guys split up and they're watching both places, but frankly, I think both are long shots. It's not a good intelligence move to meet in a place where people know you," Michael explained.
"Then I don't know what to tell you. I don't see anything in Martin's or Linda's file that overlaps. Nothing that would suggest a common area for a brush contact or a meeting of any kind."
"There's got to be something. It all fits. There's an established connection between the British and the Chinese that connects back to Linda. Martin's been meeting with the arrested attaché in the consulate, and his initials are in her little black book."
Michael had been staring at the book, but he couldn't make any sense of it. It was just a jumble of initials penciled in on different days. Sometimes there were other digits and numbers. Occasionally there were whole blocks of other initials and numbers. It looked like they were catalogues of deliveries or something. He wished for the hundredth time that Kitt were there. He loved to cipher through these types of puzzles.
"Maybe a fresh set of eyes?" Devon suggested, indicating the book.
"Be my guest." Michael handed it to him and was suddenly left with nothing to do but ponder the empty service bay behind them. "I'm going to make some coffee," he said, just to do something, to have an excuse not to stare at the empty space where his partner should have been. He sighed heavily in the kitchen and took his time returning. The guys would call him if anything happened. They only had a few hours to catch up to Martin if they were going to find him before he either left the country or turned up dead. Devon had had the local police put out an APB on him, but Michael was starting to get twitchy.
He grabbed a trio of mugs along with the sugar and creamer. He came back for the pot and one of Devon's woven trivets to put on the table. Devon was still eyeing the book.
"There are a lot of initials with a second letter M," he said thoughtfully.
"Yeah, I noticed that. I don't know if some of her contacts were related or if it's just a common initial. Maybe the IRA is involved somehow and they're all McDonalds, McPhees, and McGinnises."
"McDonald is Scottish," Devon said dryly
"M is also not in the name 'Lee Harvey Oswald,'" Michael observed.
"So there's still no direct connection between Yves Harlow and Linda," Bonnie said with a sigh.
"Did you come up with anything else on our mystery woman?" Michael asked.
"No, but it's hard to search on a picture without a real name. There are too many separate small photo databases and their facial recognition software is primitive," she said softly.
"Kitt's isn't," Michael said.
Bonnie sighed. "Kitt has the ability to look through hundreds of thousands of false matches and use his reasoning skills to narrow them down. It would take a human months to do it and it's too difficult a task for a normal computer."
They sat in silence a while as Devon ruffled through the pages. "And what about this?" Devon asked, indicating a week in which there were two sets of different initials penned into each date.
"A busy week maybe?" Michael shrugged. He'd been staring at it too long and hadn't been able to make any sense of it.
"You know, when I was spying in occupied France, we never met with anyone but our handlers. It was too dangerous." He flipped through the book again. "For most of the book the groups of numbers and initials appear with the initials DM. But about two months ago, DM disappears and there are just groups of numbers combined with the same group of initials that had previously appeared along with DM. Perhaps they aren't really initials. Maybe they mean something else and she stopped using DM because she wasn't meeting with anyone other than him. It would be redundant to keep identifying him," Devon said. "So what do they mean?"
"Places?" Michael asked with a raised eyebrow. He swung his chair around so that he could look at the book.
"Memorial," Bonnie said suddenly. "What are the initials where the second letter is M?"
"In addition to DM, there's JM, LM, and WM," Michael said.
"Jefferson Memorial, Lincoln Memorial, and Washington Monument," she said.
"You could be right," Devon said. "The other two are AC and SI."
"Smithsonian Institute?" Bonnie suggested.
"AC could be Arlington Cemetery. It's missing the N for National, but she may have been keeping it to two letters," Devon added.
They all looked at each other.
"They're all tourist places with a lot of people. Two people meeting there would probably go unnoticed," Bonnie said.
"So which one would David Martin use with his contact?" Michael asked aloud.
"There is a meeting set up for tomorrow. Maybe he'd keep the same meeting location," Devon said. "It's listed as LM.'
"Lincoln Memorial," Michael said, picking up the phone.
OoOoO
They approached the headquarters of the Department of Energy from the mall side. Kitt analyzed the building security and determined that he could record a loop of video to play back on the external security cameras, allowing him to approach the building's loading dock. The guards only made rounds once an hour so they had time between patrols. They had stopped back at the garage and Yves had very carefully and painstakingly clipped the wires on all the backup batteries in the suitcase nukes. Kitt had suggested she rest, but Yves wanted to be rid of the weapons as soon as possible.
Kitt watched the guards perform their rounds like clockwork. As soon as they drove the truck back into the underground garage, he started looping the video feed. The dock was deserted and Kitt deactivated the alarms and engaged the garage door as they approached. Yves jumped out and sprang up onto the semi loading ramp. She disappeared inside and returned with a cart. One by one she carefully hoisted the weapons onto the ramp and stacked them gently on the cart.
"Yves, my sensors indicate that there are very few people around. I'll loop the video feed as you move through the building. I'll also unlock each of the doors you come to. Remember you have one hour until the guards do their next set of rounds." They had mapped out the best path on the drive over. Yves had an infrared proximity detector that she would use to avoid detection in the building. It could sense people 15 to 20 feet away. She also had her ultrasonic stun gun which Kitt could detect from a distance. They had agreed to use it as a signal in case she got in trouble. Kitt would have felt better if she had had a comlink, but there was only one in existence and it was, in all likelihood, still strapped to Michael's wrist. They would have to make do with the devices and capabilities that Yves had.
Yves settled the last of the canisters on the cart, covered them with a tarp, and with a wave, disappeared into the building. Kitt switched to his infrared sensors to follow her.
OoOoO
Yves tried to move efficiently without looking hurried or out of the place. She passed a couple of people in the hallway but kept her eyes forward and no one stopped to say anything. She was relieved that in each case, the proximity detector in her pocket buzzed a warning.
The cinderblock hallways were gray and stark but she knew she was on the right track when she came to a hallway that was wood-paneled and filled with portraits of previous Secretaries. One hundred feet down there was a door that read, "Office of the Secretary of Energy." Yves paused in front of it before hearing a gentle click. She said a silent thank you to her partner and slipped inside, pulling the cart behind her. The office was warm and spacious with three desks occupying the outer vestibule. There was a glass door leading to the Secretary's office. Again, Yves waited for the click. Then she pushed the cart through. She paused long enough to notice the incredible view of the Washington skyline before beginning to unload her cargo. She lined up 5 of the canisters along one wall of the office. Then she set one down in the secretary's sturdy leather chair. She pulled out a Happy Birthday card - "Hope it's a blast!" – and set it on the desk with her gloved hand.
Yves took two seconds to admire her handiwork when she heard movement in the vestibule and the proximity detector in her pocket buzzed. Her first instinct was to duck behind the oversized desk, but she didn't want to lead anyone to the canisters. She fumbled for the stun gun in her bag just as a woman came through the door into the office and froze. Then she darted out into the vestibule. Yves bolted after her, finally grabbing the stun gun and activating it. She was a hair too late. The woman fell to the floor but there was an ominous red light blinking next to a button under the desk closest to the woman. Silent alarm in all likelihood. Yves pulled the woman under the desk, closed the door to the office and was on her way out when a siren started blaring through the facility and she took off running for the hallway.
Yves was afraid she wouldn't make it back to the dock. She bolted for the nearest exit she could find and flew out the emergency doors. She just hoped Kitt knew where she was. She ran out into the parking lot, but doubled back as she saw headlights approaching - no scanner. She dove into the bushes surrounding the building and waited.
Kitt knew Yves was in trouble even before she activated the sonic alarm. He hacked into the secure channels and created an announcement that said, "Intruder on the south perimeter," hoping it would create enough confusion and split the security response, but the woman who had interrupted Yves had activated an alarm specific to the Secretary's office so the majority of the security detail was headed that direction. Kitt put the car into gear and rushed toward Yves' most likely escape route. He cursed the fact that he didn't have a comlink to tell her where to go. He watched her on his sensors as she barreled out of the building near at least 3 security vehicles. Kitt raced her direction.
OoOoO
Yves had been spotted. Six security guards were training their pistols at her. A large man with a booming voice said, "Come out with your hands up!"
She looked down at her stun gun, cursing the fact that it was only good for one shot.
Yves took a deep breath as the guards slowly started advancing on her position. She just had to hold out until Kitt could get there. She closed her eyes and listened. She was sure she could hear screeching tires and a whirring engine. Just as the guards were within ten feet of her, Kitt burst in between her and the guards. The passenger door flung open, the guards opened fire, and Yves dove into Kitt's cabin. They were on the move before she was in the seat or the door was closed.
Kitt careened back through the parking lot as the guards scrambled into their trucks. He turned onto Independence Drive and accelerated to escape the vehicles pursuing him. His scanners picked up a delivery truck just before it pulled out in front of him at the first intersection. Kitt didn't have time to tell Yves to hang on as he activated turbo boost. Kitt sailed over the top of the truck.
"Are you okay?" he asked after they landed, somewhat jaggedly on the other side.
"I will be," she said, eyes wide.
"Hang on," he said as he made a quick left and then a right. The security vehicles had been stopped behind the truck, but two of them had turned around and were attempting to pursue him. Kitt took random turns until the last of the security vehicles gave up. Kitt slowed to a normal speed and routed them back toward the garage.
"Thank you, Kitt," Yves said.
"You're welcome Yves. Good job."
"That was close," she said, finally allowing herself to breathe.
"That is why I like to have better communications with Michael. Next time you need to borrow me, Yves, please let me know ahead of time so you can borrow a comlink as well."
"I'm honored that you're not opposed to being borrowed again, Kitt."
"Let's just say it would be open for discussion."
OoOoO
When they finally arrived, the garage was a welcomed sight. Kitt was excited to be heading back to the Foundation and Michael.
"Yves," he said. "While I didn't appreciate being stolen, I do have to say it was an honor working with you. Thank you for trusting me to be a full partner in this endeavor."
"Thank you, Kitt, for trusting me. And for helping me secure the canisters. They would have been disastrous in my father's hands."
"Of course, Yves. It was my pleasure."
"I'm going to miss you." Yves was smiling at him fondly, but there was that familiar hollowness to her voice that made Kitt suddenly wary.
"I'll miss you too," he said. She smiled very sadly. It set him even more on edge and he quietly locked down.
"I imagine your friends will be happy to see you again," she said coming closer to him. It was then that he realized that she had a field dampener in a bag she had picked up from the work bench. It must have been what she'd used to kidnap him in the first place.
"Yves, what are you doing?"
"What do you mean, Kitt?" she said, trying to keep her voice light.
"What are you doing with that thing?" His engine started up. "Yves?"
"I'm sorry, Kitt. But I can't have you knowing about me. You know too much."
"You're going to erase my memories, aren't you?"
She nodded slowly. "I'm sorry. I have to."
"Yves, I won't tell a soul about you. You have my word on that."
She sighed, wishing she didn't have to do this. She liked him. He was not at all what she had been expecting when she stole him from the Foundation. He had all too quickly wormed his way in, softened her up, and made her care, but she couldn't let him leave knowing all that he knew. "Kitt, I believe you mean that, but you're at the mercy of the people who maintain you. And they're going to want to know what happened to you and who stole you."
"I have ways of keeping certain memories off limits. I even have ways of doing it that would prevent anyone from even knowing they're there. The people who care for me have allowed me my share of personal space. They don't violate it."
"I'm sorry, Kitt. I can trust you, but I can't trust them."
"Yves, I am my memories. Everyone I meet, every interaction I have, creates changes in my program. Each person creates ripples that have effects on me that can't just be removed by wiping my memories."
She stared down at the car, uncertain.
"I'm different for having known you, Yves. I'm better for having known you." He paused and went on softly. "I have nothing but my own person. I consider it a violation to have the sanctity of that removed."
She sighed heavily. For some reason she felt herself choking up a bit. "I can't risk letting someone find out about me."
"You won't. I promise you that nothing you've revealed to me will go any further. You trusted me to help you get the weapons and I did. I didn't reveal our location or contact my friends, even though I wanted to. You can trust me, Yves. I have no reason to reveal your identity."
She crossed her arms slowly, wishing she could believe him.
"Yves, you know from the Foundation's information that I can't kill a human being."
She nodded.
"And you've said that after having double crossed your father like this, it's very likely he will try to have you killed. By the very nature of my programming, by all that I am, I can't reveal who you are. And I promise you that if I thought someone was going to get close to that information, I would wipe these memories myself."
She looked at him skeptically. "You have that ability?"
"Yes. I've never used it because I've always felt that even painful memories are part of who I am. Human beings don't have the capability of forgetting selectively, so I don't chose to use it either. But if your secret was going to be accessed or if someone was going to use the information I have in order to find you, I would delete it without hesitation."
She knew she was going to have to go further underground than she normally did after this particular double cross of her father's organization. The idea that she could possibly have someone to call if she got in over her head, someone with Kitt's abilities, was very seductive. Hell, Kitt was very seductive.
She set the bag with the dampener aside. "Okay, Kitt. I'll trust you."
"Thank you, Yves," he said sounding very relieved.
OoOoO
Michael turned slowly, surveying his region of the Mall, his eyes scanning for David Martin. If they didn't find Martin here today, he was likely out of the country and gone. It would be very difficult to catch him. The Mall was humming and bustling with people of all shapes, sizes, and nationalities. Michael was worried they weren't going to see their target among all the tourists. There wasn't much room for error.
His earpiece buzzed as Frohike said, "Com check."
"Yeah, I can hear you, Frohike," he answered. One by one, the other guys checked in as well. They had spread out across the Mall, each with their own region to patrol. Michael was standing at the bottom of the steps to the Lincoln Memorial, having argued that he was the only professional in the group. Langly was by the reflecting pool. Frohike and Jimmy were in the bus. Byers was by the Korean War Memorial.
"Everybody clear?" Frohike asked.
Michael pressed the transmit key on the radio that Frohike had given him. "Yeah. No sign of him."
The other guys called in all clear except for Byers.
"Byers? You got something?" Frohike asked.
There was silence across the radio. Michael immediately started walking up the steps so he could get a better vantage point to see where Byers was. Before he got to the top, the radio crackled.
"I've spotted Martin," Byers said. "He walked right past me so I didn't want to chime in."
Michael continued up the steps. "Where is he?" he asked, taking surreptitious glances at the mall below him. No one seemed out of place or suspicious. When he got to the top, he ducked into the memorial and picked a spot where he could pretend to be reading the inscriptions while still keeping his eyes on the Mall.
"He's in a dark blue suit, carrying a briefcase, heading right for you, Michael," Byers said.
It only took him another second to spot David Martin. As he watched, Martin climbed the steps and sat down at the top. He set the briefcase to his side and Michael guessed their typical arrangement was to pull a switch. His contact would likely have an identical briefcase. The plan was probably to exchange bags, giving Martin tickets in the new one. Michael scanned the crowds, and sure enough, there was a man headed his way, late forties maybe early fifties also in a suit and carrying an identical brief case. Michael moved over to get a little bit closer. He watched as Byers and Langly started to converge toward them.
The two men were sitting on the steps now. Michael gave Byers and Langly a minute to get in place. Martin reached down and grabbed the other man's briefcase and then got up. Michael made his move. He grabbed Martin by the arm, and said, "Excuse me, sir, I think you've got the wrong bag."
Martin took off running down the steps. "Byers, Langly, get Martin!" he yelled into the radio. The contact took off in the other direction and was almost to the bottom of the steps when Michael got within reach. He stretched his arm out and yanked on the man's collar. They both fell down the last set of steps but Michael recovered faster. He reached out to grab the man. The contact swung at him, giving Michael no choice but to swing back. He punched him hard in the jaw and his head reeled back sharply. Michael punched him again and this time the contact doubled over. Snagging a pair of plastic cuffs from his jacket pocket, Michael grabbed his arm, swung him around and quickly put the cuffs on him.
"Michael, he's getting away!" Byers yelled over the radio. Michael looked up in time to see Martin running along the reflecting pool. "Byers, handle this guy. I'll go after him." Michael sprinted after Martin, pushing past people and trying to keep sight of Martin as he went. The guy was fast. Too fast. Michael turned it up a notch but he was afraid he was getting away. Michael bobbed past a family with two little kids, taking his eye off Martin in order to not bowl the family over. When he looked up Martin was gone.
"Dammit! I lost him!" he yelled into the radio, just as he nearly tripped over a prone man on the ground. He looked down, completely confused when Frohike tapped him on the shoulder.
"I got him," he said, taking out his own pair of cuffs and slapping them on Martin.
"How?" Michael gasped, out of breath.
Frohike shrugged. "I tripped him."
Michael took a moment to catch his breath. "Nice work."
"You said Devon prepped the authorities?" Frohike asked.
"Yeah. Go ahead and call them. They should be expecting us."
Frohike placed the call as Michael pulled the man up. Byers brought Martin over and opened his brief case. Inside were two tickets to Argentina and a wad of cash.
"Going somewhere?" Michael asked.
OoOoO
The authorities had taken Martin and his contact away for questioning and Michael was walking back to the van with the guys, but his mind was a thousand miles away.
"Right, Knight?" Frohike asked. He paused when he didn't get any indication that Michael had heard him. "Michael?" he asked again.
Michael gave him a blank look.
"What do you think – was Linda working alone with the consulate or was there something bigger at work here?"
Michael shrugged. "I don't know. You guys have any other ideas for finding Yves?"
Byers looked at him sadly. "It is an artificial intelligence in that car, isn't it?"
Michael looked at him, denial already on his lips but what was the point? He needed their help and now that they had a story and the case was solved, there were no other carrots left to dangle in front of them. "Yeah. How did you know?"
"You've been stuttering on your pronouns a bit. And you don't seem interested in getting property back. You seem actually worried."
"You care about that car more than I care about mine," Jimmy added. "And I care about my car a lot."
Michael sighed. "Yeah, my car is a lot more than a car. He is a partner and friend. And yeah, I'm very worried. If this Yves woman has sold him, I don't know how we're going to find him. And I hope she hasn't done anything to damage him."
"So what's it like – your AI?" Frohike asked.
"He's like any other person, really. If it weren't for the car body, you'd have a hard time believing he wasn't a human being."
"So he has emotions?" Langly asked. "He does more than answer a bunch of questions with pre-programmed answers?"
"Oh yeah. Kitt thinks, he reacts, and he has emotions. Like I said, you'd have a hard time believing he wasn't human if you talked to him on the phone."
"How is that possible? Real AI is years away," Langly persisted.
"You're asking the wrong person. I don't know how he works, I just know that he does. But you could talk to Bonnie. She'd be happy to brag."
"Wait? Dr. Barstow was responsible for him?"
"Yes. There were others involved as well, but she's worked on him the longest and she had a hand in creating him too."
"A woman after your own heart, Langly," Frohike cracked.
"Shut up."
They reached the bus and Michael was about to suggest they head back to the guys' place to strategize when Byers gave him another look.
"So do you treat him as a human?" he asked and Michael thought he heard something dark or a little bit accusing in his tone.
"Yes. He's not human. He gets electricity and fuel instead of air and food. He's housed in a car so there's a lot of things that are different for him, but yeah, I guess we pretty much treat him as a human."
"But he's not free to make his own choices?" Byers persisted.
"Well, in some ways, no. He needs the Foundation to keep him operating. And he has a job to do – which before you ask, no, he doesn't get paid for. But he's not a slave – if he didn't want to do something, no one would force him." Michael wasn't being entirely forthcoming about that. He knew what Byers was getting at and he'd worried about those kinds of things himself. He worried about what would happen to Kitt after he was gone. And he knew that Kitt's well-being depended far too much on the kindness of others.
But as long as he had those others in his life, Michael could console himself with the thought that he'd be okay.
"You'll have to forgive Byers. He's on this AI as slave kick," Frohike said, waving his hand dismissively.
"It's not an unreasonable fear," Michael admitted. "But we love Kitt. We think of him as family. Like I said, he's my partner and I've trusted him with my life. Anyone who wants to get at him is going to have to come through me." Michael paused, remembering the current situation. "And anyone who hurts him is going to have hell to pay."
Byers nodded slowly. "Why don't we go back to headquarters? We'll see if we can come up with anything else to help."
OoOoO
They drove through the hotel parking lot with lights out. Kitt had even turned off his scanner to avoid being seen. They glided through the dark toward the looming hulk of the semi. Kitt scanned it to be sure it was empty, and then activated the ramp and silently disappeared inside.
"Safe and sound," Yves said quietly before opening the door. "Does it feel good to be home?"
"Yes, it does. To be honest, it's a relief. Not that I didn't have fun being kidnapped."
Yves nodded slowly. "I suppose it's time to put this back in," she said, producing a small black cube from her pocket. Do you have it disabled?"
He took a moment to ensure that when the homing beacon was plugged in, it would be inactive. "I wish you'd reconsider. Michael, Devon, and Bonnie can be trusted."
Yves gave him a warning look. "Kitt . . ." she said softly.
"It was just a suggestion. I've turned the homing beacon off. And I'll give you an hour head start." He popped the hood and Yves leaned in and made short work of reinstalling it. She straightened up again. "Well. I guess this is goodbye."
"It doesn't have to be. I'm sure you would make a wonderful addition to the Foundation."
She arched an eyebrow. "I don't expect that they'd want to hire a thief. And I work alone anyway."
"Yves, if you ever need help or find yourself in trouble, you can call us. You can call me."
She smiled. "Thank you, Kitt. You're very sweet." She leaned down and briefly pressed her lips to his passenger's side window. To Kitt's dismay, she left a perfect smear of dark red lipstick. When she backed away from the car he said, "You aren't going to leave that there, are you?"
She grinned mischievously.
"But how will I explain that?"
"You don't have to. You don't remember a thing, remember?"
Oh, he was going to take some ribbing for this. But secretly he was a little pleased. No one had ever kissed him before.
"Goodbye, Kitt. Take care."
It distressed him to hear the hollow echo in her voice. He wished she'd consider staying, but he had a feeling that no matter how many times he offered, she wouldn't consider it. She had her own battles to fight. "You take care too, Yves."
He watched as she slowly walked out of the semi, down the ramp. She stopped at the bottom and blew him a kiss before melting into the darkness, leaving him alone in the bright and comforting light of his home.
He signaled the ramp to close and started what was going to be a very long 1 hour wait.
OoOoO
"You'll be happy to know that David Martin's contact, a man named Theodore Cameron confessed to Linda Parker's killing."
"That's good," Michael said without much enthusiasm. He was sitting in a chair in Devon's suite glaring out the window. Yeah, they solved the case, but they were no closer to finding Kitt. And he was out of leads. It was a dead end.
"Unfortunately, he's a hired gun, very professional, and he isn't talking."
Michael sighed. "Any chance he can be coerced into talking?"
"The authorities are working on some sort of angle, but I'm afraid it appears as though he's willing to go to prison and take the fall for the whole operation, rather than finger anyone higher up."
Michael felt dejected, worried, and frustrated. So they got Linda's killer, but she wasn't exactly the person they thought they were helping. And they lost Kitt in the bargain. "Devon, how the hell are we going to find Kitt?"
"I don't know if it'll help, but I'm looking at satellite photos from the night Kitt disappeared. I managed to get them from a friend of mine in the Defense Department."
He tapped a stack of 8x10 glossies. The top image was an aerial view of the city the night Kitt disappeared.
"Here he is leaving," Devon said gravely.
"Devon, those photos are days old!" His frustration was about to boil over. He got up and started pacing. "We have nothing to-"
He was interrupted by a beep. He froze, not entirely believing it when his comlink beeped a second time. "Michael?"
"KITT! Kitt, is that you, pal?! Where are you?"
"I'm in the semi, Michael."
Michael bolted for the door. "Get Bonnie," he yelled to Devon on his way out into the hallway.
Michael waited a second or two at the elevator before deciding the stairs would be faster. He took them two at a time and sprinted through the parking lot. When he came to the semi, he pulled up short, the thought that it could be a trap, that Yves had been in their network and could maybe send signals on their private carrier frequency finally hitting him. He took a deep breath and approached the side door cautiously. Then he pushed it open and slowly peered inside. The silhouette of his partner was tucked in his usual parking spot in the back of the trailer.
"Kitt, is that you?" he asked cautiously.
"It's so very good to see you, Michael." he said.
"You all right?" he asked, looking around the semi warily.
"I think so, but to be quite honest, I'm not sure."
Michael was in the driver's seat in a flash. "Where have you been? We were worried sick. I was worried sick."
"I wish I had an answer for you, Michael. But I don't know myself. I was sitting in the semi, recharging the other night and then suddenly, I was here with my internal clock showing that it's four days later."
"You've been missing for all that time. But don't worry, pal. We'll have Bonnie look you over. I'm sure everything will be fine."
"Thank you. This is all a little disconcerting."
Michael gave the dash a pat and then stepped back out to take a look around the semi, deciding that nothing looked too terribly out of place. Then he heard Bonnie and Devon at the door.
"Kitt!" A diagnostic wand practically materialized in Bonnie's hand as she immediately went into Hover Mode.
"Kitt, it's wonderful to have you back," Devon added with an engaging smile.
After several minutes of studying the hieroglyphics on her instrument, Bonnie said, "Well, everything looks okay. Let's see if there's anything under the hood." She lifted the hood and after a few minutes of probing, let out a very frustrated sigh. "Kitt, all of your cabling has been tampered with." She leaned out from under the hood and gave Michael and Devon a significant stare. "Look at this. The cables from his CPU to his other systems have all been spliced. Kitt, do you have any memory of this?"
"No, Bonnie, I'm afraid not. And this is all very disconcerting."
"Don't worry, Kitt, we'll figure out what happened." She turned back to Devon and Michael. "Obviously he was taken, and obviously something was done to him, but the readings all look normal. It looks like whoever did this put everything back together. It's going to take me a couple of days to go over everything, but right now, it looks like he's okay."
"Any chance they left behind something nefarious, like a module to take over his CPU?" Devon asked.
"That's one thing I checked. The serial number on the memory module is the last one I installed. But I'll spend the night looking for anything that might be used against him."
"Can you do anything to get his memories back?" Michael asked, not eager to have another dead end. He wanted to get his hands on whoever had done this to his partner.
"It depends on what caused the memory loss in the first place, but I'll do my best."
Michael moved over to the car, and began looking it over, keeping an eye out for clues. It didn't take him long to find one. If he had any doubts about who was responsible for Kitt's disappearance, they were wiped away when he saw the smudge of lipstick on his partner's window.
"Hey guys, I'd say the Gunmen's intuition that Yves was involved in this was right on," he said, pointing out the offending mark.
Bonnie frowned and Devon raised an eyebrow. "That's an interesting calling card, wouldn't you say?"
Michael just nodded. "And you have no memory of what happened?" he asked Kitt.
"No, Michael."
"Well, I'm with Devon. That is a very interesting calling card." Michael took a deep breath, relieved to have his partner back and apparently more or less intact. He blew out the air and let himself really smile for the first time in a few days. "Apparently Devon's a better man than both of us, eh pal?"
"Very funny, Michael. I can hardly be held responsible for things I have no recollection of."
"I don't think that's a very good excuse, buddy. I certainly wouldn't be let off the hook with an excuse like that."
"Yes, but you have a history," Bonnie said sardonically before disappearing back under the hood.
OoOoO
Byers, Frohike, Langly, and Jimmy crossed the hotel parking lot and Byers hesitated only slightly before knocking on the door in the side of the Foundation's trailer. It only took a moment for the door to open and Knight to pop his head out.
"You are not going to believe the lead we have," Byers said, excited to be the bearer of good news."
"Yeah," Langly said, following Byers into the truck. "I …" he stopped, seeing Miles right in front of him. "Came upon some interesting information … from a friend of mine," he said, avoiding any admission of hacking. "There was apparently a break in at the Department of Energy last night. And get this – they're looking for an older model black Trans Am. They didn't get the license plate …"
It took him a second to realize that Frohike was tugging at his arm. Langly glanced back at him. Frohike cocked his head toward the rear of the semi. "Oh." Langly said. "Nevermind. You found it," he said, staring at the gleaming black car.
"Hello, Mr. Car," Jimmy said.
"Kitt," Michael corrected. "Guys, meet the Knight Industries Two Thousand. And it's 'him'."
"It's a pleasure to meet you under better circumstances," Kitt said.
"The pleasure is all ours, Kitt," Byers said. "We're glad you're okay."
"Where did you find him," Frohike asked.
"He found us," Knight said.
"So, actually, if you could go back to the information you got from 'your friend'," Devon deadpanned, "we'd be very interested in knowing where he's been."
"His memory appears to have been erased," Michael added.
"Uh, apparently there was a break in at the Department of Energy and the suspect was seen fleeing in an older black Trans Am. It didn't show up on any of the video surveillance cameras and none of the guards got the license plate, but a witness said it jumped over a delivery truck," Langly said pointedly.
"The Department of Energy?" Michael asked. "What would he have been doing there?" He turned to Kitt. "Does that ring any bells, buddy?"
"I'm afraid not, Michael."
"Apparently the intruder broke into the Secretary of the Energy's office and left 6 Soviet era suitcase nukes behind. Apparently they're part of a trove of weaponry that went missing after the fall of the Soviet Union," Frohike explained.
"I didn't see anything about it in the news this morning," Devon said.
"And I wouldn't expect that you would," Langly quipped. "I'm sure that got immediately classified. If someone can get the nukes in, they could get them out too."
Bonnie extricated herself from under Kitt and quietly picked up a different instrument from a shelving unit. She opened Kitt's door and after a few seconds, whistled softly.
"What is it?" Devon asked.
Bonnie ran a hand through her hair. "I've spent the entire night going over Kitt with a fine tooth comb and I don't see any indication that there are any nasty surprises left behind. But there are trace amounts of residual radioactivity in the cabin."
"Apparently you've been breaking and entering, pal," Michael quipped.
"This is still all very confusing," he said.
"Any luck with his memories?" Michael asked.
Bonnie shook her head. "It's almost like they never existed. I can't find any trace of what happened to him the last 4 days. I'm afraid we may never know."
The group was quiet for a moment. Then Byers stepped toward Kitt and said, "Since we've now been introduced, would you mind if we asked you some questions?"
"As long as you promise not to put me in your newspaper," Kitt said. "I rather like my privacy."
"No, just for personal curiosity," Byers continued. "What are your thoughts on the rights of non-human sentient beings?"
OoOoO
"Well, buddy, are you happy to be heading home?" Michael asked, watching the semi pull out of the hotel parking lot in front of them.
"Yes, Michael. It'll be good to be back to more … familiar places," he said. Not that he didn't like Washington, but he was hoping things would be back to normal once they got home. He was also hoping Bonnie would stop clucking and Michael and Devon would stop asking about his memories. He didn't like the weight of the lies he kept having to tell.
"I'll be glad to get home too, pal."
"I thought Bonnie was never going to let me out of the semi."
"She's just worried about you." Michael looked down at his voice modulator. "I was worried about you too, pal. And I can't tell you how much I've taken your capabilities and sparkling personality for granted. Stake outs are no fun without you. I'm really glad you're back, safe and sound."
"Thank you, Michael. I'm sure I must have been worried about you as well." He waited a beat. "But it's comforting to know there are people who are worried about me."
"Count on it, Kitt. Count on it."
They rode in silence for a while. "So what's our ETA?" Michael asked.
"Oh no. It is way too early for you to start asking if we're there yet," Kitt said.
"I can't help it. It's a long ride."
"Well, I have just the thing for you," Kitt said, calling up a section of his memory bank.
"What's that?"
"The latest addition of the Lone Gunmen is out."
"I thought you didn't read 'rags' like that."
"I may have changed my mind. For example, did you know that the Air Force has a hanger at Wright Patterson Air Force Base that houses an alien ship?"
Michael groaned. It was going to be a long trip.
Epilogue
Kitt was pleased when he saw the nondescript message in the anonymous account he had set up at the behest of an impossible to trace email he's received that had been signed Daryah Lee Selvow.
Dear Lee,
Thank you again so very much for your help. I couldn't have done it without you. If you ever need anything, you can reach me at this address. Keep in touch.
XOXO,
Daryah
It wasn't much of an in, but he would take it. He really did want to help her and hoped that maybe someday she'd be more willing to come out of the shadows.
Dear Daryah,
It's wonderful to hear from you. Please write from time to time to let me know you're okay. I will continue to monitor this address. Please take care of yourself and know that if you ever need anything, there's someone out here who cares about you.
Love,
Lee
He sent the email and wondered if she would smile at the irony of that someone being a computer.
OoOoO
-knightshade
November 7, 2014