Michael was driving through the small, rural town of White Ridge. It was like a lot of little towns he had visited since joining the Foundation. There were a couple of main streets with local businesses, side streets leading into more residential areas, and a general laid-back air.

"I presume you are getting the lay of the land, as you like to call it?"

"You got it, pal. So far, I've spotted a single motel and a couple of likely places to eat."

"Are you expecting to find more?"

"Not really. Let's double back to the motel and check in. And then let Devon know where we're staying."

Michael turned around and pulled into the motel parking lot. After checking in, he moved Kitt to a parking spot right outside his room. He grabbed his bag from the trunk and went in. He tossed his bag on the bed closest to the window, figuring he'd sleep on the other one. Then he picked up the phone and dialed the Foundation.

"Yo, Devon."

"Michael. You've arrived in White Ridge, I presume."

"Yup. I met with Ross Osborne earlier and got a little more detail. He suggested I get myself hired by Siddall and Family, so I can learn more about road construction. I'll go there first thing tomorrow morning. Oh, and I've checked into a motel."

"Yes, I know. Kitt has already shared the name of the motel, as well as you're the phone number and your room number." Devon paused, then asked, "Shall Bonnie and I join you?"

"Not yet. I want to poke around a bit first. The Home Office isn't exactly . . . discreet."

Devon murmured, "A word I am surprised to find in your vocabulary." He then said, a little louder, "Do you have a timeframe? After all, it will take us some time to get there."

Michael mulled it over. "How about the end of the week? By then, I should have a better idea of what's going on. If anything. I can always call you if there's nothing."

"Of course. And Michael . . . be careful."

"Always, Devon."

Michael hung up and then laid down on the bed, thinking. After several minutes, he sat up.

"Kitt?"

"Yes, Michael?"

"Do you have a phone number for Marty Kean?"

"No, Michael, I do not. However, I can easily find one."

"When you do, put the call through to my room, please."

A few minutes later, the phone rang, and Michael picked it up.

"Marty Kean."

"Marty! It's Michael. Michael Knight."

Marty was surprised. "Michael?"

"Yeah. I'm working a case and could use your help."

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no. I'm quite happy far away from guns, bullets, thugs, bullets, car chases –"

"Relax, Marty, relax. I just want to ask you some questions. That's all. Over the phone, not in person."

"Over the phone?"

"Yes, Marty, over the phone. Now, in fact."

"Okay . . ." said Marty, not entirely on board with the idea.

"Great! What can you tell me about contract fraud?"

"Contract fraud?"

"I'm looking at allegations of fraud in construction –" Marty snorted. "What was that, Marty?"

"Look, everyone knows construction contracts have tons of fraud, start to finish."

"Okay, so let's start at the start."

"Bid rigging, either kickbacks or collusion. Change orders." Marty was, for the first time since Michael had met him, calm and confident.

"I need a little more here, Marty."

"Bid rigging is fixing the bids so that a certain contractor wins."

"Now we're getting somewhere."

"The two most common forms of bid rigging are kickbacks and collusion. With a kickback scheme, the person approving the contract gives it to a contractor for more than it should be, and then gets a cut."

"The kickback."

"Exactly. I give you the contract for $20K when it should be $16K. You give me $2K of the extra $4K you got."

"K?"

"Thousand. Like a kilogram is a thousand grams."

"Oh, okay. The company pays more than it should, and you and I each get half of the extra. And collusion?"

"Collusion is external. The bidders discuss among themselves who will get the contract. That person puts in the lowest bid, which is still higher than it should be, and everyone else bids higher."

"Probably not what's going on here. So, who can fix a bid internally?"

"Well . . . anyone. The secretary who gets the bids can tell someone the amounts, so their bid is lower. The contract manager can make sure only someone who will give a kickback gets to bid. Even the in-house engineer who does the cost estimate can make their estimate a little too high, so everyone but the favored bidder looks too high."

"Okay, that gets us to –"

"Change orders. The contract is approved for a certain dollar amount. But then the contractor 'finds' problems, submits a change order to add more to the contract to fix the problem, and that gets approved. Ultimately, the contract ends up being more than even the highest bidder."

"Could involve kickbacks, right?"

"Right."

"Marty, you are a wealth of knowledge. Thank you so much."

"Any time, Michael. Wait, I didn't mean that. No, don't call me again. Ever."

"Goodbye, Marty."

Michael hung up and then went outside. He glanced at Kitt.

"Nice evening for a walk."

He hoped Kitt would get the message. He liked the commlink . . . most of the time. But he did feel a little awkward talking with Kitt in public. He wasn't Dick Tracy, after all. Michael knew he should work on that, if only for Kitt's comfort. He knew his partner got a little anxious when Michael wasn't in the well-protected car. Talking to Kitt helped reassure him that Michael was just fine.

It really was a nice evening, and White Ridge was a pleasant town. He passed by several storefronts, the usual for a small town, including the obligatory antique store and two ladies' clothing stores, all in the same block. He wondered what he wanted for dinner.

"It's the man with the '73 Trans Am," said a voice ahead of him.

Michael smiled as he saw Erika from the car show. "And it's the lady who appreciates classic cars."

"You seem confused."

"Trying to figure out where to go for dinner."

"I'm on my way to Rose's Place if you want to join me. It's a bit outside of town."

"Sure. I'll even drive."

"A chance to ride in a '73 Trans Am? Deal!"

Michael and Erika walked to where Kitt was parked. Erika got in. She was amazed by the dashboard, a typical reaction in Michael's experience.

"Well, you have added a few things."

"Yeah, well. Most of these are for my partner's benefit."

"Really, Michael?" asked Kitt. "The displays are for you, as the driver. To fully understand and properly react to changes in my operational status and environment."

"It talks!"

"Yeah, he does. A bit too much, if you ask me."

"Since Michael has failed to perform the most basic courtesies, allow me. I am the Knight Industries Two Thousand, better known as Kitt."

"Pleased to meet you, Kitt. I'm Erika Courtney. Okay, Rose's Place –"

"I have already located the establishment and put the map on the screen," said Kitt, who then added, rather pointedly, "For the driver's benefit."

"Told you he talks a bit too much."

They arrived at the restaurant and were seated with almost no wait. The food was good, and the company was better.