Chapter Three
The End Of The Beginning
Michael settled deeper into his seat as he opened the vehicle up and their speed increased markedly. He glanced at his silent companion. "I'm warning you, Devon," he remarked. "I'm going to put this thing to the test. I want to know about everything you've done to my car."
The two men grinned at each other. "Be my guest," Devon assured him. "I believe the saying is, keep the pedal to the metal. I can assure you; that you can't do any harm. Now that it's switched on, the car will not allow you to come to any harm."
"All right…" Michael depressed the accelerator and they shot forward like a runaway rocket.
Kitt continued to monitor his pilot's vital signs. Now that they were on the open road, it seemed Michael Long did know how to drive. That pleased the car immensely. He'd scanned Devon's recent adjustments, and they certainly fitted with Michael's desire for speed and to test the limits.
Kitt was happy to comply and show off some of his skills. His manoeuvres would be based on sound logic and correct computations. Not the instinctual rollercoaster of emotions Michael Long seemed to run on.
He decided to change the small screen of controls which showed "NORMAL CRUISE." He entered "PURSUIT" mode and the car's speed increased sharply.
Michael gasped but didn't comment as he settled even further into the driver's seat and took an even firmer grip on the steering wheel. It was now becoming a competition between man and machine to see who would blink first.
Devon smiled and stroked his chin as they flew down the highway at breakneck speed, passing everything in sight as if the other vehicles were standing still. A large black truck loomed up in the distance and came quickly closer.
"I don't believe this…" Michael marvelled with awe in his voice. "I'm playing chicken with a ten-ton semi…"
Kitt knew a moment of satisfaction. Now he had the man's full attention. Devon could have set his onboard, anti-collision system to any one of several different conditions. But he'd chosen the most daring and dangerous setting, giving Kitt full license to show off his highly advanced driving skills.
He didn't hesitate. He changed his screen to "AUTO CRUISE" as he took over control and accelerated further, passing the truck with ease. He dodged quickly back into the right lane ahead of the lumbering vehicle.
Michael hung onto the steering wheel, but it now seemed to have a life of its own. "Devon! The car just drove around the truck! It steered itself!"
Devon grinned like a boy on Christmas morning. "Yes, it's marvellous, isn't it?"
Kitt glowed with the knowledge of a task well completed. Surely now, Michael Long would pose a question directed at him and he would answer it. He was very keen to establish a verbal link. Then he could introduce himself and explain his processes. He didn't need Devon to talk for him.
"I hate it!" Michael shot back with a scowl. "I like to make my own decisions! This is my car!"
Kitt didn't like the sound of that brusque statement. Or the blunt expression of ownership. He understood Wilton Knight had intended them to become a team. 'Team' – used as a verb – 'To act together to achieve something.'
Michael Long seemed intent on acting alone in all things and making his own decisions. Kitt began to deeply resent the muzzle Devon had placed on him. He longed to express his own opinion. Mr Long needed to be taught a lesson or two in manners and polite conversation.
Devon smiled. "The microprocessor deduced that you were acting contrary to your best interests. It had two choices. Either to slow down or to manoeuvre around the obstacle ahead of you."
Michael frowned at him. "Okay, so why did it steer around the truck, instead of slowing down? That would have been a lot safer. You can't tell me this thing is totally foolproof."
Devon looked pained. "Well, um, you see…"
'Tell him, Devon!' Kitt silently shouted. 'Make him ask me directly!'
Michael growled impatiently, "Well, what? Come on! I think I've just found a flaw in your perfect machine."
'A flaw! In me? I am a state-of-the-art, one-of-a-kind, fully computerised, well-oiled machine! Tell him, Devon!''
"No, no, no, there is no flaw, I can assure you," Devon soothed. "It's just that..."
'Make him ask me a direct question, Devon! Devon! Are you listening to me?'
"Yeah?" Michael demanded. "It's just what?"
'Devon!'
"It's showing off for you," Devon finally admitted.
He didn't concentrate on tiny flickers of life in the small red screen above the list of illuminated control settings. The regular series of dots and dashes told their own story.
In the early days of his development, Kitt had learned Morse code and had used it effectively before he'd been given a voice. Devon knew the AI was furious with him and was trying to say so. Devon looked away, trying not to smile.
'Devon! Oh, I don't believe this! I was not showing off! I was fully aware of every manoeuvre I was performing with flawless precision! I was magnificent!'
Michael's head snapped around and he stared at Devon. "What?" He brought the car to a screeching halt on the side of the road. "What do you mean, it's showing off for me?"
Devon laughed as he turned in his seat. "Don't blame the machine. Actually, I had a part in today's little demonstration. I'm afraid I've allowed you to annoy me. I could have set the anti-collision system for any one of several conditions, but I chose not to do so."
Michael stared at him. "Such as?"
Devon shrugged. "Such as actual road driving, pursuit, or..."
Michael frowned. "Yeah? Or..."
Devon rubbed a finger over the bridge of his nose. "The car can react to a complex network of stimuli that are a little too advanced to explain to you all at once. Suffice to say it can drive itself, under certain required conditions."
'A basic, core function! I am so much more than that! If only you would allow me to explain...'
Michael shook his head. "Oh, great. You mean it can decide to take off and go for gas, or a car wash. Just like that. Leave me high and dry, if it wanted to. Be great if you happen to be working under it at the time."
"Ah, huh…" Devon regarded him seriously. "I can assure you; it wouldn't do anything to harm you. Its primary function is in the preservation of human life at all costs. Your life."
'Now we are getting somewhere. Surely now he will wish to communicate directly with me…'
Michael dismissed Devon's statement. "By me, you mean anyone driving this thing."
Devon regarded him levelly. "No, actually I mean you. Michael Arthur Long. It has been programmed to take care of you at every level. Accede to your every wish or command without question."
'Great, Devon! Now, command me, Michael Long! Speak directly to me!'
"You don't say…" Michael stared at Devon, long and hard. He slowly shook his head.
Devon turned back in his seat and frowned through the windscreen. "Shall we continue with our little demonstration? Or have you seen enough?"
"Oh, no, not yet…" Michael took hold of the futuristic steering wheel. "Not by a country mile. We are going to have some fun!"
'Devon…' Kitt tried one last time.
But to no avail. All his attempts at communication were being ignored. His wishes were spurned and rejected. It was like he was nothing more than a car. He subsided into seething, resentful silence and his red screen went blank.
The deserted highway was perfect for the Trans Am to race down at a speed fast approaching two hundred miles an hour. A determined Kitt began to push the limits beyond any testing that had previously been completed. If this was the only way he could communicate, he was going to do it in style.
The miles flew by, and he was now showing off and enjoying himself. He increased the speed even further and listened happily to his wheels humming on the tarmac. He could maintain this speed for hours. He began to hum a tune to himself as he increased his speed yet again.
Perspiration began to run down Michael's temples as he hung onto the steering wheel. The increase in speed was finally becoming too much for his nerves to take. The landscape on either side had begun to blur before he finally admitted defeat. Slowly, he lifted his foot from the accelerator and the car came to a complete halt on the shoulder of the highway.
He turned to Devon. "Okay. It wins. I chickened out first. What's the high end of its speed?"
"You don't want to know," Devon replied honestly. "We've never tried to test it to that limit."
He was very pleased with the demonstration. Surely now, Michael Long would see he was not the right man for the position. They could get back to working on finding his replacement while there was still time. Someone older and far less impulsive. A man who could take orders and obey them to the letter.
He glanced at Kitt's silent red screen. He could almost see the car's seething resentment at being instructed not to speak. But Devon had no wish to intrigue Michael Long further or encourage him to stay any longer. He would be leaving, and soon.
'And without his car.' Devon would hand the man back his bank accounts and then he could buy himself a new car. Two, if he wanted. Kitt was already spoken for and impossible for Michael Long to afford now anyway.
Michael tightened his hands on the wheel. "I guess it's time for another talk with Wilton. I have a few things I want to get ironed out."
Devon nodded with relief. "I was hoping you'd feel that way."
※※※※※
The sun had risen higher into the sky when Dr Wesley exited the master bedroom of the Knight mansion. He shook his head. His expression was very grave and pensive.
He looked up and saw Devon and Michael walking toward him down the hallway. "Thank goodness." When Devon got closer, the doctor put a hand on his shoulder. "You'd better go right in. It's not looking good. I fear the worst. Mr Knight is hanging on to see you."
He sighed. "I'm sorry, but I've done all I can." He swallowed tightly.
"I know…" Devon nodded. "And I'm truly sorry. I was deeply afraid of this. The old man got too over-excited today. He's so keen to see his precious project through to the end and hoped he could. But time was always against him."
"Yes…" The doctor nodded as he turned away.
Devon entered the room with Michael behind him. The doctor shook his head as he closed the door quietly. He would now wait for the inevitable. Then he would have the required paperwork to attend to. That would be his final duty to perform for his employer and good friend.
Lying in his bed, Wilton Knight's eyes were closed, and he looked peaceful. Devon crossed quickly to the bedside. "We're too late…" he said.
But Wilton's eyes flickered open. His gaze shifted to Devon and Michael. "Almost," he said in a harsh whisper. He smiled. "What kept you? Car not fast enough?" He drew a ragged breath.
Michael smiled as he put out a hand toward him. "The car's fantastic. It ought to make you another fortune on the market and save thousands of lives. It's incredible what you've done with it."
Wilton grimaced with pain and perspiration stood out on his forehead. He coughed. "And have it all taken away from me again and kept off the market like they did –" He coughed again. "No…"
Devon intervened. "Please, don't try to talk. I'll explain everything."
He turned to Michael. "Mr Knight is the last of his breed. He built his own empire from the ground up, just as the Fords and the Rockefellers did. There's not an inch of it that he doesn't know or understand."
Michael grimaced. "Devon, we've been all through this. I do understand, but nothing will change my decision."
"All right…" Wilton muttered. "Michael, come closer…"
Michael nodded and stepped toward the bed. Devon moved back and encouraged him closer with a hand on his back.
Wilton stared up at him. "You were spared for the last great fight. Don't turn away in fear. One man can make a difference. You are going to be that man…"
Michael sighed. "I'd like to be able to promise you that I could take on the world someday. But I can't. I still wake up in the middle of the night, shaking. That gun in my face and the whole world blowing up. My mind replays it over and over until I can't sleep…"
"Then, remember that moment and think of it as your baptism by fire. You survived and you're alive. It has to have been for a reason. A very good reason."
Wilton raised his hand slowly and offered it across the bed for Michael to take. "Life is a precious gift. You have been given a second chance at it. You cannot deny me my final wish. I spent five years looking for you. I selected you out of hundreds of others. I need you. Devon needs you."
The old man smiled. "My glorious adventure has ended, and yours has just begun…" He sighed. "Make me proud. I have faith in you. Don't let me down now. Don't walk away from the dream of what could be…"
His grip on Michael's hand tightened for a moment. "Please…" Then it relaxed as he closed his eyes and faded silently away.
Michael held the old man's hand as he lowered it gently to the bedcovers. The ornery battler who had saved his life and brought him back from the brink of death was now at peace and looked supremely happy. Like he'd won something only he could see.
"So, that's it…" Michael sighed as he turned to Devon who was standing at the end of the bed. He saw the tears in the other man's eyes, and he shook his head. "What happens now?" he asked brusquely.
Devon inhaled sharply. "That car is not yet ready to go public. It has a more immediate mission. Wilton had detailed plans for it. Plans that should interest you greatly. If you have half a mind to listen."
He tried hard not to sound resentful. This crazy plan had been entirely Wilton's idea, not his. But now that his good friend was gone, he knew he had to make the effort for the sake of his memory. After all, with Wilton's death, he was now the director of Knight Industries and everything that exacting position entailed.
There would be a private funeral to arrange, and the board would need to be told. A million different things that needed to be done and he was wasting time arguing with a stubborn and angry young man who was glaring at him like he hated him.
"You must listen to me," he insisted. "It's the only way."
"Why? What's the point?" Michael exhaled sharply as he shook his head. "Look, Devon. Like I told the old man, I'm not interested. I can barely take care of myself." He looked back to the bed. "Now that he's gone…"
He clenched his fists. "It's past time I was gone too."
He brushed past Devon's restraining hand and left the room. He stormed past the startled doctor outside in the hall and ran from the house.
He knew where he was going. There was nothing else he wanted but to put a lot of distance between himself and this place. No blandishments, or talk of higher things, would make him change his mind and stay now. He was leaving and that was the end of the matter.
He still felt naked without a weapon close by. But he figured asking for his gun back now would not get a good response from an irate Devon. He didn't doubt that the other man worried that Michael might try to shoot him to make good his escape.
"Not a bad idea…" Michael muttered as he entered the vast warehouse and clattered down the spiral steps to the inner level. "No matter. I can buy another one when I'm finally clear of this place."
To his surprise, Devon followed him inside. "For God's sake, don't go so fast! I'm puffed."
"You're out of shape," Michael observed wryly as he walked to his car. "I'm sorry, Devon, but I got places to go. I have everything I need right here. There's nothing you can offer me to make me stay now."
"What the hell does that mean?" Devin snapped, following him down the stairs. "Where do you have to go? There's nothing left out there, for you. You're dead, remember?"
Michael turned to glare at him. "Aw, come on. I heard you shouting at someone on the phone when I left my room this morning. Your bloodhounds have managed to find Tanya Walker upstate, in some town south of San Francisco. And you kept that salient fact from me because you knew I would go after her. And that you can't stop me."
"What?" Devon snapped following him across the vast space. "You're saying that you listened in on a private conversation. I wouldn't have believed that of you. I thought you were better than that."
Michael raised a denying hand. "Listen. I don't do things like that." He stopped beside his car. "But you were so excited you were talking a mile a minute. And you had your office windows wide open."
He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "The gardener could have heard you over the lawnmower. I guess there was a good reason why you were so excited."
"There was." Devon glared at him with a dissatisfied expression. "But you didn't have to stop and listen."
"Maybe, but you weren't going to tell me, were you? So, tell me now. What's she been up to since she left Acton standing at that hotel reception desk in Vegas," Michael insisted. "You owe me that much."
"All right." Devon sighed. "Acton's net worth was small, compared to where she is now. She's working in a place called Silicon Valley. Probably the wealthiest four-mile strip of space-age industry in the world. She's managed to promote herself to another appointment as executive assistant to Will Benjamin, the president of Com Tron. It's one of the really big operations and it's worth millions. Rich pickings for a woman like her."
Michael nodded. "All right. I've heard of Silicon Valley. It's where they make all those fancy microchips you seem to be so fond of. The things you've filled my car up with. A perfect target for her kind of operation."
Devon nodded. "My thoughts exactly. She's still specialising in industrial espionage. It pays excellent dividends."
He passed a frustrated hand over his eyes. "It was no coincidence that we happened to be there the night you were shot. You see, we weren't only tracking you. We were also following Tanya, looking to catch her in possession of enough evidence to put her and her friends away for a very long time. Your being shot distracted us from exposing her and she escaped."
"Okay…" Michael frowned. "Don't tell me she took Knight Industries, too?"
Devon looked dissatisfied. "For several million dollars' worth of advanced designs. And as smooth an operation as I've ever had the misfortune to see. Wilton made up his mind then and there to do something about her."
He clenched his hands. "That was before he found out that you'd been detailed to protect her, as well as Charles Acton, on that gambling trip down to Vegas. You thought she was on your side until she turned on you and shot you in the face."
Michael's lips thinned. "So that's why I'm here. You had it planned all along. You were going to use me to get them."
Devon shrugged. "Let's say rather, that we were considering allowing you to use us and the Knight 2000 to get them. They think they've gotten away with our murder and a few more besides. You do not know half of what that woman is capable of when cornered."
"Yeah, maybe. But I'm happy to find out." Michael's expression firmed. "Okay, if Tanya's in Silicon Valley, that's right where I'm going right now. I have a date with her that won't wait."
"I forbid it," Devon replied harshly. "We need you here. You must learn all about the car and what it can do. We don't have a lot of time."
Michael smiled and shrugged. "Devon, you can't forbid it. What would you do? Lock me up in my room and throw away the key? You know I'd only go out the window."
"I can certainly take away the car." Devon waved a hand at the Trans Am beside them. "Can you afford to pay us for all the extensive work we have done on it?"
Michael didn't rise to the bait. "I'll get another one. Besides, it's in my name."
"Ah, now that's where you're wrong…" Devon put his hand in his suit coat pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
He handed it to Michael who read it quickly. "Michael Knight?" he queried the name on the automobile registration card. "Who's he?"
Devon regarded him with satisfaction. "Michael Long is dead. Remember that. You wouldn't want to die again by using that name a second time."
Michael looked frustrated. "No, once was plenty. But how did I suddenly become Michael Knight?"
"Yes, well. Here…" Devon pulled a wallet from his other suit pocket and held it out. "It is all a part of Wilton's plan."
Michael took the wallet and opened it to find everything he needed to live in the world. "Driver's licence, credit cards…" He looked up. "Someone has been very busy on my behalf."
"It was all created on Mr Knight's orders," Devon replied, looking decidedly put out. "He wanted everything to fit neatly into place. Make you ready to complete what he cannot."
"These are good now," Michael observed. "You could have dated these ahead if you wanted me to stay here." He grimaced. "You knew I'd leave when I wanted to."
Devon shook his head in disgust. "You're a primitive, Mr Long. You're so very easy to read."
Michael held up the wallet and smiled.
"Mr Knight…" Devon corrected himself unwillingly. "You're quite predictable."
Michael shrugged. "You think the old man was pretty smart, don't you?"
Devon stiffened. "He was a certifiable genius. And he had the papers to prove it."
Michael lifted one shoulder. "He must have known what he was doing to pick me to get a little revenge on Tanya for him. He knew how much I hated her for what she did to me."
They traded stares, neither man willing to admit defeat and back down.
Michael moved past him to the driver's door of the car. "Well, if there's nothing else you want to chew me out for, I'll be on my way…"
Devon made room for him and then put out a detaining hand. "Oh, just a minute…" he said as Michael got into the car. "Since you're so set on leaving. There are several things about this car that I ought to explain. You can't just –"
"That's all right, Devon…" Michael soothed as he looked up at him through the open window. "I'm a fast study. I'll pick things up as I go along."
Devon tried again. "Look, that's very foolhardy and quite unnecessary. Time is not that much of the essence. Tanya isn't going anywhere yet. She has too much to lose."
Michael smiled. "If I followed your logic, I'd just sit back and let her die of old age. Goodbye and thank you, Devon." He paused. "Oh, and I want you to know something. I kinda got to like you. Even when you were playing hardball."
"What?" Devon moved his shoulders and looked uncomfortable.
Michael's grin widened. "Never mind. What does that mean coming from a primitive like me, anyway?"
He started the car and screeched his way out through the open doors to the warehouse and didn't look back. Devon watched him leave and then turned his eyes up to the heavens. "Well, Wilton. He's doing everything you said he would."
He shook his head. "What have you gotten me into and why?"
※※※※※
By the time the sun was overhead, Michael had driven miles north from Knight Industries and all its sorrows, shadows and intrigue. As the outskirts of Los Angeles fell behind him, he finally felt he could breathe again. The lush, green of the Californian landscape flew past the windows as he drove the Trans Am along a nearly empty highway.
His stomach began to growl. He decided to pull into a roadside truck stop for some black coffee and a satisfyingly thick grilled cheese sandwich for his noonday meal. Returning to the car, he was grateful to discover that Devon hadn't removed the overnight bag packed with clothing and his essentials that Michael had always kept in the car's trunk for emergencies.
"Thanks…" he said wryly as he used the restroom to change into fresh clothes before he washed his face and hands.
Feeling refreshed, he returned to the car and filled the petrol tank to the brim. He had a couple of hundred miles or so still to go and he didn't want to make any more stops, except to use the restroom or grab a snack on the way.
After more miles had passed beneath the car's wheels, a road sign flashed up along the side of the road. Michael glanced over and read it casually. "San Francisco, one hundred and fifty miles. And Millston, a hundred and ten miles. We're getting closer."
He frowned. "I wonder why they call it Silicon Valley?"
Deep inside the car, Kitt's frustrated attention became sharply focused. 'Is that finally a direct question?' He waited.
Tired of talking to himself, Michael shrugged as he scanned the dashboard of his car. "All right. Might as well get civilised and put on some music…"
He frowned at all the lights, dials and screens. "All these knobs and gadgets. Do you think they'd give you such a thing as a radio? You got any sounds worth listening to?"
'Yes! At last!'
A well-modulated male voice inquired, "What would you like to hear?"
"Hey!" Michael gasped as he looked all around the car. "What the hell was that?" he demanded to know. He brought the car to a screeching halt on the side of the road.
"Do you wish further information on Silicon Valley?" Kitt inquired smoothly.
"Hell, no!" Michael spread his hands. "I want to know who you are and how you're listening in!" He looked around the car again, seeking answers.
The small red screen above the various cruise control modes pulsed as the voice continued in a soothing tone, as if seeking to instruct. "There's no reason for the increased volume. I am scanning your interrogatives quite satisfactorily. I am the voice of the Knight Industries 2000's microprocessor. K.I.T.T. for easy reference. Kitt, if you prefer."
Kitt still resented the contraction Devon had invented. But it would now serve a useful purpose. From his detailed observations, Michael Knight did not appear to have a long attention span. He was far too impulsive and given to rash impulses.
Michael scowled at the small red screen. "Well, I don't prefer. And what's more, I do not intend to drive around in a car that talks back to me. So, either Devon pulls your plug, or you get yourself a new driver."
The red screen blinked at him. "Unfortunately, I am not qualified to overrule your wishes."
Michael nodded. "Well, that's real good to hear, Kitt. Because I don't want to hear another peep out of you until I can get a call off to Devon. So, clam up. I'm going to listen to some good music. And don't offer any suggestions. I'll choose my own."
Kitt analysed the terse statement with lightning speed. His pilot had not requested a call be put through to Devon Miles from the car so that he may air his complaints. Obviously, Michael Knight had not been informed about many of Kitt's capabilities in onboard communications.
Michael had not issued a direct order, and he was not wearing the comms link that Miss Barstow had designed for him. Kitt had to assume that piece of vital equipment had been forgotten in Michael's rush to leave Knight Industries far behind.
And he had just ordered Kitt to clam up. The Trans Am quickly sorted through his extensive lists of colloquial sayings to analyse that one. 'To suddenly stop talking or refuse to speak.'
It was a command he was content to follow. But he felt he had one last piece of advice that he needed to offer. For his mercurial pilot's safety. After all, that was his primary function.
"As you wish, Mr Knight. But, since you are still recovering from your near-death ordeal, and I sense you are in a slightly irritable mood caused by fatigue... May I suggest you put the car into the "AUTO CRUISE" mode for safety's sake. I would hate for you to have an accident so early in our working relationship."
Michael glared at the small screen. "No, you may not! And that's final. Good night!"
"Good night," the car replied and went silent.
Kitt would maintain a watching brief and see how long his pilot lasted before sleep claimed him. He had already deduced Michael's vital signs were beginning to flag. But he had not been asked for his input. He had 'clammed' up.
Michael frowned and shook his head. "I can't believe this… a car that talks back to me. This machine has got to go. It's doing my head in." He punched up a radio button and music filled the car with a hard-driving beat.
"Now that's much better…" He glared at the silent red screen before he changed gears and set off down the road once more.
The Trans Am flew along the highway to the sounds of different music. As time passed, Michael began to fight off the need to sleep. His increasing drowsiness was underscored by new music from the radio. He would fall asleep, then jerk himself away again. This cycle continued for several miles.
Finally, he succumbed to slumber, and he fell asleep with his head to one side, resting on the driver's window. His hands dropped away from control of the steering wheel. As Kitt had predicted, his ordeal had finally overtaken him and he was sound asleep, rocked by the steady motion of the vehicle.
There was the sound of a soft beep and two lights exchanged positions. A flashing light that read "NORMAL CRUISE" moved from the flashing stage to simply illuminated.
The car manoeuvred around a corner, neatly and safely. "Yoo hoo, Michael…" Kitt called softly.
Michael didn't hear him and continued to sleep.
The car tried again. "Michael…" Receiving no response, Kitt lowered his tone to one more commanding, "Michael…"
Kitt waited and then took control. The light below "NORMAL CRUISE" illuminated to read "AUTO CRUISE" and began to flash, indicating that it was now activated. The car drove confidently down the road and gave no sign of concern when a police cruiser passed it, going the other way.
The policeman in the passenger seat turned to look back. "Did you see what I just saw? That man is plumb asleep at the wheel."
"God!" The driver glanced back. "Well, we'd better slow down and get his attention before he causes an accident!"
The police cruiser slowed and then turned back to chase down the Trans Am. Its lights went on and its siren sounded, but the car ahead continued as if nothing had happened.
The police officer behind the wheel worried for the driver up ahead. "That man can't be asleep. He's got to be dead."
His partner shook his head. "Well, if he ain't, he's gonna be soon. That's Dead Man's Curve up ahead. No way he's gonna be able to take that."
They continued chasing with lights and sirens. But the car ahead showed no sign of stopping as it neatly negotiated the sharp bend in the highway.
"How can he sleep and drive like that?" the police driver demanded to know.
"Michael…" Kitt called softly. "Michael…"
The police cruiser finally succeeded in pulling out from behind the car and rolled up next to Michael, who was still fast asleep with his head resting against the driver's window.
"Hey! Hey!" the policeman in the passenger seat hung out the window, waving his arm at him.
The police car's horn began to honk incessantly as the policeman leaned further out of the window and banged on the roof of the Trans Am. The driver flipped on the interception bleeper but to no avail. They were forced to pull back in behind Michael's vehicle and continued to sound the horn.
Michael suddenly woke up with a start. "What the…" He looked all around. "What's going on? What did I do? Where are we? What's all that noise?"
"We are about to be stopped by two officers from the local law enforcement. May I suggest that we deny everything and admit nothing," Kitt advised in a neutral tone. "That way we will both stay out of trouble."
※※※※※
