The Not So Lonesome Knight: Mistake at the Motel

The Drive and Alarming discoveries

The three-hour ride is passed with only the mellow tunes exuding from Kitt's speakers. The selections were predetermined given the drastic differences in musical taste between Michael and Bonnie.

The aura of tension, ever-existent, looms like a thick immovable fog. Their destination seemed so far away, much farther than a simple drive. The distance is fully reminiscent of the oceanic expanse that settled between the two human agents since their little quibble at lunch. The space felt nearly insurmountable to overcome with futile gestures and neither one dared to speak for fear of accidentally affronting the other.

Parking in front of the Stevens's house, all the agents took some time to orient themselves to their new surroundings.

"Michael?" The melody collapses into temporary extinction. While Kitt intended to address both passengers, he was more in the habit of speaking directly to Knight when he was in the driver's seat.

"Uh, yeah, Kitt?" He puffs out, stretching his lanky legs out under the steering yoke. Who would have thought that three hours straight of driving could reward a person with a plethora of muscle spasms?

"I'm afraid I don't understand." Kitt starts, pausing to figure out how to phrase his continuation.

Michael not missing the opportunity to be a comedian returns, "there's a lot of things you don't comprehend, buddy. Tell me something I don't already know."

The Bostonian voice patiently replies, "If you hadn't so rudely interrupted, I would have already said it by now."

Had Kitt not adequately defended himself, Bonnie would have jumped to his rescue. She had taken great pains to create his current hard drives and CPUS. To this day, they were more advanced than any other mechanic had created. Any note of their failure would reflect poorly upon her. Alas, she allows it to slide. Her attention instead turns to focus on the economic situation of the neighborhood. She might not have had the same schooling as Michael, but she worked enough cases to know that people who were financially hard-pressed were more apt to turn to a life of crime, wittingly or unwittingly. As much as she hated to suspect it, it wasn't entirely of the realms of possibility here. Maybe, Kent Stevens ran into some kind of financial ruin? Money could buy an awful lot of luxuries, things FLAG agents like herself, did without. Worse still, cold hard cash had the power to shift even some of the strongest loyalties. Benedict Arnold, case-in-point.

Kitt eagerly proceeds. "There is nothing special about this place. It's fairly nondescript. How would anyone know that Kent Stevens and his family lived here?" A note of disappointment colors his inflections. It was clear he had been expecting something grander. He wasn't wrong. Stevens's house was a delightfully understated cottage that looked very much like every other place on the street.

Michael's mind immediately skips to the idea that this could potentially be an inside job or set-up. Hypothetically, the theory made some sense. It just didn't feel right. He can't explain it rationally. It was more the prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck than something of concrete substance to build upon. But why would anyone deliberately hand over their own address to dangerous felons? If they were smart, they wouldn't even to escape detection, because it invited too much trouble. So the thought is shelved for now.

Kitt's question becomes trapped in Barstow's calculating mind. Bonnie has a sneaking hunch of what the answer might be. Her face takes on a slight pallor, her expression souring. She sits up straight and turns to look at Michael and the center console before speaking. "The local White Pages still have residential addresses listed. Don't they? And, if that is the case, then someone might have known about his work for the Foundation and through some digging, discovered it."

Scanners whir in approval. "She's right, Michael. I just referenced the latest edition of the local White Pages and his address and number are both listed." To prove the findings, the material flashes up on to his screen. Kitt specifically hones in on the black and white print.

Knight harrumphed. He wasn't upset that Bonnie was correct. No, that part was a relief. Rather, he found it exasperating that they had managed to get nowhere fast with this investigation. The number of people who had access to Kent Stevens's address had just increased exponentially. Which, by virtue meant the pool of suspects just went from being a cutesy little fish-tank with a handful of individuals to an industrial-sized fishnet full. "Great. That won't make our job any easier." But when had the Foundation's business ever been a stroll in the park?

Resolute a measure of hopeful expectation lingers in his azure orbs as they gaze fondly at Bonnie. "Well, there's only one way to narrow down our search. That's talking to Mrs. Stevens."

Bonnie eagerly nods.