Disclaimer: I do not own Knight Rider or Starman. I only lay claim to the original characters and the idea for the story.
Even before the last peals of the door chime had faded away, a rapid, impatient, knocking began on the mansion's solid oak front door.
Carlee muttered under her breath, "Give a pregnant woman a chance," as she waddled to the door. Two months to go, and she was beginning to feel like an elephant. No, more like a beached whale. An elephant at least had some grace, being adapted to its size on land.
The double doors of the F.L.A.G. mansion were a matched set of solid oak, carved and stained a deep mahogany. Carlee knew they were incredibly heavy, but the way they were hung made them swing open and closed as if they were as light as feathers. The ease with which they swung open and closed always caught new visitors to the mansion off guard.
Pulling gently on the huge door, she nearly lost her balance and stumbled backwards when it was pushed further open by the person on the other side.
Recovering quickly, Carlee was able to jump clear of the door, as it banged into the heavy duty door stop set into the floor to keep the door from hitting and damaging the wall.
Carlee was about to lay into the man, when he rudely shoved his I.D. in her face, announcing, "Special Agent George Fox, I have an appointment to see Devon Miles." He gave her a dismissive look, then turned to peer farther into the mansion.
Fuming inside, Carlee decided to temporarily fill the role of the hired help that the agent thought she was. "He's expecting you. Right this way." She turned and led him to Devon's office. The hall they walked down was furnished with antique furniture and expensive paintings. Carlee's favorite was the piece that had probably the least monetary value, but was strategically placed to remind visitors of the origins of the F.L.A.G. Foundation. Wilton Knight had died before Carlee had become part of the Foundation for Law and Government, but from the stories Michael and Devon had told her about him, she liked to think the he probably would have treated her as a daughter. As she past the portrait, she cut her eyes towards Fox, then back to Wilton, then rolled her eyes.
Opening Devon's door without knocking, Carlee ushered George Fox into Devon's richly appointed office.
Just as the hallway was decorated to impress visitors, so was Devon's office. Floor to ceiling bookshelves – full of antique books and law tombs – took up most of the wall to the left of Devon's desk and behind his desk. The wall to the right of his desk contained framed copies of Devon's law degrees, as well as engineering and technology degrees. Strategically placed amongst the degrees were photographs of Devon with important world leaders.
A formal sitting area was also against that wall, so visitors would have no choice but to see the degrees and pictures. Carlee knew this placement had nothing to do with vanity, as Devon Miles was the humblest person she knew. Instead, it was to inform visitors that Devon was not a push over, and he had friends in high, and sometimes unlikely, places.
To the right of the door sat a table with a top of the line Intel 486 computer on it.
This was Devon's element. At sixty-six, Devon was the quintessential dapper English gentleman, despite, or maybe because of, his wild younger days. There wasn't a day since Carlee had been here that Devon wasn't properly presentable in a gray business suit, his gray hair perfectly combed. Devon had been the head of the Foundation for Law and Government since Wilton Knight had bequeathed the title to him on his deathbed a little over six years ago.
Looking up from the paperwork in front of him, Devon glanced from Carlee to the government agent and back again.
"Mr. Miles, I'm Special Agent George Fox, from the Federal Security Agency. We spoke on the phone," the man said, neglecting to offer his hand to shake. His brows furrowed slightly as he looked from Devon to Carlee, then back. "We had an appointment this morning."
"Yes, I am aware of that. Why don't we all have a seat and we'll get started." Devon replied with a sigh.
As Carlee settled into one of the two chairs facing Devon's desk, the government agent gave an impatient wave of his hand in Carlee's direction. "Why is she here? I was under the impression from our phone conversation that you would have one of your senior investigators joining us!"
Settling into his own seat, Devon replied, "This is Carlee Knight. She is the senior investigator I mentioned. If you have a problem with that, you are free to leave."
Fox began to sputter something, thought better of it, and sank into the second chair, only to pop back up a second later to place a photograph, from a file folder he'd been carrying, on Devon's desk.
Devon picked the photo up and glanced at the image for a moment before handing it across his desk to Carlee.
Carlee accepted it and gazed intently at the man in the picture, then looked up at Fox, waiting for more information.
"His name is Paul Forester."
"What is he wanted for?" Carlee asked.
"That's classified," Fox responded a bit too quickly for Carlee's tastes.
"Well, what can you tell us about him?" Carlee's tone told Devon she was about to lose her temper.
Studying the man closely, Carlee detected a hint of carefully concealed obsession in Fox's ice-blue eyes when he responded, "He is to be considered armed and dangerous." He glanced at her gravid stomach and added, "Once you've located him, be sure and call in local authorities to make the arrest."
* K * R *
As soon as the door clicked closed behind the F.S.A. agent, Carlee jumped to her feet, or tried to at any rate. Once she managed to lever herself up from the chair, she began to pace.
"Something about this is fishy! He's obsessed with finding this Forrester character, but won't give any details why?" She couldn't shake the feeling that Paul Forrester was being persecuted, and probably wasn't any danger to anyone.
Devon settled back in his red leather desk chair, steepling his fingers in front of him. "I agree with you. Have K.I.T.T. do some digging. We need to know more about both George Fox and Paul Forrester, before you find him." It was a foregone conclusion from Devon's wording that he had every confidence that Carlee and K.I.T.T. would find Paul Forrester. "Tell K.I.T.T. to dig as deeply as he needs to, but to try to avoid setting off any alarms."