fate of the case I’m currently working on.”
“And that is . . . ?” Draycott inquired.
Knightley paused, then lowered his voice. “An organization I believe to be responsible for almost every unexplained crime, both great and small, in towns and cities across the country, maybe across Europe, and possibly even the world.”
“Oh, is that all?” quipped Draycott.
“I didn’t expect for one second you’d believe me, but if you’ll allow me access to my former home, I’ll be glad to show you the evidence.”
Draycott stifled a laugh. “I think I’d like to see this evidence,” he said skeptically, then turned to his uniformed colleagues. “Chaps, indulge me.”
The officers fell into line behind him—all except for a taller one and a stockier one, who exchanged a knowing glance and returned to their police car.
Darkus was already waiting on the driveway, instructing a weary officer, “I wasn’t kidnapped. I volunteered to go. To help.”
“Of course you did.”
“Sweetie!” Jackie cried out, running from the front door and grabbing Darkus in an embrace. “Don’t ever do that again . . . Ever.” She held him tight.
Draycott marched Knightley up the driveway. Darkus disengaged himself and turned to face his father’s captor. “If you use excessive force on this vulnerable man, recently recovered from a serious medical condition, I won’t hesitate to make sure you’re disciplined to the full extent of the law,” he advised him.
Draycott straightened up in surprise. “Duly noted.”
Knightley looked up, seeing his former wife, and smiled. “Hello, Jackie.”
Jackie seemed unsure how to react. “Hello, Alan.” She smoothed an errant hair behind her ear.
“Hello, Alan,” echoed Clive, appearing behind her on the lawn. “Where’s my car , Alan?” he demanded.
“Ah . . . yes,” Knightley muttered under his breath.
“Is it okay ?”
“It corners impeccably, Clive.”
“Is it okay , Alan?” Clive half shouted.
“You’ll find it in the capable hands of Transport for London.” Knightley turned to Draycott. “Shall we proceed?”
Draycott reluctantly waved him on, but Clive blocked the doorway in protest.
“Mr. Knightley just wants to show us something before we take him away,” the inspector explained.
“Jackie . . . ?” Clive urged, shaking his head fervently.
“Go ahead, Alan,” she answered.
“Show them the Knowledge, Doc.”
“Okay, gentlemen. Follow me . . .”
Darkus led the entire procession through the house, upstairs, and across the landing to his bedroom. Knightley followed obediently behind Draycott and his officers.
Darkus paused at his bedroom door and turned to address them all. “You’ll have to excuse the state of my room. I left in something of a hurry.”
“He’s a very neat boy,” explained Jackie.
Clive harrumphed in agreement.
Draycott and his officers watched impatiently as Darkus opened the door to his room, then stopped dead, instantly detecting something wrong. He turned to his father, confused. “Someone’s been here.”
“What do you mean, Doc?”
Darkus walked briskly into the room, mentally recording every object that was out of place. He saw his laptop on the desk with the cable still attached, but lying limp, leading nowhere. The hard drive was gone.
“I must’ve forgotten to lock it away,” said Darkus, looking up at his father apologetically. “I always lock it away,” he added, hardly believing his error.
Knightley took a moment to process this, then nodded soberly. “It’s okay, Doc. There are forces at work that are obviously closer at my heels than I thought.”
“How very convenient,” said Draycott. “The one piece of evidence that might substantiate your story has mysteriously gone missing.”
“There’s nothing mysterious about it,” said Knightley plainly. “It’s the work of the Combination; you can be sure of that.”
“The what?” Draycott asked, stroking his mustache,
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