Knight Rider

Knight Rider, a shadowy flight into the dangerous world of a man...

who does not exist.

Michael Knight, a young loner...

on a crusade to champion the cause of the innocent,

The helpless, the powerless,

In a world of criminals who operate above the law.

Baby, don't you hand me a line

Hold it. Yeah?

It's me. Two seconds, honey.

It's my daughter. Stay on top of it, and we'll talk tomorrow.

When a magazine throws a party, guests expect to see a mingling publisher.

I'm sorry, honey. Give me just another 20 more minutes.

Real time or Philip Royce time?

Real time for a change. Oh.

By the way, I'm expecting somebody.

Devon Miles. I think he'll be coming with a young lady.

So when he arrives, just send him right up.

It's important, okay?

All right. Real time my eye.

Hello. Please don't hang up.

I know it's been a long time, and I know there's nothing between us anymore,

But I need to talk to you.

I need a picture.

Hi. I'm glad you could make it. It's good to see you.

Excuse me. Would you call me tomorrow? I really need to talk to you.

Not even out of diapers, and she's running the show.

Paul! Hi! How are you?

I thought you couldn't make it. I couldn't. I can't, but I'm here anyway.

I've got terrific news. What?

Our market research team says that our adds in Escape...

are 60 percent more effective than any other print media.

I told you. We're changing our image and our demographics.

You stick with us, and Parkway Pharmaceuticals will make Fortune 500.

I'm sorry, sir. I cannot find your name on the guest list.

If you'll be good enough to call Mr. Royce,

He'll clear up this misunderstanding.

- Excuse me. Is there a problem? - My guest and I were invited by Philip Royce personally.

Apparently we're not on the guest list.

I'm sorry. Are you Devon Miles?

I am. And this is Miss Barstow.

Oh, forgive me. I'm Anne Tyler, Philip's personal secretary.

He is expecting you. Will you please follow me?

Thank you.

Lauren, I found him. Oh, thank you.

I hardly recognized you with your clothes on.

What did you say?

Didn't I shoot you last year, Miss June?

I think you've got the wrong young lady.

Or the wrong month.

Hold me, hold me, hold me

Philip, they're here... Mr. Miles and Miss Barstow.

Philip?

As you see, Michael, they're turning the man's death into a circus.

Given the circumstances, I can understand why.

What's our tie-In with this, uh, Philip Royce?

Royce called two days ago. He wanted the Foundation's help on a story he was researching.

- What kind of help? - We weren't able to find out.

However, I got the impression from the telephone call that the story was an expose.

If you're right about that, all we gotta do is find out who he was trying to expose...

and we've got our prime suspect. Correct.

- Does the story have a title? - He referred to it by a code name... Topaz.

Did you run that through the computers? Nothing.

The word doesn't seem to connect to anything in Royce's personal or corporate life.

It is, however, a birthstone.

Mine.

Uh, November 24. I'm sorry. I forgot your birthday, didn't I?

Well, you were on assignment. Don't worry. I covered for you.

- Tastefully? - Of course.

Okay, guys. Thanks a lot.

Topaz.

- Where do I start? - With his daughter, Lauren.

They were very close.

I've programmed KITT with everything imaginable on Royce's publishing empire...

along with all the past issues of Escape magazine.

- Including the centerfolds? - I anticipated your every need.

Michael.

Uh, yeah?

Why are all those young ladies running around in such skimpy attire?

When I find out, you'll be the first to know.

Okay. Now over here.

This must be the new car.

Boy, what I wouldn't give to have one of these.

Very good.

I know some marksmen who'd like to trade their bull's-Eyes for yours.

Wow.

I just might be one of them.

Hi. I'm Michael Knight.

I believe Devon Miles called about me.

Miss Royce. Lauren.

I'm here to see if I can help find out what happened to your dad.

I'm not a cop.

I'm your friend. I'm on your side.

I need some information about Topaz.

- All right. What do you wanna know? - I wanna know about the story your dad was working on.

- The story he called the Foundation and Devon Miles about. - Topaz.

Yeah, Topaz. That's right.

It's all in this computer...

the story, the research, documentation, names,

Times, places.

"Topaz... Enter six-Digit access code."

- Do you know anything about computers? - A little.

Without the access code, the story's unreachable.

- It might as well not even exist. - You don't have it?

Nobody has it.

It died with my father.

It was his way of guaranteeing security for his story...

and for his family and his friends.

What no one knows could never hurt them.

Exactly.

So they hurt him instead.

When you think of Philip Royce, what do you think of?

Don't say it. I'll say it for you.

Ah.

Glamour and sex! Fashion and sex.

Cars and sex. A glossy, air-Brushed girlie magazine, huh?

I feel like I should say, "Guilty as charged."

Say whatever you want. All I care about is vindicating my father's death.

I didn't know it needed vindication.

You're just like all the rest.

"Philip Royce, bon vivant, womanizer...

"who turned an avocation into a profession,

Is found murdered in a hotel suite with a younger woman."

Makes perfect sense. After all,

Those who live by the sword die by the sword.

- Why are you so angry? - Because that is what everybody believes!

That's his epitaph.

He was my dad.

Few people knew the real Philip Royce, the serious journalist,

The man who, when he turned 50,

Came into my room crying, telling me that he would rather sell Escape...

than have it continue the way it had.

He wanted to turn it into something different.

Topaz... Topaz was to be the new beginning.

But by killing him the way they did,

They not only took his life,

They took his reputation, his credibility,

His dignity.

I'm not gonna let them get away with it.

And if I have to finish Topaz myself to get those things back, I will.

Excuse me. Hello?

- Lauren Royce? - Yes. Who's this?

My name is George Olin. I was working with your father on Topaz.

Just a minute, please.

This is a personal call.

Thank you very much for coming by. If I need your help, I know where to find you.

Lauren, um, I'm sorry about your dad.

Do you know who killed my father? I've got a good idea.

Meet me. I'll fill you in on the details.

Thanks, Kent. I'll get back by myself.

Michael, there's an armed man on a rooftop down the street.

Lauren!

- KITT, get over here! -

No!

Wait here. I'll be right back.

He got away.

- I'm sorry, Michael. - That's okay, pal.

We can't win 'em all.

Just like I told you, they believe what they wanna believe.

Come on.

They deal in facts. We can't give them facts, just theories.

George Olin is not a theory.

What I'm trying to say is that's to our advantage.

We're not limited to facts. If we put our heads together,

There's a good chance we can figure this out by ourselves, okay?

Okay. Okay, now, work with me, all right?

Let's reconstruct the last couple days of your dad's life.

Where'd he go? Who'd he see? "Where" is easy. Las Vegas.

Business or pleasure? I'm not sure.

I mean, he went up on Tuesday, came back on Wednesday.

Did he go alone?

I don't know, but we can find out.

Amazing. It's like mission control.

I'm into gadgets. Oh, there's Don.

Michael, I'm not a gadget.

I am a state-Of-The-Art.

I know. Give me a state-Of-The-Art composite on one George Olin.

O-L-L-N. Hard copy, please.

Thanks.

Don, this is Michael Knight. How you doing, Mike?

Hi, Don. Nice to meet you. Nice to meet you.

Dad did take someone with him to Vegas, but he came back alone.

A Mr. Williams. Mr. Williams, huh?

Any chance that's Mr. Williams?

Mm-Hmm. That's him.

Hang on. I'll be right back.

- KITT, patch me through to Devon. - Good news?

Right now any news is good news. Michael?

Devon, give me all you got on a man named George Olin.

O-L-L-N. He's working for Royce under an assumed name.

I'll call you right back.

I have an unidentified speeding object on Runway 2. Did you see it?

I saw it, but I don't believe it.

KITT, plot me a route to Las Vegas off major highways.

Right away, Michael.

On a hippie trail head full of zombie

I met a strange lady

She made me nervous

She took me in and gave me breakfast

KITT, get me Devon. Hello?

Devon, it's Michael. Our lady publisher ran out on me.