Knightley and Son (9781619631540) by Rohan Gavin Page B

“Together.”
    “Whatever happens, don’t let them take me back to Shrubwoods. Understand? It’s not safe there anymore.”
    “I promise.”
    “And not a word to your mother, all right?”
    “Okay, Dad.”
    The city was soon replaced by the suburbs, which were in turn replaced by the stretch of highway and the inevitable exit ramp. By the time the meter read £200.20, Knightley was turning onto Wolseley Close. They parked at the corner several houses away and sat with the engine idling. A ray of sunshine lit up the symmetrical lawns and tidy flower beds. Knightley admired the view longingly for a moment, then turned around and slid open the glass divider.
    “This is your stop, Doc.”
    “Do I have to, Dad?”
    “Yes, I’m afraid you do,” he replied. “I suggest you enter through the back garden unseen. Retrieve the Knowledge and pass it to me over the side wall.”
    “Aren’t you going to at least say hello to Mom?”
    “Not this time,” he answered. “I’ve got work to do.”
    On hearing those words, Darkus understood there was no point arguing any further. Knightley pressed a button, and the doors unlocked with a heavy click.
    Darkus stepped onto the street and hesitated, seeing everything with fresh eyes: Wolseley Close was both happy and sad, like a treasured piece of clothing he’d suddenly grown out of. He lowered his head and walked away from the cab, until he noticed something odd: a small black cone with a silver shield on it appeared to be hovering behind a nearby hedge. Darkus’s catastrophizer went into overdrive as he detected several more cones hidden in the undergrowth at vantage points along the street.
    “Dad!” he shouted.
    Knightley stamped on the accelerator and roared into the kind of tight U-turn only a London cab could perform, but his path was instantly blocked by an arriving police car. Officers leaped out of every available car door, more of them emerging from the undergrowth. Knightley threw the cab into reverse, only to find another police car behind him, cutting him off. Knightley rested his hands on the steering wheel in defeat.
    A policeman grabbed Darkus and hoisted him onto the sidewalk as half a dozen officers pulled the cab door open and dragged Knightley out, pinning him to the ground.
    “Dad!!!” Darkus yelled.
    “It’s okay, Doc,” Knightley replied from underneath the writhing mass of uniforms.
    Darkus struggled as he was escorted to the house. A burly shape stepped out of a police sedan and approached the throng.
    “Hello, Alan,” said Draycott, trying to conceal the smile under his mustache.
    “Inspector Draycott,” replied Knightley, glancing up.
    “ Chief Inspector,” he corrected him. “I thought you were having yourself a well-earned rest?”
    “Well, I woke up with this irrepressible urge to get back to work.”
    “Not if I’ve got anything to do with it.” Draycott nodded to his officers, who promptly handcuffed Knightley and hauled him to his feet. “This is a nice, quiet community of decent, law-abiding people. It’s been a haven of peace and tranquillity since you’ve been away. We don’t need you coming around scaring everyone with your . . . ideas.”
    “Chief Inspector Draycott,” Knightley began, “you’ve never been the brightest spark in the police force, but I believe you’ve always been a loyal servant of the law. So I’ll ask you to let me go and allow me to do my job unmolested.”
    “I don’t approve of your methods, Knightley, and I don’t approve of you. You’ve already left a trail of terrified seniors at Shrubwoods Hospice. Not to mention Clive and Jackie here. In light of the evidence, I’m going to recommend the doctors put you under observation for a few weeks, maybe a month. Make sure you’re not getting up to anything . . . dodgy ,” said Draycott with relish.
    “That would be detrimental to the forces of law and order, an insult to your already limited intelligence, and a serious risk to the