Collateral Damage (Read 53,930 times)

Shane Donovan pulled off his coat as he stepped into the foyer of the Salem house. He wiped the remnants of the light July rain from his face and grimaced. It had been a tough day. Peachy's condition was getting worse, Carly seemed no closer to finding a cure, and Kim and Kayla were hiding something from him. And to top that off, Chief Tarrington had some urgent ISA matter that he wanted to discuss with Shane. Tonight.

"Good evening, Sir." Simmons, Shane's butler, had entered the foyer. "Will you be wanting your dinner now?"

It was 10 p.m., and Shane had not eaten since breakfast, but he shook his head. "Just leave something in the kitchen," he said. "Tarrington's coming over to discuss something. I'll have a bite when we're done." If I have any appetite, Shane added silently.

"Very well, Sir." Simmons looked around. "Is Mrs. Johnson still here?"

"Kayla?" Shane asked in surprise. "Kayla's here?"

"She was earlier and said she'd wait for you. I left her in the library."

That was the first good news of the day, Shane thought. "Thank you, Simmons," he said, making a beeline to the library doors. He opened them and spotted her. She was lying on the couch, fast asleep.

As quietly as he could, he walked toward her until he was only a foot or two away. He stood there, silently watching here. God, she was beautiful. Asleep, she reminded him of a cherub, so peaceful and angelic.

Kayla had been the one bright spot in his life over the past year. He shook his head thinking about that. It was still hard to believe that it had not yet been a year since Kim had walked out on him and Kayla's husband, Steve, had died.

Both of their lives had ended with those events, or at least it had felt so at the time. Shane remembered the pain that had nearly torn him apart when Kim left. His only defense had been to rebuild the walls from his past, the walls that he had allowed Kim to slowly break down when they had fallen in love. Even now, a lot of those walls were still there; he had just lowered his defenses a bit when he had fallen in love with Kayla.

It had taken her a lot longer to admit what he knew she felt. Steve's death had left her in as much pain as Shane had experienced from losing Kim. Perhaps it was because of that pain that they gravitated toward one another. They were two wounded people who had found some moments of happiness with each other. From there, their love had grown.

Kayla moved slightly, probably deep within a dream, and murmured something. A name. "Steve."

Shane tried to tell himself he didn't mind. After all, he had told her early on that he never wanted her to stop loving Steve, that he understood how special their love had been. He knew he could never compete with Steve, just as he knew he would never love Kayla as deeply or as intimately as he had loved Kim. The loves they had before were once-in-a-lifetime, and whatever they now had could not compete with what they had lost.

That's what Shane told himself. Intellectually, he knew it to be true. His visceral, emotional response was quite different. He couldn't change his feelings. He couldn't prevent the gnawing jealousy. But how could he ever compete with a ghost?

He sighed. No point dwelling on that now. Crouching down beside Kayla, he reached over and brushed some of her light blond hair from her face. She murmured again, turned to face him, and slowly opened her eyes.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he said softly, adding a small smile.

It seemed to take Kayla a minute to find her bearings, but then she smiled back. "I didn't realize I was so tired. Sorry."

"Don't apologize." He ran his hand along her cheek. "You've been spending so many hours at the lab, it's a wonder that you managed to stay awake long enough to come over. But it's a wonderful surprise. I've missed you."

"Come here and kiss me," she whispered. Shane complied without hesitating and leaned close to her. His lips brushed hers softly, as always, letting her decide what she wanted. He had promised to go slow. She pressed her lips more strongly against his, and soon he felt her tongue probing gently. He responded in kind, and for the moment, it was just the two of them, everything else was forgotten.

Unfortunately, the world returned as they broke apart to come up for air. Tarrington, Shane remembered, and he pulled away. "I wish we could continue this," he said, apologetically. "But Tarrington's coming over to discuss some ISA matters." He looked at her, secretly glad to see the disappointment evident on her face. "You could stay until he leaves. I could have Simmons prepare a guest room, so you could rest."

What he desperately wanted her to say was that no guest room was necessary, that she was ready to commit completely to their relationship, but he saw her hesitate. "I should go," she said. "It's late and I need to get Stephanie from my folks' place."

"At this hour?" he asked. "Wouldn't it be better just to let her stay there for the night?"

She smiled and touched her index finger to his nose. "Nice try." He knew he was beat, so he stood up and gave her his hand as she rose from the couch. That, at least, earned him another kiss.

"So will I see you tomorrow?" He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they walked to the foyer.

"It's possible," Kayla said in a coy voice. "How about you come by the lab at noon and we can have lunch together."

Shane smiled. "It's a date," he said before giving her a final, soft kiss on the lips and opening the door. He watched as she climbed into her car and drove away. He already missed her.

Chief Tarrington arrived ten minutes after Kayla left. Dispensing with all pleasantries, he pushed past Shane into the library. "Shane, old boy, we have a problem."

"What sort of problem?" Shane had rarely seen Tarrington so agitated.

The ISA chief turned and looked Shane in the eye. "What I'm about to show you is top-secret. So classified that I shouldn't even be showing it to you; it's above your clearance."

That came as a surprise to Shane. He thought he had the highest possible ISA security clearance. "What is it?"

Tarrington seemed to hesitate, but finally heaved a sigh. He pulled an envelope out of his coat pocket and handed it over. "This came from one of our agents in Egypt. Open it."

Shane opened the envelope and pulled out a photograph. The picture was a grainy black-and-white shot that appeared to have been taken through a fence. However, Shane immediately realized why Tarrington thought it important.

On the opposite side of the fence was a figure -- a man of medium build with long blond hair and a patch over his left eye.

Shane immediately looked up at his boss. "Is that . . . I mean, could it be . . . That's Steve."

Love it!!!

Glad that came across. In the other thread, I'm going to post some discussion of that concept and some links to the videos that I think show that was what the writers were aiming for.


Currently, our draft is about 470 scenes and 650,000 words. (For comparison sakes, chapter 1 was 1,213 words.) On the other sites, each chapter is only a single scene, but I will be combining scenes when it seems to work with the story. On the other hand, there are a lot of scenes that really stand alone or end on notes that may make it difficult to just combine with the following scene. But I will see what works. Also, I may post more than one chapter a day, just to keep the story moving. Since this site alerts readers to "new" posts, the odds that someone will miss a scene is pretty slim.

"Wait a minute, Shane," Tarrington said. "We don't know anything for sure. It does look like Steve Johnson, but that should be impossible. He's dead."

"But . . . this. . . ." Shane waved the photo. He understood the picture was poor quality, but it certainly looked like Steve. "When was this taken?"

"36 hours ago. The compound is located near Siwa, in western Egypt, not too far from the Libyan border." Tarrington looked at Shane. "We think it's run by Alamain."

"Lawrence? What does he have going in Egypt?"

Tarrington explained. "The compound's a makeshift science and medical facility. Our European agents tracking the virus found about the facility. We no longer think the virus was tested there, but they investigated the compound anyway. That photo came out of their investigation."

Shane studied the photograph again. It couldn't possibly be Steve, but if it wasn't, it was a blurry twin brother of his. "So if it's Steve, he could have the virus?"

"It's possible. We have no idea."

Shane thought some more. "Egypt's a friendly nation."

"You're starting to see the ISA's problem."

Yes, Shane could see the problem. Attacking the compound could destroy diplomatic ties between the U.S. and Egypt, and with things so volatile in the Middle East after the Gulf War, losing ties with Egypt would be disastrous. "So why did you bring this to me?"

"Johnson was working with you when he was killed," Tarrington said. "Plus, he's been part of your family. If there is a raid, it would be 'Shane Donovan's mission to rescue a friend.'"

"The ISA wouldn't be involved at all?" Shane asked, trying to make sense of that possibility. There was no way he could go into a compound like that on his own. He needed a team, aerial support, weapons, and intelligence.

"No, of course, the ISA would give you everything you need for an assault, Shane." Tarrington walked over to the bar and began fixing himself a brandy. "But there's a catch. If word gets out to anyone that this was an ISA mission, we'll be forced to disavow the report. This would be a rogue operation and you'd be a rogue agent. And--"

"And my career with the ISA would be over." Shane finished the sentence for Tarrington.

Tarrington nodded. "That's if you're lucky. You could also be charged with espionage, but the ISA attorneys have concluded it might be tough to get a conviction."

"Thank goodness for small favors," Shane muttered.

"But in this political climate, who knows? And that's assuming you survive the rescue mission."

"Tarrington, are you trying to convince me not to do this?" Shane realized he was pacing back and forth in front of the couch. The same couch where, only 15 minutes earlier, the woman he loved had been dreaming of the man who appeared to be in the picture.

"Shane." Tarrington took a sip of his brandy. "I'm telling you this so you can make your decision with a full understanding of the risks involved. It may not even be Johnson. We would understand if you chose not to risk your life and career on a mere suspicion."

Shane set the photograph down on his desk and ran his hands through his hair. "When do I have to decide?"

"Our analysts say Sunday night/Monday morning presents optimal conditions for a nighttime attack. Good weather, no moon. We should be able to drop your team within five miles of the compound without detection." Tarrington paused. "If we don't go Sunday, the next possible date is at least a month away, and we can't predict weather conditions, so you'll need to decide by tomorrow."

Not a lot of time to decide, Shane thought, but he understood. Sunday was only five days away. "What kind of team would I have?"

"You'd have an ODA from the Fifth Special Forces Group. They're skilled in desert operations."

Shane shook his head. An Operational Detachment Alpha or "A-team" was a highly-trained special forces unit. Green Berets. "How would you explain a rogue ISA agent getting an A-team to do an unsanctioned mission?"

"Their involvement will never be revealed," Tarrington said. His tone made it clear that Shane would be expected to keep that secret as well, even if he faced charges. "Nor would the aerial support. Two Blackhawks would take you in and be available for extraction once you've located Johnson and brought him out or, if you find out the man isn't Johnson, to bring you and the team out without him."

Shane took a deep breath. "Let me sleep on it, Tarrington. I'll give you an answer in the morning."

"Of course." Tarrington set down his now-empty brandy snifter and headed toward the door. "I'll see myself out."

Shane walked back over to the desk, picked up the photograph and studied it intently. The man looked like Steve, but long hair and an eye-patch was pretty minimal evidence on which to risk his life and career.

And in the back of his mind, there was a thought that he was trying to ignore, namely, that if he succeeded in the mission, he would lose the woman he loved. Yet if he declined the mission and continued his relationship with Kayla, he would have to live with the deception, the knowledge that her true love might still be alive and suffering.

It was a Morton's fork if ever there was one. Either choice had an undesirable outcome.

Shane took another look at the photo, then walked over to the brandy decanter and poured himself a large drink. He had asked Tarrington to let him sleep on it, but Shane knew there was no chance that he would sleep that night.

"Morton's fork?" That's a term I've never heard of.

Can't wait to see what Shane decides.

A "Morton's Fork" is an expression for when a person has two choices that will have equally unattractive results. It's often confused with a "Hobson's choice." One of the fun things about writing for Shane is that he is very well-educated and would toss out odd phrases and British-isms on the show, which allows us to have him use some amusing phrases or know some obscure facts. It gives him a distinctive speaking style, but also can make him sound arrogant.

Whoops. Sorry about that. I was responding from my phone and disn't see you had beaten me to the response.