Chapter 13 and 14
Kayla crawled into bed after yet another exhausting day. She had spent hours at the lab working feverishly with Carly to find that elusive breakthrough in discovering the cure for the virus. But, as with every other day, this day too had ended in frustration. Kayla knew that each day that passed without a cure was another day closer to Bo's and Peachy's deaths.
After working late, Kayla had picked up Stephanie from her parents. She once again had felt guilty for all the time she was spending away from Stephanie these days. Despite her exhaustion, Kayla had made sure to spend some quality time with Stephanie before putting her to bed. As important as her job was, Kayla was all Stephanie had now and she was determined not to let her daughter down.
Settling back into the soft pillows, Kayla, as she had done almost every time she had a spare minute over the last five days, let her thoughts drift to Shane. She wondered where he was and prayed that he was safe and well. She missed him terribly and still could not get his odd behavior when he left out of her mind. If only he would call and tell her he was okay, maybe she could relax and let go of her fears.
As if on cue, the phone rang. Kayla glanced quickly at the clock, which read 10:15 p.m. Who would be calling that late in the evening? Kayla could think of only one person and she desperately reached for the phone. As she pulled the handset to her face, she could not help but let out an excited "Shane!?"
"Uh, no," the voice on the other end responded. "It's Carly Manning."
"Oh," said Kayla, the disappointment evident in her voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't expect to hear from you tonight. Is there something wrong at the lab?"
"No, nothing is wrong," Carly replied, sounding excited. "In fact, something is very, very right."
"What happened? Did you have a breakthrough on the cure?"
"Not exactly," said Carly. "I just got a call from the CDC and they are sending blood samples by special messenger that apparently have antibodies generated by a cure to the virus. We should be able to isolate those antibodies and reverse engineer the cure. We could have this virus beat within a few days."
"You're kidding! Where did the sample come from?"
"I don't really know," Carly answered. "The CDC wouldn't give specifics; they just said to expect the delivery very early tomorrow morning. Look Kayla, I know you've been working long hours lately, but this is the break we've been waiting for. Can you be at the lab by 5:00 a.m.?"
Kayla sighed, knowing that would mean imposing on her parents yet again. But Carly was right, this was the break they had been working so hard for, and there was no way she was going to miss out on it. "Yeah, I'll be there," Kayla finally said. "Just make sure the coffee is strong and there is plenty of it."
"I'll do my best," Carly laughed. "Oh, and if you happen to know where Shane is, you should call him and tell him the news. You know he'll be excited to find out how close we are."
"I'm sure he will be excited and I'll tell him as soon as I talk to him," Kayla replied, not wanting the reminder that she had no idea where Shane might be right now. "See you in the morning . . . and Carly, thanks for calling."
"No problem, Kayla. Goodnight."
Kayla hung up the phone feeling both relieved and disappointed if that was possible. She was ecstatic that the long hunt for the cure to that horrible virus suddenly seemed within reach. But she was also very disappointed that the call had not been Shane. As she laid back and tried to let sleep take her, she sent out yet another little prayer for Shane to come home safely.
*****************
Shane checked his watch. It was just after 7 a.m. local time here, and he was now into the sixth hour of this debriefing. He had no idea what else the ISA wanted him to say. He had told them everything.
"Could that building have been a lab?" the analyst asked again. There was a black circle growing around his eye, a gift from Captain Nowicki after their helicopter landed at the RAF base in Cyprus. The punch had served as Nowicki's commentary on the accuracy of the intelligence they had received before the raid. Shane now wished he hadn't helped pull Nowicki away before he had thrown some other punches. That might have prevented this interminable debriefing.
"Could it have been a lab?" Shane repeated the question. "Yes, it could have been a lab. It also could have been a school or a briefing room or a library. I already told you this. My answer's not going to change."
"I'm sorry, Captain Donovan, but we have to go over this to make sure we have everything."
"Look," Shane said, losing his patience. "I know you want to cover everything, but there's not a whole lot more I can tell you. We went in, there was more resistance than we expected, we had to change our path to the destination, and we then took out the hostiles inside and found Johnson. I don't know what else you want and why it can't wait until I at least get a shower and out of these bloody fatigues." He meant that literally; his desert camouflage had Sergeant Deakins' blood all over it.
"Can you explain this?" The analyst tossed Shane's body armor on to the table in front of him.
"It's body armor," Shane said. What's to explain?"
The analyst flipped it over, exposing the back. The fabric covering was shredded in several places and large chunks of shrapnel were embedded in the plates. Shane felt the room spin a little, as he realized what could have happened if those pieces had struck a few inches higher.
"So, Captain Donovan, how did this happen?"
Shane had to think. He ran his hands over his face and looked at them. They were crusted with sand and dirt.
God, what I would give for a shower, he thought. "I don't know," he said, remembering the question. "Probably that stuff hit me when the grenade went off. I told you it knocked me down."
"Yes, and you don't exactly remember what happened, right?"
"Yes. I was dazed for a little bit." Shane's recollection of that part of the raid was rather hazy.
"So you might have still been dazed when you found Johnson?"
"No," Shane said. "By that point I was fine." He pressed his hands against the table and pushed himself back. Standing, he said, "I've nothing more to say. Right now, I want to get cleaned up and check on Steve."
"Captain Donovan, please sit back down." Despite the "please," the analyst was clearly giving an order.
"Why? Why do you need to keep me here asking the same questions over and over? It's like you're trying to keep me from--" He stopped. "That's it, isn't it? You don't need any more answers. You're just keeping me here for some reason." Shane thought some more and looked closely at the analyst. There was definitely more going on. "It's the virus, isn't it? Do you think I somehow got infected?"
"Of course not," came a familiar voice from behind him. Shane spun around to see Chief Tarrington in the doorway.
"Tarrington, what in blazes are you doing here?" Now Shane was truly baffled. Why would the ISA Chief travel halfway around the world for a debriefing on a mission that the ISA wouldn't even sanction? Tarrington did not respond. "Tell me," Shane demanded. "Tell me why I'm being locked up in here answering the same pointless questions over and over."
"I am sorry about that, Shane," Tarrington said. "We had to keep you here while we examined Johnson and performed some tests."
"Tests? What kind of tests?"
Tarrington motioned to the chair. "Please sit down, Shane."
"I'd rather stand." Shane crossed his arms defiantly.
"Very well." Tarrington walked over to the analyst and whispered something to him. The man left, leaving Shane and his superior alone. "I believe I mentioned that we suspected Johnson might have been injected with the virus."
Shane remembered. "So you tested him for it?"
"Yes," Tarrington said. "But the tests showed something else."
"What?" Shane's eyes narrowed.
"Antibodies, Shane. Antibodies that destroy the virus. They were in Johnson's blood. We've long suspected Alamain had an antidote, but this proves it."
Shane understood. Alamain's men had tested not just the virus, but the antidote on Steve. "So the antidote was in the compound?" he asked.
Tarrington shook his head. "No. Our intelligence says that the virus was tested elsewhere."
"And I'm supposed to believe your intelligence? Your intelligence said that compound had a maximum of 12 armed guards."
"I'm aware of that," Tarrington said, almost apologetically. "I also understand that the Captain of the ODA expressed similar dissatisfaction. But on this, we feel confident. We suspect Johnson was tested for the virus months ago, most likely, before the first ISA agents got sick, and then sent to Egypt. Maybe so they could test for something different."
"Like what?"
"We don't know." Tarrington shrugged. "We're curious about the central building in the compound. The hostiles destroyed it before Captain Nowicki's team could reach it. We don't know what was there, but it was important enough to keep from us. From his description, it sounds like there were chemicals stored there."
"That was the smoke," Shane said. He remembered how it had burned his throat. That was consistent with a chemical fire.
"Yes, it's a shame we didn't learn more," Tarrington said. "Regardless of that, you should be proud. You've done the ISA a great service by bringing us the key to the cure. If Johnson's antibodies provide the clues we expect, we should have a treatment available very soon. We just needed to extract sufficient blood from him for testing."
"So why keep me here this entire time?"
"As anticipated, Johnson was not a willing subject. He fought the technicians who tried to take the blood and had to be subdued."
Shane thought his hearing might be off, but he took a moment to repeat in his head what Tarrington had just said. No, his hearing was perfectly fine. "Have you no decency?" Shane made no effort to keep his voice down. "The man's been locked up and used as a guinea pig for who knows how long and, now that he's free, you do the same thing? Where the hell is he?" Shane crossed to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. Turning back into the room, he glared at his boss. "Tarrington, let me out of here."
"That, Shane, is why we've kept you here. We feared that your personal concern for Johnson might override your professional judgment -- that you might object."
"Object? You're using that man as a bloody lab rat against his will." Shane kicked the wall in anger. "Of course, I'm going to object. Johnson's barely lucid. He probably thinks our people are just doing what Alamain's did."
"Yes, that is what we suspect he thought." Tarrington's voice displayed no emotion. "But it couldn't wait. The situation with the virus is too critical. Johnson's blood is already on its way to Salem so Dr. Manning can analyze it."
"And Steve?"
"He's in the base hospital. We had to sedate him, but he will be no worse for the experience when he wakes."
That hardly caused Shane's anger to abate. "Except he won't trust anyone at the hospital," Shane said, as he began to pace. He was not just angry at Tarrington; he was angry at himself. He should have realized the ISA did not just bring the photo to him because he was friends with Steve. "So this whole deal about this being an 'unsanctioned' mission was a fraud? This job actually had a tactical purpose?"
"No," Tarrington said. "It had a benefit, Shane. An unanticipated benefit. But that doesn't change anything. The mission is still unofficial. It was entirely your choice. Even if we suspected Johnson might have been tested for the antidote, we could not risk so many men just on a mere suspicion."
"But you did because I wanted to rescue one man?" Shane was confused.
Tarrington nodded. "We felt we owed it to you after all of your years of service. But bear in mind that everything I said before remains true. Nobody can know about this mission. We've made that quite clear to Captain Nowicki and his men, and we expect you to make sure Johnson understands that as well."
Shane knew there was little point arguing further. He was exhausted and felt dirty -- and not just because of the dirt and blood on his clothing. He shook his head in disgust. "Can I at least go now?"
"There's no further reason to keep you here." Tarrington smiled. "I'm sure you'll want to see Mr. Johnson when he wakes."
Shane reached for the door and, this time, the handle turned. As he neared the exit, he saw a pay phone on the wall. He stopped and picked up the receiver. He should call Kayla. She deserved to know what was going on.
The thought made his chest constrict. He tried to convince himself that he was just overtired, that the stress of the night before and the debriefing was getting to him. But Shane knew he was kidding himself. Steve was back; Shane couldn't compete with that.
Maybe he should wait. Just until he knew more about Steve's condition. Just until he had spoken with the doctors. Kayla was a nurse, after all; she would want details. Shane set the receiver back on the phone. Yes, he would wait, just a little while. He would tell her soon enough.
