"Donovan Manor?" Chief Tarrington said. "That's utterly out of the question."

Shane winced as Tarrington's loud voice echoed inside his head. He had woken that morning with a thumping headache, a nasty taste in his mouth, and absolutely no clue how he had made it back to his quarters. He also had woken wearing the same clothes as the night before, his head on the mattress and his feet resting on the pillow. The last thing he had remembered was sitting down at the Officer's Club opposite Nowicki. Everything after that was a blank.

Now sitting in Tarrington's temporary office with a nasty hangover, Shane pledged never to drink with soldiers ever again.

After Tarrington's voice had stopped echoing, Shane said, "It makes perfect sense. Alamain will have no clue where Steve is until he is strong enough to return to Salem."

"We need Johnson here, Shane. Or in another military hospital."

Shane shook his head. "That won't be any good. Whatever happened to Steve has left him unwilling to cooperate with the doctors. They tried to examine him last night and couldn't."

"Then they'll have to restrain him for his own safety," Tarrington said.

"Under no circumstances will I allow that." Shane had begun to pace. Each step seemed to mirror the sound of a hammer striking the inside of his skull. "We'd be no better than Alamain, keeping him locked up against his will, using him for whatever purpose. I spoke with the doctors. There's nothing physically wrong with him that food and rest won't cure. The doctors agree that anything he needs could be provided by a nurse, and he'll respond far better to Kayla than to a strange doctor."

Tarrington chewed on his lower lip for a minute. "Shane, we need access to his blood. We don't know if Dr. Manning has enough for the antidote. We may not know that for weeks."

"It's Donovan Manor. He'd only be an hour from London." Shane's own voice had risen, making him fear his head would explode, so he took a deep breath and tried to ignore the pain. "Look . . . The best thing for us is to get Steve's cooperation. It's not just his blood; he may have information on Lawrence Alamain. We won't get that if we torture the man."

Something in what Shane had said seemed to get through. "You're right," Tarrington said. "He might have information." Tarrington spent a couple of minutes thinking, before he spoke again. "What about Johnson's mental state? Neither you nor Kayla are trained for that."

No, Tarrington was right about that, Shane had to acknowledge. Not that it mattered much. Steve would never accept help from an ISA or military specialist. He rubbed his temples, trying to rid himself of the throbbing pain. If only there was someone Steve knew who could help, someone Steve would trust. Someone. . . .

"I'll make sure he receives treatment," Shane said. "I know someone who can help."

"Well, then, please share." Tarrington sounded annoyed.

Shane took a deep breath. "Kimberly." At Tarrington's raised eyebrow, Shane explained. "She's trained to help with abuse cases, and she worked with me to recover my memory. So it's not like she's unskilled. And, most important, she's someone Steve will trust."

"So let me see if I understand. You'd have your ex-wife, her sister - who's now your girlfriend -and her sister's presumed-dead husband all at your home at once?" Tarrington shook his head. "I know this last year has been difficult, old boy, but I think you've gone off your rocker."

The hammers grew louder and Shane had to close his eyes for a moment before he responded. "This has nothing to do with my personal life," he said through gritted teeth. "This is only about Steve, getting him the best care he can, and reuniting him with his wife."

Tarrington continued to shake his head. "You're a good agent, Shane. That's why you're Head of Special Investigations. But while you may be my second-in-command, if you believe this has nothing to do with your personal life, you're quite the fool."

"Then I'm a bloody fool, Tarrington. It's still the best option we've got."

Tarrington fell silent, but finally gave a curt nod. "Very well. This was your mission after all."

"Good," Shane said. "We'll be on the next flight that lands anywhere within 100 miles of Gloucestershire."

"However, understand this, Shane. If Johnson doesn't show improvement, the ISA will declare him a risk to national security and take him to one of our facilities."

Shane knew that was the best he was going to do, so he nodded. "I understand." As he left Tarrington's office, Shane began pondering the next hurdle. How the devil was he going to get both Kim and Kayla to England? And even if he found a way, how would he do it without raising Alamain's suspicions?