Shane winced as the third monitor on the wall went dark. "How many is that?" he asked the camera technician.

"Nine," was the response.

"And the audio?"

"They've missed a couple in the living room and kitchen, but we won't have complete audio coverage there." The agent answering Shane's question paused. "They found all the bugs in the office."

Shane wanted to break something. This was an unmitigated disaster. Whatever hope he had that they could get Steve out of the Alamain mansion without raising Ivan Marais' suspicions disappeared when Steve had what the extract team described as a "complete meltdown." Not only had he caused an uproar, but two of Shane's men were now at University Hospital - one being treated for a concussion and the other for a broken jaw.

What the hell was Steve thinking? Shane thought. How could he be so bloody reckless? As that thought finished, the camera technician groaned.

"What just happened?" Shane looked at the camera technician.

"Looks like they found our central override control," the agent replied. "We can't tap into the network now."

"That's just great. Months of getting the system in place all shot to bloody hell in a few hours. Did we at least erase the footage from last night?" When the technician nodded, Shane tried to tell himself that, at least, they had covered their tracks. It was small comfort. Shane turned to the field director. "Is he awake yet?"

The director shook his head. Steve had been unconscious for the better part of two hours since they had sedated him in the ambulance.

Another monitor went dark. The camera technician was putting up the live camera shots on the screens, but they were blinking out almost as fast as they appeared.

"Captain?" One of the aides poked his head into the control room. When Shane turned to the man, he said, "Chief Tarrington is calling for you."

Shane groaned inwardly. That was just what he needed. It was hardly surprising that Tarrington had been informed of tonight's disaster; the ISA was full of sycophants who liked to report every little detail to the Chief without using proper channels. Shane glanced over at the field director, who turned red-faced and looked away. Shaking his head, Shane turned back to the aide. "Tell Tarrington that I'm interrogating Johnson and will have a report as soon as I'm finished."

At least then, I might be able to tell him why this happened.

Ignoring the sputtering aide, Shane left the control room and headed toward the interrogation room where Steve was being kept. Two agents from the extract team were standing guard outside. One had a large bruise near his eye. Neither looked pleased. They stepped out of the way as Shane opened the door and entered the room.

On the opposite side of a table, Steve was sprawled in a chair, with his head back and eyes closed. "Can we revive him?" Shane asked one of the two agents already in the room. The man nodded, reached into a case, and pulled out some smelling salts. He waved them under Steve's nose.

The effect was almost instantaneous. Steve jerked his head away from the bottle and shoved the man away. "Wh. . . . What's going-"

"That's my question," Shane said, cutting Steve off. It was a challenge for Shane to keep his voice below a yell. "What the blazes is going on?"

Steve's eyes came into focus and he saw Shane for the first time. Then Steve looked around the room at the two agents and back at Shane. His lip curled into something resembling a snarl, as he said, "I don't have to answer any of your questions, Donovan. You or your brute squad."

"My brute squad?" Shane said, slamming his palms onto the table. "That 'brute squad' just saved your life. Or did you think nobody would have noticed you pounding on the shelves in Alamain's office?"

Steve continued to glare at Shane. "I got the door open, didn't I?"

"Actually, no . . . you didn't. We opened it for you so the security guard in the hall wouldn't open the office door and find you there." Shane began to pace. He looked at the two agents, and debated his next move before he ordered, "Leave us."

"You sure, Captain?" One of the agents looked from Shane to Steve. "He's not even cuffed."

"I know," Shane said. When Steve had been brought in, Shane had directed the agents to put him in the interrogation room without restraints. After studying Steve for a minute, Shane nodded to the agents. "It's okay. I can handle him."

Shane heard Steve snort at that. As the agents left, he called out, "Hey, boys, don't be strangers. I like to be on a first-name basis with my friendly neighborhood firemen." Then he turned his attention back at Shane with a sarcastic smile. "So now you're going to handle me?"

"If necessary," Shane said. "For now, we're going to have a little talk. A bit of a 'come to Jesus' talk, if you will, about Lawrence Alamain, breaking-and-entering, and why I shouldn't turn you over to Roman and have you locked away for obstruction of justice." Shane leaned over the table. "Do you have any idea how much damage you did tonight?"

"Oh? I messed up your widdle investigation?" Steve mocked. "It's been so successful so far." He switched to his faux English accent. "So veddy sorry ol' chap."

Shane could not stop his voice from rising. "Steve . . . So help me . . . We had that house wired from basement to attic. Nobody could sneeze in there without us knowing it. And now . . . now, Ivan Marais has a team sweeping the place and removing every camera and bug they can find." Shane's own anger was beginning to overwhelm him. "Our investigation's been set back months - months that we don't have - and for what? So you can go play Lone Ranger and take a stroll in Alamain's basement?"

He watched as Steve just shook his head and smiled. "You had that house wired from top to bottom?"

When Shane nodded, the smile left Steve's face and he said, "Well what the hell did it get you? Did it prove what Alamain did to me? Did it put him away for raping Jennifer? Did all those bugs and cameras warn you that Alamain was going after Andrew?" Steve shook his head angrily. "You spent months on all this equipment and manpower and you got exactly what you had before that - nothing. So don't give me some ISA bull about how I 'set back the investigation.' Your investigation's been going nowhere all along."

Shane wanted to hit something . . . or someone. Didn't Johnson understand that these things take time? When Alamain got out of prison and began running things from his house again, the ISA would have heard every word of it. As it was, the investigation hardly had led to nothing. They had found out about Alamain's facilities and used that information to infiltrate his organization. Not to mention. . . .

"I see," Shane said, stepping away from the table. "We've gone 'nowhere' and learned 'nothing.' Okay, then . . . How about I send you back to Egypt since 'nothing' means we never found out about Alamain's compound? That 'nothing' saved your life."

"Come on, Donovan, we both know the ISA doesn't give a damn about me," Steve growled. "It was just part of the mission, and I just happened to be there."

What you don't know, Shane thought. Maybe it was time he let Steve know exactly how his rescue had come about. He started to speak but Steve cut him off -

"Whoa . . . is that the time . . . I left Stephanie at Caroline's. She's probably worried."

I swear I am going to break something, Shane said to himself.

At Shane's look, Steve said, "I'm serious, man. Just let me call Caroline and then you can get back to yelling at me."

"You're not leaving here until you tell me why you were at Alamain's."

Steve grimaced. "Whatever you say, Double-0-Donovan. Just let me call Caroline before she calls the whole family looking for me."

Shane sighed. It wouldn't do anyone any good if Caroline raised the alarm that Steve had gone missing. He knocked on the door and one of the agents opened it. "Let Johnson make a call and then bring him right back here."

As Steve left with a phalanx of three ISA agents beside him, Shane thought over the conversation. He decided it would be better not to tell Steve about the Egypt mission; if he learned that the ISA would have let him there if not for Shane's choice to take the mission, Steve would be even more belligerent.

This night is just getting worse and worse Shane told himself.

While he waited for Steve to return, Shane mulled over his decision to send in the extract team. He knew Steve would have been caught red-handed by the security guards. As it was, the ISA ruse had barely stopped the guards from entering the basement. First, the guards had been surprised by the alarms going off in response to the extract team setting off smoke devices hidden in several of the ISA cameras. Then, when the team had charged into the house, they had pulled all of the guards outside "for their own protection" just before they could open the passage to the basement.

And for what? While that part of the extraction had worked seamlessly, Steve had just mucked it up by refusing to cooperate. Shane had no way to know if Marais would have conducted his sweep without Steve throwing his tantrum in the ambulance, but that had pretty much made it impossible for him to believe the incident was "just a small electrical fire."

The door behind Shane opened and the agent with the black eye shoved Steve through the door. "Take a seat, and don't try anything funny." The agent looked at Shane. "He tried to slip away. You sure you don't want him cuffed?"

Shane's eyes met Steve's. They both knew what restraining Steve's hands would do. "Don't think I'm above that," Shane warned. He motioned with his head to the door and the agent left, locking it behind him.

Silently, Steve walked back to the chair and sat down. He leaned back, crossed his arms, and glared defiantly. "So what's this now? A nice casual conversation between friends?"

The anger began to rise again and Shane forced himself to take a deep breath before responding. "Tell me something, Steve. Do you want Alamain to get away?" He looked Steve right in the eye. "I'm serious. Is that what you're trying to do? Let him get away so you can go play vigilante?"

"No, of course not," Steve shot back. "But at least I'm out there trying to do something."

"Oh, I see. . . ." Shane took another deep breath. "My 15 agents here, a dedicated task force, more surveillance than you could possibly imagine. . . . We're not trying to do anything. We should just try to take Lawrence Alamain down by what? Breaking into his house and taking a nighttime stroll?"

"It's nothing when it doesn't accomplish a damn thing." Shane could tell that Steve was getting riled. "How many more people are going to get hurt by this guy while you and your task force pat yourselves on your backs for bugging his house?" Steve turned and looked at Shane. "Besides, I wasn't just wandering around. I had a reason - and you idiots screwed it up, of course."

"You had a reason? A reason?" Shane yelled. "What blasted reason did you possibly have?"

Steve crossed his arms and said nothing.

"Tell me, Steve, or so help me, I'll have you brought up on charges." Shane was reaching the limits of his patience.

"Go ahead and bring me up on charges, Donovan." Steve was yelling back now. "I'll be happy to explain to Roman, the DA, and anybody else that at least I was trying to do something to stop this guy. I'm sure Jack would be happy to do a nice series in the paper about how the Salem PD and the ISA have been unable to even sniff at Alamain's operation."

Shane took a deep breath and tried to force himself to attempt to deal with this logically. "Steve. . . . You have no idea what we've found out."

"Oh yeah? Tell me what you've found out!" Steve said, angrily. "It's obviously not enough to put Alamain away. Hell, he's only in jail right now because Kim took it on herself to bug him. So stop trying to convince me how great your mission's going."

Seething, Shane curled his right hand into a fist. It took most of his self-control not to wipe that smug expression off Steve's face. "I'm not at liberty to divulge-"

"Not at liberty to divulge. . . ." Steve rolled his eye. "Spare me the superspy mumbo jumbo. You've got nothing on Lawrence. You're no closer to putting him away than you were months ago."

Shane stepped away from the table and turned around. This approach was not working. Maybe if he tried something a little closer to home, it would get Steve to cooperate. "Forget all that, Steve. Let's just focus on tonight. Okay? I saved your life earlier. If those guards had found you, they would have shot first and probably dumped the body where it wouldn't have been found. I was not going to let that happen. . . ."

"Oh spare me the concern," Steve spit back. "The only reason you went in after me was because if the guards found me, they might have found all of your precious bugs. Don't pretend this had anything to do with trying to save me." Steve's eye narrowed and another dangerous smile crossed his face. "I bet you're wishing those guards had found me anyway. It would have given you a chance to 'comfort' Kayla again."

That does it. Shane let loose. "This isn't about Kayla. It's about your stupidity that's set back our investigation by months. Hundreds of hours of work wasted. Tens of thousands of dollars down the drain. And we've got virtually no chance of getting back into that house now."

"I don't care," Steve yelled back as he rose from the chair. "I don't care about your damn investigation. Screw the ISA. This is personal for me! Alamain took my life for nine months, and I'm never going to get that back! So take your stupid investigation and shove it-"

"This investigation was the best chance we had of nailing Alamain," Shane said. "That surveillance was necessary to meet our objectives."

"What objectives? Too find out the daily grocery order?" Steve rested his palms on the table and shook his head. "I don't get you, Donovan. You act like this is just another mission. After everything that man has done to the Brady family, can't you understand when I say this is personal?"

"And you don't think it's personal to me?" Shane's voice rose again. "That man tried to kill my son. I know all about 'personal,' Steve. But I just can't run off half-cocked all the time, letting emotions trump logic. The way to get Alamain is to out-think him . . . to plan logically."

Steve looked down at the table and shook his head some more. "Man . . . . you are one cold SOB. Logic. Plans. Sorry, dude, I don't have time to wait while you and Lawrence play some stupid game." He chuckled. "For all your logic, Donovan, you've still got nothing. I was closer to nailing Alamain than you and the whole, damn ISA ever got."

Shane crossed his arms. This I've got to hear. "Were you? Well why don't you tell me how you were so close? Or is this just another one of your fantasies of being 'Steve Johnson, super-cop' once more?"

"Oh, I was close," Steve said through gritted teeth. He held up his hand, his thumb and index fingers close together. "I was this close."

"You were wandering around the house with no clue where you were going," Shane reminded Steve.

"I would've found the trigger for the basement sooner or later," Steve said. He obviously caught Shane rolling his eyes, because he snarled again. "Go ahead and don't believe me. Alamain's keeping that stuff he gave me in Egypt in his wine cellar."

Shane was not sure he heard Steve correctly. "What do you mean?"

"That stuff they gave me," Steve said. "It was in a wine bottle. I remembered that tonight. He's got bottles with the same labels in his wine cellar. That's what I was about to get when your guys dragged me out of there."

If Shane had been angry before, it did not compare to the fury he was experiencing now. "Let me get this straight. . . ." He could hear his voice shaking with anger. "You remembered that the toxin was in a wine bottle and, instead of passing that information on to me, you decided to break into Alamain's house to try to find it yourself?"

Steve took a seat once more and crossed his arms. "Like I said, it's personal." He gave Shane a hard look. "I don't owe the ISA anything."

"Damn you, Steve!" Shane slammed his hand on the table once more. "We could've had him. If you'd just told us. I could've had a warrant in less than an hour and we could've been in the wine cellar before Marais could react. What's the name on the bottle?" Shane said, in a tone that made it clear that he was not making a request.

"'Jacaranda' . . . ." Steve still sounded defiant. "It's got some kind of purple tree on the label."

"I know what a Jacaranda tree is," Shane snapped. "Where are the bottles?"

Steve shrugged. "He's got two bottles with that label. One's in slot 538 and the other's in 864."

Shane shook his head. "So help me, Steve. . . . If they're gone. . . ." He did not finish the thought, but turned and pounded on the door until an agent answered. "Get a warrant and get a unit over to Alamain's. Find the wine bottles with the Jacaranda label. Slots 538 and 864." Shane turned back to Steve, before stepping outside and shutting the door behind him. "You'd better pray they're still there."