The monkey sat crouched on the floor of the room and picked at the remnants of a banana. Seeming to grow uninterested in the peel, it stood, began walking around the room, and examined the furniture.

Shane turned away from the television screen. "So what are we looking for?"

"Keep watching," Dr. Bowers said.

Looking back, Shane watched as the video continued to play. The monkey on the screen stumbled, its arms giving way, and it fell forward.

From behind him, he heard Bowers say, "That's the muscle weakness."

"How long has it been?" Shane asked.

"This is about five minutes after ingesting the banana. Injected directly into the blood stream, the effects would probably start after a minute or so."

Shane remembered the doctor's statements about a gas. "And inhaled?"

"It depends on the concentration of the toxin," Bowers explained. "The toxin we're using here from leiurus quinquestriatus - that's the deathstalker scorpion - is lethal in high doses, but the sting usually isn't fatal to an adult human because the injected amount isn't great enough. What we put into that banana is probably ten-thousand times the normal dose a human would get, but that's because we had to take into account the likelihood that only a fraction of the toxin might get into the subject's bloodstream. The same is true of a gas. But if it's highly concentrated and easily passed through the alveoli in the lung, it could be almost as effective as a direct injection. The effects could begin in two to three minutes."

As she spoke, Shane continued to watch the screen. The monkey had given up trying to walk and was now in a seated position. It looked like it was falling asleep.

"See how its eyelids are almost closed?" Bowers said. "That's ptosis. When the muscles are affected, it usually starts at the extremities and unimportant muscles. So the eyelids droop and the jaw goes slack."

So it was not sleeping. No, definitely not sleeping, Shane thought as the monkey began to shake and shriek simultaneously. It fell on its side as the convulsions wracked its body. The cries came loudly through the television speakers.

They did this to Steve. The image on the screen was replaced with an image of Steve in a similar room. Shane tried to shake the image and focus on what was actually on screen, but even that made his stomach pitch as he saw the monkey continue to writhe and scream in pain.

Not wanting to watch any more, Shane closed his eyes and tried to shut out the sounds. But then he remembered this was his job. He had to know what Lawrence intended, no matter how much it disgusted him. Shane forced himself to open his eyes and watch the screen, even as he fought the nausea rising within him.

Mercifully, the shaking and screaming stopped. The monkey lay on its side, unmoving. He asked, "What's happening now?"

"The paralytic has taken full effect. It can't move its extremities, and it's starting to affect the involuntary muscles now. The ones that control breathing will stop functioning son."

On-screen, the monkey did not move, but it looked like it was struggling to breathe. Shane remembered the description from Kim of how Steve felt his chest tightening. Unbidden, the image flashed in his head of Steve lying still on a floor and trying futilely to get some air.

"Turn it off," Shane ordered. He turned away. "I've seen enough." The image in his head faded, but the dread persisted. Lawrence intends to do that to people in Salem. To my friends and family. Just the thought started to make him feel sick again.

"Captain?"

"Turn it off," he repeated. Shane took a couple of shallow breaths, then looked at Bowers. "How quickly can you prepare an antidote?"

She shrugged. "It all depends. We already have some things underway to respond to this toxin - an improvement over the existing antivenom - but there's no guarantee that it will work for the one Alamain is devising."

"So we need-" He was cut off by a knock on the door. An aide poked a head in.

"A Dr. Manning is here to see you, sir," he said.

Shane nodded. "Double-check that all the operations rooms are closed off and bring her here." Shane did not want Carly getting an eyeful. The drab conference room they were in would tell her nothing about what was going on.

A few minutes later, the aide led Carly into the room.

"Carly," Shane said with a smile that required almost all of his will to force across his face. He took her hand as the aide left and closed the door behind him. "Allow me to introduce you to someone, Dr. Lindy Bowers. Dr. Bowers, this is Dr. Manning, who I told you about."

The women shook hands and then Carly turned to face him. "Okay, Shane, why don't you tell me what's going on and why you asked me here?"

"Straight and to-the-point as always," Shane said. "Quite simply, I need your help."

Carly's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "For what?"

"That's confidential. Before I can even tell you, I need you to guarantee that you won't reveal any of it to anyone - and I mean Bo."

"Then you can forget it," Carly said. She started to walk toward the door.

"Even if it means saving a lot of lives?" Shane asked. "Possibly a lot of people in Salem." Carly stopped where she was, but remained with her back to him. But even as she seemed to debate it, Shane knew she would turn around. "I wouldn't have asked for your help if I didn't need it."

Carly turned and crossed her arms defensively. "I assume this has something to do with the ISA."

"I need you to agree-"

"Fine. I won't tell anyone," she said.

Good enough, Shane told himself."I'm going to keep you to that." He glanced over at Bowers, who gave him a curt nod. Returning to Carly, he said, "Why don't you take a seat?"

Still with a suspicious expression, she moved to the table and sat down. "Okay . . . go ahead."

Shane took his own seat. He debated running the video again to show Carly what they were facing, but he had no idea how she might react to seeing the experiment. Carly had been very vocal about Jencon and the impact of the oil spill on local wildlife.

Not to mention that I don't want to ever see it again.

Deciding against using the video until Carly was on board, Shane chose just to come out and tell Carly what he suspected. "We have reason to believe there may be a chemical attack on Salem." Shane watched as Carly recoiled in shock. "I need your help to make sure we catch it at the first signs of trouble, and I want to use the lab to stockpile possible antidotes without attracting attention."

"Attention?" Carly was still reeling.

Bowers answered before Shane could. "Shipping significant quantities of the antidote to a local hospital would raise questions."

"And possibly start a panic," Shane added. "That's why this has to be done in secret. Dr. Bowers and her lab will do most of the work, but we'd like your input as well."

"Won't my involvement raise questions?"

"I've already talked with Neil and Julie," Shane said. "You'll be working on a side project for a few months. Your regular duties will be assumed by another researcher. We'll come up with some type of phony grant that you've received to cover expenses and to explain why you're working with Dr. Bowers. She has no known connections to the ISA."

"Except for coming here," Carly pointed out.

"Dr. Bowers is visiting Salem on her way to a conference, and I asked her here to discuss a private research venture - much like the immunology lab." Shane studied Carly's response as he laid down the cover story. "Your project with her is a first step to determining if the venture will be worthwhile. That's why I need a second opinion in Salem of . . . of someone I can trust."

There was a long pause. Then Carly nodded. "So what do I do?"

Shane felt a sense of relief. He had been uncertain if Carly would agree, but he had pushed the right buttons. "Two things. First, you'll work with Dr. Bowers on various antidotes. We're at a stage where we can just speculate about what we're dealing with."

"What?" Carly eyed him. "You're flying blind?"

"Not exactly," Shane said. "We know the symptoms and that's led us to narrow down the likely types of toxins involved. The second thing we need is for you to be our eyes and ears at University Hospital. If anyone comes in with the kind of symptoms we're expecting, you'll be able to report it right away."

"What kind of symptoms?" Carly asked.

"Dr. Bowers can explain all of that." Shane looked at the researcher. "Can I leave this to you?"

Bowers nodded. He wondered if she knew that he wanted to get out of there before she showed Carly the video. As Shane stood up from the table, he debated whether to tell Carly one more thing. She's going to find out so it's better that it comes from me, he decided.

"There's something else you should know," he said to Carly. "The man behind this plot is Lawrence Alamain."

She did not seem as surprised as he expected. There was a long pause as she mulled over Lawrence's involvement. "I should have figured that. From things Lawrence said when Bo was sick, it sounded like he was involved with the virus. Do you think this is connected?"

"Maybe. The virus could have been a dry run for this. Bu . . ." Shane's mind flashed again to the dying monkey and then to Steve. But it did not stop with Steve. He saw Kim and Andrew, lying there . . . dying. Shane took a deep breath and fought the bile rising his chest, before he finally managed to say, "But if Lawrence manages to succeed, it'll make the virus seem like child's play."