Shane looked up from the bench to see one of the FBI agents outside his cell. He had not heard the cellblock door open, so he must have finally dozed off after they gave him some breakfast. It had been a long, sleepless night that Shane had spent mostly pacing around the cell worrying about Kim and Andrew.

"I said 'get up,'" the agent repeated.

Shane complied and rose to his feet.

"Put your hands on your head, walk over here slowly, and turn around."

Puzzled, Shane followed orders. He reached the bars and turned around. As he stood there, the agent placed a chain around his waist.

"You have got to be kidding me," Shane said as he realized what was happening.

"Turn around."

Shaking his head at the indignity, Shane turned and held his hands in front of him. The agent cuffed his hands and threaded the chain through the cuffs. Shane's hands were now immobilized a few inches from his waist. Then the door opened and the agent was ushering him out of the cell and down the corridor. From there, they entered the main area of the police station, where a number of officers Shane knew seemed unwilling to even look at him.

"Get back," said the FBI agent to an approaching Abe Carver.

"Oh shut the hell up," Abe snapped. "This is my station." He looked at Shane. "We'll get this straightened out. We all know it's bull."

Shane had to grin a little at that, but the agent pushed him forward before he could respond. He was led past a few more desks to an interrogation room, ordered to sit, and then left alone in the room.

Mickey Horton entered a few minutes later. The first thing he noticed were the handcuffs. "Is this really necessary?" he asked the agent who had escorted Shane to the room.

"The prisoner has extensive training in martial arts," the agent replied. "And he attacked one of the arresting agents. The cuffs stay on."

Shane sighed. "It's okay, Mickey. At least they decided I didn't need leg restraints." The agent glared at him, but said nothing and left the room.

Mickey set his briefcase on the table. "I didn't think we'd ever be here again." Shane knew he was thinking of the time Victor had framed Shane for espionage. Mickey had defended Shane at his arraignment.

"Unfortunately, Mickey, I don't think Bo's going to come charging into the courtroom to confess this time."

"No, I guess not," Mickey said, taking a seat. "I talked to Louis Pasqua this morning. He's the-"

"The Assistant U.S. Attorney, I know," Shane said. "I've worked with him before."

"Okay, well I talked with him and I'm not going to sugarcoat this." Mickey shook his head. "I don't get it, but they're out for blood. From what Pasqua told me, the State Department's getting a lot of pressure from the Egyptians. They're claiming you attacked a science research facility and killed unarmed scientists."

"They weren't exactly unarmed," Shane said quietly. "So what does that mean?"

Mickey studied him. "I assume from what you just said that the Spectator article is true? I don't believe for a second that what you did was unauthorized, but it's true there was a raid on a compound in Egypt, you were involved, you rescued Steve, and people were killed?"

That's a rather simple way of breaking it down. Shane just nodded.

Mickey frowned. "It sounds like the Egyptians are going to seek extradition and charge you with murder, but Pasqua said they may be having some issues with the British government. I gather that you're still a British citizen."

Thank goodness for small favors, Shane said to himself. "I think extradition to Egypt is probably not one of our more favorable options, is it?"

"No, but U.S. law isn't a whole lot better." Mickey looked across the table. "Do you want me to spell it out for you?"

"Go ahead," Shane answered. "Like you said, don't sugarcoat things."

"Well . . . first, there are the laws generally governing war crimes and murder and assault. U.S. laws could apply even if the crimes occur outside the U.S. under a conspiracy theory. Until we know more about the specifics, I can't say which laws might apply, but they could charge you with multiple counts that would each carry a life sentence." Mickey waited for Shane to process that. "Then there are some special statutes that might apply. One's a law governing conspiracy to damage property of a foreign country," Mickey said. "I'd never even heard of that one until yesterday. That's three years and, if you took any step toward the plan in the U.S., including agreeing to do it, it could apply. Then you have treason for undermining the U.S. Armed Forces in the Middle East. That could be 20 years. Under the Espionage Act, using classified information prejudicial to U.S. interests is ten years." He sighed. "And from what you just told me, it sounds like they probably have a very strong case against you for joining an expedition against a friendly nation. That carries a three-year sentence."

Shane sat silently, letting that all sink in. He remembered Tarrington, the night he brought Steve's picture to the house, saying the ISA lawyers thought criminal charges would be a stretch.

It doesn't feel like a stretch right now.

None of this felt real. This is some bad dream and I'm going to wake up from it. If this were happening to Andrew, Shane would just give a few reassuring hugs and soon the boy would be sleeping soundly. Shane just wanted to wake up and have this nightmare be over.

But he knew that was wishful thinking. The metal around his wrists was real. Being in the police station was real. Mickey Horton telling him he could spend the rest of his life in prison - that was real too.

"So what do I do?" Shane asked.

Mickey gave him a sympathetic look. "For now, nothing. I'll see what I can find out over the weekend, but we probably won't know anything more until Monday at the arraignment. Then, you'll plead 'not guilty,' we'll find out what the government has, and we'll start figuring out how to get rid of these ridiculous charges."

He made it sound so simple that Shane almost believed him.

"You know, Shane . . . the best defense would be to prove you were acting with the approval of the ISA." He stared at Shane, waiting for a response, but when he got none, he nodded slightly. "I can't claim to know how the ISA operates and, I know in your line of work, you have a lot of ideas about loyalty and duty that I couldn't possibly understand. . . . But we're talking about you spending the rest of your life in prison for this. This isn't taking one for the team."

Shane looked down at the shackles that encircled his wrists. "I need to think, Mickey."

"Fine. There's time to think about it. But I know you," Mickey said. "You wouldn't go this far off the reservation. Not even to save Steve."

Shane kept his head down, not sure how - or even if - he should respond. He was still reeling. You have to hold it together, he told himself. You need to be strong for Andrew and Kim.

Kim.

"Have you talked to Kim?" Shane asked, looking back up.

Mickey nodded. "She was here yesterday, but they wouldn't let her in to see you." He paused. "She's frightened and worried. She was hopeful that the ISA chief coming here would help straighten things out-"

"Kim always was an optimist," Shane said bitterly. She never really understood the reality.

"She loves you though."

Which doesn't count for much when you're facing a lifetime in jail, does it? Shane thought. He took a deep breath. "Do me a favor . . . don't tell Kim what you told me. About the laws, I mean. I don't want her worrying for now. Let her think this isn't a big deal. That it's just about some silly article"

Mickey smiled and rolled his eyes slightly. "Kim's not a fool. She already knows this is a big deal. You're not protecting her by trying to keep her in the dark."

"Please, Mickey."

"Okay," Mickey said with a shrug. "You're the client. I'm going to the office to see what my associate's dug up on some of these laws and will begin mapping out some strategy." He stood up and picked up his briefcase. "Just think about what I said Shane, and ask yourself whether life in prison is really worth protecting the ISA."