It had to be morning, Shane thought, as he followed a crack in the floor back and forth across his cell. There was no way of knowing for sure. The cell block was dark and the little light that crept through the thick door at the end of the corridor was probably from the station's florescent lights.
He had spent a second restless, sleepless night in his cell. He kept picturing Andrew and Kim and the baby. They were defenseless while he was locked up in here. Who knew what Jericho might do to them?
"Damn," he spat for what was probably the hundredth time since he had been returned to the cell after his meeting with Tarrington.
All you have to do is plead guilty.
It sounded so simple. Plead guilty and your family will be safe.
In three years, he could be back at Donovan Manor, but he would be a half-world away from his son. Yet that had to be better than spending a lifetime in prison. It wasn't like he would be able to tuck Andrew into bed or teach him how to catch a football if he was in prison anymore than if he were in England. Except in prison, he might get a chance to see Andrew more than once or twice a year. Even if it was in a visitor's room.
There has to be another way, he thought. His mind just could not come up with one.
Tarrington was right about one thing. He could not call on Nowicki, Deakins or any of the other soldiers in the ODA. Even if they agreed to testify, they would be putting themselves in the same boat that Shane was now in. He could not ask them to do that - especially after they saved his life in Iraq.
For a moment, he wondered why that had even happened. What good did it do to survive Egypt and Iraq only to wind up here? No, he couldn't think like that. Steve and Deakins were alive because of Egypt, Ahmed Salim was alive because of what happened in Iraq, and the world was better off that the Iraqis were not using his knowledge to build nuclear weapons.
Shane stopped pacing and started to laugh at the irony of his thoughts. After all that was happening, here he was, still believing that the ISA could actually do some good.
He walked over to the metal bench, sat down, and rested his head in his hands. What was he going to do? Leaning back, he pressed his head against the back wall and stared up at the ceiling. Get used to the view, he told himself, then shut his eyes. He pictured Kim at the house. He knew she was worried, even though she had tried to be strong when she visited him the day before. He wondered if the ISA had already left the house; she would never have told him, thinking it better not to worry him than let him know they were in increased danger.
Was Mike still there? For an instant, Shane was sure Mike had left. Why would he stick around to protect a traitor's family? But then he remembered that he had chosen Mike because he understood duty and dedication. No, Mike was probably still at the house. Shane just wondered if he would be enough if Jericho or Alamain's people came calling.
All I have to do is plead guilty and they'll be safe. Tarrington knew Shane too well. He knew exactly how to put the screws to him. Better than any physical torture, the emotional strain of worrying about his family's safety would break him.
Just plead guilty.
What would that mean? He would have to admit to being a traitor. Could he do that? Could he really say that he betrayed the country? If he fought the charges, even if he were convicted, he could at least hold his head up and claim innocence.
However, that meant years in prison. He could get out in three years if he just confessed to being a traitor. But to do that, Shane had to say out loud that he had willingly betrayed everything that he held sacrosanct. Duty, loyalty, honor. He had spent a lifetime trying to live up to those ideals, but that would mean nothing. Traitors had no honor. They knew nothing of loyalty. Their only duty was to themselves.
Shane Donovan. Traitor.
If he pled guilty, that's who he would be. A traitor and a stain on the Donovan name he held so dear. And what about Andrew? He would grow up being "the traitor's son."
That was probably going to happen regardless, wasn't it? But at least if Shane fought the charges, Andrew could learn what it meant to stand up for something. In time, he would learn to tell people that his father was no traitor.
So Shane could save face in front of his son. Wasn't that what Shane was really thinking? Was that worth it if it meant never being able to go riding with Andrew again? Or not being able to attend Andrew's wedding? Or-
The heavy groan of the metal door jarred him out of his anguished thoughts. "Shane," came Roman's voice from down the hall.
Shane got up and crossed over to the bars. Roman was pulling the door closed while trying not to drop a tray. It must be morning, Shane figured. Shane said nothing as Roman walked over and got a look at him.
"Guess I don't have to ask how the night went," Roman said.
"No, not really," Shane answered.
Roman set down the tray, unlocked the door and carried it in. That caused Shane to let out a sickly, half-hearted laugh.
"You're not afraid of the martial arts expert kicking your arse and escaping?"
"Nope." Roman said, setting the tray on the sink. "Besides, there's an FBI agent right outside the cellblock door, so I wouldn't try it if I were you. Here . . . Alice Horton brought some food over. I think she even made some doughnuts especially for you."
This time, Shane chuckled in earnest. "Didn't you ban Alice's doughnuts from the cellblocks?" He looked at the tray and, sure enough, there were several doughnuts sitting on it.
"I'm making an exception this time," Roman said, laughing himself. He had been the one to eat the famous drugged doughnut. "But if you get sick, we have to bring the doctor to you. Our FBI friends won't let you go to a hospital."
Shane sighed. "Would you tell Alice I appreciate it. . . . I'm just not very hungry."
Roman walked back outside the cell. He closed and locked the door. "I guess I know why. I heard you had a visitor last night."
With the distraction of Roman's arrival, Shane realized he had momentarily forgotten about Tarrington's threat. Guilt flooded him, as he anxiously started to ask, "Kim-"
"She's fine." Roman gave him a reassuring nod. "So's Andrew . . . and Jeannie."
"Tarrington said the ISA pulled out," Shane explained. "I was so worried, Roman. They're in danger and the bloody ISA won't lift a hand to keep them safe."
"They're safe. Your man, Mike, is there, and Bo spent the night. He's going to stay there until you get home. And we have two Salem PD units outside the house - one on the lake and one on the street. We're not gonna let you down, partner."
For the first time since the night before, Shane felt some of his panic and worry subside. "Thanks," he said sincerely.
"You don't have to thank us," Roman replied. "Nobody's going to hurt Kim or the kids." He paused for a moment. "So what did Tarrington say?"
Shane looked up at the ceiling. "Let's just say it was nothing good. . . . I'm in deep, Roman, and it doesn't look like I have any good options." He took a deep breath and then looked back at his best friend. "I'm not going to be able to protect them. No matter what happens, I'm not going to. . . ." Shane let his voice trail off, unable to finish the sentence again. "I need you to promise me something," he said.
"You don't have to ask," Roman said. "We'll keep them safe. But come on. . . ." He seemed to smile, but Shane could tell it was forced and just for his benefit. "You're gonna get through this."
Shane wished he could believe it, but he lowered his head and looked away. "No, Roman. . . . This time, I don't think I am."