Lawrence watched the monitor as the police finished inspecting the trailer. Those fools have no clue, he said to himself. They were looking for trap doors and false walls. Their pitiful efforts would never reveal the access to the control center.
Ivan stood beside Lawrence. "It looks like there is no damage."
No damage from Torres' henchmen, those imbeciles. Lawrence shook his head. They couldn't even get rid of John Black when he was gift-wrapped for them. But that was hardly the most annoying detail. It appeared that Steve Johnson had been involved in rescuing the man.
That infuriated Lawrence. Johnson should have died in Egypt months ago. It was a slap in Lawrence's face that Johnson was even alive, let alone thwarting Lawrence's plans.
"Do you think they'll return?" Ivan asked, referring to the police.
Lawrence shook his head. "No." If what they had heard of the man who had taken the place of Roman Brady was true, the police would not return. Ivan's sources inside the Salem PD said that Roman Brady did not trust John Black and Shane Donovan.
He looked again at the video monitor, which was now showing the refinery gates. The police cars were pulling out of the gate. Good. This will be no further distraction. He could finish planning his grand achievement.
There was just one bit of . . . . Lawrence could not even admit the feeling. Perhaps it was a sign of doubt, but he refused to acknowledge the possibility. In any event, if it was doubt, he had a way to put it rest.
Turning back to Ivan, Lawrence said, "Let's go visit our prisoner."
With Ivan at his heels, Lawrence left the main control room and walked down a short corridor. He stopped in front a locked door, where a guard - one of the two men from Alamainia was standing. Lawrence motioned to the door and the guard turned, removed a key from his belt, and unlocked it. Lawrence doubted Shane was in much condition to pick the lock - assuming he still had lockpicks other than the ones they found - but Lawrence would not underestimate the man again.
Which is why I'm here now.
The door opened into an empty storage closet. Shane was on the floor and raised an arm to shield his eyes from the sudden light. Lawrence stood and waited until Shane lowered his hand.
Damn, Lawrence muttered when he saw Shane's face. His men were supposed to leave Shane looking pretty healthy, but his face was littered with bruises.
Nothing however seemed to diminish the defiant look in his eyes. "To what do I owe the pleasure? How's the hand?"
Lawrence felt a surge of something - it couldn't be embarrassment, he told himself - as he remembered the searing pain in his hand from striking Donovan earlier. He chuckled at Donovan's arrogance. "Your arrogance has always fascinated me, Captain. Even now, when you have less than 24 hours to live, you act so superior. Does it not register? You will be dead this time tomorrow."
"I've heard that plenty of times before," Shane said, his tone still defiant. "It hasn't happened yet."
"I assure you, Captain. You will beg for your life before this is over."
Shane shook his head and coughed. Lawrence could tell that hurt Shane, but he covered it well and laughed. "Allow me to apologize in advance for so severely disappointing you."
This is maddening, Lawrence thought. But the more he dealt with Shane, the more he suspected that the drama he had been envisioning was not going to play out as planned.
"Tell me something, Lawrence." Shane shifted slowly into a seated position. He could not hide the grimace this time. "You really think killing innocent people in Salem will avenge your father? Is that what he would have wanted?"
"You know nothing about my father," Lawrence snapped. "You saw him as an old man, after he had grown weak with regret for the very acts that had made him great. But when he was younger, when he was a true leader, he would not have hesitated to do what was necessary to claim his greatness."
Shane snorted. "Your father was a great man, but you're nothing like him. Leopold was a leader, not a murderer. . . . He rejected you when he tried to save us from those tunnels. He saw what you really are - and he recoiled from it."
"Shut up!" Lawrence yelled. "Shut up!" The guard started toward Shane, but Lawrence stopped the man. "No. He needs to look somewhat alive tomorrow. . . ." Lawrence glanced around the dark closet and fought to control his fury. "Enjoy the darkness, Captain. Perhaps it will remind you of those tunnels, only this time my father is no longer with us to have a moment of weakness."
He slammed the door before Shane could respond, and stalked back to the control room.
Ivan followed closely behind. "Do not let him-"
"Be quiet, Ivan." Lawrence cut off his underling. He slammed his hands onto a counter in the control room. He needed to think. He would never admit it, but he was afraid - afraid that Shane's foolish defiance would steal the moment.
Perhaps it is time to rewrite the script.
"Where is Johnson?" Lawrence asked. He was the one remaining thorn in Lawrence's side who was not accounted for. Jack and Jennifer Devereax would suffer, Bo Brady was protected by Victor Kiriakis, and Katerina would see all of those dead bodies and know she had failed. But Johnson was still out there. Oh, he was never more than a minor distraction - a nothing - but it stuck in Lawrence's craw that Steve Johnson was not part of the plan.
Perhaps he still can be.
"Johnson will return to look for Donovan. Either tonight or tomorrow. Maybe both." Lawrence looked at Ivan as he said that.
"I will eliminate him personally," Ivan said.
No, Lawrence said to himself. Even though he was already envisioning the plan, the word came as a surprise as it echoed in his head. But the silent voice was right.
He smiled as the plan finished forming. Shane might not beg, Lawrence thought, but there were other ways to show the drama of a single death. Maybe Lawrence would even let the man die with a modicum of dignity, provided it proved sufficiently cinematic. And for that, he needed to expand his plan and add another player.
"No," Lawrence repeated aloud. "Tomorrow, when Johnson comes. . . . We shall roll out the red carpet for him."
"What if he doesn't come?"
Lawrence chuckled. "These Salem fools are predictable. He'll come. And when he does, we'll make sure he receives an open invitation."