Shane sat in the darkness of the makeshift prison cell Lawrence had created. Was it morning yet? Lawrence's guard had done a thorough search and had taken Shane's watch, as well as his shoes, belt, and socks. The man had also found all of Shane's lockpicks, leaving him with no way of escaping the small room.
Room. The space hardly qualified. Shane shook his head. It's really just a closet.
The space was so small that Shane could only sit if he folded his knees, which was how he was now seated. It was impossible to lie down, though Shane doubted he could rest even if he tried. But even being awake did not stop him from dreaming - or imagining - his family. Kim would be worried sick over his disappearance, but she would have tried to remain calm to keep Eve and Andrew from worrying. Would she have gone to Roman for help? Even with his animosity for Shane, it was hard to imagine Roman refusing to help Kim. In fact, Roman might assume that Shane's disappearance was a sham, but that would only push him to look even harder to find Shane and bring him back to face charges.
And what about John and Steve? That thought kept recurring. Lawrence had said John had escaped. And if Jack had given Steve the message about the refinery, Steve would have understood it. Shane had no doubt Steve would have come searching. They had to be out there looking for him.
So where are they?
Shane stood up, grimacing at the pain in his side from his bruised ribs. At least they had not re-broken them. Fighting to ignore the pain, he stretched a little and began to pace in a tiny circle around the room. Something was wrong.
This may bloody well be it.
He could not stop the treacherous thought from crossing his mind. No, he told himself. You will get out of this. He always did. He had been in tight spots before and he always escaped.
Shane ran his hands through his hair. The last time he had been locked up, it had been after his arrest. That seemed a lifetime ago. So much had happened after that. He shook his head. Back then, he and Kim were still so far apart. He did not know the truth about Jeannie.
"You will get through this," Shane said to himself. "Lawrence has not won."
He wondered where Kim was right now. Did she even realize he was gone? She had to. John would have told her. But that made him wonder again. If John was alive like Lawrence had said, where was the cavalry? He shoved the thought aside. John and Steve were out there and they had to be looking for him. Shane assured himself that they were just delayed.
And if they're not? Again, that tiny voice of doubt snuck through. If not, it meant that Shane was on his own. "And I'm not going to go easily."
He took a few deep breaths and put his ear to the door. Nothing. He took a few more deep breaths and began to pace again. It had to be morning. He tried to picture his family. Kim, despite being worried sick, would be acting like everything was normal as Andrew and Jeannie had their breakfast. Shane could see Andrew talking excitedly about his plans for his daily adventures. Jeannie, as much a miniature of her mom as Andrew was of Shane, was probably babbling something. Soon, she would be speaking.
Shane tried to shunt aside the voice that taunted him with the prospect that he might never hear Jeannie call him daddy. He could not think like that. He was going to find a way out of this.
Footsteps at the door stopped his pacing. Shane told himself this was it. I am not going to go quietly. He pressed against the wall just as the lock clicked and the door knob began to turn.
The guard was not expecting the attack. Shane's sharp kick connected with the guard's wrist, sending his gun skidding down the corridor. Barely noticing the gun, Shane slammed both fists simultaneously into the guard's ribs. He heard the air rush from the man's lungs as he stumbled back. Shane raced forward. The stunned guard twisted, trying to duck further blows, but that only exposed his back. Shane wrapped his right arm around the guard's neck, pulling him into a headlock.
"Don't move," came a voice with a European accent. Still holding the guard in a tight grip, Shane spun them both around. Ivan Marais and another guard were standing in the corridor. Lawrence stood behind them. Ivan was operating a video camera. The guard had a gun aimed at Shane. Lawrence smiled.
"Ah, Captain. Nice of you to put on such a fitting display of bravado before the end. It will add greatly to the drama."
Shane squeezed his arm around the guard's neck. "Drop your guns or I'll kill him."
The guard next to Ivan hesitated and started to lower his hand. Lawrence grimaced. "Ivan."
Ivan lowered the camera and pulled the gun out of the guard's hand. He raised the gun and, without the slightest hesitation, fired.
The man Shane was holding jerked sharply. The guard's body turned into a dead weight as his legs buckled. The sudden movement caused Shane's grip to slip and the body slumped to the ground. Shane looked down and saw the blood streaming from the dead man's head.
Shane had barely registered what had happened when the other guard grabbed Shane by the arms and dragged him down the corridor.
"You . . . you killed him," Shane finally stammered as he was pulled toward Lawrence.
"Yes," Lawrence said, sounding almost bored. "And now that I think about it, that could complicate matters. It does leave me rather short-handed."