Shane watched Steve leave. Taking a deep breath, he looked over at Lawrence, who had sat up and was scowling in the direction Steve had gone. It made Shane chuckle.
"You're finished, Alamain," Shane said.
Lawrence turned his head. "You act so certain, but you don't know. Ivan is already at the school by now. Johnson may not find him. Johnson may not even find his way out of this complex."
"After all this, you would still underestimate Steve." Shane rolled his eyes. "Is that because you just don't want to believe - or is it because it truly is impossible for you to accept that who you are and how you live your life is more important than who your parents were? Accept it. Steve Johnson beat you."
Lawrence looked away. Sounding like a bitter child, he muttered, "Johnson didn't beat me. I beat myself." With a sneer, he turned back to Shane. "The only reason I am here is because I miscalculated. It is because of me that Johnson had an immunity to the toxin."
Shane felt a stab of pain in his hand. He started to grimace, but he forced himself from showing it.
"Johnson was my creation," Lawrence continued. "If not for-"
Shane cut him off. "You're a fool if you believe it. Rationalize it all you want. Steve beat you."
In response, Lawrence chuckled. "Let's just say that I agree. If Johnson beat me that means you owe your life to him. Come on, Donovan, don't tell me that the thought doesn't bother you - being beholden to a man like Johnson."
Lawrence truly did not understand, but then, Shane reminded himself, Lawrence was a sociopath.
"It won't bother me in the slightest," Shane said. That was funny. His tongue felt heavy again. He swallowed a few times, but the odd sensation in his mouth continued. Ignoring it, Shane stared at Lawrence. "You seem under the mistaken delusion that we are alike."
"Oh, but we are, Captain," Lawrence replied. "You may try to pretend otherwise, but we are very much alike. Your background wasn't that different than mine; you were born to power. And you might claim you are content to live a quiet life in this backwater town, but we both know otherwise. You are an ambitious man. You could have been the head of the ISA."
Shane felt some more pain in his hand. His heart was beginning to beat a little faster, a little anxious. But he forced himself to show nothing. "Even if you were right, none of that really matters now, does it?"
Lawrence laughed. "Too true. . . . It is ironic, isn't it? Your little ISA raid destroys my Egyptian facility, delays the development of the toxin, and even gives you the apparent key to stopping me by rescuing Johnson." Lawrence's eyes narrowed. "And in ensuring that seeming victory, you not only destroyed your once-so-illustrious career, but branded yourself a traitor."
Something sharp seemed to jab into Shane's foot, cutting off the sound of Lawrence's rant. What's going on? Shane asked himself. He refused to answer the question. Instead, he focused Lawrence's mouth, which was still moving. Lawrence was saying he would still win. At least that was what Shane thought he said. Everything went blurry all of a sudden.
Lawrence was laughing again. "You must appreciate the irony of how your loyalty was rewarded. . . ."
The toxin's not gone.
The answer came to Shane without him asking the question again. These were the same symptoms as before. The odd sensation in his mouth, the blurred vision, the spasms.
Shane's right hand wrapped around the gun that was balancing on his knee. He squeezed his fingers closed and started to raise the gun. It barely moved. Shane's arm felt like a heavy weight was dangling from his wrist.
He tried think. In the gas chamber were a few vials of the antidote that Steve had dropped. They were out of Shane's immediate reach though, and if he moved awkwardly to get them, it would tip Lawrence off that Shane was still feeling the effects of the toxin.
He still had control of the situation. Lawrence had no reason to suspect anything was wrong. With a forced expression that pretended like everything was fine, Shane squinted at Lawrence. The man was still talking, seemingly oblivious to Shane's condition.
"I'm sure that is what you devoted your life for. Isn't it, Captain?"
Shane made a point of not responding. If he spoke again, he might slur his words and that would raise a red flag that Shane was in trouble. As it was, Shane did not know how long he could hide the symptoms of the toxin.
Every minute counts, he told himself. Steve needed time to get to the school and stop Ivan Marais. And Steve would need time to alert the Salem PD to the location of Lawrence's hideout. At this point, Shane did not even know if Steve had made it out of the hideout.
Trust Steve. He knows how important it is to get to the school.
Shane had to keep Lawrence focused. Keep him here, Shane thought. He had to do everything possible to keep Lawrence there, so he would not evade the Salem PD when they arrived. Not to mention Lawrence might have other ways of contacting Ivan Marais. Shane had to make sure Lawrence stayed in this room, no matter how much the toxin might hurt or how weak Shane felt.
"So you are going to say nothing at all," Lawrence said in a mocking tone. "That must be because you know I'm right. It truly is a waste. A man with your talents could have accomplished a great deal without the strictures of the ISA."
Shane tried to drown out Lawrence and focus on the opposite side of the room, at the doorway. How much longer did he have to hold out before someone would arrive? As he watched, his field of vision seemed to grow smaller and the room grew cloudy.
It has to be soon, he thought. Soon somebody will show up.
But soon enough? The treacherous thought popped into his head. Shane tried to shunt it aside, but even as he did, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lawrence sit up a bit.
"Is there a problem, Captain?" Lawrence asked.
Shane forced his neck muscles to shake his head. He did not say a word. Trying to speak would tell Lawrence everything.
As it was, Lawrence had stood up and his mouth curled into a small grin. "How fascinating," he said. "Perhaps the antidote was not as effective as we thought. I'll have to ask the doctor about that." He flexed his hands. "Not that it seems to have had any problem for me."
Shane tried to turn the gun. As he did, his knee shuddered. The gun slipped. He tried to maintain a grip with his hand, but the arm was too weak and the gun fell to the floor. It skidded to his left.
Lawrence pounced. Shane tried to get the gun, but his muscles did not react right and he lost his balance. He sprawled after the gun, but his arm fell a few inches short. Lawrence reached the gun first and kicked it away from Shane's hand. Seeing that Shane could not scramble for the gun, Lawrence chuckled. Slowly, he walked over to the gun and picked it up. With a smirk, he turned back to where Shane was lying.
"This. . . ." Lawrence said, turning the gun in his hand. "This, it would seem, changes everything."