“Yes, Sir,” he hesitated, curiosity winning out. “The police and EMTs said this kid was shot attempting to escape custody.”
“He was shot escaping from the NSA who kidnapped him four years ago. He’s Dantan Townsley De Rosier,” said Gaines flatly.
“No shit?”
“We took him from Homeland Security to the NSA facility in Nebraska and then on to Dallas.” Gaines told them. Everyone straightened up as Felice Rickover ran into the waiting room and made a beeline for James.
“Jake, is it true? They shot him? They shot Danny?” She was crying, her makeup a runny mess on her cheeks. The President came striding in, surrounded by his agents. He faced Gaines and James, his face a study in surprise.
“Gaines? I thought you’d died?”
“Long story, Mister President. I was involved with Danny and the Colonel.”
“Colonel Pierce of the NSA?” Rickover asked.
“Yes. He’s responsible for this mess. Although Oliver Sustain started it,” Gaines said with venom.
“Sustain?” Rickover snapped.
“Yes, Mister President. Director Sustain had the boy kidnapped from an abandoned boat yard on the Potomac. Set it up to look like he was murdered. The Colonel found out and raided HS R&D section, took the boy and the scientists in charge of the project.”
“You went along with this?”
“He used the same techniques on me, Mister President. Wiped my memories of HS. I thought I’d been in a car accident on the way back from Sustain’s office. I had the injuries to prove it. Found myself retired on disability and was offered a job at General Dynamics Fiber-optics in Dallas.
“The Colonel set up an adoption for my wife and me, Daniel, a French orphan, who went faithfully to therapy every week with Doctor Cohen, the same Doctor Cohen, who worked for Sustain, and Pierce. I took Danny, and when my doubts rose, she treated me, also.”
“How did you break free?”
Gaines smile was grim, “a father’s intuition. I knew Danny was in trouble. Tried to contact him and couldn’t find him at college. I followed his roommate, called in favors and found out Ames was flying back from Dubai to Dulles. I flew in and followed him.”
The surgical Nurse came out; all they could see of her was her eyes and brows, big blue eyes that radiated warmth and concern. They widened when she recognized Rickover. “Mister President?”
“Nurse? Doctor?” Rickover asked.
“Nurse Phillips, Sir. Doctor Abrams sent me out to tell Agent James he has removed the bullet and are working on his lung. We have his pressure back up. He’s fighting to stay with us. The bullet that exited tore a hole through the pericardium; he lost quite a bit of blood. The doctors should be closing him up in a few hours; they’ll come out and talk to you then. We’re cautiously optimistic; he’s made it through surgery this far. Was he in an accident? He’s terribly bruised, shows sign of fractures and his neck x-rays show a fractured C-3.”
“You do whatever you need to keep him alive,” the President swore.
“Yes, Sir. What’s his name? The paramedics who brought him in didn’t know it.”
“Dantan,” Foley said. “Dantan Townsley De Rosier.”
“Dant---the Senator’s dead son?” The nurse gaped.
“You keep him alive,” Felice growled. “You keep him alive or I’ll---” She trailed off and buried her face in her dad’s chest. The nurse flew back through the OR doors and they all heard the surgeon’s shout as she relayed the news.
Chapter 30
Michael Patrick De Rosier stared at the solemn faces of Secret Service and FBI special agents as they held out their hands gesturing for him to mount the chopper. He was dressed in jeans, dress shirt with a heavy winter jacket over that, but nothing on his head. Deep lines of grief had marked his face; he looked much older yet still handsome and distinguished. Ms. Penny stood near him, holding his briefcase of notes on the land issue he was investigating.
“Senator!” The senior FBI agent called. “We need you to come immediately.”
He looked around; the chopper had set down on the lawn of the preserve’s gatehouse expressly for him.
“What for?” He shouted over the noise of the turbines.
“President Rickover will explain when you arrive, Senator. Please, step inside.”
“May my PA come with me?”
“Certainly, sir. We’ll make your apologies to the Director of the preserve.”
The Senator climbed inside and offered Ms. Penny a hand. Both belted themselves in, and the SA shut the copter’s hatch, standing well back from the blades as the pilot lifted off, turned sharply and headed back to Washington.
“Senator,” Ms. Penny asked nervously through the earphones. “What can this be about?” Although she had been with the Senator for over ten years and knew the important crusades he was on, she also knew he wasn’t senior enough to rate a Presidential pick up, nor deny the President’s request.
The SA came back and sat opposite the Senator. “Is there anything that I can get you, sir? Water, coffee? This trip will take about twenty-five minutes, total.”
“Why?” De Rosier asked simply, looking at the FBI logos on the interior and the man’s coat.
“The President will explain sir,” the agent said carefully. “Agent James is there, also.”
“Jake James? My former bodyguard? Where exactly are we going? The White House?”
“I believe he is the same agent once assigned to you, Senator. No, we have orders to land at Walter Reed.”
“Walter Reed? Is Rickover injured or sick?”
“No, sir. The President will explain. I don’t know much; just that it involved a shooting near the White House.”
“Felice? Felice is okay?”
“The President’s daughter is with him, and as far as I know, both are fine.”
“Thank God for that. May I have a large coffee, extra light and sweet?” He asked. “Penny?”
“Black.”
The special agent went forward and brought back two thermoses and two covered mugs that had the FBI logo on them. He poured black coffee into both mugs and from the other, milk into the Senator’s, offering him a choice of sweeteners in colored packages.
“Sorry,” he grinned. “No Dunkin Donuts or Keurigs on board. Budget cuts, you know.”
De Rosier grinned, pulled out a handful of his own yellow packets, and added them to the stash. He drank the cup down and held it out for more.
“His blood is half Colombian supreme,” Ms. Penny grinned nervously.
“Is not,” De Rosier came back. “It’s 100% American.” He fell silent, wondering why he was heading for Walter Reed hospital.
*****
The surgeon came out two and a half hours later, looking tired and frustrated. His hands were very clean and cold as he shook the President’s hand.
“Mister President, I’m Doctor Abrams, cardiac surgeon. Doctor Sisson is still in surgery, closing up for me. We repaired the damage to the heart and his lungs, have the blood loss replaced. The bullets hit somewhat high through his back, the first one through his lung, hit his sternum and bounced back into his spine. The second is the one that exited. That one tore a hole in his pericardium, the sac around his heart. The stitches are holding, he’s come through surgery and is still maintaining his blood pressure. His heart is weak, traumatized. He is a 40% chance of surviving the night.”
Felice sobbed in a breath and Rickover hugged her. “Still, I gave him only a 20% chance of surviving open-heart surgery. The oddest thing, I looked under a microscope at the damage when I was stitching and I swear I could see the marks of up of a… birds foot holding the wound closed.” He held out his hand and in them were four the tiny talons with just a hint of blood on them. “They kept the blood from his heart from drowning it until I opened him up. Now tell me, how could a bird get its claws inside a man’s chest and do what it did to try and save his life?”
“You believe in miracles, Doctor Abrams?” The P
resident asked. “Because I do.”
“He’ll be in recovery, then, ICU. Probably won’t wake up for quite a few hours.”
“When can we see him?” Gaines asked his face white. “I’m his dad.”
“His name is Daniel Gaines? We were told. –.”
“You said the bullet bounced off his chest and hit his spine?” Felice asked, wiping at fresh tears.
“Ms. Rickover. Yes.”
“How bad?” Her eyes were huge in her face.
“If he lives, he’ll be paralyzed for life. From the waist down.”
“No. No, no, no!” Felice screamed and turning, she pummeled the wall, the chair until her father restrained her. “It’s not fair!” She cried. “It’s not fair to Danny! God, I hate you!”
“Felice,” her father hugged her in a bear hug that shut out the world. “Felice, you have to be strong. For Danny and for his dad.” He took her into a corner, and whispered to her, slowly getting control of her breathing and emotions. Waiting.
Chapter 32
An eagle’s talons held me together. Hundreds of hairy rat bodies sat on my chest and crawled down my throat gagging me with the taste of naked tails.
It hurt. Tears trickled out of my eyes and pooled around the taste of plastic and rubber. A faint hiss and dry puffs of air. Oh God. My chest hurt so badly. My hands wouldn’t move and I couldn’t feel anything below my knees. Couldn’t feel my thighs or having to go pee. I always had to pee when I woke up.
I tried to open my eyes and saw only a sliver through them. They burned. My face felt huge, my cheeks puffed up into the bottom of my eyelids. I ran my tongue over my teeth, and felt all of them still in there. I ran it around the outside of my mouth and touched the rim of something stuck to the sides of my face. It tasted like plastic.
A lady in a face mask leaned over and looked at me. “Danny?” She turned to speak over her shoulder to someone. “His eyes are flickering. He’s trying to come back. It’s okay, Danny. You’re safe. At Walter Reed hospital. You’re recovering from surgery, Danny. Some people want to see you.”
Dad. Felice. Her dad. I mumbled something. Felice kissed me on the cheek and my face felt hot. She looked years older, dressed in a sober suit of navy blue, her haircut short and styled. She had a huge basket of chocolates, which she set down on the bed tray. The whole room was crammed full of goodies and flowers and people.
Dad kissed me next and tried to find a spot he could hug. I blinked before President Rickover could do the same. He picked up my hand and held it instead. “Danny. How do you feel?”
“Like a Republican won the Presidential election,” I whispered. Somehow, they heard me.
Tremulous smiles appeared on their faces. I was suddenly tired and closed my eyes. I heard Dad jump on the doctor.
“It’s okay, Senator. His vitals are stable. I think he’s just exhausted. He’s probably hurting, too. He’ll wake up later for longer periods. You can stay if you wish, but don’t tire him.”
Dad, I thought. Never too old for hugs, Dad. So he carefully squeezed me around the shoulders and I fell back into the darkness with a ray of light holding my way.
*****
I woke up groggy, crying as the pain moved through me like pins and needles, only they were a hundred times worse. Throbbing, sharp stabs that took my breath away. My toes burned. I cried out, I was on fire.
Dad came to my side. “Danny? Are you in pain? Shall I call the doctor?”
“Dad,” I wailed and he flew out the door yelling for help and scores of people came in the room. All jockeying for position around me as if I was the main course at a buffet line.
“His pulse, respiration, and pressure are all up,” the nurse reported. “Are you hurting, honey?” I nodded in millimeters; my neck brace prevented me from more than that. “How about some morphine, Danny?”
Efficiently, she popped a syringe into my IV and the pain receded. It made everything fuzzy and gave me that ‘I don’t care’ attitude. Hey, I thought sleepily. That thing’s off my face. A jolt hit my stomach and I recognized it not as hunger, but as fear. “Parker,” I moaned. “Parker will get me!”
Mitchell was waiting with them this time, and he found my hand. “Danny, Parker’s dead. Agent James, ‘Matt Dillon’, shot him.” He smiled.
I looked over at Felice and her dad. “You’ve been here all this time?”
She nodded. “Yes, Danny. Did you forget, you saved my dad’s life?”
“I did?” I tried to open my eyes but they were still swollen nearly shut. I could at least talk, even if it was through fat lips.
“Yes, you did, Dantan,” President Rickover smiled. “I’m going to award you with the Presidential Medal of Freedom, Dantan. Not just for saving my life, but for putting yours in danger to protect the morals and laws of this country.”
“Wasn’t me, sir. It was Daniel.” My eyes kept straying to Felice. “You’re all grown up, Lisi,” I mumbled, and saw my Dad motion to everyone in the room.
President Rickover said, “Felice–.”
“I know, Dad. Senator D. I won’t tire him out.”
They rose and left her alone with me in an awkward silence, which I broke first nervously. “Felice, how old are you now?”
“Nineteen, Danny. You?”
“Fourteen, Felice. In my head, I’m still fourteen even if my body says otherwise. Do you have a boyfriend, Felice?”
“No, Danny. You have a girlfriend?”
I waved my hand at the bed and the plastic shell around my belly, waist and hips that kept me from moving. “Who would want me, Felice,” I said in disgust. “I can’t go to the bathroom or even wipe my own butt. I might as well be dead.”
“Don’t you say that, Dantan,” she snapped. “You deserve to live.”
“I didn’t deserve this, Felice,” I said, and stared off into the distance. I felt someone take my hand, and nudge me, we were standing in a room lit by brilliant sunshine and she was gloriously naked so that she looked like she was bathed in fire.
Felice, I breathed and she heard me. In my head. She was there.
Danny, she took my hands and placed them on her amazing breasts and kissed me, open mouth, and she tasted like strawberries and orange dreamsicles and cherry Kool-Aid. Then, her hands moved down my face to my hands and placed them lower, let me explore all those crevices and hollows I’d only dreamed about, but would never admit to. Let me come up for air and I whispered into her neck, can I do this, Felice?
And she smiled. You are doing this, Danny in our minds. I lost you once, and I don’t care how old you think you are in your mind now. And yes, that’s how you do that Ahh God that feels good Danny, I love you I love your eyes. I’ve waited for this since I was ten years old –.
I blinked and she was standing there in my hospital room, her hand at her waist, her eyes heavy lidded and breathing fast. She smiled at me, a deliciously sated smile, leaned over me and kissed me in the flesh, it was every bit as good as being in her head. I groaned and she smothered it with her mouth, pulled down my sheets and regarded the plastic carapace that held my shattered spine and pelvis together.
Washed me off with warm wash cloths and scented lotion and I felt nothing and yet everything. Felt my eyes closing slowly in a gentle sleep with a smile on my face.
Chapter 33
They woke me up in the morning. The Doctor came in and checked the incision in my chest. He was careful not to hurt me while he did it, and was all smiles. “Your EKG looks great, Dantan,” he said. “I have you scheduled for a dye test to see if the sutures inside are holding. How do you feel?”
“Tired. Pain comes and goes. The medicine makes me sleepy.”
“Morphine does that. We can cut back, but it will hurt worse. How’s your eyes?” He flicked a penlight in my brown one, which was the one with the most swelling.
“Did you see that man’s body?” I asked in a low voice.
“You mean the man who shot you, Danny?”
“Yes. He’s dead??
??
“Yes, Danny. Your friend Jake James shot him through the heart, and he fell three stories to the concrete. Broke every bone in his body.”
“Good.” I closed my eyes. “How bad am I broken?” I didn’t want to see his face when he answered. His voice was kind, matter of fact.
“The bullet that hit you in the back, Danny. The first one – it hit your breastbone and ricocheted off to smash into your L3, right above your hips and destroyed your spine, fracturing your pelvis. If one hadn’t crippled you, the other would have. You won’t walk; you’ll likely be unable to control your bowel or urinary systems.” He hesitated. “You might be able to have sex. Sometimes, that still works if your partner helps… stimulate you.”
I laughed, and he thought I was being sarcastic. “Danny, have you had sex, yet?”
“Doc, I’m just fourteen. That’s a little young, isn’t it?”
“Your body is nineteen, Danny. You’re telling me you’ve never had a girl, or masturbated?”
“Maybe Daniel did but not me,” I shrugged my face turning red. “I mean, I kissed girls, but I never went any farther.”
“Felice?”
I looked shocked. “She’s the President’s daughter! You think I want to be hanged?”
“Well, I’m just saying, there’s no reason you can’t try.”
I snickered. “I think my Dad gave me this talk when I was twelve, Doc. I’m hungry. Any chance of a meal?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he smiled. “In the meantime, do what the nurses and therapists tell you. Ask for pain medicine when it hurts. Rest. Take it easy. I just stitched you back together only four days ago.” I waved my one good hand at him and never heard him leave my room.
*****
The physical therapist came in my room while I was sleeping and woke me up as I started to scream. I don’t remember why I was screaming, I only knew it was horrible. It brought more people in to find out what was going on; that the only one I wanted was my dad. I reached up to him, dragged his body close to mine and shuddered against his broad chest. He smelled so familiar that I started crying. He rubbed my head and the back of my shoulders, murmuring words I had listened to many times before when I was little.
“Dad,” I shivered, and he kissed me on the forehead.
“Danny boy, God, how I missed you.”
“Dad, Uncle Townsley?”