A Father's Sacrifice (6 page)

He nodded. “There aren’t enough hours in a day. I could complete it tomorrow, or it could take a year. I’ve got to believe it will happen tomorrow. If I could, I’d let NSA move the prototype, but it’s much too fragile.”

“Who’ll be operating on Ben?”

Dylan’s brows raised. “Me, of course.”

She was surprised. “You? Don’t you think you’re too emotionally involved?”

“It doesn’t matter if I am or not. There are only three neurosurgeons in the world who have the expertise to handle this intricate microscopic surgery.”

“Only three?”

He nodded grimly. “Two besides me.”

“Who are they?”

“There’s no way you’d know them. One is Mohan Patel, at the University of Mumbai in India. The other is Frederick Werner. He’s at Johns Hopkins. I studied under him.”

“Why couldn’t one of them do the operation?”

“Because Ben is
my
son.” His expression darkened. “I don’t need someone else to do the surgery. I’ve b
een preparing for this for three years. Besides, it’s all moot if I can’t complete the nerve mapping in time.”

“And the code? It’s still buggy?”

“There’s at least one more error we can’t find.” He sighed. “Campbell and I have looked at it too long. We need a fresh eye. And now we’ve got a hacker trying to steal the code almost certainly to sell to some foreign government. That’s why I asked NSA to send me the best.”

They reached the entrance to the back stairs. Dylan pressed his thumb against the pad and keyed in the current pass code. He held the heavy security door open for her.

As she walked past him, he caught her arm. His hot touch branded her through the sleeve of her sweater. She looked up and met his haunted gaze.

“Help me debug the computer program. Build a firewall no hacker can get past. Give me the time I need to finish. If anything happens to the program or the prototype, my son will lose his last chance.” His voice cracked. “Do you understand what that means?”

She nodded, thinking of the wire braces propped beside Ben’s little bed.

“I doubt you do. In another few weeks, Ben won’t even be able to use the braces.” Dylan’s voice cracked.

Shock and denial pierced her chest. “What do you mean? He seems to handle the braces just fine.”

“Once the nerve damage progresses by another ten percent, he won’t be able to move his legs at all. The braces will be useless, and my son will be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life.”

Her heart squeezed painfully. “But I thought the interface—”

His anguished gaze answered her.
Must have viable muscle and nerve.
Not even Stryker’s genius could stop the damage from becoming permanent.

She had a fleeting vision of that vital, healthy little boy stuck in a wheelchair, the cold metal sucking the life out of him. Trapped as surely as if he were buried alive.

Nausea swirled through her and a trickle of sweat slid down the back of her neck.

Dylan gripped her arm. “Can you do it?” His eyes glittered in the dim night. “Can you hold the hacker at bay until I finish the prototype? It’s Ben’s only chance to be normal.”

Chapter Three

The next morning at breakfast, Charlene grudgingly asked Natasha if she’d like to walk outside with her and Ben. “He’s had a rough morning already, so we’re skipping the morning therapy session.”

Charlene’s demeanor hardly fit her friendly words. Natasha figured Mintz had ordered her to show Natasha Ben’s playground. But the computer equipment wouldn’t arrive until around noon, and she wasn’t about to give up the chance to see what passed for
outside,
or to find out more about Charlene. “I’d love to.”

Natasha changed into a sleeveless white top and jeans, and wove her hair into a French braid. She started to leave her weapon in her room, but changed her mind. She was on duty. She buckled on the fanny pack and stored the Glock inside it.

When she met Ben and Charlene in the atrium, Ben was whiny.

“You said he’d had a rough morning?”

Charlene leaned close to Natasha. “Dr. Stryker examined him. That’s always painful for Ben.”

“Painful?” Natasha frowned.

Charlene nodded as she took Ben’s hand. “Come on, cowboy, let’s go outside.”

Outside
consisted of a play area off the kitchen, about the size of a tennis court, and covered by the camouflage mesh canopy Mintz had told her about. The area was bordered on the back and west by the house, and on the other two sides by a thick evergreen hedge.

“Ben can’t go beyond the hedge. Dr. Stryker doesn’t take even the smallest chance that someone might get a glimpse of him.” Charlene leaned closer. “You know the world thinks Ben died in the accident.”

Natasha nodded as she surveyed the play area. Stone paths led through a maze of flowers and shrubs. A little swing set and toys occupied one side of the yard. In the center sat a goldfish pond with a clear acrylic barrier around it, so Ben could see the fish but couldn’t fall in.

She looked skyward, then out past the thick hedge. The canopy shaded the manicured play area, while the field beyond the hedge was overgrown and wild, just the kind of place a child would love to run and explore. The kind of place that would put color in Ben’s cheeks and make him smile.

“I guess this area gives him some sunlight,” she conceded, spreading her hand. The canopy broke the sunlight into dots of light and shadow across her palm.

“He loves it out here, don’t you, cowboy?”

But Ben stood beside Charlene, looking dejected.

Charlene held out a soft fuzzy toy helicopter. “Go play.”

“I wanna see a real copter,” Ben whined.

“There’s no real copter today.” Charlene sounded bored and irritated. “Play with your toy.”

Catching Natasha’s eye, she shrugged. “One of the guards showed him a helicopter flying over the field out there one day. Now he’s obsessed.”

“I want my daddy. Where’s Daddy?”

Charlene sighed and put her hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Why don’t you find a butterfly?” She pointed. “Is that one?”

“Butterfly?” Ben’s attention was caught. “Butterfly!” he shouted, moving toward a bed of flowers.

“I really wish Dr. Stryker would examine him in the evening instead of the morning. He’s pouty all day afterward.”

Natasha dragged her gaze away from Ben’s search for the butterfly. “What does an examination entail?”

Charlene outlined the arduous testing, stretching and measuring. Just as she started describing needle stimulation of nerves, a security guard appeared from the house. It was Hector Alvarez. Mintz had introduced them the first night.

With a stealthy glance at Natasha, he spoke to Charlene. “I need to check your pass code device,” he said. “Some of them are malfunctioning.”

“Sure, Hector.” She glanced back toward Ben as she dug in her pocket. “Hey, cowboy, come back this way,” she called.

Natasha assessed the guard as Charlene handed him her card. Was he going to check
her
device? The guard grinned and leaned close to whisper in Charlene’s ear.

Apparently not.

As Natasha smiled wryly at Hector’s ruse to steal a moment alone with Charlene, she became aware of
a low rumble and realized the sound had been growing for several seconds. She turned just as it intensified into a rhythmic roar.

“Copter!” Ben squealed in delight.

He was farther away than she’d realized, almost to the hedge.

“Ben, no!” she cried as a helicopter came into view beyond the trees.

From the corner of her eye she saw Charlene whip around. “Ben, get back here,” Charlene shouted.

He disappeared into the tangle of shrubbery.

“Ben!” Natasha ran. She lunged through the hedge, her arms up to protect her face. Limbs and twigs caught at her clothes and hair as she pushed forward against the thick mesh of branches.

She emerged into full sunlight just as the helicopter flew overhead. Ben ran toward its shadow, his braces catching the sun, his arms stretched skyward.

“Copter! Copter!”

Natasha threw herself toward the child.

The helicopter swooped alarmingly low just as she wrapped Ben in her arms and rolled over on top of him. She caught a metallic flash as the downwash from the rotors blew dust and dirt into her eyes.

Metal! Camera or gun?

Instinctively she shielded Ben’s body with hers. Her back muscles contracted with the expectation of a bullet.

She heard the
rat-tat-tat
of an automatic weapon. She cringed and tried to spread herself more completely over the shuddering, crying child beneath her.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, tucking his face into her shoulder. “Close your eyes, sweetie. You’re safe.”

Dust and grass cuttings swirled around them, stinging her arms and neck as the helicopter rose and sped away.

Somebody put a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you all right?” It was Hector, the guard.

As Natasha sat up, Charlene appeared, her wide, terrified gaze scanning the child’s body for injuries.

“Ben! What were you doing? Oh, you bad boy!” She sounded close to hysteria.

She reached for Ben, but he turned to Natasha. Her heart twisted in fear and relief as she gathered him into her arms.

Charlene stopped short.

Ben wailed and clung to Natasha’s neck.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” she whispered, hugging his small body tightly. “I know how scary it is.” She rubbed his back and whispered. “I know. I know.”

“Give him to me,” Charlene said.

But Natasha ignored her and rose without letting go of Ben. She blinked dust out of her eyes. Every inch of her stung where the sharp branches had scratched her.

She surveyed the sky and the surrounding area, but saw nothing. Then she glared at the obviously shaken guard.

He clutched his weapon with white-knuckled fingers. Faint horror darkened his gaze as he looked her and Ben over. “Is Ben okay, ma’am? Are you?”

“Yes. We’re fine. It’s Hector, right? Who fired weapons?”

The guard’s face was ashen. “Ma’am, I did.”

Natasha cradled the back of Ben’s head. He buried his nose in her neck. “Was the copter armed? Did you hit it? What did you see?”

The guard stammered. “I—I tried to aim for the landing gear. I don’t think I hit anything.”

“There was someone leaning out the door. They had either a camera or a gun. You didn’t see that?”

He shook his head. “All I saw was a flash of light. My instructions are to defend.”

“Not to observe?” Natasha snapped.

“Of course, ma’am.” He flushed, red creeping up his neck to his cheeks and ears. “I did the best I could.”

Natasha sniffed. “Once you dragged your attention away from Charlene,” she muttered.

Hector’s eyes narrowed and she caught a flash of anger in them.

She squinted and surveyed the tree line again. “If it was a camera, we’ll know soon enough. There will be at least one story about Dr. Stryker’s son on the news tonight.” She shot a disgusted glance at the guard. “Not to mention the story of ground fire.”

She turned her attention back to Ben, wiping his dusty, tear-streaked face with her fingers. He kept his head pressed against her collarbone, his tiny fists clutching her shirt.

She tasted dust and grit. Her face burned where the bushes had scratched it. She examined Ben’s arms and face. A few shiny spheres of blood dotted his arms.

“Natasha,” Charlene said. “Give Ben to me. I need to take him inside and examine him.”

“I’ve got him.” Natasha spoke over Ben’s head, struggling to keep her voice steady and soothing. Ben had quit shivering and his crying had changed to quiet sobs. She was not about to let him be upset any fur
ther. And right this minute she didn’t trust Charlene or Hector as far as she could throw them.

She scanned the hedge and spotted the gate near the boundary. So that’s how the two of them had gotten through without a scratch. They’d taken the time to run to the gate.

Sniffing derisively, she shifted Ben’s weight to her other side as she headed toward the house. She wasn’t about to let him go until she placed him in his father’s arms.

“I want Daddy,” Ben whined, wriggling.

“I know, sweetie.” Natasha pressed a kiss to his damp, grimy cheek.

Mintz appeared at the kitchen door, his face nearly purple with rage.

Natasha stopped in front of him. “Sir, I’m sorry—”

The security chief ruffled Ben’s hair and nodded at Natasha. “Good job,” he muttered, then he stalked toward the guard.

“Hector, what the hell happened out here?”

Natasha hardly spared a thought for the fate of the inexperienced security guard. She needed to find Dylan.

Ignoring Charlene’s voice, and surprised at how natural it suddenly felt to hold and comfort Ben, she stalked through the atrium and into the living quarters.

Dylan met them at the door to Ben’s room.

“Daddy!” Ben cried. He twisted and lunged toward his father.

Natasha breathed a sigh of relief as Dylan gathered his son in his strong safe arms.

Dylan fiercely hugged the small, sturdy body that was more precious to him than his own breath.

For a moment he couldn’t speak. He j
ust held on to his son as big sobs racked Ben’s body. The smell of grass and dirt swirled through his senses.

“Hey, sport, you okay?” Dylan whispered, a catch in his voice. He brushed twigs and dust from his son’s hair and inspected the scratches on his face and arms.

“Daddy! I saw a copter! It got close! The wind blew all around! I was scared, Daddy!
Real
scared!”

“I know, sport, I know.” He pulled Ben close and kissed his dusty forehead just as Charlene rushed in, her face pallid and streaked with tears.

He glared at her.

“Dr. Stryker, I don’t know how it happened. Natasha wanted to go out to the play area with us, and then Hector insisted on seeing my entry card—”

“Stop blubbering,” Dylan whispered hotly as he patted his son’s back.

He looked at Natasha. Her appearance shocked him. Although her face was composed, she was a mess. Her face was scraped in several places. Her long lashes were white with dust, as were her jeans. Blood dotted her arms and hands where the sharp branches of the hedge had scratched her. An angry gash marred her left arm. Her blond braid was coming undone, and twigs and grass clung to her hair.