“You haven’t had access to mail, so you may not know that we’ve changed the rules somewhat around how the work of the Intellectual Corps may be done. If you continue to work on clean water and water reclamation research projects, you can do that within private industry with certain expectations around commercialization of your output.”
Phoebe looked toward me. “I think Mom tried to tell me that. Good. I’d like to send someone to Chicago to pack my things when I’m ready to relocate. I’m thinking of Northern Wisconsin along Lake Michigan.”
A yawn preceded Milan’s response. “Take advantage of the technology corridor funding in that peninsula area.”
“Exactly.” She smiled, looked relieved and sleepy. “Is there anything else I should know, Milan? Will you still be here for me?”
“Only as a friend, Phoebe.” He cleared his throat. “The legal guardian structure has been replaced. My new role is rather demanding.”
“Congratulations.” Her words and facial expression appeared contradictory.
“There is one important development with Ahlmet’s passing. He’s willed continued work on his implant technology to you—labs, patents, contracts.” Milan paused, providing Phoebe and me time to absorb this news. “Of course most of that wasn’t his to give away, but there will be handsome royalties in the future that will pass to you.”
Her lips turned downward and she shook her head. “I’ll want a voice in how that technology is deployed. I don’t want money made by enslaving people’s minds. You have no idea what that was like.”
“That will be one of the issues Anne’s new group will review. It certainly is a rare governmental ethics challenge.” Milan waited while Phoebe yawned then put a hand to the incisions on her neck. “There’s time for all this to be discussed when you are stronger. Go to sleep, Phoebe. No one expects you back at work for the next few weeks. And, let Anne go back to sleep or she and I will be yawning at the White House tonight.” He disappeared.
“Sleep here, Mom.” She pressed her call button. “That chair extends and I’ll have the staff give both of us something that will give us a couple of hours of good zzz’s.” Someone entered her alcove. “Please don’t leave me alone.”
Chapter 38
I escaped David’s snores with a few hours resting on the chair-cot and a deep inhale of some medicinal smelling vapor. Before the lights dimmed, my eyes closed. I awoke with none of that sluggish feeling that accompanied sleep aids. Phoebe didn’t stir as I left her side.
Resident workers showed surprise at the sight of me walking through sunlit halls upstairs in my robe and slippers. For a moment I thought of playing lady of leisure and stopping in the dining room for breakfast before dressing. But I wasn’t a person with time to waste. Hartford, Ltd., needed a thoughtful transition and my government mail had to be read.
“Ms. Hartford.” I turned at a stranger’s voice. Another brown suit walked out from the formal gathering room. “Your stepson is waiting to talk with you in the family room.”
“How many of you are wandering around?” I asked.
He smiled, shrugged.
“I know. That’s classified.” With brown suits, handlers, watchers, and cares, the federal government had built an army of secret support employees. I began to understand why there was constant pressure for Hartford, Ltd., to accept workers within our domestic positions. Our halls could be a training site for jobs that required unobtrusive behavior. Perhaps some of our trainees received their true pay from federal agencies. I swerved from the short hall to our suite and headed to the family room.
“They said you were visiting Phoebe,” Noah said as he took in my attire.
“That is partly true.” I sat down. “We had a conference with Milan around three thirty then I let the staff give me a little something so I could sleep for a few hours. And here I am, wandering about in my pjs when you are all up and working.”
“Let me have the guy in brown bring you some coffee.”
“I was just wondering if Ashwood had helped train people who became brown suits. Quite a job description--personal attendant, body guard, watcher.” Noah did not respond to my comment. “What has Milan done?”
I called to the nameless shadow waiting in the hall. “Could you please get me a carafe of coffee and two cups? Maybe a muffin.” He showed no surprise at being sent on an errand. “Thanks.”
Noah moved toward a corner of the room. Faith’s cat, the only one allowed above the lower levels in the residence, lounged on the back of a chair. He picked it up and sat down, holding the lazy animal in his lap. “You’re not the only one to talk with Milan. That guy must never sleep.”
“This sounds serious.”
“They want me back in the Intellectual Corps. Different terms. This could change my plans at Mayo.”
Growing up alongside Phoebe’s brilliance, Noah’s extraordinary intellect attracted less attention. Our family gentle soul, free spirit, comedian, and least predictable member had opted out of the Intellectual Corps without a second look.
“What does your father think?”
“I don’t have to talk with him to know he’ll be against it. You’ve both preached the dream of determining our own lives. I wanted to talk this one through with you.”
A knock at the room’s door gave me time to pull thoughts together as coffee and a complete breakfast tray was carried in by a regular Ashwood worker. Noah pulled a table closer. I poured us coffee, stirred cream into mine, and suddenly remembered my mother giving up this small treat while fighting weight and cholesterol. A different life.
“Tell me why Milan’s invitation feels right.” I took my first sip of coffee.
“If I want access to the best research facilities and staff, there are two or three ways possible. Intellectual Corps, multi-corps, or large university that is probably tied to one of the multi-corps. Even Mayo couldn’t commit resources to research that wasn’t commercially viable.” Noah poured generous cream into his coffee. Ashwood would destroy his taste for the white liquid called cream in the metro. “I like the Mayo folks, and I understand the reality of today’s economics, but I’ve become concerned that I’ll be tracked into research that’s on a corporate research agenda.”
“You really don’t want to practice medicine? The surgical crew thought you were a natural.”
“Of course I’d like to practice medicine, but Phoebe and I were engineered to do more.” He raised one eyebrow, a David gesture. “I need to accept my responsibility to make a difference. To find ways to keep people healthier longer. I’ve screwed away enough time.”
Noah might not have worked to his potential, but he had scarcely led a leisurely life. “Tell me what Milan offered.”
“Expedited med school wherever I choose, and support for establishing my own research connected to a major medical institution or contained within one of the Bureau’s centers.” He paused, slowed his recital. “I have to sign a five-year post-doctoral agreement. Financials aren’t a lot different than what Phoebe has described.” His seriousness broke as he changed to typical Noah concerns. “Eight weeks vacation per year. Support if I choose to do research off-site. Housing not limited to Bureau barracks, limitations on handlers and watchers. Picking my own care. A personal transport and private jet travel.”
“What, no king bed or dog?” We laughed. “Would you like Raima to review the proposal?”
“It’s already in her office.”
Breakfast waited, couldn’t distract me from this conversation. “You’ve made up your mind. Will you still study at Mayo or head somewhere else?”
His hands connected behind his head as he leaned into his chair. The cat jumped off his lap. “I’m attracted to Stanford, but the geophysical situation is too threatening for long-term research facilities. It’s down to Harvard and Mayo at this point. One has the prestige and I am attr
acted to the other because of its outreach facilities in many parts of the world. I’ll let you know next week.”
“Congratulations, Noah.” I put down my cup and stood up to hug him. He threw his arms around me and patted my back. “Ashwood’s school will become even better known for early education of two of the Intellectual Corps.”
“If we could lure Andrew to the Corps, that would be three. You should become known for raising brainiac kids as rather ordinary people.” He pulled away. “Well, relatively ordinary considering our genetic engineering.”
“Talk with your father.”
“Later.” He winked. “First, I’ll finish your breakfast.”
Back in my room, I gathered clothes and locked myself in the bathroom where David assured me there were no monitors. As the shower dashed away the last of my sleepiness, I forced myself to think positively about Noah’s decision.
Chapter 39
A Bureau air transport dropped me off in Ashwood’s courtyard shortly before midnight after a day that included Washington, D.C., meetings and a press conference. The announcement served a fresh face to the media for its perpetual news cycle. By the time I boarded my ride home, everything known about my past had been turned into dinner table chatter with a few leftovers for the morning. Everything was open—David’s years with the DOE, my surrogate status, the Paraguay abduction and occupation of Ashwood, Tia’s career and death, the Stolen Children campaign, our children’s careers, Phoebe’s Intellectual Corps achievements, and slightly confused stories about the shooting episode. Many reporters pegged my long-standing relationship with Milan as the reason I accepted President Hernandez’s invitation. Everyone seemed eager to gloss over the fact that I served under commission, not involuntarily. The political and media sharks waited in the waters hungry for more.
David greeted me from the screen porch, but suggested we relax with wine and cheese in our suite. I knew he was troubled.
“Tell me about your day,” he invited with a tight smile. “I saw more bad pictures of us than I remember.”
Accepting that others would now do for me, I handed my briefcase and suit bag over to an assistant and walked with empty arms to our room. David turned the monitor to blur while I slipped into clean pjs. I spread my toes on the cool wood floor, delighted to be out of dress shoes.
“I believe Milan wants ethics guidelines developed for the agency and has vetted good people.” David looked interested, but not like he was listening. “I also believe Hernandez is willing to let Milan have his ethics group in return for his taking on a huge, shitty mess. She may not want much to happen out of the ethics work. Very mixed messages.”
“What about housing and staff?” He poured himself a full goblet of white wine.
“I’ll have a generous two-bedroom-plus-den apartment in a building that houses embassy and Congressional staff without permanent addresses. It’s very secure. Staffing is a topic for tomorrow.” I put my hand over my wine glass as he held out the bottle.
“Did you know Amber is preparing Dad’s former rooms for Andrew and Phoebe?”
I thought he was upset because of Noah’s decision and was surprised. “We didn’t talk about it, but the space would work.”
“And you’re comfortable with housing them together?” He sounded confused, not angry.
“They’re adults. They don’t have to ask permission.”
David concentrated on the wine he swirled in his glass instead of looking my way. “Andrew must recognize that Phoebe is in no shape to make personal decisions. His life will be hell, and when they separate, our family will suffer.”
A sigh escaped, a tired sigh. Crop reports and investment decisions made easier problems than politics and bedfellows.
“They are adults, David. I have concerns as well. We’ll talk with them but not until they’re stronger. The shared room can always be talked about as part of the recovery strategy.”
“Do you feel the same way about Noah’s decision to throw aside medical school and join the corps?”
“Noah presented an impressive set of reasons for why he’s made this decision. His terms are more flexible. I couldn’t find anything outside my own hopes and fears to tell him this might be a mistake.”
“Look at what’s happened to Phoebe’s life.” He pointed my way with his wine glass. “Tell me that’s the way you want another one of the kids to live.”
“There is a new administration of the Intellectual Corps.” I put my hand on his knee. “And Noah is a mature individual, not an impressionable teenager.”
“He knows that I don’t agree, but he signed the papers today. He’ll be moving to Boston in August and doing some hocus pocus expedited medical training at Harvard.”
“You didn’t use those words with him.”
David put down his glass, settled one hand over mine, and shook his head. “Of course not. We could have offered him financial support to set up a medical practice.”
“I know.”
“If this doesn’t work out for Noah, it will be tough for me to forget how tight you’ve been with Milan.”
“I know that also.” We sat quietly. I glanced at a clock and saw I had only four and a half hours until my first Washington, D.C., weekly phone call.
“And I heard that Amber has been spending her nights with John.” David drank the end of his wine, looked over the glass rim for my reaction.
I should have been shocked, but the day had stripped away most of that emotion. I giggled.
David groaned. “Our son is so good looking.”
“So is she.” Now I understood why she looked good even at two in the morning, sneaking into the kitchen.
“I may be getting older, but I still recognize a beautiful woman. She’s also six years older than he is.”
“Unless you want to go wake them up right now, I really need to get some sleep.” My voice cracked. “I have a conference call at six thirty.”
“I missed you.” David tucked me under the cover and turned off the lights. “Go to sleep.”
In the dark my body slipped into relaxation while my mind stuck on David’s unhappiness about our children’s choices. Andrew’s love couldn’t magically smooth over Phoebe’s perplexing mixture of sweetness, narcissism, common sense and cunning. That mixture made her successful in school and work, but could be toxic in a marriage and parenting.
David snored lightly, turned on his back, and stretched his legs across the foot of our bed. He twitched then settled. I moved toward the edge of the mattress, closed my eyes, and meditated until distractions faded. The alarm sounded at five and decades of repetition pushed me along. Instead of heading to my office, I turned to the kitchen for coffee and companionship with Terrell and Amber.
“Ms. Commissioner is back in residence,” Terrell teased. “Before the brown suits learn how you like your coffee, let me pour you a mug.” For a moment the simple kindness of friends brought nostalgia stronger than the aroma of Terrell’s heavenly brew. “You okay?” he asked as he handed me my favorite blue clay mug.
“Three very late nights after three intense days.” Accepting the coffee, I brought it to my face and inhaled. “If the CEO of Hartford, Frances, and your wonderful kids don’t mind, I’d like to make you my first Washington, D.C. hire.” I laughed to assure him I was joking. “You’ll be my second hire, Amber. A year in D.C. would teach you much about the world.”
She smiled, but her deep brown eyes showed confusion. Usually easy with words, Amber had nothing to say.
Terrell watched the two of us. He probably knew what was happening in Amber’s personal life. A woman wouldn’t talk with the mother of her lover about such things. I sipped at my coffee, wondering what I was looking for in the kitchen.
“If you got a few minutes, let’s grab you a breakfast bowl and eat in my office.” Terrell picked up a t
ray marked for my office. “Unless the two of you need to talk?”
“We’ll catch up later, Anne.” Amber nodded and pulled out her data pad. “Have a good morning.”
New packaging for high-priced cereals filled the conference table in Terrell’s office, but we settled in our regular place for conversation, two overstuffed chairs in the corner. Here his kids sometimes studied, here Terrell handed out his worldly counsel.
“How was D.C.?” Terrell crossed one ankle over the top of his other leg. “Looked like the media goons want to party on this whole ethics board thing. You in for a rough ride?”
“It’s murkier than working with the FDA on the organic wheat council. And the politics are crazy. The multi-corps have nothing on the federal government when it comes to wondering who is pulling the strings.” The first bite of an egg and bacon croissant incited a small sense of wellness. “Dinner was a protein stick and a wrap of sweet o’s on the transport. I’ll pack fruit and nuts in the future.”
I took another bite. “What’s happening here? Phoebe and Andrew and the federal government seem to be distracting me from keeping on top of the people news.”
“What are you fishing for, Annie?” His eyes twinkled.
“Something about my youngest son and the beautiful Ms. Amber.”
“Something your husband discovered when he walked in on a personal conversation?”
“I thought she’d nab Andrew. They’re closer in age and have always been so companionable.”
“Age and companionship don’t usually spark romance. John and Amber are definitely an item.” He quirked his head. “You okay with it?”
“I’ll have gorgeous grandchildren.”
He held up a hand for a high five. “And David?”
“Lots happening in our personal world and he’s not used to dealing with the messy side of parenting.” I put my tray on the floor, kept the coffee close. “You’re not that many years from kids thinking about what to do after finishing their schooling here. Maybe you hope one of them will be a doctor and they both decide to go for government jobs in the city.”
Leaving Ashwood Page 24