Ashwood

by Cynthia Kraack

  Silence can develop its own beat, slow as a resting heart, while the actual pulse of a discussion moves many times faster. I counted, at first to calm myself, then to tap into that energy. Still Sandra sat without a word of correction or defense and I knew I had been chosen for Ashwood not only because of my talents, but also to satisfy the sexual needs of this aged bureaucrat. My confidante and coach, my surrogate mother when I was a surrogate, betrayed me as she might any other young woman in the training system.

  I knew no one from the Bureau would be calling to respond to the logical filing of complaints of worker abduction and sexual impropriety because Sandra was here to bring her peer a satisfactory resolution. I played out the string.

  “Surprising my regional coordinator hasn’t called,” I said. “The offices opened fifteen minutes ago. I tried to look her up yesterday following the tutor interviews, but the headquarters was just a lot of dark hallways lined with locked doors. Quite a different feeling than Washington, D.C.” I cleared my throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get something for my ribs from the office kitchen. Do you have everything you need?”

  Richard—and many of the people who knew the former Anne—would have been proud of how I walked away without scorching Sandra. I closed my office door while pressing David’s number. He looked out of his office, and I gestured for him to join me in the kitchen. While he walked over, I calmly chose a painkiller and filled a glass with water.

  His bruise once again shocked me. “What’s up? I understand Lao just took the estate into a tighter lock down. Nurse Kim won’t allow Phoebe out of the main residence.”

  I nodded.

  “You all right?”

  “Things are getting quite ugly. I have to get back in there, but I’d like you to check that Lao or Terrell is collecting audio as I requested. I can’t explain more right now.”

  “I’m on my way to the nursery. I’ll talk with them.” He put an arm around my shoulder, invited me to lean back into his body with subtle placement of his hand. “Is that all I can do? You look unwound.”

  Leaning into his shoulder felt good, a kind of secure I could remember. “That’s a good description—I feel unwound.” I straightened and swallowed the tablet. Walking back, I raised each shoulder, twisted side to side, looking for a less painful stretch to help take me through a tighter and tighter situation. God, what an awful job Sandra held as dear, a Gestapo queen among the female troops, bartering away the workforce to trade favors with her peers, to live in a prestigious Georgetown home and gather her power.

  I closed my office door once again, sat across from Sandra at the table and folded my hands on its curved edge. “No one’s going to call, isn’t that right, Sandra? You’re here to put together a deal, and I’d guess your primary interest is in protecting Senior Executive Director Jensen of Great Pines, not Matron Anne of Ashwood. No one in this region will care if I’m mustered out or kept quiet in some way, but bringing down a peer would cause too many ripples in your career stream.”

  Sandra pushed a slip of paper, folded once, across the table.

  “Matron Anne.” Lao’s voice, calm yet commanding, whispered in my earpiece. “I’ve activated total visual scanning in your office. Lean back and we’ll capture the paper. Consider it part of lockdown protocol.”

  “Thanks, Lao.” I turned to Sandra and shared that Ashwood was moving into deeper lockdown.

  “You should also know, Matron,” Lao continued, “that we have just confiscated a Giant Pines produce truck which attempted to ram through the day laborers’ entrance. I have filed an estate police request for its removal and a regional police report. The driver is in gatehouse security.”

  I characterized the estate manager training program as semi-military, but we never studied war strategies. I knew lockdown protocol, understood the many reasons an estate might activate each step as a protective maneuver, but all on a very theoretical level. At this step, many decisions now were defaulted to Lao.

  “Keep me informed, Lao. I appreciate everything you’re doing. This could be a long day.”

  “Hold your ground, Matron.”

  So the files may find their way to the Department of Energy, screamed through my thoughts, and then self-protection toned down the alarm. Maybe that’s where justice would be found. I kept Lao’s information to myself, unfolded the paper and laid it open on the table. Sandra’s block-style writing that once brought feelings of friendship filled the page:

  Re-instate Jensen’s produce contract = one year salary allotment invested per year of contract extension. In-kind personal relationship with Jensen + re-instatement of produce contract for five-year duration of Ashwood estate management = Ashwood (or similar estate) deed granted to Anne Hartford at end of agreement. If not either of the above, reassignment within chosen region + six-month salary allocation to personal investment account for disruption of plans. Confidentiality of arrangement strictly enforced through management through office of Sandra Goetz, Senior Executive Director, Human Capital Management Bureau.

  “Did you forget my child,” I asked, flippancy entering when logic failed to grasp what I read.

  She reminded me why rookies should never take on the manipulative pros. “Have your own at the end of your contract. I seem to remember you used that plan to justify the surrogacy decision. Something about investing the surrogate fee to buy your freedom to have your own child before you turned forty. Why should we pay for something you can do yourself? Find a willing mate or buy genetic material. You’ll have the resources.”

  The Bureau chose trainees for their weaknesses as well as strengths, that their profiling system included the fissures of each candidate for later exploration. So hard to stay out of shame when she twisted together truths.

  “Why, Sandra?” I held up the slip of paper. “This is so disrespectful to me as a professional and a woman.”

  “Why not, Anne? You see, there’s much in common between that slip of paper and the decision you made a few years ago to be a surrogate. We both are willing to barter use of these rather insignificant bodies for a limited period of time to secure the future we think we want. Women have done that for centuries—queens, courtesans, mistresses in penthouses. Why not, Anne?”

  “Matron Anne.” Lao’s voice broke through the many levels of emotion and wonder evoked by Sandra. “Regional security representatives are on route to Ashwood. Your presence is required for a meeting in approximately twenty-five minutes.”

  “Where do you want me, Lao?”

  “Meeting should take place in the Ashwood residence to keep governance issues straight. We’ve chosen the staff conference room.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Matron, this meeting is closed to outside parties.”

  I understood him clearly and turned to face Sandra. “We have a security breach that requires my attention. I have about ten minutes.”

  “It would be good to refresh my familiarity with actual estate security issues. I’ll join you.” She squared her shoulders, placed hands on the chair arms as if to rise.

  “I’m sorry, but we now operate under Lao’s direction on issues related to the estate’s safety. He’s quite specific that I attend alone.”

  She raised herself up as I stood. “If you’ve made your choice, I could be out of your way and let you concentrate on the commotion.”

  In her world of trading favors with big-name bureaucrats, Ashwood’s tempest could be described as a commotion. But, in my head the word sounded patronizing, diminishing the angst experienced by individuals giving more than their fair share to be a part of Ashwood’s great turnaround.

  “It isn’t that simple, Sandra. You’ve given me three very unattractive options—all which will benefit Senior Executive Director Jensen while offering me no legal protection. I can realize financial gain by continuing to bankrupt this estate, in addition I could serve as a very highly compensated prostitute then take over ownership of a bankrupt Ashwood as reward, or I could be banishe
d wherever you chose to send me. Not one of the choices holds Jensen, or you, accountable for the misery experienced by the people of Ashwood or possible destruction of my reputation.”

  “What did you expect, Anne? You have a powerfully creative imagination about all the bad things that could happen in the future. Tell me again what you expected when I showed up this morning?”

  “Protection for Ashwood’s physical plant and its people, guidance as I work our way through Jensen’s maze of tricks, official sanctions against Giant Pines. All of that is within your reach.” I picked up my data pad. Sandra and I looked at each other for five seconds. I couldn’t read her face. “I’ll send someone to give you a tour of the estate while I’m in the security meeting, or we can make arrangements for return of your transport. My day may be unpredictable.”

  She sat down, a kindly smile bringing back the Sandra I’d greeted at Ashwood’s front door. “Why don’t you come back within the hour, and we’ll continue our conversation? I have things to keep me busy while you’re away.”

  “If you’d like a place to wait, come with me. We have empty visitor work spaces on the other side of these offices. You will need to use your own data pad and phone since this is DOE space.”

  Sandra followed me out of my office. I closed the door, dragged my thumb across the lock. I could only hope she hadn’t gone through my things as well as Ashwood’s systems when I was outside earlier. I pointed out where to find coffee or tea then settled her in an office with a view of the estate’s lower growing acres, now covered with snow for as far as the eye could see. I let Lao know I was on my way.

  The house felt cold in spite of sunlight pouring through tall windows. I stopped in a bathroom, saw the face David called “unwound.” Beyond the absence of normal color, tension held my lower face taunt. My eyes almost squinted under a worried brow. Tiny scrapes and bumps marked both cheeks. I held my hands under water for a few moments, dried them and ran my fingers through my hair in a futile effort to exert control over curls and waves developing with the new shorter length. I looked in the mirror again, still encountered a changed woman.

  While walking through the kitchen toward the conference room, Terrell moved to my side and touched my arm. I turned toward him, distracted by the most amazing scene outside the window where we had shared our morning coffee. A Giant Pines transport blocked our lower gate area. Ashwood’s estate security, the estate region’s security forces, two transports from the Department of Energy and a regional guard field vehicle parked across the roadway.

  “The militia’s come to your defense, Ms. Anne. People going way out on their particular limb to do what’s right for this place, these people and you. Mighty amazing sight.”

  First I thought of where our workers were situated, then I let that go with assurance Lao had thought of their safety. That left me faced with the enormity of vehicles at Ashwood’s gate. “Please tell me Lao hasn’t stepped outside protocol and risked his future.”

  “Can’t say that, Matron. I’ll tell you Director David was all over him about protecting you and Director Tia from the enemy down the road. This morning’s visits from that neighbor’s people raised Lao’s concern. But when Magda discovered one of our laborers branding a new calf with Giant Pines’ iron, Lao took big steps. Seems like folks here have lost confidence in what your Bureau says will happen, Matron.”

  I froze in place, wondering if Sandra knew about Jensen’s display of his intention to ignore the Bureau’s orders to cease harassment of Ashwood. Terrell became a blur as he moved to the sink area then back.

  “Better take a breath before you walk into that meeting. Did you eat your breakfast?” He laid hands on my shoulders and gently squeezed. “Loosen up, lady. You look like a powerful, beautiful woman when these shoulders are in position.” He moved a cool cloth from the counter into my hand. “Wipe that across your forehead and close your eyes for just a second.”

  The scents of lavender and winter pine filled my nose, refreshed me. I handed the cloth back to Terrell, let him smooth my jacket then my hair. I looked at him, felt the first smile of the last two hours begin when his droopy eye winked.

  “Well, at least these banged-up ribs make for straight posture.” As usual, I found myself trying to make him smile as well. “I move like a mechanical woman.”

  “Let’s show them what we’re made of, Ms. Anne.” He walked by my side to the conference room.

  Having no idea what to expect, the crowded room still surprised me. I nodded to Lao and recognized his lead security person, Auditor Milan from the Bureau, and my injured transport driver. At one end of the table sat David with two individuals I did not recognize. Four other people in various official uniforms ringed the room. Terrell closed the door behind us.

  30

  Matron Anne, I am Lieutenant Oluf representing the Department of Energy. We have been monitoring Ashwood since your predecessor began dealing with Senior Executive Director Jensen of the Bureau of Human Capital Management.” The man sitting next to David stood, and I assumed from his height and bearing that he wasn’t a Bureau representative where men seemed to fall into a more generic middle-everything body type.

  Walking toward the table, an attractive woman of African-American origins put up one hand in acknowledgement of Oluf. “Welcome to our area, Lieutenant Oluf. I am Twin Cities Regional Police Commander Baylor. I believe we have jurisdiction over all represented security personnel in what has become a situation requiring intervention.” She rested her hands on the back of Lao’s chair. “Let’s begin with introductions of all interested parties in the room as well as association with this situation. We’ll go around the table, beginning with Chief Engineer Lao.”

  Lao tipped his head respectfully. “At my left is Ashwood Lead Security Analyst Marchand. Next to him is Sergeant Rivera of GRM, Ashwood’s temporary security agency. Cook Terrell Jackson represents the Ashwood management team put in place by the Bureau of Human Capital Management.” Oluf raised an eyebrow as he tapped his data pad. Perhaps unaware of Oluf’s actions, Lao finished with my introduction. “Matron Anne is Ashwood’s general manager.” He made a graceful gesture in my direction. “She’s my direct superior.”

  “Starting with you,” Baylor nodded toward Auditor Milan. “All civilian-garb individuals tell us who you are and why you are at this table.”

  “I’m a manager within estate-risk management for the same Bureau which employs the individuals Chief Engineer Lao introduced. I have been following production and financial allocation irregularities at Ashwood for the past twenty-six months, particularly as related to Senior Executive Director Jensen’s involvement. Reports from Matron Anne to regional Bureau management are forwarded to my office until we can bring the estate back into solvency and cease supplementing staff expenditures.”

  My poor battered transport driver, barely out of the hospital, cleared his throat, tried sitting a bit taller in his chair. I commiserated with the effort of forcing his busted ribs into any position. “Peter Van Toole, Sergeant in the Twin Cities Regional Police, assigned personal protection of Matron Anne during movement outside the estate.”

  I stifled an urge to pull the room’s central writing tablet across the table to begin an inventory of agencies and players around the table. First name, last name, pretend role, real role, stated reporting organization, real reporting organization.

  David spoke next, less comfortable in this group than I expected, a scientist among people carrying weapons, a researcher in a room filled with unknown truths. “David Regan, Senior Research Scientist within the Department of Energy, and resident of Ashwood. On my right is Patricia Whalen, research analyst with the Department.”

  “My official DOE title is Security Specialist with responsibility for directors David and Tia Regan during travel.” Patricia gave David a small smile. “You didn’t need to know what I really do, so the topic never came up.”

  Baylor moved the conversation along without acknowledgement of Patricia’s newly out
ed role. “The officers closest the door are with the consolidated Twin Cities Regional Police force—Hodan Dirie and William Smith. Jeremiah Tomasco at the back of the room is with the Regional Estate Security Force. Should anyone else be present for a discussion about sorting out the current situation?”

  “Sandra Goetz, peer of Executive Director Jensen within the Bureau of Human Capital Management, is in our office building,” David volunteered. “Should she speak for the Bureau?”

  “Not unless she’s in the chain of command responsible for the security threats against this estate and its people.” Baylor looked past me to Auditor Milan.

  “The answer would be negative. She appears to be here to negotiate an arrangement with Matron Anne.” He spoke as if I were not present and he showed knowledge of Sandra’s intention that had taken me an hour to uncover. I began to wonder why I was included in this meeting, why David and Terrell were involved.

  Baylor turned my way. “Matron Anne, let it be said that your actions since arriving at Ashwood are not in discussion today. According to our assessment, and the evaluation of individuals at this table, your place at the table has been earned. It is in the interest of all parties represented to support your work during this situation.”

  “Matron Anne and Chief Engineer Lao.” Jack’s voice came through my earpiece. “Incendiary device thrown on roof of fruit propagation building. We have injuries.”

  Lao stood. “Excuse me. We have a building on fire with injured staff in the far walled area of the estate. I must attend to the situation.” I rose as well.

  “Sit down, both of you.” Baylor gave no room for negotiation, pointed to Lao’s second in command. “Marchand, report back in ten minutes. Coordination of responses is now under Twin Cities Regional Police rescue unit command. To keep things simple, we’re dropping use of all these windy titles.”

  Oluf brought a hand down on the table. The sudden movement and slapping sound appeared to jangle David. Oluf spoke with a slow, quiet voice, as if forcing others to listen closely might bring him control of the meeting. “This Jensen needs to be rounded up before he walks through all estate security settings to ring the doorbell. If he’s not controlled, Energy will remove the Regan family, shut down the water pilot and withdraw funding from every estate in the immediate vicinity.”