Ashwood

by Cynthia Kraack

  “Come on, Annie, call your regional. If you don’t, we won’t sleep tonight.”

  I extricated myself from our warming cocoon and retrieved the communication device. Again I sat on the dressing room bench, this time calling my coordinator on her standard number. Her rapid voice mail message proved David right. Angry, I tried her emergency contact number.

  “Matron Anne, what’s happening at Ashwood? Is there a security breach?” Even with computer generation, her voice suggested a person who woke up in response to a potential work crisis.

  “Only via communication devices.” My voice rang clear. “You supposedly just called me to share that Senior Executive Director Jensen had been demoted and transferred to the Pacific Northwest, then asked to know if that this move satisfied my claims.”

  She didn’t reply, apparently confused, or caught in red tape, or both. “I’m not free to discuss resolution of that situation,” she finally volunteered. “Maybe tomorrow, but not tonight. I don’t know who issued that communication.”

  “But we can both guess,” I said. “Let’s change my communication coordinates and replace the technology of my earpiece in the morning. In the meantime, perhaps someone should investigate who made that call. I’ll notify our onsite security.”

  “Matron, please, let us handle this one inside. You know there are too many agencies in this matter already.”

  “Good night. I’m taking out my earpiece until morning.”

  This time I dressed, knowing I had to file a report with the security group not using the systems in my quarters. As if he already understood my way of reasoning, David sat fully dressed in my favorite reading chair, his hair finger-combed back in place, his face rested yet alert. “You need to report the communications break.”

  “That’s why I’m dressed. My coordinator asked me to let the Bureau handle this, but I can’t trust that she’s in the loop.”

  “I’ll go with you.” He stood, held out a hand to me and drew me in for a kiss.

  “Nothing like announcing we were here together.” I whispered. “You’re comfortable with that?”

  “Absolutely.” He released me. “I also want to ask Lao to sweep your rooms for a video feed. I can’t believe Jensen’s timing was coincidental.”

  We walked through the quiet residence together, my fear making the darkened spaces feel even colder. I needed time for our relationship to mature before subjecting it to scrutiny. I didn’t know if the Bureau or DOE could place restrictions on our joined future. Our hands touched, accidentally. He reached for me as I pulled my arm away.

  David stopped at his quarters to contact Lao while I continued on to find the security force charge person. Within five minutes, Baylor’s force asserted command. Yet, even when the external agencies took over investigating Jensen’s contact, even when Lao and an external associate took apart all the communications and monitoring systems in my quarters and reported them clean, I felt violated again by my nemesis. I returned to my quarters, alone, sat in my reading chair with sweaters over my monitors and my earpiece in a room.

  Morning coffee with Terrell brought brief relief to my sense of being hunted. He handed me a mug as I walked into the kitchen then pulled a chair over with his foot. “Good night, bad night I hear. That beautiful Chief Baylor’s gonna smile. I like it when she smiles.”

  “Does everyone know when I clip my toenails as well?”

  “Clipping toe nails don’t usually give adults that glow, lady love. And, nobody cares about toenails. But, everybody cares about the two of you.”

  “How screwed up is this mess that an entire security force is now aware of what I’m doing in my private life?” He raised the eyebrow above his non-droopy eye, purposefully making a face that cracked me up. “Stop with the eyebrow thing, or I’ll spill this precious brew down my leg. Just tell me who knows what before I go to my office and try to sort through the communications break last night.”

  “We’re a small, small community, Ms. Matron. People’ve been talking since the day Director David set eyes on you. No big deal, just nice to know somebody has found somebody.” He squeezed my knee and directed his raised eyebrow my way again. “Go start the day. It’s been getting dull with nothing more to worry about than food supplies.”

  No one asked what was on the menu for breakfast these days. The kids remembered cold cereal or plain toast and didn’t complain about repeats of hot oatmeal with coffee, tea, or milk. Our security entourage grumbled about waiting for the hens to lay or wished for something sweet. Spices and a few canned goods were all that remained of what Terrell brought with him to Ashwood.

  “Let’s hope they’re gone before Magda’s people harvest the next vegetables and chickens.” He shook his head in acknowledgement. “I’ve requested food assistance twice. I’ll try again or we’ll break into the estate’s emergency cash reserves.”

  Without my earpiece, I missed listening to the early day chatter of the outbuildings. In the office building walkway, DOE security cleared me, rigid in the routine as if each day we met for the first time. I knew nothing about these men and women, most attempts at conversation were rebuffed.

  Lao’s report on the Jensen communication intrusion pointed to a Bureau vendor’s installation of a new master board at Ashwood shortly before Barbara’s departure. Baylor authorized hiring an outside expert to scrub my quarters and office for unauthorized devices. Sitting in my office, I lowered my head to my hands, I tried to think through what I needed to accomplish before I lost all communications capability.

  “Even a strong person becomes weary under such strain, Matron.” Lao held out a large, clip-on communications device. “I’m sorry we couldn’t make communications as secure as the estate’s physical perimeter.” He set the object on my desk. “I thought you’d be uneasy without some communications, so this’ll replace your earpiece until the update’s complete. Simple to use. Try it.”

  I looked the device over, attached it to my sweater neckline, pressed for Magda.

  “Heard you had an interesting night, Matron.” Lao stifled a smile and saw my blush as Magda’s voice carried across the room. “Could you join the production team around eleven this morning to talk through food supplies for the next thirty days?”

  “That time works for me. I wish we knew more about how long we’ll be feeding patrols or if the DOE will deliver on their promise of supplies. I’ll be there at eleven.”

  Lao began walking away, hesitated then said. “I don’t know if anyone tracked how often Mr. Jensen stayed here with Director Tia in the early years. He wanted that water processing plant. There were wild parties, no expenses barred, but she wouldn’t share her design. So he blackmailed her, then Matron Barbara. That water plant’s his obsession.”

  “What’s the old line—and here I thought it was just me.”

  “You’re part of what he wants, Matron. I tell you this so you understand. As long as Jensen is capable of making life difficult on Ashwood, he’ll do so in hopes the estate becomes available on the private market.” He shrugged his shoulders. “See you at the briefing.”

  Where would I have found this information in what I read about the estate before starting my assignment? How much did Sandra know? Under the surface, I understood Lao’s message, that Jensen’s attacks on this estate might continue as long as I remained at Ashwood. If David and I were to make a home here, we might not be free of Jensen for some time.

  Walking to fill my coffee mug on the way to David’s office, quiet greeted me. No one sat at the work stations, no analyst/bodyguard made coffee. I engaged the first DOE agent in the walkway and asked where everyone was at this hour.

  “Crisis in Louisiana. Director David left for the city conference center about twenty minutes ago with a complete security escort. Probably gone until tonight.” He smiled, a rare DOE activity. “Rumor has it we’re working on with a somewhat pared back staff because holiday rotations are beginning.”

  He was a young man, round cheeks still pink after w
alking to the residence from the day-laborers’ gate. “I also heard a rumor that the cook might be splurging on something without fins for holiday meals.”

  We laughed. “I think that rumor will come true. Director David’s parents have taken pity on us. Have a good day.” For the first time in weeks I sat alone in the office building, an odd feeling of vulnerability and ease mixing as I closed my door and pressed the lock. At my desk I sorted through practice student tests conducted by Teacher Jason.

  “Matron Anne. Confidential communication.” The squawk box on my shoulder blared its alert to my empty office. I shut it off while slipping in a systems’ headset. “Matron Anne on systems audio.”

  The voice, as human and level as any I’ve heard in the Bureau’s synthesizing, drew my attention. “Are you alone?”

  A simple question. I looked around my office at a locked door with my desk, saw DOE patrols outside the window and closed the blinds, answering, “Yes.”

  “We’re conferencing you in to Bureau regional headquarters for a meeting concerning the Ashwood situation. Please activate your meeting capability.”

  Auditor Milan, Sandra, Hajar, a candidate I interviewed, sat at the end of the row, and an unknown man faced me on screen.

  “Good morning, Matron Anne,” Milan began. “We’ll keep this brief. Former Senior Executive Director Willard Jensen was arrested at five-forty this morning and transferred to holding in Great Falls, Montana, following careful investigation and confirmation of first-degree sexual misconduct with a Bureau minor at Giant Pines. During this investigation, serious interference into the operations of Ashwood was identified and documented. Four incidents of communications misrepresentation of the Bureau were also documented, the latest at approximately twenty-three hours last night.”

  “It’s over, Anne,” Sandra said. “It’s over. You can enjoy the holidays at Ashwood without worries.”

  Her performance rated a high grade for simplicity and apparent concern for a favorite former trainee. She looked haggard, her carefully maintained face showing signs of aging. I hated her for coming through on the winning side and letting the little people eat fish soup while living in fear.

  Hajar sat up straight, spoke facing the camera as if speaking into the single eye of a monster. “I’ve been working at Giant Pines since you hired Teacher Jason, so I’ve had the time to assess the capability and needs of the workers. Based on what we know about Ashwood’s educational direction, I’ve identified ten workers for reallocation to the estate. They include three skilled inside workers, four skilled production workers and three fairly young people who can be developed as needed by Ashwood.” She paused, looked tired. Her voice dropped. “Life at Giant Pines has been difficult for these children.”

  On the wall across from my desk I focused on new pictures of Ashwood hung overnight. The pictures surprised me almost more than this apparent closing of the Jensen threat. Maybe an early Christmas gift from David? I wondered if the quartet watching from Bureau headquarters noticed my smile and assumed their news brought me happiness.

  I thought through the implications before speaking. “We’ll find space and work for them, but I can’t feed another mouth. We’re almost back to where I started as far as food supplies. In fact, I’m not sure we can feed our own people after stretching our supplies to cover about sixty additional meals daily. DOE never came through with allocations.”

  Sandra began speaking, but I spoke louder. “The impact of this situation isn’t over. My management team has been operating under great duress. Except for a necessary shopping trip for Cook Terrell, none of us has been off the estate or off duty for the last four weeks. We have damage to a number of outlying buildings. Laborers tired of the extra burden of dealing with security issues have given notice so they can enter the January government job allocation.” How to mention my own fatigue, my disgust with the Bureau?

  The unidentified man at the table, rather quiet and small with a shaved head and strong chin, unfolded his hands and placed each palm on the table. “I am Chad Jorgensen, Regional Bureau Chief. I’m sorry we haven’t had the opportunity to meet before this. Your acceptance of the Ashwood assignment brought an unusually bright estate manager into our region. I apologize.

  “Everyone’s schedule is full, Chief Jorgensen. I understand.” Per protocol I bowed deeply to acknowledge his position and statement of respect. Per the same set of protocol, there were many steps he would have taken in the last eight weeks had Sandra not offered me up as the next tantalizing morsel for Jensen.

  “I am aware of a set of options Executive Director Sandra offered you when she visited Ashwood a month ago. Much has changed since that time, and I want to be present while we reconsider what is a more appropriate settlement.” The man never blinked, never appeared to swallow between sentences. I suspected he was reading from a prompter. “I ask Tutor Hajar to leave. Then Auditor Milan will lead us through a new document.”

  The young woman showed respect, gathered her things, then left. I watched Sandra sit back in her chair with eyes focused somewhere away from the camera. Jorgensen, possibly higher in Bureau pecking order, ignored her. I recognized the distaste he displayed for the situation in his region that would impact his career.

  “Matron Anne,” Milan began, “I have been the chief investigator on the Jensen case for approximately the past twenty-four months. As you and I discovered your first week at Ashwood, irregularities existed in the estate’s accounting and production records for a very long time. There will be a sizeable transfer of funds from the disbursement of Giant Pines to Ashwood’s accounts within the next seventy-two hours. We have also extracted estate funds from private accounts held by Matron Barbara. You and I will go over each account to establish fair replacement value.”

  Sandra studied her left thumb nail. With Hajar gone, it was obvious that Sandra sat as far away from the table and the two men as politically possible. Surely they involved her in this meeting for more than the pathetic lines delivered earlier. Milan, no longer the bureaucratic number cruncher, continued to command center stage easily.

  “We believed we would get to the bottom of Mr. Jensen’s wrongdoing before innocent individuals were harmed. I echo Chief Jorgensen in apologies that you and others at Ashwood were involved while the investigation worked its way through internal review.”

  Did Sandra try to block Milan’s report? Was it possible she had been called to the Midwest regional offices for a reprimand? She no longer appeared blasé as Milan spoke of financial resolutions.

  “A college account has been established for Ladd Dias for his unfortunate treatment and a reparative sum paid to his mother for her anguish. Director David Regan will receive a personal apology from the Bureau and a financial settlement for threats against his family as well as his own injuries.

  “The complete expense of Teacher Jason is to be absorbed for two years to restore Ashwood’s workers to Bureau academic compliance and prepare those who have been deemed university eligible. Ashwood’s all-weather porch area will be repurposed at Bureau expense to accommodate the charter study of Teacher Jason’s research as well as additional workers.”

  Milan stopped, sipped from a paper cup. He looked into the camera. “Any response to these proposals, Matron Anne?”

  “I’ll want to see everything in writing and have counsel of my management team before I agree. But, what I hear is positive. We need help immediately to begin remodeling to accommodate the Giant Pines people or bunk them on the floor of the workers’ gathering space.”

  “Noted.” Milan appeared to jot something on a paper pad. “Let’s continue.”

  During this tense exchange, I often looked to Sandra. Since her early comment, she never looked my way. I realized Chief Jorgensen may have used a different title when addressing our early December meeting. “Fine. I’m listening,” I said, fine-tuning my focus.

  “Let’s address the personal settlement in acknowledgement of what you have experienced since arriving at Ashwood
. While I will read these now, you’ll also see them on your data pad for evaluation, and I will be at Ashwood later today to reestablish the estate’s financial books. We can talk about these items then, or if you wish outside consultation, you’re free to share the following although we will require that you sign a confidentiality statement about the details of Mr. Jensen’s and Executive Director Sandra’s actions.”

  The reprimand and Sandra’s new title spilled into Milan’s unemotional reading. Sandra kept her neck stiff. Chief Jorgensen indicated agreement.

  “If you’re ready, I’m going to cover these items quickly. Chief Jorgensen has approved each.”

  Which meant Sandra was hearing these details for the first time with me? Suddenly I hoped I wouldn’t also hear what would happen to her.

  “For personal pain and suffering, Matron Anne will be compensated a lump sum of one times her annual compensation, to be paid on, or before, June 1.

  “For false representation of the state of Ashwood before assignment, Matron Anne is entitled to request change of assignment to the region of her choice.

  “In acknowledgement of the deeply personal nature of Mr. Jensen’s actions and apparent support for his behaviors within the Bureau of Human Capital Management, the United States government offers Matron Anne the deed to the property of Ashwood. Complete business and legal definitions to follow if Matron Anne is interested in becoming a property free holder. Ashwood will continue to run as a government estate with production requirements funded in the traditional model and Matron Anne realizing financial gain from any surplus production. This deed is to last the duration of Matron Anne’s life with the expectation that she maintains management of the estate or contracts with the Bureau for hiring of a replacement.

  “Should Matron Anne choose to accept a new assignment at this time and leave Ashwood, a suitable cash settlement will replace this offering.”

  A strange sensation came through my feet as Milan said “property free holder.” Like a transplanted tree searching for water, I could feel a pulling come through the floor then my feet and legs. Ashwood could renew some of what loss and starvation and chaos had damaged.