Leaving Ashwood

by Cynthia Kraack

  Noah held black belts in karate and taekwondo. He would walk in front of a speeding transport to save a kitten or jump into a bad situation to defend a victim without thinking of himself.

  “You’re following them on monitors?” Emotions threatened to override an internal mantra that Lao was in charge, Lao would get this right.

  “Ahlmet’s using blinders so we have sketchy visibility. We’re conducting a thorough search. Each building is sealed as we finish.” Lao checked his communicator even as he spoke. “We’re moving to the residence now and will be sending everyone to the main conference room. Anyone without clearance will be escorted to the staff dining hall.”

  “Where’s Hana? Is she still here?” I hoped she was on a transport to the cities.

  “She is being detained according to high security protocols of the Bureau.” Lao looked toward Milan as if checking for approval. Milan tipped his head slightly. She could be stripped and chained in a horse stall or stowed in a food storage container for all I cared.

  The morning work crewmembers that lived in town arrived between five and seven. From the quiet view out my office window, I assumed schedules had been cancelled. “You’ve spoken with Amber and the school team?” I wanted Faith at our sides, not wandering the estate.

  He nodded.

  “And Paul? I don’t want him stressed by this news or moved if it isn’t absolutely essential.” David said nothing as I spoke, but his face told me there were deep memories of his own captivity decades ago pushing against the urgency of today’s situation. Seventeen years without experiencing any situation similar to that time. Seventeen years without the flashbacks we knew could happen.

  Milan waved Lao out and spoke for the security agents. “Paul’s suite was the first place searched and sealed. He remained asleep so his attendant was briefed. They have food and supplies for the day, including packed meals. Apparently Hana may have had access to the kitchens.”

  “Great,” David finally spoke, giving me relief. “Anne and I ate hot breakfast about forty-five minutes ago.”

  “If the food had been tampered with, you’d know by now.” Lao tipped his head in the doorway. “I need to leave. Milan, you need to stay here.”

  “I’d like to keep Phoebe company,” David volunteered. “Could you alert your people that I’m on my way to the safe room?”

  “We’ll go part way together.”

  With the men gone, Milan and I stood in a quiet office. I remembered the only other time we had a hostage situation at Ashwood and the resulting firepower of the military and security forces that brought this building’s predecessor down. The only time someone was killed at Ashwood.

  I sat, a giant wheezing cough forming, an excuse to turn away from Milan’s caring eyes. I fished around in a desk drawer for a suppressant tablet. The cough escaped as a loud sneeze, then another, and a third followed by a soft wheezing sound.

  “Bless you,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  With the tablet melting on my tongue, I nodded. “I’m allergic to a few of the grasses and molds that are everywhere on a farm. Just annoying.” I sniffled, drank water. “What do you know inside the Bureau about this Ahlmet?” While asking the question, I turned on my estate monitor. Security professionals roamed the grounds, weapons on their belts. David and Lao walked down the back stairs to the lower level and safe room.

  I knew the answer, that anything not included in Ahlmet’s official biography was confidential. As Phoebe’s mother I probably knew more than most citizens could request—that he was born in Maine, entered boarding school at five and attended Harvard at thirteen. He liked playing rugby, driving fast boats, rebuilding vintage guns and pampered his pet guinea pigs. Almost eccentric, almost like Phoebe.

  Milan changed the subject. “I suppose Raima will want to recoup her billable hours for this time. Don’t suppose you have some way to use her time?”

  Of course, he knew I would laugh at this feeble attempt to save his multi-billion dollar section of the Bureau thousands of dollars. Raima knocked on my door before I had to smile.

  “Good morning.” She reached for a clean coffee cup on my conference table. “Or at least, let’s hope it becomes a good morning. This feels like a convict lockdown in the metro. At least we’re not dealing with some drug-crazed idiot.”

  She filled a cup and held it high. “Good news—we have tentative approval on Phoebe’s leave of absence including a hold harmless if she is unable to complete contracted work. I’ve also received the most complex confidentiality statement that binds us to not talk about her peer who I understand is running around the estate with her little cares at his side.”

  Milan’s shoulders went back. “Lao told you that?”

  I watched a small gaggle of guards surround an out building used for tool storage. The door was opened, interior inspected, then an invisible tape placed over the door with a signal to the command central.

  “Hell, no. My chief administrative office heard it on a news wave when he was dressing for work. Media are six deep outside the gate.” She sipped at her coffee, looked over the top of the cup. “Is that report correct?”

  “Partially.” Willing to trust Phoebe’s fortunes in Raima’s legal abilities, Milan withheld the information about Noah and didn’t correct where Hana might be found.

  “If we can locate an office with a good hologram, I can finish work for another client and catch up on office notes. Interruptions like this are too common downtown. Or I can drink coffee and charge somebody for the hours.”

  Clarissa set her up in a neighboring space. Milan sat down at my table to review his communications. We could see the large conference room begin filling with an assortment of people from the main residence.

  Faith broke from the group, studies bag over one shoulder. I ushered her into my office after she grabbed a protein bar and juice. At my desk I watched the security monitors.

  Settling her bag on one chair, she looked for guidance about how to behave around Milan. Being so much younger than the others, she wasn’t familiar with him as a visitor.

  “This is creepy,” she whispered toward me. “Where’s Dad?”

  I gestured her to bring her chair closer. “With Phoebe, in the safe room. A lot happened after you went to bed last night.” As her eyebrows suggested her next question, I continued. “Someone who might want to harm Phoebe is somewhere on Ashwood.”

  “That Ahlmet guy I’d guess.” Faith looked for confirmation.

  Milan completed his communication. “Good guess, Faith, but that’s confi­den­tial.”

  With teenage disdain she lowered her chin to look down her nose. “Well, it isn’t a secret to anyone following local reports. They’re making it sound like he’s playing the big jilted.” Faith waited for Milan’s response. Bureaucrat and father of girls, he managed to maintain no expression. “I think the only thing they don’t know is that he’s planted a chip in Phoebe.” She ripped open the breakfast bar. “By the way, he is mercury.”

  Faith saved her small doses of metro slang for me because David acted like a schoolteacher hearing “ain’t” in a sentence.

  “When the Bureau and regional security forces tally up the expenses for this uninvited visit and manhunt, Senior Scientist Ahlmet will also be shoeless.” Milan winked at Faith. “You don’t want a shoeless man, even if he is mercury.”

  Slang fell from Milan’s lips with the same ease as a column of numbers or farm production categories. Faith and I were impressed that this man, close to seventy, assimilated common talk.

  “I don’t know about that. Senior Director Milan, in case you don’t know much about estate life, there aren’t a lot of eligible guys around. Look at my brothers—way into their twenties and not one of them has a woman in his life. They’re all mercury and well off.”

  He laughed, the father in him tickled by de
aling with a teenager once again. My communicator called.

  “Annie, what are you seeing on the monitors?” David’s voice was neutral, almost flattened. “Phoebe’s dealing with waves of Ahlmet attacks. Lao needs to get Frances down here.”

  “I’m going to put you on speaker. There’s a lot of noise here with folks waiting out the residence search.” I gestured for Milan to come closer. Faith stayed at my side. My connection with Lao was immediate. “What do you mean by not getting through to Lao?”

  “Just that. He’s not answering.” His voice remained tight.

  “Could I talk with Phoebe?” Lao responded, I clicked him through to David.

  “Not right now.” The line went silent.

  “The search is near the main residence now with activity in the storage sheds.” I heard sounds behind Lao’s voice.

  A hushing kind of sound came from the safe room.

  “David?” Lao spoke. I sat forward in my chair.

  “I was fiddling with the controls. I should have paid attention to the last security update.”

  In code I tapped a message to Lao that David’s words signaled a problem in the safe room. We’d changed the safe room security programming in early spring, which resulted in a gigantic blowout between David and Sadig when the outside vendors replaced our system with an older version. The mistake was discovered during our first safe room drill weeks later and David personally hired a former trusted vendor over Sadig’s protests.

  “Just get Frances down here,” David continued. “I’ve got to pay attention to our kid who may need medical attention. Tell Frances to bring white socks.”

  Milan quirked his head at David’s last direction.

  “Take care, David. Lao will get you help. I love you.” I muted my system, but left the safe room’s end on audio. “Noah’s in the safe room.”

  “I’ll go find Dr. Frances.” Faith pushed away from my side quickly.

  “You won’t leave this room,” I replied. “The agents need to know exactly where each of us is situated, especially family members and guests.”

  “Anne.” Lao’s voice stopped Faith’s response. “What was that about?”

  “Fiddling is David’s code to signify trouble. He personally supervised the system updates in the safe room and there must have been a breakdown. White socks is a dumb nickname he and I called Noah.”

  “Got it. Stay tight.”

  In the outer area I saw Andrew circulating through the small group, offering refills of coffee or water. The absence of John made me nervous. I pinged his communicator for a location and he pinged me back from the estate offices with a simple message that said, “lockdown.” I pinged Andrew and he looked up. I beckoned for him to join us.

  “Do you know anything,” he asked as he closed my office door. “I heard from Phoebe about five thirty that you,” he looked at Milan, “were leaving to meet Lao. What’s up?”

  “Sit down and we’ll update you.” Milan gestured toward a chair.

  “The safe room still isn’t visible on my monitors,” I shared and Andrew startled. “David alerted us to a possible situation there about two minutes ago and security is on its way to investigate. It doesn’t make any sense that Noah is there.”

  “How can I help?” Faith volunteered like she did for any other task on Ashwood from rescuing a child caught too high in a tree to cleaning out the most odious storage bin. “We shouldn’t just sit here all safe.” I would have warned Andrew to block the door if the building’s doors were not locked.

  Milan supplied activity. “You can do some research for me. I’m too slow on this little tool and don’t have my data pad with me. Give me a piece of paper.” I tossed a notebook toward the table. Faith caught it and passed it to Milan. He withdrew a sleek silver pen from his pocket. “There are four people I want to send info to about this situation, but I don’t have their level-four addresses. I’ll give you a secure code so you can look for them.”

  I saw her mind and body conflict about the task. Part of her accepted that sitting in this room was the only action possible while Lao’s crew searched, but another part struggled with desire to be involved. She dug her data pad out of her book bag and got busy while Milan wrote down names and codes.

  Andrew stood behind me to watch the monitors. He pointed to the lower level of the residence where a half dozen security agents approached the safe room. I recognized the leader as one of Lao’s hires who had survived the Sadig years.

  Security agents passed the entrance to the former sick bay that now housed unused furniture then the first two food storage areas. Part of the wall adjacent to the second storage unit’s door moved sideways to uncover the entrance to our safe space. I saw agents hesitate, understood the door’s operation had been initiated from inside.

  Andrew moved closer. His breath, heavy with coffee and the scent of apple butter, teased at the air by my face. I felt his hand on my shoulder as he knelt next to my chair. I sensed Milan joining us, heard Faith push away from the table.

  Visions of the one clash of forces that destroyed this building played through my head as I kept the faith that this time all would be okay. The safe room’s door opened slowly on carefully controlled mechanicals. Agents pulled weapons from their uniforms. Faith gasped and moaned “no” as Milan took her hand. The same word resonated in my mind and heart.

  One agent, weapon readied, slipped through the opening, then another and another. My eyes switched from the hallway view to the blank screen that should display the safe room. The hall was replaced with a grainy picture inside the room captured by an agent’s camera.

  “Who is that?” Faith leaned over my shoulder to squint at the outline of a tall, dark-haired man standing in the middle of the room with his hands held up above his head. Two agents focused their weapons toward the man. With the door now open, light brightened the images. David was easily identifiable blocking Phoebe behind outstretched arms. Noah struggled to his feet behind the stranger.

  Only I recognized the man as Ahlmet, one shoe missing, his trademark white shirt ripped open at his left shoulder. A dark circle surrounded the torn fabric.

  “That’s Ahlmet.” Andrew filled in the name. “I didn’t remember he was that tall.”

  Agents quickly contained and handcuffed the invader.

  “Now the interesting negotiations will begin,” Milan said and stepped away to answer his communicator. Faith stayed at my shoulder, watching for a signal that our family was safe.

  “Annie,” Lao’s voice came through clearly. “Noah has an injured ankle. David and Phoebe are fine. We have Ahlmet, and Sadig was taken into custody as he tried to exit an employee entrance.”

  “You say they are fine, does that mean they are fully okay?” Words not said mean as much as those used in a crisis.

  “Agents are bringing Frances to the safe room. She’ll check out Noah, Phoebe, and David before caring for the invader.” Lao appeared on the monitor.

  My anxiety slipped down a few notches. “Thanks. Will you issue an all clear?”

  He flipped switches on the safe room control panel, the monitor image became clearer. We could see Phoebe move next to Noah. David, clearly agitated, spoke with an agent. “Not yet,” Lao said. “Not until we have our unwanted guests secured.”

  Ahlmet struggled against agents attempting to place cuffs on his wrists. Obscenities flowed over the monitors. Phoebe sank to her knees, hands covering her ears. This time she did not moan, but shrieked as his mind control dominated her will.

  I turned off the monitor, but Andrew flipped it back on. Living on an agricultural estate, Faith had seen a fair share of messy accidents, but this was the first time she witnessed violence against people she loved.

  “Andrew, let’s get down there.” Faith grabbed his arm.

  He didn’t smile, didn’t minimize the
situation. “Until Lao issues the all clear, we’re contained in this building.” Phoebe struggled to sit up, brought her knees to her chest, and rested her head. The agent examining Noah’s ankle turned and asked her a question, but Phoebe brought both hands over her head and rocked.

  “Twedt’s recommending tough psychological training to minimize the impact of these attacks.” Milan rejoined us, shared the only intervention anyone suggested through the past twenty-four hours. “If Ahlmet or his sponsors don’t volunteer to neutralize the implant, nanotech surgery may be an alternative. Possibly at Mayo or in Washington, D.C.”

  As Phoebe continued rocking, Faith grew agitated. Although too mature for easy comforting, I put my arms around her, nuzzled a kiss into her hair. She inhaled deeply, accepted my touch, then pulled away.

  “Lao, where is Ahlmet?” In the safe room, Lao walked to the monitor to answer.

  “On his way to a containment environ near the lower cherry orchard. Sector 128 of the monitor network. We’ve set up an electron field. Anything else?”

  “Can we join you? Me, Milan, Andrew, and Faith.”

  “Bren is at the building walkway. He’ll escort you. Follow his directions.”

  Before we left I entered coordinates for Sector 128. Ahlmet, naked except for briefs and a bandage on one shoulder, was being led into a circle of beams. Guards stood in a square around the virtual cage. At the edge of the monitor a second circle entrapped Sadig who lay on his stomach, hands still bound behind his back. Hana sat apart. Ants, nasty biting types we had not seen in Minnesota before, had been troublesome in that section of the orchard this growing season. I didn’t want to think Lao knew that and had purposefully set the three in such a place, but said nothing.

  Our steps, even in indoor footwear, sounded noisy through the empty halls of Ashwood. Minus people and activity, the smell of Terrell’s morning coffee floated through more rooms than usual. The cats raced from sunlit perches, loud meows suggesting something amiss. We walked past Paul’s door, a security beam still blocking entrance.