If you or any of your IM force are caught or killed we will disavow any knowledge of their existence.

I would like to thank my dear friends,
Angel O’Hare, Karen Page, Joni W., Annette MacGregor and Holly Hart,
for their kindness, help, support, and input.

Education in the Hills
Chapter 32

By Penny Reed Cardon

Monday, January 3, 2005

"Good morning Marie," I cheerfully offered greetings, as Mary Beth and I went through the double doors into the treatment area of the school's hospital.

"Good morning Matilda. You're here for the follow-up on burns I assume. And Mary Beth is here for?"

"I’m going up to visit with Rachael for a few minutes," Mary Beth quickly replied.

"I'll be joining them after I've finished with another fun filled episode of show and tell," I added.

"Show and tell?" Marie questioned.

"Sure, I show you and Dr. Harris the back of my small self, and you tell me what I need to do to make it better."

"Show and tell," Marie repeated herself, as she chuckled and shook her head. "Matilda, you do come up with some of the most unusual expressions."

"See MayBee, I told you she'd think it was funny."

"You're a nut," Mary Beth replied teasingly. "I'll see you upstairs."

"It takes one to know one," I countered her jab with one of my own. "I shouldn't be too long."

"That may be, but you're still the nuttier nut," came her final shot as she disappeared up the stairs.

"Are you two always so much fun to be around?" Marie questioned.

I thought for a moment before replying with a smile, "No, not always, only when we're awake."

"And together, I'll wager. Now that I have your undivided attention, would you please go to examination room two. Take off everything except your underwear and put on the gown that's on the table."

"The same gown as the last time I was here?" I asked with a giggle.

"No, miss funny bones. We ordered in a new gown just for you, it's even pink with butterflies, something closer to your size."

"Oh darn, I guess that means we won't have another amusing episode of 'let's unwrap the mummy' this time," I mumbled, as I waked down the hall.

As instructed, I took off everything except my pull-ups, and then I picked up the new gown, still wrapped in plastic. Before I ripped open the package I read the description and smiled to myself as I shook my head. I knew I was small for a ten-year-old, I'm even small for an eight-year-old, but I didn't think a Child's Extra Small was going to fit me. Setting the package aside, I rummaged around until I found an adult size gown. I'd just finished mummifying myself when there was a knock upon the door.

"Entra vue," I pleasantly called out.

"Matilda, you're not wearing the new gown," Marie complained.

"I didn't think it would fit. The package says -"

"Nonsense," Marie interrupted, as she picked up the package and tore it open. "The supply house assured me that this would fit you. They said an Adult Extra Small would be a little big for an eight-year-old, but they assured me you wouldn't be drowned in fabric. Come here and let's try this."

She shook out the gown and held it out to me. I shrugged my shoulders as I stepped forward so Marie could hold it up to me. As I expected it was a little small, If it fit me at all. Marie’s expression instantly changed as my suspicion was confirmed, the gown wouldn't have fit. It was too small around, and it would have only covered me down to my waist, and not much farther.

"I don't understand it. They said this would be just right."

"Perhaps it doesn't fit because there was a mix-up," I said. I retrieved the plastic bag from the garbage can and pointed out the word 'Child' in the description.

"Now how did that happen?" Marie rhetorically asked.

I was shrugging my shoulders as Dr. Harris walked in. He took one look at my mummified condition and asked, "Marie, I thought we order a gown that would fit Matilda?"

"We did, but somewhere something got mixed up. This is too small," Marie replied, holding up the pink, pillow sham size, gown.

"You're right about one thing, Marie," I added. "It is closer to my size, just a little too far on the other end of the size range."

"Oh well, we'll get it right before you graduate," Dr. Harris conceded. "Right now, let's get you unwrapped and have a look at your back."

The rest of the exam was uneventful. No more burn cream twice a day, 'Hurray', and the itching should ease up in another week or so. They did take another sample of my blood and two swabs from under my tongue. They're still trying to solve the Miniature Munchkin Mystery; so far they didn't have a clue. If I live long enough, I'll run out of samples.

~ ~ ~

"Hi Rachael! How's my favorite little sister?" I asked as I burst into her room, crossing quickly to give her a hug.

Rachael returned my hug, but I realized something was terribly wrong. Her normal hug was pretty strong, almost like a momma bear hug, but the hug I received was more like being hugged by sick baby bear.

"What's wrong?" I quickly asked.

Rachael turned away, I think she was crying.

"It's her right leg," Mary Beth quietly replied.

"What about it?" I demanded.

It was now obvious that Rachael was crying. I gently sat on her bed and pulled her into my arms.

Mary Beth quietly continued, "It still not healing like it should. Dr. Harris doesn't know why, but the ends aren't - um, oh yeah, they aren't knitting together to become one bone again. At least that's how Rachael described it a little while ago."

"So what are they going to do about it?" I asked.

Just then, the door opened and in strode Dr. Harris, followed by my Mom.

"What are you two doing here?" Dr. Harris asked, almost demanded.

"I've been visiting Rachael while you checking out Matilda's back," Mary Beth replied.

"And I was going to stop by for just a minute before we headed over for lunch. That was before I saw how upset Rachael was. So what are you doing about her leg?" I add, while posing a question to Dr. Harris.

Mom interrupted, before Dr. Harris could object, "It's all right Doctor, you can speak freely in front of these two."

"But I thought -" Dr. Harris began.

Mom interrupted the good doctor once again, "And three months ago you would have been correct. However slow as it may seem to take, progress is taking place at the highest levels. Now, if you would please explain about Rachael's condition."

"Yes ma'am," he replied, although he sounded a little puzzled. "As I explained everything to you in detail, on the phone, not more than an hour ago. For some reason her right femur is refusing to knit like it should. I've contacted several orthopedic surgeons and they are as baffled as I am. The consensus of the other surgeons is that there's really only one course of action to take, and that's the surgical procedure that I outlined; open reduction and internal fixation."

After processing what Dr. Harris had said, I was just a bit outraged by his apparent cold-heartedness. While holding Rachael, who was still crying, I was rather blunt as I expressed myself, "Dr. Harris, please forgive me if I'm rude, but you seem to be regarding my sister as if she's just a piece of meat."

"Matilda!" Mom scolded me as she moved to the other side of Rachael's bed. "Doctor, please forgive my daughter, she too needs to work on being more tactful. Although, I may share her sentiment, her delivery needs some refinement. As for your recommendations regarding the treatment of Rachael's leg, I'm sure you can see she's more than a bit distressed by the prospect. Have you gone over the details with her?" Mom inquired.

Dr. Harris seemed shocked at the prospect of discussing with a child what he'd already discussed with the child's parent. "Not in detail," he reluctantly replied.

"Then I suggest you do so, and I would recommend that you explain things at her level of understanding, you might also add a bit more feeling and compassion." I'd never heard Mom chastise anyone that way, except me of course. And, Mom clearly meant that Dr. Harris explain everything at Rachael's level of understanding.

Mom put her arms around her crying daughter as I backed away to stand with Mary Beth.

"My apologies, but I sometimes have a hard time dealing with the anger I feel when I’m dealing with Rachael," Dr. Harris confessed.

"Anger?" I demanded in surprise, not knowing why anyone would be angry with Rachael.

"I'm not angry with Rachael, but by the circumstances under which she came to be in our care," Dr. Harris explained.

"Thank you for explaining yourself," Mom accepted his apology.

"And as for the circumstances, they should be rectified before the end of the month," I added.

"Matilda, what are you talking about?" Mom wanted to know.

"Nothing that needs to be discussed right now," I replied, skirting around the issue. Getting back to the matter at hand, I asked, "Dr. Harris, about Rachael's leg?"

"Of course," he replied. Placing a stool next to Rachael's bed, he sat down and looked up at her. "Rachael, for some reason the two broken ends of the bone, in your right thigh, aren't growing back together like they normally would. To be completely honest, I don't know why this is happening. I've talked with some other doctors and they are as puzzled as I am. We're guessing that when your leg was broken something got in the wound that has affected the broken ends of the bone. We feel the only way you are going to be able to leave this bed and walk again is for me to operate on your leg. What I plan to do, if you will let me, is carefully open your leg and cut off a little of the bone on both sides of the break. I'll use some special clamps to hold the two ends together, and then I'll put in two small stainless steel pins. Those pins will hold the newly exposed ends together while they heal."

"How much is that going to hurt," Rachael asked, while sniffling and trying to be brave.

"While you're in surgery you won't feel anything, you'll be asleep. After we bring you back here, the only thing you should feel is from where I needed to make the incision. I'll leave instructions with the nurses to see that you aren't in any pain. We don't want you spaced out, just comfortable."

"How much longer am I going to be stuck in this bed?" was Rachael's next question.

"Normally, a broken femur, on someone your age, would heal enough to start walking on it, in about eight weeks. For this extensive a treatment, I would like to keep your leg immobilized for twelve weeks, in order to assure proper fusion of the bone."

"That's early April," I added.

"April!" Rachael exclaimed. "I'll be here almost the whole school year. I'm going to have to take third grade over again."

"Don't over do it," Mom calmly said. "You've been keeping up on your school work. In fact, according to the tutor that's been working with you, you're ahead of the rest of your class, by more than a month."

"I didn’t know Rachael had a tutor," Mary Beth commented.

"But of course she's had a tutor, this is a school you know, and there are teachers around here," Mom added.

"So, I won't have to do third grade over?" Rachael asked, sounding very pleased.

"Only if you want to. It would make you the oldest student in the class," Mom added.

"And be board to death, because I already know everything, not to mention that everyone else would think I'm a dummy for re-doing third grade. No thank you!" Rachael exclaimed.

"Very well, fourth grade it is. Now, do you have any other questions for Dr. Harris?"

"What happens to the steel pins after my leg is better?"

"You mean, do I have to open your leg again to take the pins out?" Dr. Harris asked.

I think he was guessing about Rachael's real question. Rachael nodded, confirming my suspicion.

"No, the pin will become a permanent part of your leg. Of course, that also means you'll set off the metal detectors, of any airport you go through," he added with a grin. "Any more questions?"

"I don't think so," Rachael concluded.

"Well, I have a question," I said, jumping into the convention. "How much bone are you going to take off?"

"That depends on what I find, when I can examine the fractures under a microscopic. However, right now the plan is that no more than half an inch on each side of the fracture."

"So her right leg will be an inch shorter than her left leg, maybe more?" I asked, clarifying what I'd heard.

"How is that going effect her walking?" Mom asked Dr. Harris.

"I guess you could say that, ‘that's dropping the other shoe’. With one leg shorter than the other, Rachael will have a definite limp. Customarily, after a couple of weeks of physical therapy, we would add extra depth to the sole of the one shoe, so she would walk normally. However, the consensus of the other surgeons are, that because of the unusual circumstances, that is, her bones not mending as they should, we not add the extra weight of the thick sole, for at least a year."

"So, I'm going to limp, like I'm crippled or something?" Rachael asked, confirming what she'd heard.

"Only for a little while," Dr. Harris confirmed, then added, "Actually for the first two to three months, after the cast comes off, it's recommended that you use some crutches, putting almost no weight on your right leg. After that, you'll need to use a cane, to give the muscles in your leg time to regain their strength. Starting in April of 2006, we'll add to the sole of your shoe a little at a time, until you're walking normally again."

"Dr. Harris? It sounds like you plan on taking care of Rachael for quite some time. It almost sounds like she will be going to school here?" I asked, trying my best to hide the nervousness in my voice.

"I don't know anything about what school Rachael will be attending. All I know is, that I was told I would be her physician until she's walking normally," He explained.

It was at that moment that Mary Beth started tugging on my arm. "What?" I asked.

"We've missed lunch and we're late for class," She said, showing me the time on her PDA.

"Oh my goodness! Sorry, this was supposed to be just a quick 'hello and how are you doing' visit. We've got to run, and I mean that literary," I exclaimed as we made a hasty exit.

"No running between the buildings. We don't need any more broken legs around here." I heard Dr. Harris call out as we were hopping down the stairs two at a time.

We weren't in to much trouble for being late to Computer Studies; one, because I'm way ahead of everyone in our year, except possible Aaron, and two, because we were giving comfort to someone. We were told that giving comfort to another student was an acceptable reason for being late, or missing class, if necessary. We just had to send Ellen a note and everything would be fine.

'That's the second time in one day someone has implied Rachael will be at the Manor for longer than I expected. I wonder if Mom has picked up on what people are implying. I wonder if I should talk with Mom. I know I can't talk with Rachael about what I know. I guess the best thing to do right now is wait and see what happens after she gets her cast off.'

~ ~ ~

Friday, January 7, 2005

"RJ, could you take a look at this data?" I asked, trying to make sense of some abnormalities.

"Matilda, are you in the US Marshal's system again?" RJ inquired as he came around his desk.

"No sir," I replied confidently. "I copied the whole Roberts directory. So that when we paste the amended directory back in the byte count will be an exact match. For good measures, I copied the two directories before and after the Roberts directory. That way I'd have exact byte count and I'd be able to synchronize everything back into their system, without leaving any traces of tampering."

"Good thinking, so what's the problem?"

"The problem is, I think someone has already been tampering with the files in the Roberts directory."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, if you were to look at this file, just as anyone else would, everything looks normal. But, if you look at the bit mapping, there are some gaps, like the files are fragmented."

"There could be any number of reasons why there would be spaces in the data."

"That's true, but then the directories, before and after, would look the same, but they don't."

"What do you mean, they don't look the same."

"Every byte has valid data, every bit is used sequentially. Take a look." I changed the view on my screen to show RJ what I meant.

"I see what you mean. You did copy this data from an archived drive, not an active drive?"

"I think so. From what I can tell, the US Attorney General's office and the US Marshal's work out of the same server and database on active cases. When the case is closed, a copy of the directory is run through a data compression routine, cataloged, and saved onto the archive server. If needed, a copy of the directory is sent to the witness protection division, they have their own server. I first discovered the abnormalities on the witness protection server. Backtracking the changes I found, led me to the archive server, at the US Marshal's."

"What if a case is reopened?" RJ queried.

"What I've found about reopening a case is, the directory would be copied off of the archive server and decompressed. When they've finished with the case, it goes back into the archives, after the files are again compressed. They are stored with an amended catalog number and a new date. The original files are not changed or amended."

"Matilda, it seems you've spent a lot of time digging around in the US Marshal's computer systems. How many times have you been in those systems?"

"Umm . . . you really want me to answer that?"

"Matilda!"

"Okay, okay. Just don't yell at me, it's for a good cause, you know."

"Well?"

"I'm not sure, I mean I didn't actually keep count or have a timer running.

"I'm waiting for an answer."

"I guess I'd have to say, once or twice, sometimes three times, a day while I was learning to act as Sally."

"Once or twice a day while you were - that was almost three weeks. You were in their system FORTY TIMES?"

"Maybe more," I mumbled.

"MORE!"

"You’re yelling," I shyly replied.

RJ looked like he was ready to pop a cork and I could almost see steam coming out his ears. He then took a deep breath before carefully saying, "I was speaking ... with emphasis."

'Oh, is that what dad was doing all those years, speaking to me with emphasis. I could have sworn that he was yelling at me, just before, during, and after he slapped me around.'

I knew better than to say anything at that moment, sarcastic or otherwise. Sitting still and not making a sound was undoubtedly the correct course of action, under the circumstances.

RJ spent several moments regaining his normal composer. When he was himself again he asked to see the rest of my data.

We spent the next forty-five minutes going over everything I'd retrieved from the various systems that were used by US Marshal's office. After I'd finished RJ paced back and forth for several minutes, quietly stroking his beard.

"Matilda, we've been out smarted," RJ finally said.

"You mean there is nothing we can do?" I asked.

"Now, I didn't say that, but it is obvious that someone else has already done what we were going to do. The question is, who and why. It seems to me that there's only one answer to those questions. The ‘Who’, would be someone within the marshal's office, and the why is probably a simpler answer, money.

"What you have inadvertently discovered Matilda, is that organized crime has a mole in the US Marshal's office. That of course creates several new questions to be answered, who changed the records, how deep does the corruption in the marshal's office go, who is the witness protection program actually protecting, and what happened to the family they were supposed to be protecting?"

"So what do we do now?"

RJ went to his desk and got two USB flash drives, handing them to me, he explained, "I'd like you to copy all of your data onto these flash drives, two drives, two copies, one for you and one for me. Then I want you to purge Joshua of those files."

"But why?"

"To keep that information safe."

"Isn't Joshua safe?"'

"Today, yes. Tomorrow, who knows? We always do our best to safeguard the information on Joshua, but -"

"If I can find him, someone else might be able to find him."

"Matilda, why do you refer to Joshua as him? It's just an elaborate collection of circuit boards, hard drives, and programming."

"It’s hard for me not to think of him as an ... individual. He's so - I'd have to say personalized. He's always sending me funny things, comics and stuff. We've played lots of games, and he actually learns from his mistakes and it gets harder and harder to beat him. He's just so much fun to have around. It's more like I'm dealing with a person, not a machine."

"Hum, I've never had it respond to me in that manor, or anyone else that I'm aware of. Anyway, since you discovered Joshua, we've add several additional security measures to keep it hidden from the rest of the world."

"Okay. After I've cleaned up Joshua, then what do we do?"

"I'll set up a meeting."

"A meeting, a meeting with who?"

"That would be whom, and I can't give you that information."

RJ spent several moments quietly thinking. When he spoke, I was surprised by his question, "Matilda, have you ever checked out the US Attorney General's systems?"

"Umm, no I haven’t. I didn't think there was any reason to go there. It's the US Marshal's that run the whiteness protection program."

"I'm sure you're right about that, Matilda. However there may be an unaltered archive file, on a server, at the AG's office."

"I hadn't thought of that. Are you giving me permission to hack into the Attorney General's computers?"

"Of course not! You know full well that I cannot give you permission to invade a computer system outside of school, or a school assignment. And, officially, I have no knowledge of any student ever breaking those rules. Unofficially however, it seems to me that certain questions might be answered, with more information."

"And if you or any of your IM force are caught, or killed, we will disavow any knowledge of their existence," I added with smile.

"Something like that," RJ chuckled.

"Anything else we should be looking for?"

"Missing person reports. News stories, about suspected gangsters disappearing. Reports, of unidentified human remains being discovered. Cases in the AG's office that were suddenly dropped. That variety of information might give us a clue about who is actually being protected."

"That's a lot if information to dig through. Do we need to know all of that before the meeting?"

"No, the information you have will convince the comm ... um, those interested, that our contacts should be notified and they should start an investigation; but additional information wouldn't hurt."

"How much time do I have, before the meeting?"

"It will take about a week for ... those interested, to arrive."

"A week! You expect me to find all that in a week?" I asked, almost in shock.

"Of course not. What I expect of you is, that you will attend all of your classes, pay attention to your instructors, help Mary Beth with her homework, along with anyone else that asks for assistance, and in your free time, you will relax with your friends. However, knowing how your insatiable curiosity drives you, I imagine some of your free time will be spent prowling through some unsuspecting database. Please remember one thing, Matilda."

"What's that?"

"The slow blade penetrates the shield."

"What?" I asked completely puzzled by RJ's statement.

"Move slowly when entering an outside system. Even if you've been there before, new security measures may have been added. Consider carefully each step before you make it, because rushing in without thinking is what causes mistakes and detection. We wouldn't want anyone to know you have been tip-toe-ing through their tulips, that is, their databases, now would we?"

"No, we wouldn't want that," I agreed, with a smile.

Later, while I was in the lounge with the rest of the Black Sheep, I was telling Mary Beth what RJ had said about there being a mole in the US Marshal's office. Jenny, Aaron, Hope and Nichole were casually listening in. I wasn't exactly sure they needed to know all the details, but I wasn't divulging any school secrets, and they already knew about Bart's attacks on Mary Beth and Rachael. So I figured that it probably didn't matter if they knew about what I found.

It was while I was talking about trying to find news articles concerning missing person reports, or about anyone that might be connected to organized crime, with nothing but an approximate date, that's when Mary Beth had heard enough. "Matilda that's ridiculous, how are you supposed to find out who they really are? You don't evening know what part of the country they're from. I know you're smart, but this is a job for the police."

"Not necessarily," Jenny corrected. "If Matilda is right and someone in the US Marshal's office is involved with organized crime, there maybe nothing the local or state police can do."

"On the other hand, we aren't compelled to follow the same rules the police are, well not exactly," Aaron added.

"Someone's talking about breaking the rules?" Howard asked with a smile, as he joined our conversation. Howard's question brought the attention of everyone else and I suddenly found myself the center of attention, again.

'I've got to stop doing this, whatever it is that I'm doing, I've got to stop it. I don't like being the center of attention and having everyone looking at me, it makes me feel small and I'm already small enough.'

Jenny quickly corrected what Aaron had said and answered Howard's question, "No Howard, we are not talking about breaking the rules, not exactly. However, by bending the rules a little, what we intend to do, is find out who has broken the rules."

"What I'm suggesting is doing some research that the local authorities haven't thought of doing," Aaron concluded.

"Research?" Howard asked, making it sound like the worst thing in the world. "You can deal me out."

"But they're trying to prove that the cop's have screwed up," Nichole said plainly.

"And if they can prove it, they can rub the cop's noses in it," Hope added.

"Now, that sounds like fun, deal me back in," Howard decided.

"It's still a huge job, finding a family of three, that disappeared four and a half years ago, and was connected with the mob. Oh wait, we're not looking for just one family, but two families; and the second one is probably dead and buried, where they'll never be found. It'll take years," Mary Beth complained.

"It does seem like an impossible task, I'll agree," Aaron calmly stated. "However, with the use of the internet and some creative programming, we should be able to cut that time down considerably."

"What kind of programming?" Hope asked.

Aaron told us what he could do, with some elaborate search routines, flagging any files that matched the search criteria, and saving the links into a database of his own. We would then only have to review the flagged files, avoiding the files that weren't relevant. After Aaron was finished, I knew why he was this years computer specialist and my specialty is security systems; I can work my way into a system and look around, whereas his talents were more on the creative side. On the other hand, I've got eight years to learn.

I sent Aaron a file with what little I knew about Bart's family and their former life. He said it would take some time, but that we should have some possible files to go through by Sunday evening.

Before going to sleep, Mary Beth talked in detail about RJ's concerns and the meeting he was setting up. RJ had tried hard to make me not curious about who would be attending. His attempt didn't work, I was sure they would be some of the top members of the S.P.A. There were two questions on my mind as I drifted off to sleep; who were they, and should I try to figure it out, before they arrived.

* * * To Be Continued * * *

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