Jenny Plague-Bringer(104)

She didn’t mind being in the cellblock—this was where the Germans had housed her first, after she’d refused to come with them and they’d responded by forcibly taking her. After cooperating for a time, she’d been allowed to move up to the residential dorm with other test subjects, provided she kept quiet and complained about nothing. She’d kept almost perfectly silent the entire time.

While it was better to be upstairs with the others, a night or two alone in a cell would at least give her a respite from Alise’s cold, gray eyes boring into her, filled with suspicion each time they saw each other. In her own way, Evelina thought, Alise seemed almost as sinister as Kranzler himself, even if everybody else seemed to love her.





Chapter Thirty




Ward remained seated as Mariella entered his office, but he smiled at her. He nodded at the Hale Security guard who’d escorted her, and the guard closed the door to wait outside.

“Miss Visconti,” Ward said. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

“Of course, sir. Is this about...” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “...spy work?”

“It is. Have a seat. Coffee?” He reached for the button on his telephone.

“No, thank you.” Mariella kept her posture perfectly straight as she sat. “What can I do for you?”

Ward found Mariella to be a typical rich ditz, underneath her air of education and culture. She’d already ordered thousands of dollars in clothing, since she had almost none with her, as well as furnishings for her dormitory room, but that was a small price to pay keep her happy, considering the hellstorm her politically connected family could raise on her behalf. He was relieved to have her on his side, even enthusiastic to follow orders, but he still needed to test her loyalty and dedication.

“I think you can help us streamline our operation,” Ward told her. “We now have five paranormals at this facility, and three are cooperating with us—you and the boy Tommy most of all. The Mexican girl, the one who can speak to the dead, she does what we say, though she clearly doesn’t share your enthusiasm or your understanding of the importance of our work.”

“But Jenny and Seth are not cooperating, sir?” She looked puzzled, as if this news made no sense to her.

“Exactly.”

“Jenny is pregnant, sir, so she may not be entirely rational.” Mariella gave him a big smile. “You know how we women are—erratic, emotional, impulsive. When a woman’s pregnant, multiply that by a hundred. Let me speak to her, and I’ll help her understand what she needs to do.”

“I want your help with the boy.”

“Seth?”

“He won’t listen to me, but I think he’ll be more willing to listen to a pretty little thing like you,” Ward said. He didn’t see how any red-blooded American male could ignore her, with her high cheekbones, dark red hair, and dancer’s body.

“I could talk with Seth, too, if you like,” she said.

“Don’t just talk to him, convince him. I want you to redirect his affections.”

“I don’t think I understand, General Kilpatrick.”

“You understand. Stroke his ego, stroke his cock if you have to, do whatever it takes to change his mind. Make him switch his allegiance from the plague girl over to you.”

Mariella gasped and even blushed a little. He just watched her coolly.

“Are you serious?” she whispered.

“You said you wanted to be a spy. It’s not the movies, it’s not ninja fights and poison darts hidden in your wristwatch. It’s about gaining people’s trust. And this is the way you’re going to do it. Female spies use every asset they have, including their feminine wiles.”

“My feminine wiles?” Mariella giggled.

“I assume you have some. This is your first assignment. The first test of your ability to act as an intelligence operative.”

“I like the sound of that.” She beamed. “I do know boys, sir, and how to use their feelings.”

“Then you think you can handle that?”

“Please, he’s not a challenge. He’s very immature, even for an American boy.”

“Good. Go to his cell tonight. The guards will let you in.”

“I’m excited!” The girl was practically bouncing in her chair before she recovered herself and tried to look proper. “I mean, I’ll do it, sir! But I could still talk to Jenny for you, too.”

“Not just now,” he said. “I have special plans for Jenny.”

Mariella sat in her chair, smiling at him, her eyes practically glowing—her eyes, the same green hue as his own, as if they were mirrors reflecting his own gaze. She might be useful, but her presence made Ward uncomfortable, stirring up the prickly-flesh feeling that had turned into a strange hallucination last time. He probably needed psych meds, but he wasn’t about to tell anyone that his brain might be slipping. Once something like that got added to a file, Ward’s enemies in the Pentagon could use it against him. As a man who’d primarily gotten ahead in life through blackmail, he knew there were a number of top brass who wouldn’t mind seeing him retired, one way or another.