Jenny Plague-Bringer: (Jenny Pox #4) (34 page)

The guards took her through another, larger steel door at the end of the hallway,
which had to be unlocked with a plastic ID card.  They turned down another corridor
and passed through another secure door, then rode an elevator up a level. 

As they took her down a narrow side corridor to a suite of offices, Mariella felt
her skin prickle.  She recognized where she was—the colors had gone from gray and
green to white, making it feel more like a modern research lab and less like a military
base, but beneath that, everything was still the same.  It
felt
the same. 

Memories from that past life bubbled everywhere in the underground base.  Why not? 
They were gathering back in the same place—herself, the plague-bringer, the healer,
the seer.  She wondered whether the Latin girl in the other cell just happened to
be the love-charmer, or perhaps the dead-speaker.

The setting and characters might have been the same, but Mariella intended for the
story to end differently this time.

The guards took her to exactly the office door she expected, the largest office. 
Inside, a burly man in a general’s uniform stood behind his desk, and she barely had
to look at him to recognize that this was the man from her vision, the man who’d been
searching for them.  She also knew that, in a past life, this man had been a Nazi
S.S. officer named Helmut Kranzler.  There was no mistaking his heavy, menacing presence.

He smiled and offered his hand, his green eyes eerily like her own.  There was a strange
energy in the room between them.  They were opposites, but not exactly the sort who
fell in love like Jenny and Seth.  She wondered if he had any of his past memories,
or if he were limited to the gnat-sized viewpoint of a single lifetime.

“Miss Visconti, my name is General Ward Kilpatrick, United States Department of Defense.”
He shook her hand, and she noticed he wore gloves, maybe to protect himself from her
power. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“I wasn’t aware I had a choice, General,” Mariella said.

“Please, ma’am, have a seat.  You can relax now.” He dropped into his chair and waved
the guards away. “You can go, boys, she’s not violent.”

“We’ll be right outside.” One of the guards closed the door.

Mariella slowly sat down opposite him. “Where am I?” she asked, though in a sense,
she knew perfectly well.  Germany.  The Harz mountains.

“You are at a top-secret defense research facility,” Ward said. “I apologize for bringing
you here under these circumstances, ma’am, but you were in the company of a wanted
mass murderer.  Jennifer Morton.  I’m not sure what name she might have told you.”

“Genevieve?  She can’t be a murderer.”

“Oh, yes.” Ward turned his computer screen toward her and summoned images of bodies
in clear plastic bags, disfigured and twisted by horrific diseases. “Two hundred people,
right in her own hometown.  Kids from her school.  The pastor at her church.  The
mayor.” He scrolled through more and more pictures, intestines poking through rotten
flesh, eye sockets full of tumorous gore, until Mariella had to stop herself from
being sick. “She did this
to her own
, Miss Visconti, not to some foreign enemy.  Can you imagine a person who would inflict
that on her own people?”

“I can’t.” Mariella shook her head. “Are you sure she did it?  She seems so nice.”

“She did it.  Her touch spreads a deadly infection...you already know all about that,
Miss Visconti.   We overheard you have a secret of your own, don’t you?” He leaned
forward, grinning and speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. “What is it like, Miss
Visconti?  Seeing other people’s futures?”

“You know about that?” Mariella faked a surprised gasp. “I tried to keep it secret
for so long.”

“Your secret will remain safe with me, don’t you worry.” Ward leaned back. “Miss Visconti,
you’re a law-abiding citizen from a good family.  How did you get tangled up with
these criminals, Jenny and Seth?”

“I only met them a few weeks ago, honestly,” Mariella said. “If you’ve been spying
on them, you must know that, don’t you?  Whatever terrible crimes they’ve committed,
I want you to know that I was not involved, I barely know these people, and I just
want to go home.” Mariella’s voice cracked, and she teared up. “I just want to see
my family.  That’s all.”

“Oh, no, wait.” He sat up, taken aback by her sudden outpouring. “You don’t need to
be afraid as long as you cooperate.  You see, this project ultimately affects the
entire Western world.  We hoped that, given your family’s prominence in Italy, you
might be willing to work with us, on the side of law and order.”

“Work...with you?  How?” She looked up at him, wiping her eyes.

“We’d begin with basic scientific tests, studying and measuring your precognitive
ability, and unraveling what makes it tick.  Wouldn’t it be nice to understand yourself
better?”

“I suppose it could.” Mariella nodded and gave him a weak smile.

“In time, you might have assignments.  Protecting NATO interests, including Italy. 
We might send you to read the future of a specific influential person, for example.”

Mariella thought it over. “So...I would be a spy?”

“Essentially.  But we would need your absolute loyalty.”

“I’ve always wanted to be a spy.  Is that silly?” Mariella gave an embarrassed giggle.

“Not to me.  You would be on our side, the good guys working against the evil in the
world.  Secret missions, traveling in disguise.  Would you like that?”

“Oh, yes!” Mariella’s eyes lit up, and she tried to sound as naive and impressed as
possible. “Do you mean it?  You want me for that?”

“We think you would make an excellent agent,” he continued, really laying it on thick.
“Young, intelligent, well-bred, educated...and a very useful power in your hands. 
Will you work with us?”

Mariella gaped at him for a long moment.

“Is that a yes?” he finally asked.

“Oh, yes, please, of course, sir!”  She bounced in her chair as if she couldn’t contain
herself. “What’s my first mission?”

He laughed. “Decorate your room.  We’re moving you out of the cellblock and into more 
comfortable quarters.  We have your overnight bag from Carnac waiting for you.  Just
let us know what  else you need.”

“Egyptian cotton sheets.”

“Excuse me?”

“At least twelve hundred thread count, and they must be organic, or it’s just not
comfortable,” Mariella said. “I’ll make you a list of everything I need once I see
the accommodations.”

Ward rubbed the side of his head. “Not a problem.”

“Do I get a secret spy name?  Or a code number?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“What kind of spying will I do?”

“Your first job is to call your parents and let them know you’re safe,” he said. “Tell
them you took a semester off to study Alpine folk music, or whatever bullshit you
have to tell them, so they aren’t calling every police agency in France searching
for you.”

“Oh, yes, sir!  I’ll come up with something.  Something
very
clever.”  She winked.

“Good.  The guards will show you to your new room.  Any more questions?”

“Only a million!” Mariella said. “But I can wait, I see you’re busy.” She bounced
out of her chair and smiled over her shoulder as she approached the door.

The guards brought her to the largest room on a dormitory hall that had no other residents. 
They showed her the common area and bathroom, both of which she had to herself for
now.  She was certain that she was being monitored with hidden cameras.  The general
was treating her well, but that didn’t mean he trusted her.  She certainly didn’t
trust him.  He was probably just worried about her family’s influence.  If they learned
an American agency had kidnapped their daughter, it would only take one phone call
from her grandfather to elevate the complaint to NATO...which explained why the general
was being so nice to her.

She sat down on her new bed as the three guards left, snickering to herself for insisting
on organic Egyptian sheets.  She’d give him a laundry list of luxury items, playing
the spoiled rich girl.  If he thought she was shallow and empty-headed, he’d probably
find her less suspicious.

Her mind boiled over with strong memories from this same hall.  This room had belonged
to Alise, not to her.  Mariella supposed she was now the hallway
fuehrer
.

Mariella had once shared a smaller room down the hall with Jenny, when their names
were Mia and Juliana.  She smiled to herself at the memory.  She could almost hear
Duke Ellington’s orchestra echoing softly in her ears, tinged by the scratchy crackle
of a phonograph record.

She smiled as the memory welled up inside her. 

* * *

“Juliana,” Mia whispered, shaking the sleeping girl’s arm with her gloved hand. It
was a Saturday, a few minutes after midnight. “Juliana, you have to wake up!”

“What’s happening?” Juliana’s eyes opened just a sliver.  The room was dim, lit only
by a single small lamp in the corner.  Without it, the underground chamber was dead
black.

“I have to tell you something,” Mia whispered.

“What is it?  Are you hurt?” Juliana leaned up on elbow to look at Mia, who knelt
on the floor by Juliana’s bed.

“No, but I have to show you something.” Mia crawled over to her bed, reached underneath,
and found the paper-wrapped package.  She carried it over to Juliana.

“What is that?”

“Burgundy!” Mia whispered, unwrapping the bottle.

“You have wine?” Juliana sat up now, brushing long hairs from her face. “How?”

“I sweet-talked a kitchen steward.  He swiped it from the officers’ wine cellar for
me!  Can you believe it?”

“Good job!” Juliana said.

“I’ve been saving it for tonight.  You’ve been so sad ever since the...poor goats...”
Mia bit her lip, wishing she hadn’t said it, but the thought had slipped out.

“The poor goats.” Juliana frowned and looked at the floor.

“So, I think we must drink.  Let’s go the common room.  We can play music there.”

“We’ll wake everyone up.”

“Not if we play it
softly
.” Mia took her gloved hand. “Please.  It’s so boring here.”

Juliana laughed.

They crept down the hall in bare feet, Mia in her nightgown, Juliana wearing the baggy
cotton nightshirt that she’d originally bought for Sebastian, but he’d only worn it
a few nights on the ship before she stole it.  Juliana had blushed as she told Mia
about it.

They eased through the double doors to the common area, and they tiptoed past the
bathroom door to the lounge area with the bookshelves and phonograph.  Mia played
a jazz record, Duke Ellington, and uncorked the bottle.  She took a long sip and passed
it to Juliana, then watched uneasily as Juliana drank from the bottle’s mouth.

“I won’t get sick if I drink after you, will I?” Mia asked, and Juliana gave her a
sad, hurt look.

“No, you’re fine,” Juliana whispered as she passed the bottle back.

“So what do you hate most about this place?” Mia asked.

“You don’t sound happy to be here.”

“I know you’re not, either,” Mia said. “I can see it in your face.”

“I just don’t like killing the animals.  I hope they don’t do that again, I don’t
think I can handle it.  And I miss Sebastian.” Juliana took the bottle back and drank
more.

“You see him at meals,” Mia said.

“
Only
at meals.  I used to see him all the time.  On the ship, we were together all day
and night, dancing, or reading stories, or secretly making fun of the other people
onboard...” Juliana and Mia both laughed. “What I really miss is the kissing, so much
kissing.”

“Was it just kissing?  Or more?”

Juliana bit her lip, then giggled. “More.”

“A little more, or a lot more?”

“A
lot,
” Juliana said, and they laughed again. “I miss him so much.”

“You must.  He’s so handsome.”

“Do you have anyone?  Back at home, maybe?”

“No one who’s going to wait for me,” Mia said. “I don’t even know how long I have
to stay here.”

“Can’t you leave whenever you want?”

“I wish.” Mia explained how she’d accepted money to be a lab rat for the Nazis, and
how her family had pushed her to do it. “There was a boy I liked, during the time
when I ran away to Rome...but I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.  He’ll be with
someone else.  He was never with me, anyway.” She drank more, then put the bottle
down on the table and hopped to her feet, holding out her hand. “We can dance.  We
don’t need boys for that.”

“Don’t get too close to me,” Juliana warned, but she let Mia pull her to her feet.

They danced to the fast, heady music, and soon they were trying to outdo each other
with silly moves.  Mia couldn’t stop laughing.  It was the first good time she’d had
since leaving Sicily.