Jenny Plague-Bringer: (Jenny Pox #4) by J. Bryan Page B

through Officer Candidate School and quickly scaled the bureaucracy, even
     gathering secrets on American politicians who were deemed obstacles to national security. 
     He’d taken over the top-secret ASTRIA—where he was able to operate with an unusual
     lack of oversight, as the agency was both classified and no longer of great interest
     to the Pentagon—out of a desire to find others like himself.  It looked like that
     choice was starting to pay off.
    Ward marched back up the hall.
    “Pack it up,” he told his two men. “Everything in the girl’s room, every stick of
     furniture.  I want it all for analysis.”
    “You can’t take Jenny’s things,” Darrell protested weakly, from where the two men
     held him to the floor. “That’s all I got left of her.”
    “So sad,” Ward replied. “Tie him up and stuff him out of the way.”
    “Sir, we might need a van or a truck to move the furniture,” Buchanan said.
    “Then call for one.  And nobody goes in there without gloves and a mask.  Place is
     probably crawling with toxins,” Ward told him.
    Ward stepped outside while Avery tied up the man, who was so badly beaten he could
     barely protest as Avery shoved him into the coat closet.
    Buchanan joined Ward on the front porch.
    “There’s a fourth one,” Ward told him.
    “A fourth paranormal, sir?”
    “Might be the most dangerous of all.  His touch spreads fear.”
    “Do we have a name, sir?”
    “Just a face.  I’d need a sketch artist to render it.  We have a lot to do, Buchanan,
     but it’s all turning into dead ends down here.  We need to talk to the Barretts. 
     Let’s pray God sees fit to let Senator Mayfield die.  Until then, we’d better get
     back to Virginia and crunch what we’ve learned here, get our data miners working. 
     Determine our next step.  Now, call someone for me.”
    “Yes, sir.” Buchanan made a call. 
    Later, a team arrived with a small truck and full-body hazardous material suits. 
     They picked Jenny’s room clean, taking everything from her bed to the small picture
     of Jenny and Seth Barrett tucked into the corner of her mirror.  Ward wanted to see
     what a biochemical analysis might reveal, and to find whether Jenny had left him any
     clues to her next destination.
    When Jenny’s room lay bare, and all the other men had left the house, Ward opened
     the coat closet door.  Darrell Morton, though bound, gagged, bruised, and bloodied,
     gave him a defiant look.
    Ward cut away the rope from his hands and mouth.
    “Mr. Morton,” he said, “There is no reason you should tell anyone about our visit
     today.  If you do, you will be punished.  We’ll be watching and listening from now
     until the end of your life, which could be very soon, or could be many years from
     now.  Think about that.”
    Ward stood and walked out the door.
     

Chapter Ten
     
    Jenny ate an unspeakably delicious slice of mushroom pizza with a rich, spicy tomato
     sauce, sitting alone at an outdoor table at L’Oraziano, directly across the street
     from the high glass facade of the economics school.  She had a weird craving to smear
     a glop of peanut butter on top of the pizza, but she didn’t have a jar handy.  As
     best as she could tell, she was about three months pregnant, and she was starting
     to feel it.
    Mariella Visconti had not bothered her again, but Jenny had continued thinking about
     the girl as the weeks passed.  It made Jenny uneasy to know that another of her kind
     might be right here in Paris, one who was searching for Seth and already knew where
     Jenny lived.
    Jenny was allegedly shopping for Thanksgiving dinner.  Of course, in Paris it was
     just another Thursday, but it would be nice to have something that reminded them of
     home.
    This was the third day she’d slipped off to spy on Mariella.  So far as she could
     tell, Mariella had told the truth—she did live in a student apartment building near
     the Sorbonne, where she attended classes