"No, absolutely not." The girl said looking at the pictures.
"Sidney, you have to. It's the perfect setup. Besides, you comprehend Russian, so you are going to understand what they are saying around you."
Silence. Apparently this was the opening they were waiting for, to reach out to some Russian oligarch dealing with industrial secrets.
The girl was still looking at the pictures, and something was stirring inside her.
Her partner was waiting for her response. If there was one that could pull it off, it was Sidney. As an agent, she had always been the most giving, always willing to go the extra mile.
But in this case it was not an extra mile. It was a mission, an undercover mission.
As she parted her lips to ask the first question, he knew she had decided to go on.
"What is it?"
"There is a bunch of Jetsetters that are organizing a very peculiar party in a horse race track near town. Something very exclusive and quiet as well."
"What do you mean?"
"This is a very kinky party. With a strict dress code for the female attendees."
"This?"
Sidney was gesturing at the pictures that showed some girls dressed in a makeshift equine costume, with some boots that ended in hooves.
"Yes."
"The party is supposed to take place in a couple of weeks and you are supposed to go to this address where they will measure you up for the costume. I've managed to find a place in the catering crew, so I will be nearby at all times."
She seemed to relax at the thought, but Michael, her partner, was certain that she had entered her "mission mode" right there in front of his eyes.
They had a review of the place, it was a horse track with the gravel ring where horses were supposed to race. It had a sort of big ballroom on the other side of the entrance, with easy access to the stalls and to the rear access area.
Michael had snatched the plan for the catering company and could place the kitchens and the storage area for food and supplies.
"So let me understand, why couldn't I be in the catering? Instead of dressing up?"
"They asked for male waiters. And do not worry, I will also have a dress code."
"Uh?"
"Tomorrow I have to go to the office and I will discover it."
When she came to the address, she found a brownstone building in a chic part of town. At the entrance she gave a name to the girl that opened the door.
"Here for the measurements?"
"Yes." The trained agent gave the girl a visual scan, she was in her twenties, dressed conservative, skirt and jacket. In leather.
This explained the faint smell of leather that was in the building. The agent was directed to a waiting hall, with a leather chair and, while there she could take a hard look at the pictures that were hung on the walls.
There were girls dressed in leather, and while at first they seemed normal enough, she could spot some strange outfits.
She was processing these thoughts in her brain, when they summoned her in the adjacent room.
It was more or less a fitting room and the intoxicating smell there was definitely stronger.
Another woman met her, a lady with white hair collected in a neat ponytail, also wearing leather. An ensemble made by a long shirt ending in a bustier and a jacket.
"Please, fold your clothes over there." The tone was sharp and cold.
Sidney decided to play the part, and did not follow her instinct that suggested she put up with her antagonist, instead she started to shed her clothes and neatly placed them on a nearby chair.
As she came down to her underwear, the lady gestured her to go on, so bra and knickers went to the pile.
Finally, she was there, completely naked, in a supposed tailor's workshop, with a lady dressed in leather who, in a slow motion, fished her pocket to find a tape.
Sidney had been to a fair amount of tailors, costumes and disguise are the bread and butter of any agent, but the amount of measurements that this lady had taken from her body was astounding.
Finally she had applied directly to her torso some tape to make the model for what seemed to be like a corset or a leotard.
Every time Sidney opened her mouth to ask something she was rewarded with a stern look and a sharp reminder that she had to keep absolutely quiet.
"Where did I put myself, this time?"
It was not the first time she had to go undercover, in the past had been in a Chinese prison, or she had to crack a smugglers' ring in Taiwan. And usually she had a sort of playbook to resort to with ways to disengage and methods to ask for help.
This time, the two of them, she and Michael, were so outside the normal parameters that they were actually flying solo.
There was a snitch in the Agency, so they could not call in for help, and because of that they could not report their whereabouts. On top of that, to further distance from each other, they could not be seen together until the party. A friendship between two different contractors would generate for sure some suspicion. And the size of the organization behind these events, with an obvious need for the utter privacy, made them think that they would be subject to a sort of background check, or at least a mild surveillance.
That very night, returning from the atelier, she texted Michael to a burner phone they bought just in case.
"Went to tailor. Very strange. No clue."
He responded.