Episode 5: For the Dress, Chapter 3

Eve slumped back in her chair. "This is hopeless: there's nothing there!"

"It's just a few magazines," Cassandra replied. "We should go look at some actual dresses in some actual dress shops before we even start to worry."

"I've been round the Portland ones already: there's nothing," shrugged Eve.

"Then we'll try the not-Portland ones," smiled Cassandra. She stood up and walked over to the stairs. "Mr Jenkins, can we use the door please?"

"You have a case?" Jenkins called back, appearing at the balcony.

Cassandra shook her head and batted her eyes. "Please?"

"You want to use a wormhole to go dress shopping," sighed the old man. "Of course you do. Have we all forgotten about public transport?"

"I was thinking about Paris," suggested Cassandra.

"Let's just start with New York," cut in Eve, hurrying to her Maid of Honour's side. "My French is limited to things like 'don't move, NATO Counter Terrorism Unit' and 'we have the building surrounded, come out with your hands on your heads'. If we don't get anywhere over here, we can always try London or Milan: my Italian is much better."

"New York it is then," agreed Cassandra. Both women turned big eyes and bright smiles on Jenkins.

"Ugh," he sighed. "Fine, go. Just remember I might have to switch it back to the auction house for the gentlemen. If I do I'll need a marker or an easy link to find you."

"Thank you Jenkins!" Eve called up as Cassandra set the globe with a magazine advertisement and Jenkins returned to his books.

They walked out of the library and into Bloomingdale's Wedding section. Eve stopped short, as did most of the dresses. "When did it become fashionable to wear a wedding dress that didn't reach your knees?"

"I'd consider it," said Cassandra. "If I was planning on getting married."

"You need to have that conversation, you know," Eve told her seriously. "Besides," she added, brightening, "I've never seen you wear anything below the knee, I think!"

"I have a few dresses that get that long," replied Cassandra with a smile. "And I will talk to him about it. Just, not yet."

"I should probably say now," said Eve, "I don't mind what length dress you wear to this."

"You will have full veto powers on anything I choose," Cassandra assured her. "It's your wedding. What about this: it's a Vera Wang."

"Too lacy," Eve shook her head.

"The Aidan Mattox one?"

"Too shiny."

"The Shelli Segal one?"

"Hmm," Eve considered the V-necked, pleated skirted gown carefully. "I like the wrap-around binding stuff under the bust, and I like the neckline and back, but I don't like the skirt or the material."

"The Sue Wong one?"

"Ooh, no: spaghetti straps! Avoid at all costs!"

They continued this way for the ten minutes or so it took to browse the whole collection, until finally Eve gave up and dragged Cassandra, now starting to pick out gradually worsening designs, out of the store. They found themselves on Broadway.

"Okay, it's a no for Bloomingdale's," the redhead giggled when Eve finally released her wrist. "I get it!"

"Why did you pick Bloomingdale's as a starting point in the first place?" Eve asked her, bemused.

"I lived in New York for years. I've never been," she shrugged.

"Seriously?" Eve's eyebrows rose. "There are heaven knows how many bridal boutiques in New York and you dragged me in there to be a tourist?"

Cassandra shrugged sheepishly. "I brought the magazine with the New York map: we can work our way outward from here."

"Fine!" Eve sighed. "What's closest?"

An hour or so, and five bridal boutiques, later, Cassandra and Eve were in a cab heading to a small shop that one of the last boutique's assistants had recommended. It was situated down a little street in Tribeca, and the assistant had suggested Eve describe what she wanted to the owner. The girls walked into the small shop and were instantly surrounded by lace, silk, satin, chiffon and all the other usual fabrics, some glinting with diamante details or shimmering sequins, others adorned with the glowing lustre of pearls. Cassandra was already neck deep in rails of dresses when the owner appeared from a back room. She was a tall woman, even against Eve, but she seemed pleasant enough.

Eve described the type of dress she was looking for and the owner, who had now introduced herself as Trudi, seemed to feel she could come up with something suitable. She brought out a series of dresses from the racks that matched the general description Eve had given, but never seemed quite right.

"Shoulders, but no sleeves," said Eve, handing her back the latest attempt. "No spaghetti straps either."

"Will you be wearing a veil?" Trudi asked, scribbling alterations on a sketch pad. She had slight accent that came through as clipped syllables and over-perfect vowels.

"I'd rather not," Eve replied hesitantly. "I'd like something floaty about it though."

"Train?" Trudi continued without looking up.

"Gets in the way," Eve shook her head. "It needs to be practical."

"Please tell me you are not trying to fit your wedding dress around your job!" Cassandra exclaimed.

"Job?" Trudi looked up this time.

"It's not exactly nine to five, Cassandra," Eve reminded her with a pointed glare. "I don't get time off."

"What do you do?" Trudi asked, looking from one woman to the other.

"Security," said Cassandra.

"Bodyguard," said Eve at the same time.

Trudi looked from one to the other again.

"I'm her personal bodyguard and head of security," Eve clarified, glaring at Cassandra again.

"You are famous?" Trudi asked Cassandra.

"Not if I'm doing my job right," replied Eve, through gritted teeth.

"What she means is," said Cassandra, "I'm not famous, but I am... vulnerable."

"I need something that won't get in my way if some uninvited guests decide to crash the wedding," explained Eve, changing the subject back to the matter in hand. "Floor length in the right heels is fine, but no trains, no tight fittings. I need something I can move in. Maybe a slit up the side, even. Something I could kick a guy in the head in and not fall over. She'll be needing something similar as Maid of Honour, just in case she needs to run. She can't do long skirts though."

"Also I tend to aim a little lower too," Cassandra added.

Eve and Trudi both looked at her.

"I just meant I can't kick that high!" Cassandra exclaimed, turning bright red.

"Satin is no good, not for something like that," said Trudi, still scribbling. "You would be better with silk. Perhaps with some chiffon underneath to make it more elegant where we slit it, yes? Something like this?"

The designer passed the sketch pad to Eve and Cassandra. They took it and looked down. Eve drew in a long breath.

"You like it?" Trudi asked.

"That's me," breathed Eve. "That's my figure, my proportions, how did you...?"

"I design clothes," smiled Trudi with a slight shrug. "I have to know what they will look like on the person I am designing them for. For you, it is easy. You have a classical grace. Very Grecian, very poised. You will suit these lines. We modify to suit your needs, we add some final touches to make it special..."

"It's perfect," smiled Eve. "How long..."

"A while, I must check my supplies on some items first, for the details," replied Trudi. "Wait here a moment, please."

"Of course," Eve nodded.

The designer disappeared into a back room, and Cassandra automatically began browsing again, this time on the bridesmaids racks. She held up a long bright yellow dress with a blue satin waistband and matching neckline that crossed straight from one upper arm to the other, but for a curved dip that came to a point in the centre of it, and gradually fading shades of blue ruffles kicking up one side into a flamenco style.

Eve's eyes widened. "Veto!"

"But the ruffles!" Cassandra pouted.

"But the colours!" Eve pointed out. "Put it back!"

"Humph," Cassandra replaced the dress on the rail. Her hand was about to remove another when a loud noise made both women turn and look at the door Trudi had disappeared through. It had sounded like a crash, mixed with a snarl.

"Stay here," Baird told Cassandra. The younger woman nodded and watched as the Colonel moved towards and through the door.

"Trudi?" Colonel Baird called. The room beyond was dark. She felt for a light switch, found one, found it didn't work and switched on the torch on her phone. She appeared to be in a cave. "Cassandra!"

"What?" Cassandra replied breathlessly, although not quite enough to convince the Guardian she'd just run all the way over from the other side of the previous room. "Oh my."

"This remind you of anything?" Baird asked her casually.

"Einstein-Rosen bridge," said the Librarian. "This shouldn't be here. We've walked through a wormhole."

"Which is interesting, because you usually can't hear me on the other side of the back door, even when it's open," mused Baird.

"Very interesting," Cassandra agreed, all innocence.

"Hmm," retorted Baird. "So where's our dress designer?"

A muffled yell reached their ears. Silently, Baird pointed in the direction of the noise and beckoned for Cassandra to follow her closely. They were halfway across the open space of the cavern when Cassandra's phone began to buzz. Baird looked at her. Cassandra showed the Guardian her screen. It showed a picture of Stone, taken recently by the look of things. He was smiling for one. Eyes rolling, the Colonel dragged them both behind a drawing desk. She motioned for Cassandra to answer it, but quietly and quickly.

"Hey, Cassie, you'll never guess what I just found," said Jacob as soon as the phone answered.

"That's great, sweetie, but we're a teensy bit busy here right now," Cassandra whispered back.

"Seriously? You're pickin' out weddin' stuff and you ain't got time to look at a photo?"

"Fine," she muttered. She flicked through the options on her phone and brought up the photograph he had sent. When she saw it, her voice rose enough for Baird to nudge her to be quiet. "Oh, Hetzel cover Jules Vernes, how odd. Although that looks a pretty big library. I guess there would be bound to be something we've come across already in there."

"I know, I just saw it and it made me think of you is all," said the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Aw, that's sweet," replied Cassandra quietly. "How are you getting on with Flynn and Ezekiel this time round?"

"They're just checking out something else right now," he replied.

Somewhere on the other side of the cave, something sent piles of fabrics crashing to the ground.

"What was that?" Jacob asked, instantly sounding worried.

"Nothing, nothing," she hissed back. "No, Eve just knocked a pile of magazines over. Nothing to worry about. Have fun."

She hung up, clicked the phone off and replaced it in her purse, then looked at Baird and shrugged. Well it might have been important. Baird rolled her eyes at her and glanced round the desk at the source of the noise.

A hand the size of a car tyre reached out and pulled the desk away.