“This one?” he asked.
“We’ll tailor it to fit you like a glove,” Sauda said. “But yes.”
It was an Alexander McQueen design, he could tell immediately, with its skull-shaped cuffs and unique detailing along the seams, a scarlet kerchief folded into the breast pocket. It was the most beautiful suit he’d ever seen. He would have ordered this, had he seen it on a runway.
“I’m guessing the House of McQueen isn’t in on this caper,” he said.
“Of course not,” Sauda answered. “We just had it altered a bit.”
“Altered how?”
Niall stepped forward. “Keep your arm extended.”
Winter obeyed. As he did, Niall removed the suit jacket from therack and pulled its left sleeve, then right, onto Winter’s arms. The fabric slid on, cold and sleek. Niall smoothed the lapels, took a step back, and reached into his jacket.
“Stand absolutely still, please,” Niall added.
Winter nodded.
Niall pulled out a gun and pointed it at Winter’s arm.
Winter’s eyes popped open. He started to protest—but Niall had already pulled the trigger.
The bullet rocketed out of the gun and into his sleeved arm. A violent jolt of pain shot through him, and he flinched, his body swinging to one side from the impact. Then he heard the bullet clink to the floor.
“Ow!” Winter managed to yell. “What the hell?”
No one else reacted. Sydney nodded at her mentor. “You got the design to muffle the sound, too?” she asked.
“By thirty percent,” Niall said with a nod as he bent to pick up the bullet case.
Sydney made an impressed sound. “I can tell.”
Niall held the bullet case up to Winter—and Winter found himself staring at a bit of metal that looked like it had slammed into a steel wall. Well,thiswas new. He’d never been shot at a fitting before.
“What makes this suit special,” Niall said to Winter, “is that the fabric isn’t made out of fabric at all, but a synthetic diamond mesh engineered to feel like linen but strong enough to be impenetrable by bullets. The technology of the mesh’s molecular structure combined with the technique of the weave also absorbs a great deal of the impact.” He looked at Winter. “How does your arm feel?”
“Sore,” he complained, rubbing at the spot where the bullet had hit.
“But unharmed, yes?” Niall suggested.
Winter nodded begrudgingly as he ran his fingers along the suit’s sleeve. The material felt slightly heavier than the suits he was accustomed to wearing—and when he peered closer at where the bullet had struck, henoticed with astonishment that the sleeve looked almost untouched, with just a trace of gunpowder dotting the surface. He brushed it off, and the jacket was as good as new.
“Those skull cuffs also aren’t just cuffs,” Niall added as he touched the metal studs.
“Listening devices?” Winter suggested, remembering the chips that his jewelry had been embedded with during his last mission.
Niall shook his head. “Tap the left cuff three times in rapid succession with your thumb, then twist it sideways. It’s designed to respond only to your fingerprint, and only to this pattern of touch.”
Winter followed the directions—and the cuff popped off, then flashed a blinking red light. Startled, he dropped it.
“Is that a bomb?” he said incredulously.
“Of sorts.” Niall picked it up and tapped it twice, shutting it off. “Only you can activate yours, although anyone can turn it off. Not a massive explosive, but it’ll cause a bit of damage.”
“Right, sure,” Winter muttered, gingerly pressing it again so that the cuff snapped back onto his sleeve.
“Of course, try to use it sparingly,” Niall said, patting the pocket beside the front lapel of the suit. When he removed his hand, Winter saw a gleaming silver pen tucked into it. “You’ve got a pen flare here that will work just fine as a distraction. Shield your eyes.” To demonstrate, he took it out and clicked it twice.
