Sunder by Kristin McTiernan Read Free Book Online

over what was going to happen. He was a good guy.
    “Thanks Cody.” He signed off and smiled. 
    Last night’s clandestine trip, though frightening, had been successful—he had entered new coordinates for Izzy’s trip; since the change occurred after midnight, all data had already been transmitted to the backup systems.  There would be no record of the coordinates once the malfunction occurred. And since Peterson would be performing the launch, no one would imagine it was done on purpose; it would just look like a simple machine malfunction—no blame on Cody, no blame on Etienne.
    He took a moment to reflect on the pitiful state of security at Jaramillo-Diaz. The Agency was so concerned about footage of their technology being smuggled out to a would-be competitor that they didn’t watch the most important part of the depot. But then Alfredo always did prize money above all things.
    Still shaking a bit, Etienne walked out of the launch station. It would all be over soon.
    It was 11:15 a.m.
    ***
    Isabella eyed the beautiful red dress as it hung next to the full-length mirror in the back of her office.  Everything about it was perfect—the asymmetrical design, the silk and embroidered fringe of the shawl, the flowing skirts that hit at her shins.  She chose this design because of its high fashion and conservative design. The dropped waistline marked it as a product of the 20s, but she did not want to be as conspicuous as a speak-easy flapper. As always she had supplied her own clothing, as the idea of using Agency-supplied clothing filled her with nausea. How other Agents tolerated wearing clothing other people had sweated in was a mystery to her.
    She heard a timid knock at the door.  Of course it was Elizabeth.  But since she was in her very large 1920s underwear, she decided to make sure.
    “Who is it?”
    Elizabeth mumbled her name and was allowed to enter, a look of worry marring her pale face as she stepped through the door.
    “Is something wrong?” Isabella asked, leaning back to hand her hair brush to her assistant. Elizabeth approached the desk and stood behind Isabella, immediately taking the brush from her and running it through Isabella’s hair.
    “Not really,” she managed the shadow of a confident smile. “There was a miscommunication with Agent Dejesus.  She and the tourist were ordered to leave at 11.  You’ll be going alone at the scheduled time.”
    Isabella raised an eyebrow in irritation. “To avoid High Noon, I’m guessing. Why would they go without me? I was right here the whole time.  I could have been ready by 11.” 
    Elizabeth took a comb out of her pocket and started gently arranging Isabella’s hair into a chignon. “Peterson wasn’t very specific. He just said there was a mix-up.” She tenderly swept the strays from Isabella’s olive-toned forehead and placed the final pin in her hair.  “There. You look lovely, so much like your mother.”
    She rolled her eyes in irritation. “My mother was blonde, Elizabeth.” She stood up, straightening the uncomfortable brassier. Her assistant’s habit of bringing up her mother, Monica, was intolerable. Isabella was only a teenager when she hired Elizabeth to assist her and out of sympathy had made the error of condoning random comments about her mother. After all, Elizabeth had been the one to find her.
    As the daughter of the family maid, Elizabeth had grown up in a small bungalow behind the Jaramillo house. She had been only 10 years old, just coming home from school, when she found Monica in the pool that terrible day. Though Isabella understood the need to discuss the childhood trauma, she had her own issues with her mother’s death, and found any discussion if it unbearable.
    “Come help me with this.” She reached up and took the dress down from its hook on the mirror.  She let Elizabeth take the dress from her, then turned toward the mirror, raising her arms above her head.
    The dress came down over her body, the