Claudia

The bad news was, the club they needed to infiltrate had an extremely exclusive members list, and all of them were women.

The good news was, the Major knew one of the women.

"You know a woman?" B had blurted when this was revealed, and then spent most of the rest of the journey trying to unstick his foot from his mouth.

"My cousin Claudia," the Major had explained, once he'd finished glaring. Which had at least stopped the world feeling quite so topsy-turvy. The Major talking to women was like G wearing a suit or the Earl's pet accountant not going through the bins; sufficiently normal behaviour to be disturbing and wrong.

A had to admit to being curious about the Major's cousin. The Major had never said anything about his relatives, except in the form of stomping and cursing when he received a phone call from his father. But he'd grown up in a castle with a butler and servants, so his family had to be wealthy and connected. Especially if his cousin was a member of the elite women's club where their target, Marianne Köhler, was meeting her contact.

So it was with a mix of trepidation and fascination that he and B waited outside the front door at Claudia von dem Eberbach's country estate, wondering what sort of vision they would be greeted by. It was B's opinion that she would look like a troll, Z's that she was 'probably lovely', and the general opinion of all the Alphabets that regardless of what she looked like, anybody who even accidentally seemed as if they were trying to flirt was sure to end up banished to Alaska.

He jumped as the door was yanked open from inside with excessive force, and hastily raised his gaze from where it had - accidentally! - landed in the general neck area. He found himself looking up into the face of a very tall woman with scowling green eyes, long glossy black hair, and a rather strong nose and jaw that nonetheless came together to give her a striking, if intimidating, appearance.

It was exactly like looking at a female version of the Major.

But not just that, he realised a beat later; a heavily pregnant female version of the Major.

B fainted.

A sort of wished that he could do the same.

It appeared their information had been incomplete, and now they had to scramble to form a new plan.

"Maybe we could send G in to impersonate the Major's cousin?" Z suggested.

"You didn't see her," said B. "She's an Amazon! She must have been at least six foot tall."

"We could put Z in a dress," suggested A. They all studied Z, who shrank down in his seat looking dismayed.

G huffed and inspected his painted nails. "He'd be useless," he said with a flick of his hand. "It takes style and confidence to pull this off."

A forbore from commenting on his opinion of G's sense of style. "Anyway, if we did use Z, we'd need to change his eye colour," he said. "He couldn't keep wearing sunglasses inside the club, and even if the Major's cousin doesn't go there often, somebody would notice. Her eyes are really green." It had been the first thing he'd noticed - well, that and the very familiar glare. "In fact, they're exactly the... same... as... the Major's..."

Silent horror descended on the group as they contemplated the obvious solution that was staring them in the face. An obvious solution that someone was going to have to suggest to the Major.

"Can't we just go straight to Alaska now?" B wailed.

First, Klaus exploded Then he did some furious swearing. Then he chain-smoked fifteen cigarettes. Then he repeated the sequence in multiple different variations.

None of which managed to alter the salient facts. They needed a pair of eyes in that club to witness the exchange, and his cousin's membership was their only route in. Claudia was in no condition to assist with the operation, and there was only one member of their group who could plausibly impersonate her.

That didn't mean he had to like it.

Sometimes, Klaus thought miserably, it would be nice to be one of those people for whom duty didn't always come first.

Finally, when he'd run out of excuses - and cigarettes - he found himself stuck in a room with one of the people he least liked to be alone with. He glowered darkly, but G only ducked his head and tittered, apparently immune to the force of Klaus's scowl. Klaus sometimes had a disturbing suspicion he actually enjoyed it.

Perverts. He was surrounded by perverts. And now he had to learn to act like one of them. He sat, rigidly tense, while he waited for G's twittering to approach something that might actually count as useful advice.

"I always like to start by taking a shower with my scented soaps," G said. "That puts me in the right sort of feminine mood - plus they smell divine!" He presented his wrist under Klaus's nose, apparently for scenting. Klaus recoiled in horror.

Klaus recoiled in horror. "Get to the point!" he snapped.

G jumped a little. "Um, well, I suppose you could skip the pampering and get straight to the underwear," he said. "Now, I know it's always tempting to go with the prettiest thing you can find - which can be fun! - but if you want to be convincing, there are various considerations-"

Klaus's mind, temporarily paralysed by shock, caught up to exactly what G was suggesting.

"I am not wearing women's underwear!" he bellowed, loud enough to cause the Alphabets holed up in the next room to yelp and scamper for escape. Bad enough that he actually had to consider wearing a dress for the sake of the mission, but he certainly wasn't prepared to wear female... underthings... beneath it.

G looked cowed, and Klaus glowered around with deep suspicion at the collection of frouffy little bags of make-up, and... well, Klaus's knowledge of what was required for the maintenance of femininity stopped there, but G had certainly brought a lot of them. And Klaus was entirely sure that whatever came out of each of them would only serve to make him still more furious and disgusted.

This was never, ever, ever going to work.

"The Major's doing what?" Dorian said. Bonham had already reported the content of poor Mr A's rather distressed email twice, but he had to hear it a third time, just to be sure. The Major, pressed into cross-dressing for a mission? "Oh, this is delicious!" He gave a carefree laugh. "Book me a flight! I have to see this for myself."

Bonham stayed resolutely planted in his chair, moustache quivering tremulously. "I'd stay here, if I were you, milord," he said. "He'll murder all the witnesses!"

James peered out from under the table he'd taken shelter beneath at the first mention of the Major. "Why would you want to go and look at that horrible Major when you could be looking for art for us to steal?" he demanded.

"Ah, but think of the blackmail photos," Dorian said, to placate him. Of course, he would never actually dream of blackmailing the Major for money.

Not when there were so many other delightful things he could blackmail him for.

"He won't pay," James said with sour certainty. "And you'll spend all the money on airfare and eating and hotels and things!" His voice grew progressively more shrill with indignation.

"Now, James, I promise I'll use the very cheapest transport I can find, and I'll make the Major pay for all my meals," he said. Sadly, this did not produce the desired effect.

But Dorian always got his way, even if his way in this case involved dragging his suitcase down the stairs with James determinedly clinging to his leg to try and stop him.

"It's not worth it, milord," Bonham beseeched him as he left. "We can always ask G to take pictures for us."

"We won't pay for your funeral," James warned, glaring sullenly from between the rails of the balustrade.

But faint heart ne'er won fair Major, and Dorian knew he wouldn't rest until he'd seen this glorious vision for himself. The prospect of seeing his most manly Major forced to get in touch with his feminine side for once was far too good to waste.

To Germany!

Only hours before Köhler was due to meet her contact at the club. Klaus's stomach churned with a degree of trepidation that he'd seldom felt over a mission before. He eyed the flimsy fabric of the... robe... that G had procured for him. It was, in its essence, no different from a priest's cassock or a university student's gown. Perfectly acceptable, masculine items of clothing.

He was not finding his own line of reasoning very convincing.

He laid out the... dress to study it. There was no getting around the fact that it was a dress. A ghastly pale blue silky thing with lace around the sleeves that had made G coo and Klaus want to throw up. He couldn't imagine putting it on; simply couldn't mentally plan out the sequence of events that ended with him wearing it. Perhaps if he wore it over the top of his clothes? But his mind balked at even that much.

The door to his room slammed open. "Did someone call for a fashion consultant?" a horribly familiar voice sang out.

How had that bloody thief found him? Did he have some kind of radar for Klaus's worst humiliations? Klaus jumped and whirled, reflexively grabbing the first thing to hand to shield himself from the Earl's dancing eyes.

Unfortunately, that happened to be the dress, which had the effect of holding it up in front of his body as if to show it off. Dorian tutted, striding forward to pluck it from his hands with deft fingers. "Oh, no, now, that will never do," he said, shaking his head. "Did G pick this out? Really, he is a darling, but I don't think he fully appreciates the challenges involved in choosing outfits for the larger frame. What might look delightfully cute on a sweet little thing like him is woefully unsuitable for those of us blessed with a more robust stature."

Klaus recovered enough to bellow. "Get out!" he roared. The last thing he needed was another fop fluttering about.

"And leave you in your hour of need?" Dorian said, pressing a hand to his heart as if wounded. "Major, you're eyeing that dress as if it's about to leap up and bite you. Do you really think you can pull off a convincing performance as a woman by this evening without my expert help?"

Much as he tried to avoid contemplating Dorian's body on any level other than calculating a safe distance, Klaus had to admit he at least possessed a more masculine build than G. With his height, the broad shoulders and large if graceful hands, he should have tipped off even people far less observant than Klaus, but somehow he seemed to get away with his female disguises.

"Fine," Klaus said, very grudgingly. "You can help. But you will not get to look!"

"Oh, of course," Dorian said, with a sunny smile that said he intended to do just what he liked, as usual.

Everything about this mission was a horrible mistake. Klaus supposed there was at least the consolation that there wasn't much further downhill it could go.

Klaus quickly discovered he'd been mistaken. There was far further downhill it could go, and it involved talking to perverts about women's undergarments.

"I will not!" he insisted. Dorian remained serenely unruffled.

"Now, Major, much as it might offend your sense of decorum, the fact is that if you're going to pass as a woman, you need breasts. And since there isn't a single ounce of fat on that lovely sculpted chest of yours, you are simply going to have to wear one of these." He held up the offending article again.

He had described it as a 'sports bra', and while it did at least appear to be a more straightforwardly functional garment than the dreadful lacy things G had provided, Klaus still had no intention of putting it on. "It's perverted!" he said.

"Think of it as a type of extra undershirt, with padding to protect the organs in your chest," Dorian said.

That sounded... almost reasonable.

"Hmph," Klaus said, not willing to allow any impression that he was weakening towards this deviancy.

Dorian grinned broadly, as though he heard a concession anyway. "Then there's the rather more delicate matter of the lower regions," he said carefully. "Now, the normal procedure is to... tuck things away, as it were..." it slowly began dawn on Klaus what he was talking about; the rising impulse to commit murder must have shown on his face, as Dorian hastily moved on, "-but I think in your case we'll just go with confining underwear and a full skirt with concealing layers, and hope for the best."

Klaus was very happy to leave the topic of underwear behind, even if he wasn't at all sure it had been resolved in his favour. He seized on the next object of contention. "I see no reason why I should have to wear a skirt at all," he protested. "Many woman nowadays wear trousers." And he was only too happy to see it. Nobody, male or female, needed to go around showing off their bare legs without a good reason.

Dorian gave him a kind smile. "Yes, Major, but I'm afraid you have to strive to be more feminine than most, since you're fighting the signals that your body's sending. And such wonderfully strong signals they are too." He ran his gaze over Klaus's body lasciviously.

Klaus fought against the urge to punch his lights out only because he knew he really was in need of help. The internal struggle was, as always, won by his sense of duty. "Fine," he said tightly. "I will wear..." he couldn't finish that sentence, "whatever is necessary. But no more than that!"

Dorian grinned like a crocodile. "Of course not, Major." He clapped his hands. "Now, I think it's time we had a dress rehearsal, don't you?"

Really, it was frightfully cruel of Klaus, making him stand outside the room like this. While imagining Klaus in various states of undress was never a bad way of passing the time, to do so when he was right on the other side of an easily opened door was simply torture.

"May I come in?" Dorian asked, already grasping the handle to do so. The response was a torrent of German curses, and he smiled. "Now, Major, you've been in there long enough, and as your coach it's my duty to see how you're getting along." And maybe give him an inspection to see if any bulges were showing. An extremely thorough inspection.

He pushed the door open and stepped into the room.

The sight that greeted him was somewhere between adorably pathetic and hilarious. Klaus had, good obedient little soldier that he was, struggled into the clothes Dorian had laid out for him, but that was as far as any attempt at feminine presentation went. The drooping shoulders of his thoroughly defeated posture did far more to make him look like a different person than anything that he was wearing.

The skirt was slung too low on his hips, only emphasizing the fact that they didn't, as such, exist. The figure-hugging form of the simple black turtleneck that Dorian had chosen out of deference to Klaus's sensibilities only outlined the decidedly uneven arrangement of his false chest, and the collar wasn't quite rolled high enough to hide his Adam's apple.

He appeared so miserable that he couldn't even muster the rage to bellow his fury at the intrusion. Dorian covered his smile with his hand, aware kindness was the response required now. "Well, now," he said. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Klaus looked baleful. Dorian just kept smiling.

"Now, let me just... adjust you," he said encouragingly, approaching with the care one afforded a wounded predator. But apparently the savage beast was rendered docile by its unhappy captivity, for Klaus gave little more than a faint frown of protest as Dorian deftly tweaked the hang of his skirt, and even when he lifted the turtleneck to adjust the hang of the false breasts.

Then again, this did reveal that he was wearing an undershirt beneath the bra. Dorian smiled. Even in this, the Major was, of course, quite perfectly himself.

"There, that's better," he said, raising the collar of the turtleneck to better obscure the Major's neck.

"This is absurd," Klaus said miserably. "Even that idiot Lawrence would clearly see that I'm a man in women's clothes."

There was something rather intriguing about the fact that being stuck in said clothes apparently sapped his formidable will to fight, and Dorian made a mental note to find some way to leverage that in the future. A subdued, meekly compliant Major had... possibilities.

But for now, it was his duty to buoy up Klaus's spirits.

"Relax, Major," he said, reaching for the make-up bag. "Your transformation has only just begun - now, it's time to let the artist work."

What Dorian was doing to his face with the succession of small brushes and pads, Klaus had no desire to know. He kept his back the mirror. This couldn't possibly work, and part of him hoped that it didn't - but if the mission had to be aborted, not only would it be a severe blow to NATO's operations, but then all of this humiliation would have been for nothing.

The Earl kept up his usual brand of irritating chatter, but for once Klaus found it almost reassuring. It filled the silence, so he didn't have to think; about what he was wearing, about how close Dorian kept leaning as he worked on Klaus's face.

"Now, the trick is to use different shades of make-up to alter the contours of your face. Think of it like camouflage, Major - breaking up the shapes so the true outline is concealed. A few highlights and shadows in just the right places, and your features look smaller and more feminine." Klaus tried not to flinch away as the make-up brush dusted over his skin. It was disconcerting to have the thief so close, and yet have his gaze be focused so intently on what he was doing.

"Now, you have lovely eyes, Major, and beautifully long lashes, too. " Klaus wanted to protest, but the necessity of holding his face still made it impossible. "That's a big advantage. If we can direct everybody's gaze to them, then they won't be paying so much attention to the rest of your features."

His eyes flicked momentarily to meet Klaus's, and Klaus swallowed. The make-up covering his skin was making him feel claustrophobic. How could women bear to wear this vile stuff all the time?

He was forced to suppress even his unhappy grimace as Dorian applied colour around his lips and then more around his eyes. Surely this amount of preparation was excessive?

At last Dorian stood back and regarded him with a more professionally assessing look than Klaus was used to seeing from him. "Hmm," he said with a frown. "It still needs something... Ah-hah!" He beamed and darted over to one of the bags, retrieving a necklace strung with emeralds. "Remember our little visit to the palace of Shah Pahlavi?" he asked, holding it up to Klaus's chest.

The gesture was familiar, and so was the necklace - but that had been years ago. "You kept that?" Klaus said with a frown. He would have assumed the thief had disposed of his share of that mission's loot long ago.

"Of course!" Dorian said with a brilliant beam. "It has great sentimental value to me, Major - and after all, it does so wonderfully bring out your eyes."

"Hmph," Klaus said with a scowl, as Dorian leaned far too far into his personal space to close the clasp around his neck. Then he pulled back to regard his handiwork.

"Perfect," he said, but his lips made a small moue of a frown.

"It's unconvincing," Klaus said, with certainty. How could it be otherwise? This whole idea had been a humiliating waste of time.

"Oh, on the contrary, Major," Dorian said with a wry smile. "You make a fine figure of a woman - and frankly, it's extremely unappealing!"

"Ha!" Klaus said. "If it will drive you away, then perhaps there is some minor up-side to this indignity."

"I'm glad you think so," he said sunnily. "And now, I'll leave you and Claudia alone to spend some time getting to know each other." He spun Klaus's chair to face the mirror and left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Klaus stared.

The figure in the mirror... surely it couldn't possibly be him? Perhaps some trick... He started to raise his hand to his face, but paused before it reached the painted lips.

He looked like a woman. Admittedly a rather butch, overly-masculine woman, but nonetheless an actual woman, not just a man dressed up. He swallowed, disconcerted and slightly upset, for no reason he could quite define.

He stood up, still feeling faintly unreal as the woman in the mirror stood with him.

This was... wrong. He didn't know how to react. Well, he knew how he should react, but somehow the knowledge that the woman in the mirror would be following him through every motion of the explosion of rage and disgust stopped him doing so. It was unsettling to know that she was him and he was she, and further evidence could only make the feeling of being unmoored from himself grow stronger.

It was disquieting to know he could be so wholly changed on the surface and yet still remain himself beneath it all.

"Major?" The sound of his subordinate's voice made him turn, but not fast enough to order the intrusion away; instead, he only succeeded in presenting himself more fully for examination. G stopped dead in the doorway, eyes wide. "Oh!"

Klaus felt more exposed than if he'd been caught wearing nothing at all. He covered himself with a glower. "Get out!"

It didn't seem to have its usual effect in this guise. G only tittered with delight and raised a hand to his mouth. "Oh, Major, you look wonderful!" he said dreamily.

Trust that little pervert to enjoy this. "I look ridiculous," he said, scowling even more deeply. "The sooner this mission is over with, the better." He eyed G's own distinctly unmasculine outfit, freshly aware of just how much torturous preparation it must take to present himself in feminine fashion every day. "Why go to such effort to present an illusion that will only appal and disgust those who find out the truth?" he wondered.

The words had been halfway rhetorical, but G took the time to answer him seriously nonetheless. "It doesn't feel like an illusion to me," he said. "It's just a different way of being myself. When I was younger, I felt like I had to act how everyone else expected, because they'd got used to me being a certain way, even if I didn't feel like I was that person any more. But the first time I dressed up as girl I knew I could do what I wanted, because nobody knew what the female me was supposed to be like."

That seemingly sincere little speech made Klaus uncomfortable, for reasons that he didn't care to analyse in detail. "Bah. You are a shameless pervert, in or out of a dress," he said with a scowl.

G giggled. "Yes, Major, but I didn't used to be! Once you change yourself once, it's so much easier to change again." He swanned out.

G said that as if he believed it to be a positive thing. Klaus considered it one of the most disturbing things he'd ever heard.

While it was always a joy to watch the Major make an entrance - and even more of a joy to watch him make an exit, should one happen to have a suitable viewing angle - on this occasion Dorian suspected it would be more entertaining to watch the faces of his Alphabets instead.

He wasn't disappointed. When 'Claudia' made her first appearance at the top of the stairs, the effect on his waiting team of subordinates was electric. A blushed an absolutely charming shade of pink and stared down at the floor; B gaped like a fish and almost fell over backwards in his chair. Z just stared, in a daze. "I feel strange..." he said faintly. Dorian could empathise with that, if, he suspected, for exactly the opposite reason.

The Major appearing as Claudia was a truly unsettling sight. It made Dorian imagine a horrible world where the love of his life had been born - shudder - a woman. Thank God this was only a disguise and Klaus still had all the right bits under there. The alternative didn't bear thinking about. And he certainly didn't want to think about baring it!

The Major glared his men into submission.

"I will arrive at the club shortly after Köhler," he said, launching straight into the briefing with no apparent intention of acknowledging what he was wearing. "G will be on standby to enter the club as a member of staff if I signal, but this should only occur as a last resort. We cannot afford for Köhler or her contact to realise that the exchange has been witnessed, or the whole operation will be rendered useless."

And woe betide any subordinate who voided an operation that had required the mighty Iron Klaus to dress up as a woman.

His part done, Dorian silently slipped away. G could give the Major any last-minute advice needed on how to act - and Dorian had preparations of his own to make.

This was a mission, like any other, Klaus repeated to himself as he approached the entrance to the club. If his disguise was seen through, the worst he could suffer was failure, capture, interrogation, and death. Nothing to be concerned about.

That didn't stop the voice at the back of his mind from whispering that no, that wasn't the worst that could happen: there was the shame, the eternal public shame of being recognised as a man dressing as a woman - and worse, of being caught trying to sneak into a women-only club like some kind of terrible pervert.

How could this feeble disguise ever manage convince anybody? No doubt his men had just been too intimidated to admit that they could see right through it. That idiot thief was probably snickering away right now at the thought of his inevitable humiliation. Why on earth had Klaus thought it was safe to trust him?

Against his will, he'd reached the front door of the clubhouse. His throat felt paralysed as he stood before the doorman; G's claims he could disguise his voice with faked hoarseness no longer seemed halfway plausible. If by some impossible chance the man hadn't seen through the pretence already, he would do so the moment that Klaus opened his mouth.

He couldn't speak. Every scrap of his training had deserted him. He might have believed that this was some kind of terrible nightmare, except he was certain that no recess of his mind was anywhere near deviant enough to concoct this scenario.

It was over. The pretence, his career; it was all over. Black dizziness beckoned, and he welcomed its approach.

"Claudia!" The shrill voice cut through the fog and replaced it with a greater blast of terror. He'd been assured his cousin hadn't used her membership to this club in years, and rarely associated with its members. How could there be someone here who would recognise her now?

He turned to face the new arrival with the numbness of shock.

And for the first time in his life, was actually relieved to see the Earl of Gloria striding his way, even dressed as he was in a garish clash of patterned woman's blouse and floral skirt.

"Claudia!" he called again, in the same strident high-pitched tone, and bore down on him to sweep him up in a embrace. Klaus stood rigid in his grip.

"What are you doing?" he grated through his locked teeth, as Dorian made what were thankfully only air kisses towards his cheeks.

"We're women, Major," he said in the same low undertone. "This is how they greet each other."

"What would you know of women?" Klaus demanded dubiously. And what was he doing here? But that was a futile question. He was doing what he always did - namely interfering in matters that were none of his concern.

Klaus ignored the minor detail that this time he might have good reason to be grateful for the interference.

"Claudia!" Dorian repeated loudly. "What on Earth is this dreadful little man doing keeping you outside?" He swung around to face the doorman, squeezing Klaus's shoulders in an overly friendly grip. "Do you get some kind of thrill out of exercising your power over women? Surely you don't expect anybody to believe you don't recognise Claudia von dem Eberbach?" His voice was hitting ever higher registers, and Klaus tried not to wince.

The doorman cowered. "Of course, of course." He hurried to check Claudia's name off on his list. "And...?" He appeared paralysed with fear at the prospect of asking Dorian's name, no doubt anticipating another tirade.

Accurately. "How dare you?" Dorian shrieked. "I am Gloria Doriana Redman, the internationally famous author! I am here as guest of Claudia's! Is her word not good enough for you?"

The doorman clearly decided that poisonous harpies were best accommodated. "Er, naturally, ladies, please go right in." He leapt out of the way. Klaus had to remember not to bellow in outrage at being included in the term 'ladies'.

The first hurdle passed. But still... "You were not part of the plan," he grated through clenched teeth.

"You wouldn't last two minutes without me, Major," Dorian said, linking his arm through Klaus's as he strode with him into the clubhouse. "Now, smile," he said from the side of his painted mouth as they entered the main lounge.

Klaus supposed he did have reason to be grateful for Dorian's presence. Seething rage was a much more comfortable emotion than terror.

The lounge was furnished with clusters of armchairs around an open fireplace. A few small groups of women sat around drinking and talking, all of them more tastefully dressed than his garish companion. "Your ridiculous outfit is causing a scene," he hissed, aware of eyes on them as they moved by unspoken agreement to the pair of corner armchairs that gave the best view of the room.

"Oh, Claudia, my dear, it's so good to see you!" Dorian said, giving him a pat on the arm that was more of a chastising thump. Then became an over-intimate caress. Klaus glared. "Act friendly, Major," he said, leaning closer. "You need some sort of cover for why Claudia would come to a club she hasn't frequented in years, and meeting up with an old friend is the perfect answer."

Klaus stretched his face into his best social smile, which felt even less natural than usual with his lips and cheeks caked with cosmetics. He had to fight the urge to scrub it all away with his sleeve.

As Dorian imperiously signalled the young uniformed woman who was serving drinks, Klaus subtly scanned the room for Marianne Köhler. She was an expert in disguise, but she had no reason to believe she was observed inside this club with its exclusive members list, so he doubted she would go to overly dramatic ends to change her appearance. A brief assessment of likely candidates quickly picked out the only one with the right facial shape; her natural dark hair was covered by a coiffed blonde wig and her features further obscured behind large oval glasses, but it was her.

The question was, which one of the surrounding women here might be her contact? There were several club members of quite high social standing: a minor politician, a respected doctor, businesswomen... he was fairly sure his father had once attempted to marry him off to the tall redhead in the corner. He sank down behind the limited cover of the coffee Dorian had procured for him. Not Nescafé, unfortunately, but some sugary frothy concoction that was entirely too sweet.

"So, my dear, how have you been?" Dorian said, patting his hands. The position Klaus had adopted with a good view of the room prevented him from glowering as much as he wanted to. "Major, we do have to look like we're talking," he said in a lower tone.

"That doesn't mean you have to talk like that," Klaus said, snatching his hands back.

"Like what? Like old friends, catching up after a time apart?" he said, sitting back with a grating feminine laugh. Behaviour that was irritating on G was positively repulsive on the Earl, who could certainly be far less effeminate if he tried.

"We are nothing of the kind," he snapped.

"Then what would you call us? Associates? Intimates?" Dorian tilted his head to one side with a curious smile.

"None of those things!" Klaus glowered.

"Well, you surely can't consider us to still be strangers after all these years." He batted his eyelashes. Was he wearing false ones? Surely they weren't normally so long.

Klaus recalled Dorian's comments on his own eyelashes, and was perturbed. What sort of a compliment was that for one man to pay to another? It was disturbing.

Dorian's eyes were locked on his with no apparent intention of shifting, and Klaus looked away to break the uncomfortable gaze. His own returned to the woman that he should have been watching all along, and he almost cursed as he saw that she'd risen from her seat. That damnable thief, distracting him as always.

"Our target is leaving," he said through gritted teeth. Not in the direction of the exit, where his men outside would be able to observe, but heading for the back rooms of the clubhouse.

"Then let's take a trip to the ladies' room," Dorian said, starting to rise.

Klaus blanched. That was one place he had no desire to visit, and he certainly didn't want company if he was forced to. "I'm not going in there with you!" he said.

"Ladies go in pairs. It's quite normal," he said.

"It's perverted!" he said, revolted. "What can they possibly be doing that requires backup?"

Dorian gave a theatrical shudder. "I try not to think about that sort of thing if I can help it, thank you, Major," he said tartly.

On this, if in few other things, he and Klaus were in complete agreement. But it appeared they would have little choice, since it seemed the only plausible excuse to follow Köhler into the back.

Klaus saw she was veering towards the small kitchen area. To follow would invite extreme suspicion; instead, he was forced to allow Dorian to tow him towards the... facility... on the opposite side of the hallway. Klaus balked on the threshold, however. The ladies' room held a forbidden mystique that he would just as soon it kept. What if there were women in a state of undress inside? They could be doing anything in there!

Dorian looked no less tremulous at the prospect of what they might encounter beyond the door, but nonetheless he boldly seized the handle. "Coming through!" he said, with a faux feminine titter. Klaus hung back, prepared to let the thief take the brunt of any potential ambush by underdressed women. But it seemed they were safe: the club's facilities only stretched to a single cubicle.

"Oh, dear, only room for one at a time, how positively rustic," Dorian said loudly. He thrust the ridiculously enormous handbag he carried into Klaus's unwilling arms. "Do hold my bag for me, Claudia, there's a dear."

Klaus opened his mouth to object, but then he noticed the artfully angled mirror placed at the top of the unzipped bag. "Very well," he said stiffly.

Dorian closed the door - he devoutly hoped simply to aid the performance, rather than make any scandalous use of the women's facilities - and Klaus adjusted the way he was gripping the bag against his padded chest until he could see the kitchen doorway in the mirror. Köhler hadn't risked raising suspicion by closing the door, and he could see her half silhouetted in the doorframe... but who was in there with her?

He shifted subtly closer, not willing to risk missing the handover of documents. The shadow of a female form, a black-clad arm... He saw Köhler casually reach out towards the other woman, and his heart pulsed. This was it: the pass. Another step closer, and he could see more of the woman's outfit - her uniform - and a brief flash of blonde hair that showed in the mirror.

The young woman who'd served him and Dorian with their drinks.

For a moment, Klaus forgot all about the ignominious circumstances of the mission, and just smiled in triumph. They had the identity of Köhler's contact, and better yet, it wasn't any of the high-profile political figures who frequented the club. The mission was a complete success.

Or rather, still an incomplete one right now. Klaus jolted as he realised that Köhler was already turning to leave the kitchen area. If she saw him loitering here she would realise that the pass had been observed - and worse, might potentially recognise him even in his woman's guise.

Desperate times called for the most desperate of all measures. He dashed back to the door Dorian had disappeared through and hissed urgently: "Let me in!"

Dorian opened it as fast as if he'd been eagerly awaiting such a request. As Klaus darted in and closed the door behind him, he found himself nose to nose with the thief in far too confined a space for his comfort.

Dorian smiled broadly. "Hello, Major!" he said. "I'm afraid things are a little cramped in here, but I'm sure there'll be room for two if we snuggle."

"Be quiet, you idiot!" It was hard to think of a much worse situation than being shut in a toilet with the Earl of Gloria while both of them were dressed as women, but being discovered in said situation by the target of his mission surely qualified. He stayed silent, and tried to ignore the fact that Dorian was standing closer than even this tight space surely required. He attempted to communicate as much with a glare, but the thief was, as always, immune.

Klaus strained his ears past the distracting proximity of his breathing, listening to Köhler's heels in the hallway outside. Moving past, back out to the main lounge. Allow her a little longer to return to her seat, if not leave the clubhouse entirely, before they made their move...

Dorian pouted. "You know, Major, one does expects a certain degree of attention when sharing a bathroom cubicle," he said.

That commanded his horrified gaze. "How often have you done this before?" he demanded.

The Earl contrived to look nonchalant. "Well, it is a trifle déclassé, one must admit, but still, any port in a storm, as they say." He smiled winningly.

Klaus suspected that any deeper thought on what that might potentially mean could only end in an aneurysm of some sort. He seized the thief by the shoulders to shove him and his disgusting insinuations away.

The door opened behind him.

Klaus froze, eyes wide, at the sound of a startled female, "Oh!" from the doorway. Not Köhler, at least, he could tell from the voice, but to be discovered by anybody in such a position was more than bad enough. He couldn't have turned round if his life depended on it.

Fortunately, Dorian had much less of a sense of shame. "Make-up crisis. Do excuse us," he said to the woman, and pulled the door from her unresisting grip to close it again.

Klaus dropped his hold on Dorian's shoulders as if he'd been burned. "You-" He wheezed, lost for words to capture the true awfulness of the situation.

"Me?" Dorian demanded. "Major, you're the one who invited yourself in, I might remind you. Why on Earth didn't you lock the door?"

"I wouldn't voluntarily lock myself inside a cathedral with you, never mind a space this small!" he said.

"Well, you certainly don't seem to be in any hurry to leave," he pointed out archly.

"Aah!" Reduced to incoherent sounds of rage, Klaus shoved him away and stomped out into the hallway. Discretion seemed a lost cause, so he marched stiffly on and out through the main lounge. Fortunately Köhler had already made her exit, but he heard fragments of the whispers passing through the clusters of women around him. "That von dem Eberbach woman"; "Well, I can't say I'm surprised..."

"You have ruined my cousin's reputation!" he hissed as Dorian caught up to him at the door.

"From what I hear, Major, your cousin's been quite free with her reputation herself," he said, and Klaus bristled. "If she's having a secret baby that neither your family nor the people here know about, I'm sure that she'll appreciate the smokescreen."

"Hmph." He wasn't sure if he bought the logic behind that, but he supposed that anything that might assist his cousin in keeping her situation to herself was beneficial. The last thing he wanted was his father to learn there was a baby in the family, illegitimate or otherwise. It would only increase his demands for Klaus to produce an heir a thousandfold. He shuddered at the thought.

His disturbingly padded outfit shuddered with him. "I need to remove these clothes at once," he said as they stepped outside.

The doorman on duty started in alarm, and Dorian hid a smile behind his hand. "Yes, of course, dear. Right away," he said impishly, and linked his arm through Klaus's as they walked away. "You're not doing much for your cousin's reputation yourself, Major," he said, amused, and tilted his head to rest on Klaus's shoulder.

Klaus shook him off as soon as they were around the corner. "Where are my idiot men?" he demanded, looking around. They should have had someone watching the door of the clubhouse, ready to meet him as soon as he emerged. If A hadn't brought him a spare suit as he'd ordered, heads would roll.

"I'm sure they'll be along in a minute," Dorian said, patting his arm reassuringly. "Relax, Major. Your mission was a complete success."

There was that, he supposed. All the indignities that he'd suffered had at least achieved the desired result.

One that he was reluctantly aware he could never have gained without help in maintaining this masquerade. "I... appreciate your assistance," he said stiffly.

Dorian lit up with a dazzling beam at his words. "Well, of course, Major, you should know you can trust my skills," he said, preening. "After all, didn't I once successfully impersonate you in front of your own men?"

Yes, and what a travesty that had been. To think that even his own agents hadn't been able to tell-

A horrible realisation stole into view. "You did," he said slowly.

"I did!" Dorian said brightly, not recognising any looming danger. "And very convincingly, I might add."

"Yes." Klaus swivelled on his heel to turn to face him. Then he grabbed Dorian by the collar to bellow into his face. "So why couldn't you have played the role of Claudia yourself?" he demanded.

Dorian squirmed out of his grip and danced away, holding up his hands. "Oh, well, now, Major, first I should point out that you never actually asked me," he said. "And besides, don't you think that it's done you some good to get in touch with your feminine side?" He squeaked and fled from Klaus's incoherent growl.

Klaus pursued. He wasn't sure if he could run the thief down to throttle in these skirts - but he definitely planned to give it a damned good try.

End