Complicity in Heels (3 page)

CHAPTER THREE

T
he Compound occupied all three floors of an abandoned luxury hotel built in 1920. Formerly known as the Hanover, it had been the premier hotel in Parkbridge in its day, with numerous parties, formal balls, and other social events held there. The hotel had even been rumored to have had two former state governors sign the register as guests during its sixty years of operation.

In 1980, the Hanover was officially closed to the general public. The family of the original proprietor, Edmund Drexel, sold the hotel to Randolph & Associates and reopened it several years later. Under their management, the Hanover experienced a brief renaissance and flourished. By the mid 1990s, ownership changed hands once again. This time, however, the hotel had failed to sustain a substantial profit margin and was foreclosed on by Parkbridge National Bank & Trust Company in 1997.

With the subprime mortgage crisis in full swing, an overabundance of commercial properties had been added to the bank’s real estate ledger. To alleviate this problem, PNB&T officials targeted prospects with fluid capital. The ability to close quickly and finance entire transactions independently made these clients a godsend. These dire circumstances had allowed Gemini Cordoza to purchase the former luxury hotel at well below market value.

Over the past century, the hotel had undergone numerous renovations at the expense of its various owners. At first glance, the inside looked like any other lodging facility, with a lobby, dining area, and conference suites. The current living arrangements there, however, were a different matter: junior associates and contracted help made due with conventional rooms on the ground floor, while senior associates occupied suites on the second. The third-floor penthouse was reserved for Gemini Cordoza and his guests. All the rooms came furnished with a microwave, refrigerator, and flat-screen television. In addition, Internet access was provided via a state-of-the-art wireless network.

Cordoza maintained a full-time staff of eight to oversee the Compound’s day-to-day operations. They included a chauffeur, chef, housekeeper, receptionist, groundskeeper, two waiters, and a front-house manager. Any additional services that were required usually were contracted out. With most of the staff working on Nikki’s “back on the block” party, today the Compound was abuzz with activity.

The dining area was plastered with welcome back, nikki signs. Balloons and ceiling danglers hung from overhead, in sharp contrast with the room’s mahogany paneling and impressionistic art. Several guests had gathered over by the portable stage near the band. After four clicks from the drummer’s sticks, the cover band erupted into a smooth rendition of Katrina and the Waves’ “Walking on Sunshine.” The song’s upbeat tempo resonated throughout the hotel. Some began to dance, while other, more conservative onlookers, tapped their toes to the beat.

Nikki entered the dining area, where she exchanged hugs and kisses with the eight-member Compound staff before being ushered over to Big Al.

“Nicola,” the now-slim tailor greeted her, preferring to use the formal version of her name, even though it was in fact “Nicole.” “How’s the dress?”

Nikki stared at Big Al’s physique in surprise. “Oh, wow, is that you?”

“The one and only, darling.”

“How much have you lost? You’re so tiny.”

“A hundred and twenty pounds,” he answered proudly. “Gastric bypass.”

“You look fantastic.” She reached out to where Big Al’s stomach used to be. He met her hand halfway then guided it toward his abdomen.

“I have a couple more surgeries left to get rid of the excess skin.”

Nikki smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be chiseled by next summer.”

“For ten grand, I’d better be, even if they have to airbrush the muscle definition in.”

The two laughed together and embraced. “Thank you for my dress, Al,” Nikki whispered. “I absolutely love it.”

Big Al grinned. “Anything for you.”

Nikki made her way through the crowd when Spence approached her from the side, grasped her hand, and escorted her up to the stage.

“What’s going on?” she protested.

The well-dressed criminal kept moving with her in tow. At the stage, Spence made eye contact with the band’s lead singer and gave her a nod. “Relax, Nikki. Just go with this.”

The music trailed off to a few soft chords played in the background while several white-jacketed waiters served the crowd Pinot Noir in long-stemmed wineglasses.

Spence walked onstage toward the lead singer, who handed him the microphone and stepped back. “It’s a delight to host this fun-loving group surrounding me today,” he announced. The crowd cheered in response. “Now for the moment we’ve all been waiting for. Put your hands together, and let’s welcome our colleague and friend, Nikki Frank.” Nikki stepped forward to the sound of thunderous applause. The chants of her name emboldened her step. She waved back to the crowd. “Nikki and I met skimming ATMs,” Spence continued. “She was a skilled, street-reputable skimmer, and I was a naïve criminal looking to expand his trade by learning the craft. Four years ago, we were caught tampering with a few cash machines. When the police moved in to make the bust, we split. Nikki was arrested and sent upstate. Today she stands before us a free woman.” The audience whistled and clapped. “Please join me in raising your glasses to celebrate her release.” A waiter on standby presented Spence with a glass of red wine, which he held in the air. He waited a moment for the crowd to do the same before continuing. “No greater sacrifice does a person make than to set aside a portion of his or her life for friends. For to sacrifice is to love. To the spirit of self-sacrifice! To Nikki Frank!” Spence emptied the glass of its contents then handed it back to the waiter.

The lead guitarists played the opening chords to Diana Ross’s “I’m Coming Out.” The drummer and lead singer soon joined in on the impromptu riff. The popular song got the crowd clapping in unison.

Spence leaned in toward Nikki. Startled, she jumped back.

“Relax,” he said. “I’m not trying to make a move. I just wanted to make sure you could hear me.”

“Oh,” Nikki replied, unconvinced.
I saw the way you were leering at me in the limo, Spence
.

“Come on,” he urged in a serious tone. “Cordoza is waiting for us in the conference suite.”

Nikki shrugged.
I guess that means no
festivities.

“This way,” Spence directed. “Hopefully we won’t run into Lacey.”

Spence and Nikki made their way past the glass-enclosed veranda and down a corridor to the opposite side of the Compound. When they reached the conference suite, they heard muffled screams. Spence hesitated to knock on the door. Concerned, Nikki looked at him. His hand hovered over the oak paneling for a few seconds before he knocked three times. No answer.

“Perhaps we should come back another time, a better time,” Nikki suggested.

Spence shook his head.

Another scream sounded.

He opened the door then stepped aside, motioning for Nikki to move forward. “After you.”

Nikki sneered.
Wuss
.

Inside the suite stood a grand boat-shaped conference table surrounded by twenty oversize leather chairs. Up front, tied to one of them, was a partially conscious brunette with a makeshift gag hanging loose around her neck. She was dressed like a businesswoman: charcoal skirt and jacket, her hair pinned up. A bleached blonde in a curve-hugging, sapphire-blue, sleeveless dress stood in front of her, holding a cattle prod. Her chin-length bobbed hair and fake tan stood in sharp contrast with the color of her outfit.

Nikki’s expression darkened. “What the…?”

“This isn’t as bad as it looks,” Spence said.

“Really.”
It seems much
worse.

Before he could reply, the blonde jabbed the brunette again with the prod. The bound woman’s body snapped back to life instantly.

“The active SWIFT Network code for the bank you work for,” the blonde demanded.

The brunette moaned but didn’t respond.

“Lacey,” Spence called out to the blonde, interrupting her.

She froze.

“I told you this wouldn’t be necessary.”

Lacey lowered the cattle prod to her side and turned to face him. “True.”

“Then what the hell are you doing?”

A smug expression flickered across her heart-shaped face. “There’s a fine line between stagnation and progress, and it needed to be crossed.”

Spence shook his head. “Torture? Have you lost your damn mind?”

“No,” Lacey said, placing the wand on the conference table. “Just tired of waiting for one of your harebrained schemes to pan out.”

“Does the boss know about this?”

Lacey snickered. “Not everything I do requires his stamp of approval.”

Spence rolled his eyes. “Where is he? He wanted to meet with me pronto.”

The former stripper delayed answering and approached the criminal pair with keen interest in Nikki. “Business call. Shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.”

“A bank executive…” Spence said, pausing to take in the full explosion of Lacey’s cleavage bursting out from underneath the deep V neck of her dress. “I…umm…”

Nikki elbowed Spence in the ribs. Hard.

“Spit it out,” Lacey said.

Spence paused, taking note of the discontent in her frigid blue eyes. “I can’t believe this. We need to get this mess you’ve created cleaned up before somebody realizes this lady is missing and pieces together what we’re trying to do.”

“Handle it then,” Lacey snapped, pointing to the door. “We girls”—she gestured to Nikki—“need some private time to get to know each other.”

With a nod, Nikki indicated that it was okay for Spence to leave. “I got this.”

Spence looked skeptical. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”
I can handle McTitties here
, Nikki thought.

Spence opened the door. “Okay. I’ll be nearby if you need me.”

Nikki moved toward the conference table to put distance between her and Lacey.

She noticed that the bank executive had slipped into unconsciousness. The door closed behind Spence, and the two women stared at each other. “So you’re the infamous Nikki Frank?” Lacey said, breaking the silence.

“That’s right.”

“Five years upstate? Not a word to the cops? And the sole reason for making all this possible? Or so the legend goes.”

“Three years, six months, and nine days,” Nikki corrected. “Yes, and perhaps.”

Lacey drew her shoulders back and tilted her chin up in a regal pose. “Oh, because to hear the guys around here tell it, you’re some sort of saint or something. I just had to hear it for myself, because I’m not buying it.”

Nikki considered her words carefully before speaking. “Look, I’m grateful the crew holds me in high regard, but I can’t control their opinions or perceptions.”

“You know, a lot’s changed here at the Compound since you’ve been gone.”

Nikki raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like me,” Lacey replied. “I’m queen bee around here.”

Nikki smirked at the arrogant revelation.

“That’s the way it’s been, and that’s the way it’s gonna be. Understand?” She stared at Nikki for several moments, scanning for any tangible sign of compliance.

“Well, Your Majesty, we have a slight problem,” Nikki bluffed. “I’m back.”

Lacey turned around and marched back toward the captive brunette. “You might be back, honey, but you’re certainly not welcome.”

Nikki chuckled, the impromptu challenge of Lacey’s dominance having the desired effect. It had been a lesson well learned on cellblock eight at Shaw: always present a strong front, regardless of the situation or your true intentions.

Even so, like a swimmer caught in a rip current, Nikki found herself being sucked into something from which there was quite possibly no escape.

Cordoza entered the room. His cell phone still pressed to his ear, he strode toward Lacey while continuing his conversation. “Yes, we’re interested in vying for a money-brokering contract out of New York,” he reassured the voice on the other end. “I don’t care what you have to do. Get me in on that reverse auction pronto, all right?”

The crew leader terminated the phone call then embraced Lacey. Cordoza’s hands continued to explore the curves of her body before coming to an abrupt stop on her backside. “Oh, you drive me so crazy when you dress like this,” he confessed. “What am I’m I gonna do with you? I can’t keep my hands off you.”

Lacey smiled halfheartedly. “We have company.”

Cordoza glanced around the room, noticed Nikki, then composed himself. “My apologies…I thought we were alone.”

Nikki remained silent, unsure what to say. It was the first time she had seen him since she’d been locked up. He’d lost some weight and added muscle to his upper body. In his early fifties, Cordoza had a full head of neatly combed salt-and-pepper hair. Clean-shaven and wearing khakis and a traditional navy blazer minus the tie, he could have easily passed for a run-of-the-mill business executive. Images of the past flashed through Nikki’s head: working closely with Cordoza, forging letters from charitable organizations and setting up bogus PO boxes to receive donations; cloning stolen cell phones from mall patrons for future usage; and their almost kissing after a successful run of the jury-duty credit-card scam—good times. There was always a charge of energy in the air when they dealt with each other, an attraction, something they both knew and suppressed in favor of an optimal working relationship.

Cordoza stepped away from Lacey. “Nikki, it’s so good to see you. Please sit down.”

Nikki moved to the front of the room, where Cordoza greeted her with a hug. “I sincerely apologize for not visiting you while you were away,” he said, “but my main priority, first and foremost, has always been the security of this team.”

She thought about it for a second. Cordoza was right. As he was the group’s leader, his loyalty had to be with the crew as a whole. No exceptions. Spence, on the other hand, was without excuse. He was her colleague and friend, and that’s what hurt the most. Nikki shook her head in response to Cordoza’s apology. “I appreciate your candor, Gem. Thank you.”