Complicity in Heels (7 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

N
ikki watched the taxi disappear down the winding road into the night. She continued up the ramp of the warehouse toward the cargo door, ducked under the partially raised gate, and entered the building. Inside, it was cold and dark. The energy-efficient lighting cast a faint glow by which to navigate. Rows of empty freight racks extended as far as Nikki could see. An open space in the distance revealed a midsize modular office constructed out of a shipping container.

Cautiously she approached it and positioned herself to the side of the door. Nikki took a deep breath then checked the handle to see if it was locked. It wasn’t. She opened the door and immediately jumped.

A short, stocky man with round wire-rimmed glasses loomed in the doorway. He wore a traditional navy-blue suit, a white shirt, and a red-and-gray square-patterned tie. Gone were the off-the rack short-sleeve oxfords and tan slacks from the past, along with the wedding ring. The only thing familiar to Nikki was the man’s government-regulated hairstyle. “It’s about time,” he said, recognizing her.

Nikki slapped him across the face. “Nice to see you too, Harlan. You should visit more often, you know.”

Harlan’s round face creased in pain. “Fair enough…I deserve that,” he said, rubbing his cheek. “What’s it been? Four years?”

“Something like that and not a single visit from you or anybody else on this task force.”

Harlan removed his glasses, took out a handkerchief, and wiped them clean. “Operational security.”

Nikki noticed that his former generic frames had been replaced by an expensive Matsuda version. “Operational security? Is that what you’re going with?”

“Precisely. Prisons are cesspools of corruption, inhabited by snitches, opportunists, and guards on the take. The last thing I wanted to do was risk your life over a meet, just to boost your lack of self-esteem over parental abandonment issues.” Harlan put his glasses back on. “Even if we used the best ruse to follow up with you, there was no guarantee you wouldn’t have been made. One dead federal agent is too high a price for the Crime Enforcement Task Force to pay. We’re just a provisional team sanctioned by the Justice Department and tolerated by the FBI. Don’t think there aren’t law enforcement bureaucrats out there who wouldn’t hesitate to try to shut us down over such a tragedy.”

Nikki clenched her jaw and took in a deep breath. Harlan was right. If Warden Penton could get away with viewing inmates in the nude at Shaw, anything was possible. “Why’d I have to do the extended time?” she asked. “‘Eighteen months tops—that’s what you said.”

“You knew the risks when you were selected for the task force,” Harlan reminded her. “Just be thankful you didn’t have to do the whole five years.”

Nikki narrowed her eyes. “Don’t patronize me.”
I could’ve handled it
, she thought.

“Fine. Have it your way.” Harlan stepped aside and motioned for her to enter the office.

“Nice suit,” she remarked, commenting on his new look.

Inside, another government official sat waiting at a table. Nikki stared in his direction.
Who the hell is that?
she wondered.

The bureaucrat wore the same standard suit as Harlan, however his was gray and accentuated with a blue striped tie. His shiny pate reflected a shimmer of office light.

“You wanna know why you had to do the extended time?” Harlan asked. “Meet Warren Kepler, our new regional director.”

Director Kepler stood. He was a towering six foot three, a stark contrast to Harlan. In his left hand, he clutched a yellow folder labeled, “Confidential.”

Nikki extended her hand in a friendly gesture.

“Sir, Special Agent Nicole Frank,” Harlan said.

The two shook hands.

“Pleased to meet you, Agent Frank.”

“Thank you, sir, but what happened to Director Garrett?”

“RD Garrett was promoted to Deputy Director of Undercover and Sensitive Operations, East Coast.”

“Oh,” Nikki said, surprised. “Well, good for him.”

Harlan turned toward her. “That happened about midway through your sentence.”

“Speaking of my sentence, sir, my field supervisor here tells me you’ll be able to shed some light on why I had to do the extended time.”

Director Kepler fidgeted with the folder in his hand. “Eighteen months seemed a little fishy…too short. Harlan and I discussed the matter when I first came on board. I felt in order for the task force to get the most mileage out of this program, you simply had to do more time.”

Nikki cut a cursory glance in Harlan’s direction.
Really?
she thought.
I thought you were supposed to be my advocate. You’ve always gone to bat for personnel in the past. What’s changed?

“Besides,” the director continued, arching his eyebrows. “With overcrowding and good behavior, you still came out earlier than expected.”

Nikki let out an unintentional sigh. “That’s not the point, sir.”

“You’re right. Backstopping your cover and making sure it was airtight was. The days of assumed identities and aliases are over. They require heavy logistical support, put agents under an enormous amount of stress, and most important, they simply don’t hold up under intense scrutiny.
You
are your cover. So everything about Nicole Frank needs to scream criminal, ex-con, shady individual.” Director Kepler opened the folder and glanced over the documents inside. “Now, are you ready to take on another assignment?”

Nikki balked at even responding to the question.

“Zayda Voshkie,” Harlan read off a brief sheet on the table. “Forty-five, female, Armenian descent. Heavy dealings in securities fraud, money laundering, embezzlement, and wire fraud. Close ties to Russian arms dealer Yuri Abelev.”

Nikki moved around the table in between the two men. “Whoa, hold on a minute. Before we get wrapped up in Zayda Ushki—”

“That’s Voshkie,” Harlan corrected.

Nikki tilted her head toward her field supervisor. “Voshkie, thank you.”

Harlan grinned.

“We,” she continued, “need to reassess and reevaluate the Cordoza crew.”

Director Kepler made a disgruntled face. “The Cordoza crew? What do we want with those yahoos?”

“Besides,” Harlan added, “your cover is already set. They were a means to an end: help establish your backstory. Strictly small potatoes.”

Nikki shook her head. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Look, I know what this is,” Director Kepler said, cutting in. “Crossed-lives syndrome. You’ve been under so long that you’ve established formidable bonds with these people. You want to spend more time with them, live in this fictional world you’ve created, and dispense with your true identity.”

Harlan looked Nikki over. The maize-colored cocktail dress she had on clearly caught his attention. “Perhaps that explains this prom-dress thing she’s wearing, sir. Last time I checked, newly released inmates wore something a bit more plain.”

“Gentlemen, I don’t have crossed-lives syndrome,” Nikki snapped. “What I do have is an organization that’s expanded its criminal repertoire over the last four years to include sophisticated white-collar crime.”

Director Kepler took a seat. “Go on.”

“I was approached earlier today by Spence Taylor—”

“That’s one of the lead foot soldiers for the crew, sir.”

“Thank you, Harlan. Please continue, Agent Frank.”

Nikki sat down. “Spence picked me up from the prison in a limo, showered me with gifts, and ushered me to a party under the guise of welcoming me back into society. This party, however, was short-lived, and I found myself witnessing the torture of a bank executive for an active SWIFT Network code. An instant later, I was in a meeting with Gemini Cordoza.”

“What did they want?” Harlan asked.

“My help in the development of software that could potentially exploit the nation’s Automated Clearing House payment system.”

Harlan and Director Kepler stared at each other. Finally, Director Kepler spoke up. “Sounds like a job for Homeland Security, Cybersecurity Division.”

“Or Secret Service,” Harlan said, easing into a chair. “It’s one of those jurisdictional gray areas. You’ve got the nation’s entire cyber network and infrastructure under Homeland Security and the payment and financial systems under Secret Service.”

Director Kepler nodded. “Either way it’s a cluster fuck. Besides, we don’t even know if the threat is credible. We’re sticking with the Voshkie case.”

Nikki felt Kepler was quick to dictate to subordinates but slow to question and engage senior leadership. He appeared to be super busy, very serious, and somewhat aloof. Nikki feared that when the pressure was on, he simply wouldn’t back her.

Harlan glanced back over his brief sheet. “Understood, sir. Zayda Voshkie it is.”

Nikki frowned. “You got to be kidding me. A bank executive tortured for an active SWIFT Network code, and that’s not worth looking into?”

“The director said we’re working the Voshkie case, so were working the Voshkie case,” Harlan reiterated. “What part of that don’t you understand?”

“Don’t we at least have a responsibility to check things out?”

Harlan ignored her plea and continued to read.

“Sir,” she protested.

“The decision is final, Agent Frank.”

Nikki slapped her hand against the table. “No, sir, it’s not.”

Both men looked up, startled. Nikki took a deep breath and composed herself. She focused in on Director Kepler, adjusting her body posture to mirror his. It was a basic neuro-linguistic programming technique to help establish rapport, once taught to her by an FBI behavioral analyst. Next, she matched his breathing rate then observed him for anything of personal importance.

A large collegiate championship ring of some sort caught her attention. “What sport did you play, sir?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Basketball, Division II.” He ran his finger across several of the diamonds surrounding the central stone. “Southern Indiana, Screaming Eagles,” he bragged.

“Impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“Let’s take a look at this thing from another angle, sir, if you don’t mind.”

Director Kepler’s face tightened up. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

Nikki leaned forward. “The Cordoza crew approached us first, not the Secret Service or Homeland Security. Therefore, our operation would have tactical command that would supersede their jurisdictional charge.”

Harlan smirked. “Nicole’s got a point. Since we’re the agency at the principal point of discovery, with an agent already in play, they’d be hard-pressed to take the reins from us on jurisdiction alone.”

“True,” Director Kepler replied, stroking his chin.

“Having worked with Spence firsthand while forging this cover,” Nikki pointed out, “I know he’s the creative criminal mind behind Cordoza’s operation. If he’s intelligent enough to come up with the concept, he’s intelligent enough to solve the problem he’s asked me to help him with. It’s only a matter of time, sir.”

“I don’t know…perhaps. Seems like a wild goose chase here, a band of small-time white collar criminals who might have created a digital ATM in cyberspace. Do we really want to waste our time and resources pursuing this?”

“Picture this,” Nikki continued. “Spence develops a working prototype that exploits ACH in some way. Criminal enterprises by the dozen line up to do business with Cordoza, who becomes insanely wealthy overnight—all because he has the sole capability to move cash in excess of ten grand, undetected, using the nation’s primary financial network.”

Director Kepler clenched his teeth then shook his head.

“Sir, the existence of such a prototype,” Harlan reasoned, “could deal a crippling blow to the country’s financial surveillance powers. It could single-handedly disable the effectiveness of the Patriot Act, the Banking Secrecy Act, and anti-money-laundering programs. The list—”

“Is endless,” Director Kepler cut in. “I know. Terrorist organizations, fringe groups, opportunist, radicals of every sort—all could be fully funded overnight.”

Nikki made a sweeping gesture with her hands. “In a New York minute.”

“That’s not funny, Agent Frank,” the director reprimanded.

“No, sir, but it’s entirely plausible.” She shifted position in her seat. “You look like a man of ambition. I assume a promotion to a deputy director post is in the foreseeable future.”

Director Kepler smiled slightly. “Yes, that’s something I aspire to achieve.”

“Imagine the reaction your peers will have when they learn you had an opportunity to intervene in this matter but didn’t. Do you really want to be known as someone who’s afraid to drive to the basket when the ball’s in the frontcourt?”

The director’s face grew red. “Absolutely not.”

“I rest my case.”

Director Kepler stood. “Okay, Agent Frank, you have seventy-two hours to assess whether the threat is credible.”

Nikki smiled. “Understood, sir.”

“After that, I’m pulling the plug.” The director removed a cell phone from his hip and headed toward the door. “Harlan…”

“Yes, sir?”

“Finish up with the prison-release debrief.”

“Of course.” Harlan fumbled with the paperwork before him. “Will you be returning here, sir?”

“Probably not. If we’re going to do this, I need to get in contact with the powers that be so I can start running interference. Once Homeland Security and Secret Service step in, we’ll need all the allies we can muster just to keep the ball in our court.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Harlan muttered.

“Meet me at the car once you’re finished.”

“All right, sir.”

The director opened the door and walked out. Harlan turned toward Nikki. “I guess we’ll get started then.”

Nikki gave him a half smile.

Harlan stood and removed his suit jacket. He then reached under the table, picked up a medium-size storage box, and placed it in between them.

“What’s that?” Nikki asked.

Harlan opened the box and pulled out a cell phone. “Tools of the trade.”

Nikki recognized her old phone right away. “Wow, that thing has logged a serious amount of airtime.”

Harlan dropped the phone back in the box. “Exactly, and it’s outdated,” he said, pulling out a more current model. “Your phone number remains the same. All your preferred settings, contacts, and their numbers have been rolled over. However, you’ll have to check to make sure they’re still valid.”