Complicity in Heels (13 page)

“What if we make use of a bank employee?” Nikki proposed. “Someone high enough on the corporate ladder to deposit the entire two and a half million?”

Spence’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? Bring in an outside partner?”

“Not exactly.”

Everyone kept quiet, unsure where she was going.

“I was thinking blackmail,” she announced.

Spence’s mouth fell open. “Really?”

“Yeah, we conduct some surveillance, find out which bank employee is most susceptible to coercion, and exploit that vulnerability to our advantage.”

“Too time-consuming,” Cordoza pointed out. “Besides, it’s just plain messy all the way around.”

Nikki sat back down on the sectional. Lacey gave her a dirty look then turned her back to her. “This seems like an awful lot of work on our part for a meager fifteen percent, Gemini.”

Cordoza grinned. “Baby, it’s not about percentages. It never has been.”

She shot him a confused look. “Okay, what am I missing here?”

“Opportunity.”

She flipped her bleached-blond hair behind her. “Opportunity for what?”

Nikki huffed at the wanton display of vanity.
Ditz.

“To earn Francisco Vicente’s future business,” Cordoza replied.

“Oh.”

“And to obtain access to his many contacts.”

Lacey nodded slowly. “Makes sense, hon.”

“Great, now that the tutorial is over,” Nikki snapped, “can we get back to discussing how we’re gonna place this money once we collect it?”

Spence chuckled then sat back down next to her. “How ’bout we open numerous accounts across several brokerage firms, evenly disperse the capital, and buy and sell securities?”

Nikki paused for a moment. “Interesting idea.”

“Our client can’t exactly tell the IRS he made several million dollars selling drugs, but he can say he purchased the right stocks, at the right time, with the right splits.”

“I’m concerned,” Cordoza said, crossing his arms.

“With?” Nikki asked.

“After the fallout from the Bernie Madoff fiasco, the Securities and Exchange Commission is taking a beating by the government on oversight.”

Nikki looked to Spence for a response.

“Which means the anti-money-laundering programs for nearly every brokerage house in the country are on steroids,” he concluded. “Enhanced identification procedures, immaculate record keeping, heavily scrutinized internal reporting systems. You name it—all the stops will be pulled out on this for quite some time.”

Cordoza smiled at his protégé. “Exactly.”

“Okay,” Nikki said, “since we can’t exactly show up at Charles Schwab with a couple of million in cash, what do we do? Any other ideas?”

Cordoza stepped toward the sectional and gestured toward Spence and Nikki. “You two, pick a bank and hack into its lodge accounts. Once we have control of several of them, we’ll infuse the money into the banking system using Smurfs.”

Lacey laughed out loud, disrupting the flow of conversation. “Smurfs, Gemini?”

Cordoza gave her a cursory glance. “Not the little blue cartoon characters, baby.”

She screwed up her face. “Okay, then, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about innocuous, plain-looking folks we enlist to make deposits on our behalf, the idea being to distribute and deposit the money so that it appears not to come from a single source.”

“Gotcha.”

Cordoza directed his attention back to his crew.

“Taking control of a few charity accounts won’t be a problem,” Spence said.

“Good.”

“However, the second part, well, that’s kinda of iffy.”

Cordoza frowned. “How so?”

“Because we’ll incur a positive control deficit.”

“What?”

“The larger the amount of cash that we’re asked to handle, the more oversight will be required.”

Cordoza shook his head. “Nikki?”

“He’s right, Gem.” She tilted her head to the side. “Banking regulations cap deposits at ten grand before notifying the government, which means for every hundred thousand, we need ten people to make deposits. That’s two hundred fifty Smurfs total. Even under the best circumstances, we couldn’t control that situation, not with just the three of us.”

“Then what’s the answer?” Cordoza pressed.

The discussion spiraled into silence. Nikki glanced down at the check she was holding.
Myrrh, Myrtle, Myriad.
Then it hit her.
Conglomerate
. The word leapt off the check at her. A conglomeration was a corporation consisting of a number of subsidiary companies. She jumped to her feet again. “I got it!”

Everyone looked at her, surprised.

“Gem, you said when you bought this place you went through the trouble of having a fictitious organization created, with several subordinate agencies to conceal the fact that you were the sole owner, right?”

Cordoza nodded.

“And the country of incorporation for your fictitious organization?”

“Venezuela, but how’s that relevant to our current situation?”

“We get the money into the system by taking advantage of the global economy and international trade, using the Myriad Conglomerate and its subsidiaries as agents.”

“Okay, now you’re gonna have to do some explaining here.”

Nikki took a deep breath. “It’s not uncommon for corporations to do millions of dollars’ worth of business worldwide. So we simply have the Myriad Conglomerate conduct a business transaction with one or two of its subordinate companies or vice versa…something basic, like an equipment purchase.”

Spence grinned. “And since we have control of all the entities involved, and everything appears legitimate, we’ll slip under the radar.”

“Precisely,” Nikki said, beaming.

“Baby, girl,” Cordoza said,” I love your thinking.”

“Thanks. Now it would be to our advantage to ensure that whatever’s purchased is hard to appraise.”

“Like art,” Cordoza suggested.

“Right, but I was thinking more along the lines of antiques.”

“Why?”

“It just seems to fit in better with everything you already have in place, Gem. For example, one plausible scenario could be that company A, who you’ve contracted to help restore this place back to its early-twentieth-century appearance, subcontracts the Myriad Conglomerate to purchase antique furniture unique to the time period on its behalf.”

Cordoza’s face lit up. “I like it. Go on.”

“Since antiques are hard to place a true value on, we simply fudge the numbers between the corporations and take advantage of the concept of product undervaluation. We say we purchased something for a hundred grand on paper but take two and a half mil as a cash payoff. After all, it is a ‘historical restoration’ project, right?”

Cordoza laughed. “Right.”

“We draft phony invoices and receipts,” Nikki continued, “maybe even go so far as to have some guys overseas send over a few shipments of stuff to keep up appearances. Bottom line: we control all the companies involved and all the accounts associated with those companies, making it relatively easy to place Francisco’s money into the system.”

“And once it’s in the system,” Spence concluded, “we use my program to digitally maneuver it through the mass array of banking security software up to New York.”

Lacey turned toward Spence and gave him a stern look. “Now hold on a minute. Your program doesn’t even work, and here we are planning this scheme like everything’s just fine.”

Spence clenched his jaw. “Like I said, I’ll get it to work.”

“Well, I’m not convinced you can.”

“You stick to tanning and whatever it is you do with your hair and let me worry about our digital dilemmas.”

“Spence,” Cordoza called out, reprimanding him, “quit being so flippant.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Whatever,” Lacey said, standing up. “I’ll be out shopping.” She tossed her hair back and stormed out of the room.

Nikki frowned. “Gem, we need to get in touch with the attorney who set up the Myriad Conglomerate, as well as his associates.”

Cordoza pulled out his cell phone and started dialing. “Everyone, let’s rendezvous back here at one.”

The group dispersed. Nikki raced back to her suite and freshened up. When she finished, she rummaged through her closet to find something to wear. Ordinary wouldn’t do; it had to be something sleek and oh-so tight. When it came to money drops, experience had taught her that distraction was the name of the game. Everybody would be on edge, and a healthy dose of sensuality never seemed to hurt. The more eyes she could keep focused on her “assets,” the less likely things were to get out of hand.

She caught a glimpse of a slinky red dress at the back of the closet. She pulled it out, undressed, and held it up next to her body. Her attention was instantly drawn to a small fold of flabby skin visible over her stomach. Her heart quickened.
Is that belly pudge?
Nikki shook her head in disbelief.
Girl, you need to step it up. This mirror does not lie.

She slipped the tight-fitting dress over her head and down over her hips then put on a pair of matching pumps. When she finished, she looked at her reflection again in the mirror.
Not bad.

She made some minor adjustments then picked up her cell phone from the nightstand. She quickly accessed the Internet and pulled up a digital version of the morning paper’s business section. Glancing over the main article, she identified the third word in each of the first three paragraphs and committed them to memory. When she finished, she hit “1” on the speed dial.

“Touch of Style Salon,” an upbeat voice announced. “How may I help you?”

“Agent 2294,” Nikki replied. “Day code, business section, identification procedure.”

“Please proceed.”

“Employee, retailer, shift.”

There was a brief pause while the operator verified the words.

Nikki took a deep breath.

“Confirmed,” the operator said. “How’s my favorite cousin?”

“Outstanding, and how ’bout you, Cousin Janice?”

“I can’t complain, and if I did, it wouldn’t do any good. What do you have for me today, Nicole?”

“Relay to Harlan that Cordoza’s crew has just been awarded the brokering contract. Money exchange goes down today at fourteen hundred hours, Montrose Train Station parking lot, row seventeen.”

“Noted. Anything else?”

“Surveillance only, no apprehension. I want to play this thing out.”

“Okay, girl, you be careful out there.”

“Will do, cuz.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

V
ictor glanced at his watch; it was almost two. He’d been rushing around all morning. First, there was the transportation of Francisco’s proceeds to a cartel safe house in the city. Next came the endless counting and organization of the money according to Cordoza’s specifications, something Victor personally had supervised, and finally there was the matter of delivery of the two seventy-five pound duffel bags to the agreed-upon drop site.

He kept the engine to his Roadster running while he waited for someone to show up. A white Yukon Denali pulled into the train station’s parking lot at exactly 2:00 p.m. and stopped several yards away from him. The tinted windows were so dark that Victor couldn’t make out how many people were inside. The passenger door facing him opened. A well-groomed, fashionable-looking man stepped outside of the vehicle.

Victor reached inside his jacket, removed his Beretta, than raised it in his direction. The man lifted his hands up and approached slowly. “Spence Taylor,” he announced. “You Victor Patrone?”

“I am.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

Victor eased himself out of the Mercedes. “Have everyone but the driver exit the SUV.”

Spence turned around and motioned for Willard to lower his window. “Everyone get out except you, Wills.”

The doors opened then slammed shut. Nikki and Cordoza walked around the Denali and joined Spence.

Victor zeroed in on the swaying of Nikki’s hips as she strutted forward. The plunging V neck of her red dress and the natural bounce of her breasts brought a smile to his face. Victor couldn’t help it—he loved women; the sexier, the better. He continued to stare at Nikki, captivated by what could be seen beneath her dress. “Damn,” he muttered.
Bet you know how to have some fun in
bed.

“I take it you like what you see,” Nikki teased.

Victor nodded. “
Seguro
.”
It’s a shame I won’t have time to
indulge.

Nikki batted her eyes at him and flashed him a sultry smile.

He popped the trunk of the Roadster and motioned with his Beretta for Spence to approach him. “Take a look-see.”

Spence lifted the trunk and glanced inside: two open duffel bags filled with money.

“Check the cash,” Victor said.

Spence reached inside one of the bags and pulled out a stack of banded bills: all twenties. Separating a single note from the stack, he ran a handheld ultraviolet light over it to detect counterfeits. It looked good.

He reached into the other bag, sunk his hand in even deeper, and came up with another banded stack of notes separated by denomination. He performed the same spot check.

“See? No party packs, Mr. Taylor.”

Spence zipped up the bags. “Everything seems to be in order.”

“
Bueno
.”

Spence lifted the two duffel bags out of the trunk and walked over toward Nikki and Cordoza.

“Two days,” Victor reminded them, holding up two fingers. “That’s when Francisco expects to have his money.”

“Two days,” Cordoza repeated.

Seconds later, a dark-colored van sped into the parking lot and screeched to a halt. The side door slid open. Two men in black windbreakers jumped out. “Freeze! DEA!” they yelled, weapons drawn. “Get down now!”

Nikki and Cordoza froze.

“Setup!” Victor shouted. “You fucking bastards set me up!”

Spence dropped the duffel bags and reached for his semiautomatic. Several shots rang out, hitting him in the chest. He collapsed.

Nikki screamed.

Victor returned fire.

The DEA agents split up. One engaged him, while the other grabbed the money. Victor ducked behind his Roadster and squeezed off several more rounds. A return volley of gunfire ripped through the body of his Mercedes. He yanked open the door, fired off two more shots, and dove inside.

The second agent rejoined the fight, shooting in Victor’s direction. Victor hunched down behind the wheel. Rounds whizzed past his head and struck the windshield. Spider-web cracks appeared, stretching across the length of the glass. Victor peeped over the dashboard. He spotted Nikki and Cordoza hopping back into their SUV. He extended his firearm out the window and blindly shot in their direction until he was out of ammo. As the DEA continued to close in, he stomped down on the accelerator and sped out of the kill zone into the busy streets.