Chapter 8: Let It Ride
The next day: 10:10 a.m.
Extensive Enterprises, 200 Park Avenue, New York City
Front desk security guard Vincent Pataski gave only a passing glance at the rather attractive redhead struggling to swipe her badge at elevator bank two's turnstiles. She clearly was another "hire" at Extensive Enterprises. No other tenant in the building seemed to have a perpetual need for provocatively dressed females wearing a bit too much make up. Not that Vincent had any problems with that. He considered it to be one of the perks of his job. Every week or so he was treated to a new version of New York's finest, and he wasn't talking about its cops. Vincent went back to running down the building's schedule of visitors for the day. It was almost sad how he was becoming immune to the endless parade of beauty. Man those twins had it made.
The twins. That was another matter entirely. Vincent shook his head; the twins that ran Extensive Enterprises were some mighty weird individuals. Creepy too, the way they would complete each other's sentences. He avoided any direct contact with them when at all possible. The one, Tomax was it? Or maybe it was Xamot? What kind of name was Xamot anyway? No, he thought, it was Tomax. Tomax didn't seem quite as bizarre, heck, perverted, as his brother. O'Brien down in the basement control room had amassed quite a collection of kinky videos spliced together from the stairway security feed where Xamot entertained many of the same ladies he often witnessed trying to enter the building. Once one of the girls went off with Xamot, that was it, she wouldn't be back. The security staff would often gather together at night on the first Tuesday of the month to view O'Brien's latest creation and toast farewell to that month's crop of girls. Vincent had the nagging feeling Xamot knew exactly what the security crew was doing and took great pains to put on some show-stopping performances. A shiver went down Vincent's spine as he remembered last month's finale with the petite, long-haired blonde. Had to be a former gymnast, both of them.
Looking up, Vincent wondered if he should offer the girl some help with her badge. She was having quite the time trying to insert it into the card reader on the turnstile. It almost didn't seem to fit the way she was jamming it into the slot. She probably wasn't doing it right. Vincent pushed back from the console, and straightened his tie. Come to think of it, this one was kind of cute. He always had a thing for redheads and this one seemed to have some life behind her. In a way, he felt sorry for her. It was a stupid thought but if he got to know her he might be able to prevent her from future regrets. Shrugging, he thought that at least he wouldn't mind knowing her name.
Swiping the badge through the reader was doing absolutely nothing. The card the FBI techies devised was too thick to glide easily through the slot. As a result, the machine wasn't processing the magnetic strip. Lady Jaye mumbled a few Gaelic curses under her breath. She stopped her efforts for a moment to spit out a piece of wig stuck to her lip gloss. She was having second thoughts about the whole operation. It was too hurried. The team didn't run through its usual checks, double-checks, and triple checks. For starters, anyone with any taste who got too close could probably surmise that she wasn't a real redhead. It wasn't the most high quality wig and was a little too bright for her coloring. She could pass as a ginger but it had to be the right kind of ginger, more Maureen O'Hara and less Lucille Ball. She was treading a little too close to the latter's territory. And speaking of redheads, she reached down and ever so subtly pulled at the lycra and spandex slowly riding its way up all sorts of uncomfortable places, giving her what she felt was a perma-wedgie. How anyone could think that a skintight jumpsuit was a comfortable choice for work wear was beyond her comprehension. Thank god she only had to wear this thing for a few hours. Day in and day out? No thank you.
Lady Jaye turned her attention back to maneuvering the fake badge through the card slot. It was just a hair off. Glancing to her right, she muttered a few more choice words as she watched the guard take an interest in her. She was taking too long and it wasn't going unnoticed. Great, she thought in her head, just frigging great. "Tell your boys they suck," she muttered under her breath.
"What's that milady?" J.T. Hill's voice flooded Lady Jaye's right ear.
"Turn it down cowboy. You're going to give me a migraine."
"This better?" J.T.'s voice was now a quiet buzz, practically blending into the background.
"Yeah." Lady Jaye leaned down and pretended to adjust the strap of her boot. Out of Vincent's immediate sight she relayed the bad news to J.T., who had been assigned by Patterson to be her "guardian angel," thus placating Flint. Happy to be associated with the field once more, J.T. told his wife a little fib and soon found himself hovering over the Hudson while running surveillance on the Joe's Tomahawk.
"Well little lady, pull out. I'll tar those boys and we'll think of something else."
"I don't," Lady Jaye paused to pick some more of the wig strands off of her lips. It gave her an idea. "Hold on." She imagined she could hear Flint in the background fussing about the latest snafu. She didn't want to deal with his doubts. She could complete this mission, no matter how high the deck was stacked against her. Praying for speed as she watched the guard stand up and adjust his tie, she took the card and ran her lips over it, depositing enough of the sticky gloss to coat the magnetic strip. It worked and the card slid through the reader. A light on the side of the turnstile turned green and she pushed her way through just as Vincent called out to her. "One down." She whispered to J.T. as she waited for the elevator.
The next part would be a bit trickier. Mainframe, in tandem with the cursed FBI boys, hacked into Extensive Enterprises' main server and breached the building access files. Contained in the files was the list of all Maid Brigade Upscale Cleaning, Inc.'s employees utilized by Extensive Enterprises. There were enough headshots that Mainframe thought he could start his own modeling agency. The girls were exquisite. Included within the list of 186 "maids" was now number 187, Cheryl P. Tiegs, an aspiring Broadway actress who bore more than a passing resemblance to Lady Jaye.
"Cheryl Tiegs?" Lady Jaye exclaimed when Mainframe handed her the badge and id. "Cheryl Tiegs?"
Mainframe looked a bit sheepish as he explained he and the FBI boys couldn't think of anything else.
"Ah, Cheryl Tiegs, she was my first poster," Shipwreck closed his eyes reminiscing about many a morning waking up under Ms. Tieg's watchful eyes. "I think Wetsuit still has her picture on his locker."
"Cheryl Tiegs? You're joking." Lady Jaye surveyed the room full of middle-aged men and came to the realization that they weren't. She could see it in their eyes; each one cherishing fond memories of adolescent summers spent pining over their idealized sun-kissed muse. When presented with the right opportunity, how could they not give homage to those long-gone carefree days of youth? With a shake of her head, she pocketed the identification. "You do realize Cheryl Tiegs isn't exactly a name that's going to fly under the radar."
"We thought of that actually." Mainframe, eager for the chance to further explain the rationale, raced ahead with his thoughts, "We thought that it might be a good signal to Tomax that we received his messages and are responding with our own. I thought if we just used a generic name, you might get lost in the shuffle. But if we used this name, Tomax might know to be on the lookout for you. That's what we want. Right?"
Lady Jaye wasn't so sure. She preferred anonymity, blending into the crowd. She'd rather find Tomax than have him go looking for her. That gave him the upper hand. It was never good to give a twin the upper hand. But it was what it was and Tomax had to know she was coming. Shaking her head, she watched the slow march of numbers signal the elevator's ascent up into the world of Extensive Enterprises. Lady Jaye began to mentally prepare herself for the next step, getting past the front desk. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. With the first exhale, she was Ms. Tiegs. Another breath, this was a job to pay the bills. This was a job to afford New York until her big break, which would come. Next breath, she had so many promising auditions. Why not use what god gave her to make some money. Anyone in her position would do the same. And exhaling again, an unfortunate moniker would not come between her and the stage lights. When the elevator stopped at floor 58, the woman getting off the elevator was not the same one who had stepped on. Walking out into the lobby was a woman with a chip on her shoulder hiding the shame underneath. Stopping in front of the receptionist's desk, Lady Jaye stuck her chin up proudly, handing over her building badge and id, "I was called to sub today." The words were direct and forceful yet the receptionist sneered. She had seen enough of these girls come and go, selling their souls for a chance at the high life that would never come. Although she wasn't expecting any personnel changes today, clearly the girl in front of her was just another one in the endless parade. The receptionist gave Jaye the once over with a dismissive sigh and began the process of running her credentials.
Jaye managed to appear indifferent despite her worries that the FBI techs and Mainframe hadn't had enough time to make her cover legit. She could feel her hands begin to tremble, a sure give-away. To keep occupied, she distracted herself by looking around the lobby. She had to hand it to Extensive Enterprises, the twins had fine taste. The lobby was sleek and modern, hard angles and sharp curves, blinding primary colors offset by brilliant white and glossy black. She couldn't confirm, but she could swear that the chairs flanking the perimeter were original Le Cobusiers. And the painting behind the receptionist? Had to be a Picasso.
"Ms., um, Tiegs?" The receptionist, typing on her keyboard, glanced up at Lady Jaye with a smirk, "You'll be working in Messieurs Paoli's offices today. You'll find your supplies down that hallway in Room 5812. The offices are at the end."
"Thank you." Lady Jaye took her badge back from the receptionist, breathing a sigh of relief, happy to have avoided confrontation. The sooner she could get this over with, the happier she'd be. She didn't really need any supplies but in keeping with her cover she scanned the doors for 5812. Finding it, she pulled open the door to find a large supply closet. Perfect. Shutting the door behind her, she called upon J.T., "Ok, I'm in the front door."
"Glad to hear it."
"I have to turn you off now."
"Now hold on there little lady. This isn't the plan." J.T. was crouched in the back of the helicopter, headphones plastered to his ears. He looked across to the pilot, Flint. Gulping, J.T. knew Flint wasn't going to like this development one bit. "Use your head lady. I'm here to help."
"I know, I'm calling an audible. They might pick up on this signal. I need my full attention on him and I can't be worried that he thinks you'll come barging in. Tomax isn't going to talk if he thinks we're not alone. I'll reconnect after the rendezvous and we'll meet on the roof as planned. Jaye out." Lady Jaye reached up and pulled the two-way bud out of her ear, pressing it off and placing it in the front pocket of her jumpsuit. Call it gut instinct but she knew Tomax wouldn't be as forthright if he thought there were others privy to the conversation. Whatever he was doing, he was doing his best to keep it under wraps. She was here and she wasn't going to let anything jeopardize the mission.
"Ok Jaye, you can do this. Easy peasy." She grabbed one of the premade cleaning baskets, straightened her shoulders, and readied herself for the next part.
Halfway across the city, J.T. stomped his foot, "Dang-nab it!"
J.T.'s words were picked up loud and clear by Flint. "J.T., what's wrong?"
J.T. switched channels to speak with Flint, "Sorry buddy, but I passed the wrong Joe."
"What do you mean?" Flint got a lump caught in his throat. He almost didn't need J.T. to tell him what happened. He could sense it, "God damn it Jaye!" He scratched that little spot above his forehead that no longer grew any hair, "What did she say?"
"Girl called an audible. Said Mr. Tomax wasn't going to talk to her if I was chatting in her ear. Said she'll contact us afterward and meet up as planned."
Flint dug into that bare spot above his forehead, attacking it. "Ow!" Pulling away, he noticed a splotch of blood on his finger. He had scratched straight through his epidermis. That's what Jaye did to him on these missions. He really needed to learn to manage his emotions; he wasn't going to have anything left on his head if he didn't. And he had to admit, she was right. Tomax was elusive. He wasn't going to take the bait if he thought there was any danger to himself. They had figured it was a crapshoot if he was even going to reach out to her. She could handle herself. He witnessed it every day. Then why was it still this hard? Because of what you haven't said. Because, if something happened, she wouldn't know. His shoulders slumped. Damn the regs, damn it all. He had regrets in his life, this wasn't going to be one. "Well, we wait then. Stick on the channel just in case. Make sure Miller is ready to go if necessary."
"Roger that buddy." J.T. switched channels and called Miller, who was waiting in a van just in front of the building with a squad at the ready. Patterson wasn't kidding when he said they were the FBI.