Page 43 of Hate to Love You
Once I hit submit on my application, my next search is for the Nikotech Investments blueprints.
While security blueprints for corporations are usually confidentially protected, the standard site blueprints for the building are normally a matter of public record. But with the logins I stole from my friend down at the city zoning commission, I shouldn’t have an issue finding something on a big company like Nikotech.
“0 Results Found/No Records Exist.”
That can't be right.
I try again, but receive the same message.
“0 Results Found/No Records Exist.”
“Fuck me, who is this family?” I scoff out loud, my hand running through my hair. Lily chirps behind me, appearing in the door, her white fur shining in the morning sun that bleeds through the curtains. She jumps on the bed, her sparkling blue eyes staring up at me as she purrs and bumps her forehead into my leg.
I sigh, stroking her gently.
“Well, girl, I guess I’ll have to resort to actually going over to Nikotech today.”
As I walk down the bustling city sidewalk, I take in the crisp fall air, allowing it to fill my lungs. I stop at a small convenience store, rumored to have the best caramel hot chocolate and decide to test the theory. Additionally, I grab a sandwich and a newspaper, smiling at the cashier before continuing down the block.
Subconsciously, I’m glad I had the foresight to dress business casual, as my typical “casual” wear would’ve made me stick out like a sore thumb here in the financial district.
However, in my knee-length black skirt and candy-apple red blouse underneath a black blazer, today I pass for one of them.
I look as if I belong here, seamlessly blending in among the men and women scurrying from cabs to various buildings in their suits, carrying their briefcases and gourmet coffees.
Eventually Nikotech comes into view.
My eyes follow the building upwards, noting how it stands taller than the other buildings in this district. The reflection of the sun off the gleaming glass windows is nearly blinding, but the structure of the design is a work of art.
But even its beauty can’t diminish the dominating essence the building gives, looking like a monstrous glass obelisk, towering over its city.
Finding an empty, clean bench just outside, I set my lunch down, before running my hands over the back of my skirt and crossing my legs as I sit. Tucking my bag against my side, I reach for my sandwich and newspaper, basking in the sun that warms my bones.
While I eat my sandwich, I survey the building in front of me from behind the safety of my large dark sunglasses. The revolving door never seems to stop, a relentless onslaught of people constantly milling in and out of it.
As one dark-haired woman leaves, I just so happen to catch the crest sitting proudly above the entrance.
The crest is formed of a shield in the center with a N and the I crossing through it. Adorning the top was a crown and, on either side, there’s a bear. Below, the words Nikotech Investments were written in large shining silver letters. It was by all accounts a very bold company logo, but unlike its competitors, doesn’t strike me as one that necessarily fits in the financial district.
Somehow it feels older, and more…archaic.
“Move!” A man yells, with a faint accent as he draws my eyes from the crest. His suit crinkled, his hair unbrushed as it blows in the breeze. Distracted, he crashes directly into a young lady in front of me, dropping his folder on the floor, a folder that just so happens to have the same Nikotech Crest embossed on the outside. He scoops it up quickly, muttering under his breath as he storms past reception, running to grab the elevator. His hand slams on the door as it closes before he reaches it. After a moment of hesitation, he pulls something from his pocket, slamming it against the panel.
Interesting.
It’s no secret that most buildings in the financial district have heavy security. Access to the secure information of investors and banks, they have to be. But this building is locked down like Fort Knox, the main floor is open so that people can get in and out freely, but to access the higher floors, you need an ID badge… for an elevator.
How very secure.
As I chew the remainder of the sandwich, I take a final assessing gaze at the building.
I won’t get Igor here, it would be impossible, it’s too secure for me to even try.
That’s Nikotech out of the running, guess that only leaves one place, which doesn’t surprise me, The Studio is where so many of my marks seem to find their end. But luckily for me that’s where the dark atmosphere, smoke machines and the flashing strobe lights come in handy, providing me with the cover I need.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, before my watch screen illuminates, as an incoming call comes in.
Number Unknown.