by Marie Astor
***
Dennis Walker sat in his boss’s office for an urgently scheduled briefing. It was lunch-time, and Dennis had left his post at Bostoff Securities under a pretext of a doctor’s appointment. When working undercover, he hated briefing meetings during business hours because of the risk of being tracked down, but his boss had made it clear that it was imperative for them to speak, and Dennis had no choice but to agree. He had been careful when he left Bostoff, and to his knowledge, he did not see anyone trailing him.
“Sorry I’m late, Dennis.” Hamilton Kirk walked into the room, carrying a cup of coffee. At fifty-five, Ham Kirk was lean and trim, thanks to daily six a.m. workouts at the gym. As usual, he was dressed in a dark gray wool suit, white shirt, and argyle-patterned tie.
He must have an inexhaustible supply of argyle ties, Dennis thought of his boss. Today’s tie was in a navy color scheme, but Dennis had witnessed Ham wear green, beige, and even maroon variations, but always in an argyle pattern and always accompanied by a dark gray suit, of which Ham too had to have an endless supply.
“Would you like a cup?” Ham offered with belated hospitality. “I could ask Linda to make another cup.”
“It’s all right.” Dennis shook his head. He just wanted this tete-a-tete to be over with. As far as bosses went, Ham Kirk was generally a good boss, but he could be a real nuisance when he was in one of his sour moods, and by the prim expression on his boss’s face, Dennis could tell that Ham Kirk was in one of his moods today.
“Well, then, let’s get right to it, shall we?” Ham rested his fingertips on the coffee cup. “What have you got on Bostoff Securities so far, Dennis?”
Dennis had to make a mental effort to maintain a neutral expression. He had been sending regular updates to his boss, so why the silly spectacle?
“Well, sir, not much has changed since my last report,” Dennis formed the sentence deliberately to pique Kirk.
“Not much, huh? Well, that’s disconcerting. In fact, that’s the reason why I called you in here today, Dennis.”
“But sir, with all due respect, undercover work takes time. Now that I have access to Bostoff’s data, I can confirm that Emperial, along with Creaton, Rigel, Gemini, and Sphinx are Bostoff’s top clients. As you know, these companies have previously been suspected of organized market manipulation, yet the lack of concrete evidence prevented—” Dennis did not get to finish his sentence.
“Yes, I am very well aware of this fact, Dennis, but so is the FBI. I just got a call from their white collar crime desk this morning. Apparently, FBI’s white collar crime desk has been doing some digging on Bostoff, and now, they are requesting assistance with the investigation from every regulatory agency. I’m afraid Bostoff is no longer our case. We’ve lost any chances for a lead that we had.”
“But, sir, how can the Feds encroach on our case?” Dennis burst out, knowing full well that the question was rhetorical. After all, he had worked for the Feds for three years, and he knew that the eight-hundred-pound gorilla that they were, the Feds always got their way. “We’ve already done so much of the work. Granted, after we have gathered the information necessary for the investigation, we will pass it on to the Feds for criminal prosecution, but in the current state of the investigation, involving another party could put the entire operation at risk.”
“What a smooth talker you are, Dennis, but I’m afraid you can’t bullshit your way out of this one. The Feds are after glory. They’ve ballooned their staff, spawning all kinds of useless divisions, and now, they need to justify their existence with achievements, and what better way to do that than to snatch someone else’s catch?”
“So that’s it? We’re done?”
A shrewd smile appeared on Ham’s lips. “Not quite – I got us an extension. Three more weeks was all I was able to get. They agreed that if we’re able to get the evidence to convict the buggers, we’ll be the first to announce the results of the investigation, then hand it over to the Feds for further action.”
“Three weeks,” Dennis repeated grimly.
“And not a day more.”
“Sir, I’d like to ask for your permission to recruit an internal source.”
Ham’s eyes glowed. “You found an inside source?”
“Yes, sir; a woman who works in Bostoff Securities’ legal department—”
“Oh, Christ, Dennis, don’t tell me that you’re chasing skirts instead of doing your job.”
“Sir, this is strictly professional,” Dennis countered. “Although Janet Maple also happens to be quite an attractive woman, my interest in her is only driven by her potential value as an information source,” Dennis replied, almost convinced by his own words.
“Fine, do whatever it takes, Dennis, but you’d better come through on this one. Don’t make me regret giving the assignment to you instead of Laskin. I don’t intend giving up my promotion to the Feds, and I presume, you do understand what’s going to happen if I get passed on my promotion?”
Dennis nodded.
“That’s right, you can forget about moving up in this place. You’re dismissed, son. Now get back to work.”
With as much dignity as he could master under the circumstances, Dennis bowed out of Ham’s office.
Walking along the hallway, Dennis tried to regroup. His professional pride had been bruised by Ham’s chewing him out. Sure, it was easy for Ham to rant. When was the last time the old goat had done any hands-on work? All he did was receive updates from his employees, basking in the glory of the accomplishments brought in by his charges. Dennis checked his watch: it was twelve-thirty in the afternoon, which left him just enough time to stop by the section of the floor where the junior analysts sat. As part of the mentorship program that had been recently introduced at the Treasury, Dennis had taken several pretty girls under his wing. At the moment, wide-eyed adoration was just what he needed to boost his bruised ego. But halfway before he reached his destination, Dennis was interrupted by yet another unpleasant encounter.
“Dennis Walker, what a pleasant surprise!” Peter Laskin greeted Dennis with affected cordiality. “How’s life in the fast lane?”
“Hello, Peter. You’re looking well.” Dennis noted with satisfaction that Laskin’s bald spot seemed to have grown bigger since he’d last seen him. “Is that a new haircut?”
“Why, thank you, Dennis, you’re most kind.” Laskin smoothed his hair, or what had remained of it. “It’s been a while since we last spoke. You are a rare sight these days.”
“Well, as you know, field work does not leave much time for loitering around the office.”
“Ha-ha, very funny. I must say that I’ve been busy analyzing emails of Bostoff Securities employees, courtesy of your undercover work there. Are you sure they’re not feeding you dummies, my friend? There’s absolutely nothing there.” Laskin raised his hands, spreading out his fingers for added effect.
“You just wait and see,” Dennis replied. “There’ll be plenty soon.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears,” Laskin called after Dennis’s irked back.
