by Marie Astor
Janet eyed the phone on her desk. The normally benign apparatus looked as menacing as a torture device. The task that loomed before her, compliments of Dean Snider, was as bloodcurdling as being subjected to waterboarding. Well, fine, maybe not that horrific, but it was certainly up there. Janet pulled out Tom Wyman’s business card from her Rolodex and looked at it in calm determination. It was just a phone call – how bad could it be? All she had to do was to convince Tom Wyman to visit her at the office and have a drink with her afterwards.
That was the order Dean had given her, not that she was taking orders from Dean. Well, actually, she was, but it was too late to cry about it now. She was in this mess up to her neck, and the only way out was to complete the task she had signed up to do. As if being tormented by a guilty conscience were not enough, keeping the investigation secret from Lisa had made it almost impossible for her to face her friend, resulting in Janet’s conjuring up various excuses to abstain from being involved in Lisa’s wedding: the wedding that could possibly be ruined by the outcome of the case Janet was helping Dean to solve. Horrible, Janet felt horrible, but at least she had managed to secure protection for Lisa, although she was certain that once this truth were out, this fact would buy her little credence in Lisa’s eyes. Perhaps it was only fitting that, as punishment for going behind her friend’s back, Janet had to charm a sleazebag like Tom Wyman.
Janet picked up the receiver and punched in the numbers of Wyman’s direct line. Just like ripping off a Band-Aid, calling Tom Wyman was best to get over with quickly.
“Tom Wyman,” Wyman’s brusque voice answered after the first ring.
“Tom, hi, this is Janet, Janet Maple from Bostoff Securities…” Janet made sure to introduce herself in abundant detail, not wanting to tax Wyman’s memory.
“Janet,” Wyman’s voice instantly warmed up by several notches. “Of course – I was wondering how you were. We had such a nice time at the party, and then, I don’t hear from you for days…”
Janet ignored Wyman’s dig. If he had wanted to see her, he could have called her, but this was just his style. Men like Tom Wyman expected women to go after them.
“Oh, Tom, it’s so good to hear your voice. I’ve been crazy busy working – I hardly had a spare minute of free time.”
“Oh, yeah? Anything I can help with?”
“I’m so glad you asked,” Janet paused. “I was hoping you could come over to the office so that we could talk….”
“I’ve got a better idea – why don’t we meet for drinks after work instead?”
Janet hesitated. This was not the exact plan, but she had to go along with it…
“Sure, that sounds good too. How about Georgiana? They’ve got a nice bar.” She was determined to insist on the bar Dean had instructed her to pick. He had said it was extremely important.
“Sounds good. They are on Fifty-Seventh and Third, if memory serves me right?”
“That’s right.”
“How does seven o’clock sound?”
“Sounds good; I’ll see you there.”
“I’m looking forward to it, Janet.”
Janet replaced the receiver on the phone and stared at it. Of late, her life had turned into a bizarre thriller. She had become an impersonator, a liar, and a corporate spy. Her new reality was terrifying, but she had to admit that it was also exhilarating – well, at least at times when she managed to forget that she was still employed by Bostoff Securities. Dean had promised her that she would not be implicated in the investigation, and she certainly hoped that he would keep his word. Common sense told her that she should have hired a lawyer to protect her interests, but the reality was that she could not afford one. At a minimum rate of five hundred dollars an hour, one was liable to end up in bankruptcy unless one’s bills were being picked up by a corporate expense account. Borrowing money from family and friends was not an option, as she saw no realistic way of repaying it: not when her future career prospects seemed dubious at best. She had gotten herself into this mess, and she would get herself out. If the worst came to the worst, she was a lawyer: she could represent herself.
Think of the Devil: there was a light rapping on the door of her office. Janet looked up and saw Dean standing in the doorway.
“How did it go?” Dean asked, closing the door behind him.
“How do you know that it went anywhere? Are you tapping my phone now?”
“You know better than that; you told me you were going to call Wyman first thing in the morning.”
“And I did. He’s going to meet me for drinks at Georgiana’s at seven.”
“He’s not coming into the office first?”
“No, I tried to get him to come, but he said his day was full. I didn’t think it was a good idea to blow him off for drinks. At least we got part of the plan in the bag.”
“Yeah, that’s better than nothing. I just hope he brings his computer with him – otherwise, it will be a wasted evening.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“You meet him there, and I’ll join you shortly afterwards. We’ll use the two coworkers run into each other at a bar routine…”
Janet blinked, reminded of Dean’s accidental appearance during her night out with Katie – the night that now seemed to be eons ago. At the time, she had actually believed that running into Dean had been an accident, but now she knew better.
“Fine. How do we get him to talk?”
Dean looked over Janet’s outfit. She was wearing a button-up blouse and a pencil skirt.
“Well, if you show up wearing this, he will not talk. Please, do me a favor and change before you go to meet him. You can leave the rest up to me.”
“I’m not putting out to get him to talk. That’s where I draw the line.”
Dean pressed his lips together. “What kind of person do you think I am, Janet?”
Janet lowered her eyes. That was just it. She had no idea. There were so many different sides to Dean Snider.
“All I am asking you to do is to talk to the man.”
“And wear a skimpy outfit while doing it.”
Dean groaned. “All I asked was that you change into something a bit more intriguing for tonight. No one has ever been harmed by looks, or am I mistaken? But you don’t even have to do that if you’re that uncomfortable.” He glared at her. “Besides, I’ll be there to make sure that nothing bad happens to you.”
At ten after seven, Janet walked into Georgiana’s. To gratify Dean’s request, she had changed into a violet wrap dress with a deep v-neckline and black pumps. At the moment, her sex-kitten outfit was concealed by a trench coat, as the fall weather was now in full swing.
Janet scanned the bar; it was crowded as usual, but it did not take her long to spot Tom Wyman. His tailored suit and immaculate haircut stood out among the sea of less elegant men.
Janet tapped his shoulder.
“Hello, Tom. I’m sorry I’m late.” Slowly, she took off her trench coat; the effect on Wyman was as though she were stripping.
“Some things are worth waiting for.” Wyman got up to his feet to help her with her coat. “Should we get a table? I could go for a bite to eat.”
“Maybe later. Right now, I really want a drink.”
“What will it be?” Wyman asked.
“A dirty martini,” said Janet, remembering Dean’s instructions.
While Wyman repeated her order to the bartender, Janet was relieved to see that Wyman’s laptop case was underneath his chair. Dean would be pleased.
“Here you are.” The bartender placed the drink before her. Janet took a sip and gasped from the powerful mixture going down her throat. The bartender was more than generous with the vodka. She wondered what Dean’s plan was. At this rate, she would be under the table after two of these babies.
“God, I’ve had an awful day.” Wyman pushed his nearly-empty glass out of the way and motioned for another drink. “But let’s not talk about work; let’s enjoy ourselves.”
Janet raised her glass
to her lips, barely taking a sip. Where was Dean, and what was she supposed to do next?
Dean must have read her thoughts because a moment later, she heard his voice behind her back.
“Janet, fancy meeting you here.”
“Dean!” Anxious to surrender the reins to Dean, Janet suppressed the excitement in her voice. “Dean Snider, Tom Wyman,” she made the introductions, “Dean is an IT Specialist at Bostoff.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Dean.” Wyman extended his arm for a handshake. “I’m Tom Wyman; I do some legal work for Bostoff.”
“Very nice to meet you, Tom.” Dean struck out his hand, knocking over Janet’s drink. Both Janet and Wyman jumped up from their seats, the spilled liquid miraculously missing them.
“Oh, that was very clumsy of me. I’m so sorry,” Dean apologized. “Please let me make it up to you. The next round is on me.”
“There’s no need, really,” Wyman replied dryly.
“Please, I insist.” Dean nodded at the bartender and asked for three martinis.
Several moments later a drink was placed before Janet. She took a sip and almost spat it out: it was vermouth and olive juice and no vodka.
“That’s a good drink,” said Wyman after a long swallow. “The kind of drink a fella needs after a hard day of work. I’ve had two of these babies already, but this one really hits the spot.”
“Cheers.” Dean held up his glass, downing it in three gulps.
Wyman followed suit. “So, Dean, how is it that you know Janet?” Wyman asked, his words coming out a little slower now.
“We’ll get to that.” Dean smiled. “But first, another round.”
Janet saw a twinkle in Dean’s eyes. Then it hit her: Dean must have made an arrangement with the bartender.
“I can waaaalk on myyyy ooowwwn,” Wyman protested, as, a short while later, Dean and Janet steered him out of Georgiana’s and into the street. A cab was standing by the curb.
“We’re in luck,” said Dean. “Tom, we’ll drop you off first.”
Wyman shook his head. “I don’t wanna trouble ya.”
“It’s no trouble,” Dean replied.
Together, Dean and Janet shoved Wyman into the back seat. Janet sat next to Wyman and Dean sat next to her, placing Wyman’s laptop case under the seat.
“Where do you live, Tom?” Janet asked.
“Seventieth and Madison,” Wyman slurred.
Dean repeated the address to the cab driver.
“Got it.” The cab driver looked back over his shoulder, an expression of alarm spreading over his face. “Watch your friend. He pukes, I’m kicking you out of the cab.”
“No worries, chief; he can handle his liquor,” Dean reassured the cabbie.
Feeling the pressure of Wyman’s head on her shoulder, Janet was not so sure – she maneuvered her body away from Wyman, but miscalculated, and Wyman’s head ended up on her breast. Shortly afterwards, a sound of light snoring ensued.
Bewildered, Janet stared at Dean.
“Just leave him be,” Dean whispered. “We’re almost there.”
Easy for you to say, Janet thought. You’re not the one with someone else’s head on your boob.
Five martinis must have done him in because Wyman slept like a baby through the entire drive. Finally, the cab stopped in front of Wyman’s address.
“Tom,” Janet nudged Bostoff’s inebriated legal counsel, “wake up, this is your place.”
“What?” Wyman snorted. “Wanna come up for a nightcap?”
“Maybe some other time. I had a lovely time, but I’m really tired now.”
Reluctantly, Wyman lifted his head off Janet’s breast. “Next time, then.” Wyman started to shuffle out of the cab.
Dean was already waiting by the door. He offered his arm for Wyman to lean on and walked him to his building. There he surrendered Wyman to the care of the doorman and rushed back to the cab.
Dean gave Janet’s address to the cab driver. “Step on it,” he added.
The cabby looked over his shoulder and eyed Janet’s low-cut dress peeking through her unbuttoned trench coat. “I got you man – I’d be in a hurry too.”
“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered.
Janet groaned. By now she was getting used to being treated like a piece of meat.
Fifteen minutes later, they were in Janet’s apartment.
“Quick,” said Dean. “We don’t have much time. Wyman could sober up at any moment.”
“You think?” Janet shook her head. “What did you tell the bartender to put into those drinks?”
Dean beamed. “That was clever – admit it.”
Janet crossed her arms. “I’m not admitting anything.”
“You take the fun out of everything.” Dean took Wyman’s laptop out of its case and pushed the power button. “We got what we needed, didn’t we? And back to your question, I had a little talk with the bartender beforehand and asked him for special drinks – all vodka for Wyman and Vermouth and olive juice for us.”
“But the first drink I ordered was strong – real strong.”
“That was before I got there. Why do you think I knocked the thing out of your hand?”
“Thanks. If you hadn’t gotten there in time, I might have ended up like Wyman. Do you think he’ll be okay?”
“He’ll be fine. Nothing that a cold shower and a few aspirins wouldn’t fix.” The entire time Dean had been speaking with Janet, he had his eyes on the screen of Wyman’s laptop. “Let’s see here,” said Dean, as the password screen came up. After several keystrokes he was in. “Not a very complicated password system,” Dean remarked, examining the documents list on Wyman’s laptop. “Aha!” he exclaimed triumphantly, “found it.”
“What is it?” Janet’s felt adrenalin pulsating in her blood. She still could not believe that she had helped Dean to practically drug Bostoff’s outside legal counsel, and now, the two of them were rummaging through Wyman’s laptop. Well, technically, Dean was doing all the rummaging, but she was standing by, being a willing accomplice.
“Damn. I knew it couldn’t be that easy. The files are password-protected.” Dean attacked the keyboard with redoubled efforts. After several minutes of intermittent cursing and mumbling, he exhaled victoriously. “Got it.” His eyes focused on the text on the screen as he read every word hungrily.
Janet stood behind Dean’s shoulder, following him word for word. What she saw defeated all of her expectations. Impala Group was a Cayman Island company owned by Bostoff Securities.
“So Bostoff owns the Impala Group?” Janet stared at Dean in disbelief. This was bad. She had expected Emperial to be behind Impala, in which case Bostoff Securities would still be on the hook, but not nearly to the extent that the company and its senior staff would be liable now.
“Looks like it.” Dean rubbed his hands in excitement. “And look, there’s more.” Dean opened another document. “Looks like an agreement between Impala, Emperial, Creaton, Rigel, Sphinx, and Gemini for services to be performed by Bostoff Securities. Or should we say payment for aiding market manipulation?”
“Why would Bostoff want it in writing?”
“I guess Bostoff was worried that Emperial and the rest of the gang would not pay, so he wanted assurances. He couldn’t very well foresee that I’d get access to Wyman’s laptop.” Dean grinned smugly, glancing at his watch. “It took me a total of forty-five minutes to break into it. Not bad for someone who doesn’t do computers for a living.” Dean reached into his pocket and produced a flash drive, which he inserted into the laptop to copy the files. “Let’s hope the laptop does not have protection software banning external devices,” he murmured.
“Damn it,” he cursed a moment later, “of course it has external device protection software.” Again Dean attacked the keyboard, alternating between swift keystrokes and concentrated stares on the computer screen. “Bingo.” Dean grinned. “We’d better copy these files quickly. I wouldn’t want to be caught red-handed with Tom Wyman knocking
on your door.”
Janet shook her head. Dean’s paranoia was unnerving. “I’m sure Tom Wyman is passed out cold right now. Besides, he doesn’t know where I live.”
“Didn’t the two of you have dinner after the party last week?”
Janet sighed. Nothing ever escaped Dean’s attention. “Yes, we did. He dropped me off in a cab afterwards, but I hardly think that he memorized my address.”
“I beg to differ.” Dean’s eyes were locked in on the computer in concentration. “There, all done.” He placed the jump drive into his pocket and closed Wyman’s laptop. Then he got to his feet, and Janet felt herself lifting off the floor as Dean’s hands encircled around her, lifting her into the air. “We got them, Janet, we got them!”
“Put me down, Dean!” Janet laughed, unable to resist the glow inside her. It felt good to know that they had cracked the case, and it felt even better to have Dean’s arms around her.
“As you wish, my lady.” Dean put her down.
“Now what do we do?”
“Call Wyman tomorrow and return his laptop to him. Look wide-eyed and innocent and tell him that he left it in the cab, and you did not want to call him that late at night. Chances are that he’ll be so embarrassed by the episode, he won’t say a word. That is, if he doesn’t show up here tonight. The night is still young.”
“It’s after midnight. I’d say that’s unlikely,” Janet retorted. “But more importantly, what happens with the investigation now?”
“I’m getting there – hold your horses. I will speak with my boss tomorrow; we now have enough to go on to launch an official investigation. The Feds will probably join us on the case and raid the place for documents and such…”
“The way they show it on TV?” Janet gasped, remembering episodes of American Greed.
Dean nodded. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard, but I promise that you and your friend, Lisa, will be kept out of it. The support staff doesn’t have much to worry about either. They might be brought in for questioning, but the investigation will not go after them. It’s the top brass that they want. It’s always the top brass….”
“You mean the Bostoffs: Jon, Hank and Paul, even though Jon is the one who orchestrated the whole thing.”
Dean halted, seeing the worry on Janet’s face. “I’m sorry, but things aren’t always fair in life. And Tom Wyman, definitely Tom Wyman,” he added.
“Well, I think I’m going to bed. I’m exhausted. This has been a very eventful night.”
Dean nodded, but made no move to leave. “Agreed. I think I should crash here for the night, in case Wyman shows up.”
Janet shrugged. “I really think you’re overreacting, but you’re welcome to the couch.” She motioned to the couch where Baxter was napping peacefully. “You might have to share with Baxter, though.”
“That’s all right; I just want to make sure that you’re safe.”
More likely you don’t feel like dragging your ass all the way to Soho, Janet thought, but she was too tired to argue with Dean now.
“Okay, I’ll get you a set of sheets and a pillow.” She was about to head for her linen closet when there was a ring on the intercom.
She froze in place, terrified.
“Answer it,” Dean’s voice was calm. “If it’s who I think it is, let him in.”
“Okay.” Janet picked up the intercom. “Hello?”
“Janet, it’s Tom,” Wyman’s voice had no traces of alcohol in it. “May I come up?”
Janet glanced at Dean, and he nodded back. Without another word, she pressed the intercom button.
“Now what?” she glared at Dean.
“Now, nothing. You give him his laptop and send him on his merry way. I’ll be right here.” Dean receded into the alcove that housed Janet’s bed. “If I hear any trouble, I’ll come right out.”
“Thanks.” Janet had barely enough time to compose herself before the doorbell rang.
Her footsteps measured, she walked toward the door and opened it.
Tom Wyman stood in the doorway. He looked paler than usual, but otherwise he was his usual composed self. His slacks and sports jacket were immaculately pressed, and his hair was slicked back.
“Hi, Janet,” Wyman’s voice was unnervingly focused. “I’m afraid I’ve made a bit of a fool of myself tonight. I like to think that I know how to handle my liquor, but there was something about those martinis tonight: they’ve done me in.” His eyes locked on her face.
Janet shrugged. “I was pretty tipsy myself. The bartender sure knew his business.”
“I bet.” Tom nodded. “You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here,” he continued, “I don’t usually barge into people’s apartments at night, but when I got home, I saw that my laptop was missing, and I was wondering if you might have seen it.” Again, Wyman’s eyes fixed on Janet’s face, watching her expression intently.
“Oh, Jeez, I’m such a ditz.” Janet slapped her forehead. “I’ve got it – I was going to call you tomorrow and bring it over to your office.” She walked back into the living room, picked up the laptop case from the floor, and handed it over to Wyman.”
“Thanks, Janet, that’s very perceptive of you.” Wyman’s gaze lingered on her. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.” His eyes scanned her clothes. She was still wearing the same dress she had worn to the bar.
Janet blushed. “You did wake me, but, actually, you did me a favor. I fell asleep in my clothes.”
“Oh, well, it was a wild night.” Wyman gripped his laptop case tightly. “Well, I’ll be going now. I’ve got an early day at the office tomorrow.”
“As do I.”
“Goodnight, Janet.
“Goodnight.” Janet shut the door after Wyman. She looked at her hands and saw that they were shaking. Dean had been right to stay and watch over her.
“Are you all right?” Dean was by her side.
“I’m fine.” Janet exhaled. “I’m exhausted, though.”
“You go straight to bed; I’ll be fine here on the couch.”
“I don’t think you need to stay now; he’s gone.”
“Better safe than sorry. I’ve recruited you to aid me in this investigation, and that means you’re my responsibility,” Dean’s tone made it clear that he was not going to take no for an answer.
“Thanks.”
Later that night, Janet lay in her bed, safely wrapped in her comforter. She could hear Dean’s even breathing coming from the living room. She was not sure whether he was asleep or not, and she was not going to ask. She fell asleep with the thought of Dean on her couch, only a few feet away from her bed: knowledge that was both unnerving and exhilarating.
