1 To Catch a Bad Guy

by Marie Astor

  Janet logged into the operations system to pull down more trading blotter reports. Her plan was to keep reviewing trading activity for each day until she had enough information to determine if there was a pattern. If indeed her findings would confirm her initial suspicion about Bostoff Securities, she would have some very tough decisions to make.

  She was just about to focus on the report for Friday when there was a knock on the door. This time Janet had been vigilant enough to keep the door of her office closed. She quickly put the reports away.

  “Come in,” Janet called out, her heart racing with the fear of being caught doing something she was not supposed to be doing, even though the intentions behind her actions were honorable.

  “Am I interrupting anything?” Lisa sauntered into Janet’s office.

  “Oh, no, I was just looking through some regulatory updates.” Janet mastered a vague enough excuse.

  Lisa rolled her eyes, indicating that such a subject was not worthy of her interest. “Janie, I’m so sorry about the party. What a jerk Andrew turned out to be! I meant to call you on Sunday, but Paul and I were busy looking at catering venues.”

  “How did you hear about what happened with Andrew?”

  “The prick had the nerve to complain to me about it. He got all upset about me dragging him out for nothing. Apparently, my engagement is not worthy of his attention; he also had to score with you.”

  Janet’s irritation spiked. Lisa’s narcissism was unending. Never mind that courtesy of Lisa, Janet had been pawed by Lisa’s sleazoid cousin in the middle of nowhere; in the end, Lisa was still the victim.

  “What exactly did you tell Andrew about me, Lisa?”

  Lisa fiddled with her blazer. “Oh, nothing much. That you were going to be at my party…”

  “Are you sure? Then how come he knew about me being single? He also used the word ‘desperate.’”

  “Oh, I might have mentioned that you were single, but I never said a word about desperation. Clearly, you have no reason to be desperate.”

  There it was again: Lisa’s old trick of switching the tables on you, but this time Janet was not budging. “Do me a favor, Lisa, stop setting me up on dates.”

  “Suit yourself.” Lisa rose from her chair. “Don’t forget about the company party this Thursday.”

  “I’ll be there, but don’t even think about setting me up with that Tom Wyman character.”

  “Not to worry. Your personal life is now solely in your capable hands. Rest assured, there will be no interference from poor, sloppy me.” Lisa cocked her head as she began to slowly exit Janet’s office.

  Janet guessed from Lisa’s measured walk that she was awaiting an apology, but remained silent. Her boss or not, there was a limit as to how much humiliation one person was allowed to inflict upon another.

  Lisa stopped short before exiting through the door, and Janet’s heart lurched. Could it be that Lisa was going to apologize? That would be an unprecedented occurrence worthy of the Guinness Book of World Records.

  “Oh, and I almost forgot, I’m going to look at wedding dresses next weekend. I expect you to be there.”

  Janet nodded; a promise was a promise, and she had agreed to be Lisa’s maid of honor. “I’ll be there.”

  “Good.” Lisa shifted her feet, clearly dissatisfied with the absence of an apology. “Well, I’ll see you later.”

  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 reports to his boss, and he knew that Hamilton Kirk always read all of his subordinates’ reports, so why the silly spectacle?

  “Well, sir, not much has changed since my last report,” Dennis formed the sentence deliberately in order to pique Hamilton.

  “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 obtained access to Bostoff’s settlement data, I can confirm that Emperial, along with Creaton, Rigel, Gemini, and Sphinx are among Bostoff’s top clients. As you know, these hedge funds have previously been suspected of organized schemes to manipulate securities markets, 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 investigation cooperation 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.”

  Hamilton’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 counte
red. “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 Hamilton’s office.

  Walking along the hallway, Dennis tried to regroup. His professional pride had been bruised by Hamilton’s chewing him out. Sure, it was easy for Hamilton to rant. When was the last time the old goat had done any hands-on work? All he did was receive reports 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.

  “I’ll be right there. Show them into the conference room,” Jon Bostoff instructed his secretary over the intercom. He consulted his watch. David Muller, the Emperial honcho, was right on time for their meeting, but where was Tom Wyman? Irritated, Jon rose from his chair. He had rather expected Wyman to arrive ahead of time for the meeting, what with all the hefty fees Jon had been paying him. But now it looked like he would have to make small talk with Muller while waiting for Wyman to join them, and Jon Bostoff detested small talk.

  “Sorry I’m late, Jon.” Tom Wyman walked brusquely through the door of Jon’s office.

  “It’s about time; Muller is here already.”

  Wyman nodded. “Where are we meeting him?”

  “In the conference room downstairs. I didn’t want him wandering around the trading floor.”

  “So, you’re sure that we’re bulletproof to go ahead with the arrangement?” Jon asked Wyman as they walked to the elevators.

  “To the extent that the legal system allows, yes.”

  Blasted lawyers – always with the caveats. Jon resisted the urge to snap at Wyman; after all, it was not as though he were in a position to back out of the deal now.

  “David, great to see you again.” Jon shook Muller’s hand heartily, feigning affability as best as he could. He detested the pompous prick, but now was not the time to show it, for Muller’s scheme was bound to generate some serious cash.

  “Likewise, Jon. It’s always a pleasure.” Muller answered Jon’s handshake with his lizard-like grip. “You’re looking well. Have you been working out?”

  Jon shook his head. “Nothing more than usual: just good, clean living.”

  Muller chuckled, shaking his longish blond locks. “Whatever it is, it’s working. I’ve just started a new diet myself: no glutens, no carbs, and no dairy, and I’ve upped my gym time. I’m feeling super.”

  “You look great.” Jon smiled obligingly. Muller was forever obsessed with ‘healthy living.’ At six two, he did not have an extra ounce of fat on his bony frame. What did the guy want, to become a skeleton?

  “But as much fun as it is talking about fitness, that’s not what we’re here for,” Muller cut to the chase, pulling out a chair at the head of the rectangular table and motioning for everyone else to sit down.

  The pompous prick. Jon took his seat next to Muller, making a mental note to replace the rectangular table with a round one.

  “So, what are your thoughts on my proposal, Jon?” Muller steepled his long fingers.

  Jon exchanged a quick glance with Wyman, and after receiving a discreet nod, went ahead. “Bostoff Securities has the capacity to facilitate order flow for Emperial in the volumes that we discussed.”

  “Quit the cryptic speak, Jon. Are you in or what?”

  “Yes, David, I’m in.”

  “Good. So here’s what’s going to happen. I’ve handpicked a number of stocks that are ripe for the picking. They are overvalued and overpriced, and we’re going to bring them to the levels where they belong and make a ton of money in the process.”

  Jon adjusted his cufflinks nervously. “You’re not going to do anything too obvious, are you? We would not want to get spotted by Market Watch, would we?”

  “Not to worry, Jonnie – we’ve got everything covered. You don’t think I’d be going into this sort of thing alone, do you? There are some very big names involved besides me, and the targets we picked do not have the clout to retaliate. Take this one for instance: Date Magic dot com - an online dating site going public! Their offering price is thirty-five dollars, and analysts are predicting first-day trading price of forty. That’s an overly optimistic prognosis for a site that caters to fat, single people, don’t you think?”

  “There’s a dating site dedicated to fat, single people?”

  “I was speaking metaphorically, Jon. I don’t know whether they are fat or thin, but they are bound to be losers to have to use the Internet to get dates. Anyway, I’d say the true price level should be somewhere at ten, don’t you think? Bulls get rich, bears get rich, but pigs get slaughtered. Well, the dumb hogs who invested in this crackpot of an IPO belong in a slaughterhouse. And trust me, even if any of the investors or so called ‘company management’ were to raise a peep, the stock price decline would be attributed to another capricious market turn.”

  “It certainly sounds like you thought everything through,” Jon conceded, assuring himself that he really did not have much to worry about. The SPV structure that Tom Wyman had set up for him should provide iron-clad cover. The orders routed by Muller and his gang would be sent to the offshore SPV, Impala Group, to then be executed by Bostoff Securities in the U.S. market. Wyman was the only one who had Impala Group formation documents. All the work that Wyman did for Jon Bostoff was protected by attorney/client privilege. If anyone were to dig on the matter, there would be no way to trace Bostoff Securities’ relationship to Impala Group. Of course, there was still the danger of Bostoff Securities being dinged for failure to supervise client order flow, but that would be a far smaller offense then knowingly aiding in market manipulation.

  “Gentlemen, I look forward to doing even more business with you.” David Muller rose from his chair. “You’ll be hearing from me soon, Jon.”

  “That guy doesn’t beat around the bush,” said Wyman once Muller had left the room.

  “Are you sure we’re covered on all fronts, Tom?” Jon
locked Wyman’s glance, determined to get a concrete answer this time. This would not be the first time for Bostoff Securities to be accepting questionable order flow from Muller and his posse of shark hedge fund managers, but it would be the first time for doing it in on such a massive scale.

  “You can sleep soundly at night, Jon; you’re covered. Unless someone gets their hands on the SPV formation documents, there’s no way to tie Bostoff Securities to any of the order activity that will be coming from Impala Group. And in order to get the formation documents, they’d have to break into my office - an undertaking that has about the same probability of success as hacking into Fort Knox.”

  “Thank you, Tom. I knew there was a reason for footing those hefty bills of yours – it’s called peace of mind. By the way, how’s that new girl in Legal doing?”

  “I haven’t seen much of her lately, but I can’t imagine anything to worry about.”

  “Do me a favor, Tom. Stick close to her at the party this Thursday. I want you to make sure she’s not suspecting anything.”

  “There’s a party this Thursday?”

  “Didn’t you get the invite? It’s my brother’s engagement party.”

  “I’ll be there, Jon.”

  “And do me a favor. From now on, don’t say a word about the company’s business to my brother unless you discuss it with me first.”

  “Sure thing, Jon. We’ve already been over this. I thought that you wanted Janet Maple to lighten the bill load, so I’ve given her a very basic overview of the structure; she couldn’t have possibly made much sense out of it, but I’ll be sure to keep an eye on her.”

  Chapter 18

  While on his way to Janet Maple’s office, Dennis Walker was thinking of a pretext for stopping by. He would start on a light note – something along the lines of Monday blues, and from there he would progress to having a drink after work. Ordinarily, he would have waited until the office party that was to take place on Thursday, but with the new condensed timeframe given to him by his boss, time was a luxury Dennis did not have.