1 To Catch a Bad Guy

by Marie Astor

  Janet looked at the sadness in Rossingram’s face. The old man had been completely honest with them, and they had repaid him with ridiculous lies.

  “Thank you, Mr. Rossingram. I’m going to follow your advice.”

  Rossingram nodded. “Wise decision; the place is a volcano waiting to explode. Feel free to mention me as a reference if you’d like.”

  “Thank you for that, but I would not want to trouble you.”

  Rossingram sighed. “It’s no trouble. I would hate to see a young girl like you get caught up in their schemes. Sooner or later, those hot-shot hedge funds Jon Bostoff had signed on are going to get busted, and Bostoff Securities will go down with them. I just hope that Hank Bostoff will not be there to witness it.”

  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Rossingram. I think we’ll be going now.” Dean stood up from his seat.

  “But what about the prenup?” Rossingram asked, surprised.

  “Oh, I’ve changed my mind about that,” Dean was quick to respond. “I don’t want to put Jacky through this nonsense. She’s got enough to worry about already. Mother will just have to accept my decision.”

  “How much do we owe you?” Janet asked. The least they could do was compensate Rossingram for the time he had spent with them.

  Rossingram waved his hand. “It’s free of charge. I didn’t give you legal advice.”

  Janet glared at Dean once they were several blocks away from Rossingram’s office.

  “I’m never doing anything like that again.”

  “What’s the matter with you? We’ve got a ton of valuable information from the man.”

  “I felt horrible sitting there and lying to his face, while he was being honest and genuinely concerned.”

  “Well, wouldn’t you agree that there are genuine reasons for his concern? Last time I checked, you were still an employee of Bostoff Securities.”

  Janet balked; she had forgotten about that part. Dean might be spending ten-hour days on the trading floor of Bostoff Securities, but in the end, he was only pretending to be an IT Specialist at Bostoff Securities, while she was the one who was employed by the dubious firm, and she was the one putting everything on the line – her employment record, her reputation, and her future.

  “Perhaps I should take Rossingram’s advice and quit.”

  “Don’t do this to me, Janet. We’re so close to solving the case – we’re almost home.”

  “It’s easy for you to say: you’re not the one sticking your neck out.”

  “If you resign, you can still be subpoenaed to testify about the events that transpired during your employment at Bostoff. The protection offered to you by the Treasury for your cooperation with the case would be voided the moment you resign from Bostoff.”

  “You knew about this, didn’t you?” Janet stared at him in disbelief. Was there anything that was more important to this man than his career?

  “These are standard terms; I thought I had made that clear. If not, I apologize.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Look, Janet, we’ve almost got them. Already, we have enough evidence to demonstrate that there is manipulative trading being conducted by the Impala Group. Bostoff Securities has failed in its due diligence and oversight obligations by taking the orders from Impala. These are strong charges, but to really corner the case we need proof of organized market manipulation.”

  “I think you forgot to say that we’ve gotten this far thanks to me,” Janet sniffed. She was the one who had done the painstaking task of sifting through the trade blotters and piecing all the trades together, deducing a pattern and identifying the stocks that were being impacted. For the past few nights, Dean had been a constant guest in her apartment while she explained her findings to him.

  “Yes, you’ve done an amazing job, and I’ve reported the importance of your help in the investigation to my boss. Rest assured, when the time comes, your contribution will be recognized. This is why we cannot quit now – we are too close. The only missing piece is Impala Group and its connection to Bostoff. Once we get that, we’ll hit a home run.”

  “And how do we get that?” Instantly, Janet wished she had not asked, for she already knew the answer – Tom Wyman.

  Chapter 27

  Janet stared at 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 lament that 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 taping 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.”

  “Likewise, Tom.” Dean struck out his hand, upping Janet’s drink on the bar stand. 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.” He winked.

  “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 turned on 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.”