1 To Catch a Bad Guy

by Marie Astor

  “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 special purpose vehicle 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 that outlines order execution services to be performed by Bostoff Securities and payment for the services to be performed. Or should we say payment for aiding organized 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 Deans 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 lying on her couch, only a few feet away from her bed: knowledge that was both unnerving and exhilarating.

  Tom Wyman opened the door of his apartment, staggered into his bedroom, and collapsed onto his bed with exhaustion. What a night this had been! He could not remember the last time he had gotten that hammered. In college perhaps, but even then it was unlikely. He had always known his alcohol limit, but tonight he had been caught off guard. He could have sworn those drinks tasted funny, and then his laptop was missing to boot….

  Normally, he never kept electronic files of executed documents on his laptop. He had been meaning to delete scanned copies of Impala Group formation documents from his laptop. He had locked hard copies along with a jump-drive containing electronic copies in a safe in his office, but had gotten busy and forgot to delete the Impala files from his laptop. The mere thought of the calamities that would ensue should these files fall into the wrong hands made him drenched in cold sweat.

  That cock tease, Janet Maple, had made a fool of him. Twice he had been left high and dry. He had never been led on like that by anyone. Women found him irresistible. He began to fear that what she really wanted was not him, but the contents of his laptop, which would explain its disappearance…

  By the time he had arrived on the doorstep of Janet’s apartment, Tom was fuming, prepared to get the truth out of her by any means necessary. But the moment he saw Janet’s face, he knew that he had pegged her wrong. Yes, she was a cock tease, but that was all she was. Janet Maple had no clue as to the importance of the files contained on his laptop. She was not the corporate spy he had imagined her to be in his moment of wild suspicion. Had it not been for the number the alcohol had done on him, he would have had his way with her then and there. It was time the tease was taught a lesson: those who play with fire, get burned. No matter. Tonight he was in no condition, but he would get his due soon enough.

  Chapter 28

  Jon Bostoff stared at the lawsuit summons on his desk. The plaintiff was Date Magic dot com, Inc., and the defendant, Bostoff Securities. The bad news did not end there. Next to the lawsuit summons lay a subpoena from the SEC, requesting details on all trading activity in Date Magic dot com, Inc. conducted by Bostoff Securities since the IPO listing. A copy of the New York Post added insult to injury: the article covering the lawsuit against Bostoff Securities was prominently displayed on the front page.

  Already Jon’s cell phone was overcome with voice messages from newspaper reporters, asking him to comment on the lawsuit. This could not have happened at a worse time. The charity sports tournament Jon had asked Paul to put together in order to raise Bostoff Securities’ corporate profile was to take place next week, but now, the negative publicity would make it look like a sham.

  It was twelve o’clock in the afternoon on Friday. Leave it to the lawyers and regulator snoops to ruin the weekend. Jon had received the summons and the subpoena in the morning and left the office immediately. He needed to consider the bad news calmly in the privacy of his home. The reality of the situation was still sinking in. At first, Jon had thought that this was some kind of joke. What reason could a company ridiculously named Date Magic have to sue Bostoff Securities? Slowly, the name began to ring a bell, but he still could not quite place it. Then David Muller’s words from Jon’s last meeting with Emperial’s honcho surfaced in his mind: “An online dating site going public! Their offering price is thirty-five dollars… 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.”

  Jon Bostoff buried his face in his hands, Muller’s cocky words ringing in his ears. At the moment, Jon Bostoff felt like he was the one being dragged to a slaughterhouse. David Muller and his hedge fund cronies had orchestrated the trading schemes, but Bostoff Securities was being sued, while Muller continued wreaking havoc on the markets. Granted, Bostoff Securities had received handsome commission fees for executing Muller’s trades – just yesterday, the hefty revenue stream had been a source of tremendous pride to Jon, but now, it caused him immense worry. Calm down, Jon thought. All the orders were sent through Impala Group – an SPV located in Cayman Islands that had been specifically formed to take more “sensitive” or, to put it frankly, manipulative orders from Muller. Wyman had arranged all the paperwork, and he had assured Jon that short of an international investigation being launched, it would be impossible to trace Impala to Bostoff Securities. At the time, Wyman’s assurances had sounded bullet-proof, but now, Jon was not so sure. Everything depended on how good Date Magic’s lawyers were, and how interested the SEC was in digging under him. The worst part was that this could be only the tip of the iceberg, with more lawsuits waiting in the wings. Date Magic was just one of the many stocks that Muller had manipulated.

  Jon lifted the phone receiver. He needed to talk to Wyman. Wyman would find a way to get him out of this mess… Jon cursed under his breath: Wyman’s fees were steep. Most likely, Wyman would end up siphoning all of the extra dough Jon had made on Emperial’s transactions. Jon frowned. The legal complications were not the only difficulties he was facing. He had already committed most of the funds received from Emperial’s trading to a ski chalet in Vail, Colorado: he had put in a deposit and signed the contract last week, with a tentative closing date a month away. The chalet was meant to be a Christmas present for Candace. If he pulled out now, he would forfeit his deposit and be out two hundred grand. Jon clenched his teeth. He felt like a cornered animal.

  Whatever happens, Candace must now know, he thought frantically. The possibility of his wife discovering his machinations made Jon red with shame. All he had ever wanted was to give Candace the life she deserved. How did it all go so wrong? Panic prickled his skin; this could be the end of everything he had ever dreamed of. No, he would not let it happen. He would fight until the very end, and most importantly, he would make sure that Candace would be spared his shame.

  “Jon, are you there?” Candace’s voice rang downstairs. “Jon?”

  Damn it, Jon cursed under his breath. Candace had said that she had a school trustee committee meeting. She was not supposed to be home so soon.

  Jon took a deep breath in an attempt to regain composure. Candace must not suspect anything.

  “Jon?” Candace’s footsteps were outside the door of his office. “Are you in there?” The door opened, and Candace stood in the doorway.

  For a moment, Jon forgot all of his troubles, pausing to admire his wife. As always, Candace looked radiant: her blond hair was tied in a ponytail, she was dressed in jeans and a knit top, but even clad in this simple attire, she looked spellbindingly beautiful.

  “I didn’t know you were going to be home early today.” Candace smiled. “You should have called me. I wouldn’t have gone out.” Her eyes fell on the papers on Jon’s desk, and her face clouded. “Trouble at the office?”

  “Nothing of the kind.” Jon smiled confidently, his hand reaching across the legal papers in an attempt to sweep
them into the bottom drawer of his desk, but he had been too slow – Candace was already standing by him, her eyes fixed on the lawsuit summons and subpoena.

  “What’s going on, Jon?” Candace’s eyes widened. “You know that you can tell me anything, Jon.”

  “It’s nothing, honey, just some legal nonsense. My lawyer will straighten everything out.” Jon felt the firm pressure of Candace’s hand on his hand and almost burst into tears under her knowing gaze. His wife was not only beautiful, she was incredibly intelligent. Did he really think he could fool her?

  Candace Bostoff knelt by her husband’s chair and looked into his face – the face of a man weighted by care and worry. From the moment she had seen Jon’s car in the driveway, she had sensed that something was terribly wrong. Jon never left the office early: not for kids’ school plays or soccer games or ballet performances; not even when their youngest, Ollie, had fallen off the bike and broken his leg, ending up in the hospital ER. But Jon was home now.

  For some time, Candace had intuited that Jon was under a lot of pressure, but despite the many approaches she had tried, she could not seem to find a way to get through to him. Ever since he had taken on more responsibility at the firm, Jon had become increasingly distant and short-tempered. It was as though the husband she knew and loved had been replaced with a career-obsessed automaton. The past few weeks, the tension had escalated, as Jon often seemed to be in the world of his own, snapping at her whenever Candace tried to ask what was on his mind. Everything is fine, he would assure her, patting her arm. Just work stuff; that’s all, baby.