To Catch a Bad Guy (2 page)

“I see that Lisa has
been talking about me.” Janet returned Tom’s wink with a smile. She might not
like the idea of Lisa meddling in her personal life, but that did not mean that
she would let Lisa steal the limelight from her date – not anymore.

“Yes, she has.” Every
word uttered in Tom’s silky voice sounded like a caress. “And I for one am glad
to know that I’ll be working with an alumna.”

“You went to Columbia
also?”

“I did: class of two
thousand.”

He is seven years older
than me, Janet’s mind did an involuntary calculation. “It’s always a pleasure
to meet fellow Columbia alum.”

“Indeed. And I hope
that we’ll be seeing quite a bit of each other.” Tom’s eyes lingered on Janet a
second too long for a casual glance, and she was not quite sure how to respond.

“Well, should we get
seated?” Lisa tapped her foot. “I’m starving.”

“Forgive me, I seem to
be forgetting myself.” Tom nodded at the restaurant hostess who had been
lurking in the background, careful not to interrupt their conversation.

“Please follow me.”
With gazelle-like grace, the hostess glided across the floor.

Her head cocked, Lisa
sashayed after the hostess. Tom stepped aside, letting Janet go in front of
him, and she could not help a warm, giddy feeling spreading in her chest. She
certainly did not intend to get involved with Tom Wyman, but it sure felt nice
to be the center of his attention.

“So, Janet, tell me
more about yourself,” said Tom after they had ordered lunch.

“I’m not sure where to
begin. I’m afraid I’m not that interesting.” Janet lowered her eyes, breaking
away from Tom’s gaze. His eyes were like two black olives: dark, glistening,
and unsettlingly sharp.

“Why, Janie, as usual,
your modesty is getting the best of you!” Lisa pursed her lips. “Tom, do you
know that Janie has spent the last four years at the DA’s office?”

“Oh?” Tom’s eyebrows
shot up high. “What an interesting career choice. And may I ask what division
you were in?”

“I was in the
Investigation Division.” When Janet spoke of her former occupation as Assistant
District Attorney, most people were either impressed or terrified – the latter
were usually employed in the financial industry. There was one memorable
occasion when Janet had mentioned her employment while being flirted with by a
handsome financial type during happy hour, which resulted in the guy’s falling
off his bar stool and promptly vacating the bar premises. But then there were
plenty of occasions when her choice of occupation elicited accolades and
admiration – those were mostly from members of senior citizen communities who
were frequent victims of financial rogues whom Janet so diligently tried to
catch. In either case, most people never went as far as inquiring about the
specifics of her job, which made Tom’s pointed question surprising.

“Very impressive. I
hear it requires a special transfer to get into Investigation, correct?”

“Yes.” Janet nodded. “I
started with the DA right after law school. My first assignment was with the
Trial Division, but I asked to be moved into Investigations, and my supervisor
agreed to recommend me.”

“No doubt for
exceptional performance.”

Janet blushed,
unaccustomed to such keen interest in her work. “Well, I did contribute to
several important cases.”

Tom’s pointed gaze
traveled from Janet to Lisa. “Well, Lisa, it sounds like you hired a first-rate
sleuth: a qualification that is bound to be an asset for employment with
Bostoff Securities.”

Just as Tom finished
his convoluted compliment, a waiter approached the table, carrying a bottle of
wine.

“I believe this calls
for a toast. Here’s to the latest addition to Bostoff Securities.” Tom raised
his glass.

“I’m so glad you’re
here, Janie.” Lisa raised her glass.

Janet eyed the wine hesitantly.
Alcohol during lunch would most certainly be frowned upon at the DA’s office,
but she was no longer at the DA’s office, and it was time to put her former
employer behind her.

“Relax,” Lisa jeered,
“it’s all right to have a sip with your boss.”

Janet picked up her
glass.

“Welcome to the family,
Janet.” Tom’s glass clinked against Janet’s and Lisa’s. “Forgive me if I sound
too forward, Janet, but I do so much work for Bostoff Securities that I feel a
part of the team.”

“Thank you, Tom.” Janet
smiled. Perhaps she was being too guarded after all. This Tom Wyman was bound
to be a decent fellow if he called his employer ‘family.’

The rest of the lunch
was spent in gastronomical exploration as the waiter brought out one intricate
dish after another. By the end of the two-hour meal, Janet felt the waistline
of her skirt pinching. There was one good thing to be said about having a
limited budget: it prevented one from overindulging, and if four-course lunches
were de rigueur at Bostoff Securities, she would have to acquire formidable
self-restraint.

“Ah, I’m stuffed.” Lisa
leaned back in her chair, and Janet noticed that Lisa’s plate looked like it
had been barely touched, while Janet’s was swept clean.

Tom checked his watch.
“Wow, it’s after two o’clock. I hate to break up the party, ladies, but I’ve
got to get back to the office. I am, after all, working on billable hours.” Tom
grinned.

“Please, Tom.” Lisa
waved her hand. “With the bill you sent me last month, I think you’ve fulfilled
your quota for the rest of the year.”

“In the words of Hank
Bostoff, there’s no such thing as too much money.”

“Yes.” Lisa nodded.
“I’m constantly reminded of it by Jon. Hank Bostoff is the founder of the firm
– he is the CEO,” Lisa explained for Janet’s benefit. “You haven’t met him
because he only interviews the most senior people. I might as well tell you
about all the big wigs. Jonathan Bostoff is Hank’s elder son. He is the company
president.”

“Paul Bostoff is Hank’s
younger son and the company’s COO, and Lisa’s soon-to-be fiancé,” Tom explained.

“Please, Tom, don’t
jinx it!” Lisa smiled coyly. “But, getting back to business, Tom, it would be
great if you could give Janet an overview of Bostoff Securities’ business. Do
you think you could do that?”

“Certainly,” Tom
replied. “It will be my pleasure. Shall we say eleven o’clock tomorrow?”

Lisa reached for her
purse and leaned over to whisper into Janet’s ear, “See, he likes you.”

“Eleven is fine.” Janet
nodded. If Lisa wanted to play matchmaker, Janet had no choice but to play
along. She needed this job.

Dennis Walker surveyed
the contents of his closet and reluctantly pushed away his tailored suits. His
current persona as Dean Snider, Chief IT Analyst at Bostoff Securities, did not
allow for dapper attire. Instead, Dennis reached for a brown Men’s Wearhouse
suit in size forty two regular, while he normally wore forty long. Next
followed a shirt of swamp green Dennis had also acquired at Men’s Wearhouse and
a mousy gray tie of fabric so stiff that it virtually would stand if one were
to lay the tie down on the side. The one thing Dennis refused to give up was
his shoes. His feet, after all, were important – he only had one pair for his
entire lifetime, so he reached for a discreet pair of Johnston and Murphy’s.
Last came a pair of glasses. The lenses were plain plastic, but their purpose
was not to correct Dennis’s twenty-twenty vision, but to obscure the blue-gray
of his eyes. It was a known fact that people rarely noted eye color behind
corrective lenses. For the finishing touch Dennis slouched his shoulders and
stuck out his neck. When he looked in the mirror, the transformation was
complete: the suave charmer Dennis Walker had been replaced by a nerdy computer
geek.

When Dennis had
proposed his candidacy for the assignment at Bostoff Securities, his boss had
shrugged him off as too good-looking and too suave. In the past, Dennis had
impersonated traders, lawyers, company executives, and even aspiring political
candidates. Any time an assignment required balls and charisma, Dennis was the
‘go to’ man. Without a doubt, those had been Dennis’s preferred roles, but the
Bostoff investigation promised to be a career-making case, and Dennis was a
careerist. Sure, he liked catching the bad guys, but he liked being recognized
for his achievements even more. His boss was dead set on assigning the job to
Peter Laskin. At thirty-five, Laskin was already balding, and the frames he
wore had thick corrective lenses in them. Laskin, a forensic accountant by
training, was a genius behind the desk, but his last assignment in the field
had been over five years ago, and all it took was one hiccup – one slip – for a
case to go down the drain. So Dennis took it upon himself to save the day. Not
without much struggle, he abandoned his bi-weekly visits to his favorite hair
stylist, opting for a local barbershop instead. He purchased the most horrible
suit he could find on the sale rack at Men’s Wearhouse, ordered a pair of
glasses with fake lenses in them, and worked on slouching and sticking out his
neck. When, two weeks later, Dennis showed up in all his geek glory on the
doorstep of his boss’s office, the Bostoff case was his and so was the office
pool – to Laskin’s relief, Dennis had won the bet. Now he had to prove that he
deserved the assignment.

***

The next morning, Janet
left for work in much better spirits than the day before. All in all, Bostoff
Securities was shaping up to be a far better gig than she had expected. Lisa
Foley was still Lisa Foley, but yesterday’s lunch with Tom Wyman proved that
now Janet was much better equipped to handle her high school friend than when
she was a teenager. Despite Lisa’s efforts to steal the limelight, Tom’s
attention did not stray from Janet throughout the meal, and while Janet
intended keeping her interactions with Tom Wyman on a strictly professional
level, she would be a liar to deny that her scheduled meeting with Tom this
morning did not contribute to her uplifted spirits.

At a quarter to nine,
Janet was approaching the Bostoff Securities building. Midtown was mayhem
compared to downtown, but her commute from Second Avenue and Ninetieth Street
had been shortened by twenty minutes. Tempted by the sight of pastries in the
nearby coffee shop window, Janet made a quick stop to grab breakfast to go.
After all, she had skipped dinner last night, which, considering the huge lunch
she had indulged in, was no great sacrifice, but it was still better than
nothing. This morning she would allow herself to indulge in hazelnut coffee
with extra half and half and a croissant, but tomorrow it would be yogurt or
oatmeal.

Janet entered the
marble lobby of Bostoff Securities and pressed her floor button. The elevator
doors opened, and she gingerly stepped out, straining to recall the shortcut to
her office Lisa had shown her the day before. The details were fuzzy now. After
a moment’s hesitation, she walked through one of the doors. As Janet made her
way through the double doors, she heard a loud buzz of human, mostly male,
voices. A few moments later, she found herself smack in the middle of the
trading floor. Seemingly endless rows of desks with stacked-up computer
monitors stretched the entire length of the room, which had to be the size of
ten basketball courts – or maybe it was five basketball courts – she could not
tell exactly. Everywhere there were men dressed in slacks and collared shirts
with their sleeves rolled up. Some wore ties and had their suit jackets flung
over the backs of their chairs. The average age had to be between twenty-five
to thirty, and the atmosphere was that of startling chaos: jokes and yells
flying across the room, feet being put up on desks, and paper being thrown on
the floor. Janet straightened her back, doing her best to look as though she
belonged. “Must not show fear,” a line she had heard a wild animal trainer
utter on the Discovery channel popped into her mind. The advice seemed
applicable now, as the floor of Bostoff Securities was very much a jungle.
Janet kept making her way down the trading floor aisle for several more agonizing
minutes when she finally saw another set of doors. Fighting the urge to lunge
for the door handle, she steadily opened the door and found herself in the
corridor that Lisa had shown her the day before. A few steps to the right was
the door to Janet’s office.

The corridor was empty,
and abandoning all restraint, Janet rushed inside her office and shut the door
behind her. The offices at Bostoff Securities were sturdy: there was none of
the see-through flimsiness of glass, but the reassuring impenetrability of
solid wood. Glad of the privacy, Janet pressed her back against the door and
took deep breaths. Calm down, she thought, you’re going to be working with
these people and you can’t run for cover every time you need to get something
done.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m
almost done here,” a male voice made Janet drop her purse on the floor. At
least it was not her breakfast, which she was still clutching in her hand.
Janet picked up her purse and touched her pinned up hair for reassurance.
Whenever she was in distress, her neat hairdo was always a source of comfort.

“I was running late,”
she blurted out, immediately regretting her words. This was, after all, her
office.

“First day, huh?” The
bespectacled man sitting behind Janet’s desk smiled at her, and she could not
help noticing that he had really lovely blue-gray eyes.

“Second day, actually,”
Janet replied curtly, wondering how best to broach the subject of the unknown
stranger taking over her office.

“Oh, I’m sorry, this is
very clumsy of me. I’m Dean, Dean Snider, IT.” The man jumped to his feet,
sticking out his hand for a handshake. “I was just sent in to set up your
computer, so I assumed that today is your first day.”

Janet placed her purse
on her desk and shook Dean’s hand, sneaking a better look at him. He was
wearing clothes that were too short for his height and slouching when he should
be standing up tall, but this goofiness rendered him an unlikely kind of charm.

“Yesterday was more of
an orientation than hands-on work,” Janet improvised a description of her work,
which, honestly speaking, had not involved any work at all.

“Well, that’s no skin
off anyone’s nose.” Dean grinned. “One thing I found in this place is that work
will always be here for you the next day. Sometimes it helps to take a breather
and reassess things.”

Sensing Dean’s glance
lingering on her, Janet looked up. She was not used to IT specialists giving
work advice to lawyers.

Dean squinted at the
computer monitor. “I’m all done here. Your email is up and running, and so is
the rest of your computer. Have a good one – don’t work too hard.”

Once the door behind
the IT support guy closed, Janet settled in her chair. This had certainly been
an eventful morning. She reached for her by now lukewarm coffee and took a sip.
Then she took a bite of her croissant, but could take no pleasure in either
one. For reasons unknown to her, the IT guy’s remark was humming in her head.
What was his name? Dean, Dean Snider, that’s right. “Sometimes it helps to take
a breather and reassess things.” No doubt Dean was simply making small talk,
but something in his tone made Janet uneasy.

Janet dumped the rest
of her croissant into the garbage bin and opened the orientation package she
had received the day before. She had meant to look at it yesterday, but had
been too woozy from the wine-laced lunch with Lisa and Tom. At the top of the
pile were five different non-disclosure agreements. According to the terms and
conditions of her employment at Bostoff Securities, she was virtually
prohibited from mentioning anything other than her title and the fact that she
worked at Bostoff. This was odd to say the least. At the DA’s office she had
worked on confidential investigations, but she never had to sign such elaborate
disclosures before. Perplexed, Janet put the forms aside. She would have a word
with Lisa about them later.

Remembering her
appointment with Tom Wyman, Janet checked her watch. It was ten thirty a.m.,
and she was due to see Tom at eleven. She grabbed her handbag and headed for
the ladies’ room. Yes, it was silly, but she wanted to touch up her makeup for
Tom. Not that she was interested in him: he was a colleague, but that did not
mean that she couldn’t enjoy Tom’s attention.

Janet examined her
reflection in the ladies’ room mirror. Today she had opted for a less
conservative outfit of a navy pencil skirt and silk blouse with a bow-tie
detail. The 1980’s inspired combination was very much in style at the moment.
Janet had to admit that she was pleased with what she saw: the skirt ended just
at the knee, exposing her favorite part of her legs: her calves, which were
elongated by her three-inch heels. The pointy-toed black patent leather Mary
Janes were not the most comfortable shoes in her closet, but they were by far
the most flattering. The blue-green pattern of the blouse brought out her green
eyes, and the bow-tie detail accentuated the slightly lower than average
neckline, while her neatly put up chestnut hair provided the necessary
counterweight to make her outfit office-appropriate. She looked like a sexy librarian,
minus the glasses. If Janet knew anything about men, she was certain that Tom
Wyman would be intrigued. She quickly reapplied her lipstick and dusted a light
coat of powder over her face. She did not need any blush since her cheeks were
already pink with anticipation.

At a quarter to eleven,
Janet was back at her desk. For reasons beyond the powers of her common sense,
her heart was palpitating with expectation. Her reaction was absurd, and she
was the first to admit it. But right now her mind had the rationale and the
clarity of that of an oversexed teenager, and she was powerless to control it.
Yet again Lisa had prevailed – thanks to her meddling, a business meeting had
acquired romantic connotations, fraught with nerve-wracking anticipations of a
date. But then it was dishonest to put the blame entirely on Lisa, for Janet
knew full well the underlying cause of her flustered state. After being
backstabbed and dumped by her boyfriend of almost five years, her confidence
was not what it used to be. Say what she might about keeping her relationship
with Tom Wyman purely professional, she could not deny that the attention of
this handsome and successful man would be a welcome poultice for her bruised
ego.

A knock on her office
door made Janet jump up in her seat. She looked at her watch. It was eleven
o’clock on the dot. “Janet?”

“Hi, Tom.” Janet slowly
looked up from her computer screen. She might have spent the last hour
agonizing over her meeting with Tom, but he did not need to know that: to him,
she was a busy lawyer in a leading securities firm. So what if her computer
monitor merely had her email screen? Thankfully, even a man as suave as Tom
Wyman did not possess x-ray vision.

“So nice to see you
again, Janet.” Wyman beamed her a smile that could put a Colgate commercial to
shame. “So how do you find your second day at the firm?”

Janet sensed Tom’s eyes
gliding from her face to the neckline of her blouse. “Great, thank you. I’ve
just been going through some paperwork.”

“Ah, yes, the infamous
non-disclosure paperwork, which I’m proud to say I personally drafted.”

Janet shot Tom a
curious glance, unsure whether to voice her concerns.

“It’s nothing to be
alarmed about,” Tom addressed her silent question. “For someone like yourself,
the paperwork is a mere formality. We legal folks are more than aware of the
importance of confidentiality, but some of the traders we’ve got working here
may not be as sensitive… The biggest risk comes with disgruntled employees who
are out to take their revenge on the firm by spreading false rumors. The
purpose of the non-disclosure paperwork is to stop them from doing just that.”

“I see.” Janet nodded. “I’ll
have it completed shortly.”