To Catch a Bad Guy (24 page)

“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.

***

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. He had been meaning to delete scanned copies of Impala Group
formation documents from his laptop, but got busy and forgot all about it. 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.

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 was 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 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. Now, he 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
fees for handling 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.
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.

“We have to talk,
Candy.” Jon squeezed her hand. “I’ve done some things that I’m not proud of.”

“Jon, you know that
there’s nothing you could tell me that would turn me away from you. I’m your
wife, and I’ll stand by you, no matter what.”

“I am afraid you will
change your mind once you hear what I’ve done,” Jon muttered. “I am so
ashamed.” Jon pressed his hand against his eyes.

Candace felt shivers
running down her back. For the first time in her life she saw her husband cry.

“You can tell me
anything, Jon. I will always stand by you,” she repeated firmly. “What is it?”

Over the next hour,
Candace listened to the story of her husband’s entanglement in the net of his
own creation. He had wanted to succeed; he had longed to make her proud. She
wanted to scream at his foolishness. He had always been successful, and she had
always been proud of him. Nothing would ever change that. Everyone could make a
mistake: it was only too easy to stray off the right path. The difficult part
was to find one’s way back to it. She would never let go of her husband’s hand
– together, they would overcome their current predicament.

“Jon, you know what we
have to do, don’t you?” Candace looked into her husband’s eyes.

“Yes. I will call Wyman
to start the defense proceeding; he’ll get those jackals off my back.”

Candace laid her hand
on Jon’s arm. “You have to come clean, Jon. If you cooperate with the
investigation, they’ll lessen the charges.”

“Admit my guilt? Never.
Let them prove their accusations first.”

“Jon, they could keep
digging for years. Muller arranged it so that all the blame would be placed on
you: you own Impala group, not Muller. With a lack of evidence, the entire case
could be hung on you. But if you come forward and give valuable information to
the investigation, the regulators will cut you a deal. They would much rather
go after Muller and his friends: an organized string of corrupt hedge funds
would make for a juicy case.”

“What about Date Magic?
The minute they hear that I admitted my involvement, they’ll fleece me.”

“You can offer them a
settlement; besides, once they know about the hedge funds involved, they’ll go
after them instead.”

Jon clasped his head
with his hands. “If I admit my guilt, I will have to forfeit all the profits
that I’ve made in the past three years. It will ruin us.”

“It will not ruin us. I
have my inheritance. You never let me spend a penny of it. I’ve invested it,
and it has grown over the years. It will cover the legal fees.”

“Candace,” Jon halted.
“I will probably be barred from the industry. How will I make a living and
provide for you and the kids?”

“We’ll figure it out,
Jon,” Candace paused, determined to be strong enough for Jon to lean on her.
“You seemed so preoccupied with your work that I didn’t get a chance to tell
you that I started my own antiques business. The profits have really started to
pick up. It began as a hobby, but now, I think it could grow into something
real. It could be a new life for us, Jon. I’d love to have you as my partner.”

Jon’s eyes brimmed with
tears. “You are incredible, Candace. I’m so lucky to have you as my wife. Will
you ever forgive me for letting you down like this?”

“There’s nothing to
forgive, Jon. You got mixed up with unscrupulous people, and you made some bad
decisions. Now, everything will depend on what you’ll do to remedy your mistakes.”

Jon sighed. “Are you
sure about this? Is this what you want me to do?”

“Yes.”

“All right. I’ll call
Wyman right now.”

“Not that thug.”
Candace felt a wave of nausea at the memory of Jon’s weasel-like attorney. She
had met Wyman when he came over to the house for dinner once, and she did not
like the man one bit. “We’re going to use my family lawyer for this. His firm
does litigation. I’m sure he’ll be able to help us.”

“Your family lawyer?”

“Yes, but don’t forget
that even family lawyers have to abide by attorney/client confidentiality.”

“I have to make sure
that my brother and father will not be implicated. They knew nothing about any
of this – it was all my own doing. Oh, God, my father – I’m so ashamed…”

“We’ll talk to them
together, Jon. I’ll be right by your side.”

“Candace, I’ve been
such an ungrateful fool. I threw away my own happiness.”

“No, Jon, you didn’t. I
would never let you do anything like that.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. But
there’s no time to waste. Every minute counts. We should call the lawyer now.”

“First, I have to speak
with my father and my brother.”

“Of course.” Candace
nodded. It was going to be a long, tough road, but she would follow her husband
every step of the way.

***

Lisa Foley checked her
watch. It was twelve o’clock on a Friday afternoon. She had a manicure
appointment at twelve-thirty, and most likely, she would just go home from
there. Janet could hold down the fort for her. There were much more important
things on Lisa’s mind than work. This whole thing was a sham anyway. Tom Wyman
handled all the matters of substance, and he never bothered to include Lisa in
any of them, which was just as well with her. And once Lisa would finally
become Mrs. Paul Bostoff, she would put in her resignation. Being Mrs. Bostoff would
be a full-time job. Lisa bit her lip; the wedding was still ten months away,
almost a year. If it were up to her, she would elope with Paul tomorrow, but
Jon had insisted that they plan a big ceremony, and one could not have a big
ceremony on the fly. No doubt Jon wanted to use the wedding as another
opportunity for business promotion. He had already given Lisa a list of guests:
most of them were corporate executives, with a few low-level politicians
rounding off the list. Oh, well, on the bright side, Lisa would have that many
more guests to admire her wedding dress, and she would make sure that Jon
Bostoff paid for his guests. That reminded her: she still had not heard from
Janet about the rest of the wedding party. Lisa hoped that snob Katie would say
yes, and she was fairly certain that Joe O’Connor’s girlfriend, Daphne, would
agree as well. The two should consider themselves lucky to be in her wedding
party.

There was a knock on
the door of her office. “Yes?” Lisa shifted in her chair with annoyance; she
did not want to be disturbed.

“Ms. Foley?” Lisa’s
paralegal, Meredith Crooner, poked her head through the door.

“Hi, Meredith,” Lisa
suppressed impatience in her voice. What did her paralegal want now? It was not
as if she had very complicated tasks to perform.