Janet looked at Dean walking beside her. At first, she had been hesitant about accepting Dean’s dinner invitation. His earlier outburst at having seen her at the corporate party with Wyman had taken her aback. But then everyone was entitled to blowing a lid now and then, and Dean did have an excuse. He was under a lot of pressure at work, and Janet could only guess that dealing with the trading types at Bostoff day in, day out was no walk in the park. Besides, she had to admit that, as childish as it sounded, Dean’s reaction was also flattering. If seeing her with Wyman had upset him that much, he had to see her as more than just a coworker. This realization brought a smile to her lips. Dean did like her after all. But then she had guessed it all along – had sensed it from their first meeting when she had found him in her office, fixing her computer, but now she knew for sure. And from the way Dean spoke about Tom Wyman, it was obvious that Dean owed no loyalty to Wyman or his machinations, which meant that she could speak freely to Dean about her suspicions of Bostoff. Maybe he would help her decide what to do next.
She had wanted to bring up the subject of Bostoff Securities during dinner, but somehow the right moment never came up. Dean had been his charming self, making Janet laugh hysterically at work war stories he was so apt at telling, but when he thought she was not looking, Janet noticed a worried look stealing over his eyes. She had wanted to ask him what was on his mind, but thought better of it. After all, they were merely coworkers, hardly close at all.
Now, as they approached her building, Janet could sense the earlier unease coming over Dean again. It was as though he wanted to tell her something, but could not get the right words to come out.
Janet lowered her eyes. They were about to say good night. She had missed her chance to talk to Dean, unless…
“Would you like to come up for a drink?” Janet offered, almost instantly regretting her invitation. She did not want Dean to get the wrong impression, but neither did she want to say goodbye to him just yet.
He seemed to sense her hesitation, so he made his reply casual. “Sure. A drink would be great. All that spicy food made me thirsty.”
“Follow me.”
“I already know the way.”
“That’s right.” She smiled. “Baxter will be very excited to see you.”
While they rode up in the elevator, Janet tried to remember the contents of her bar, or to be more precise, the section of the cupboard in her kitchen that served as a bar. She had a bottle of Jameson she had bought specifically for the times that Mrs. Chapman stopped by, as a way to thank her neighbor for walking Baxter. There ought to be something left on the bottom of that one, Janet thought. She was not a big whiskey fan, but Mrs. Chapman was quite a whiskey aficionado. There was also some Apple Sour Martini Mix, but no vodka to mix it with, and two bottles of Sam Adams in the fridge. Janet had been meaning to restock her supplies, but now it was too late to retract her invitation. She just hoped that Dean was not much of a drinker.
“Here we are.” Janet slid her key into the front lock. Instantly, Baxter’s barking, accompanied by the sound of his paws scraping against the floor, exploded from behind the door.
“Baxter can’t wait to see you,” Janet grinned, wishing the lock would open already. All this noise was liable to stir Mrs. Chapman out of her apartment. Ever since Dean’s visit earlier in the week, Mrs. Chapman had been peppering Janet with questions about the charming young man from her job.
As if on cue, her neighbor’s door opened, and Mrs. Chapman shuffled into the hallway, carrying a garbage bag.
“Oh, hello there, Janet.” Mrs. Chapman peered at Janet and Dean with a sly smile on her lips.
“Good evening, Mrs. Chapman.” Janet inwardly cursed the finicky door lock. It had been jamming for the past few weeks, and she had meant to talk to the super about it, but had never gotten around to it. “This is Dean – my coworker.”
“Good evening.” Dean smiled.
“Yes, I remember.” Mrs. Chapman nodded. “Well, I’ll be on my way.” Mrs. Chapman headed toward the garbage room.
Finally, the lock clicked. Janet cracked the front door open and was instantly ambushed by Baxter.
“Hello, Baxter.” Dean bent down to pet Baxter. At the sign of this attention, Baxter abandoned Janet and ran toward Dean, barking excitedly.
“He remembers you!” Janet observed, inwardly assuring herself that she was not hurt by Baxter’s defection.
“Of course he does.” Dean scratched Baxter behind his ear, the latter being frozen still in mesmerized ecstasy.
“Make yourself at home.” Janet motioned to the living room. “I’ll go see about that drink.”
“Great. I’ll keep Baxter company.”
Janet’s apartment had a galley kitchen open on either end, and as she inspected the contents of her cupboards, she caught a glimpse of Dean walking into the living room. Baxter’s tiny footsteps followed his new subject of adoration and stopped as Dean took a seat on the couch, showering Baxter with compliments like “good boy” and “smart fella.” Apparently, even Baxter, who was usually extremely skeptical of strangers, was helpless before Dean’s charm. Janet opened the cupboard that held the liquor and inspected the contents of the Jameson bottle. She had been overly optimistic in her expectations, as Mrs. Chapman’s last visit had left the bottle only one quarter full. Still, that would probably be enough. And then there were two bottles of Sam Adams in her fridge.
Janet joined Dean in the living room. Baxter who lay curled up by Dean’s feet, merely acknowledged her entrance with a slight wave of his tail. “I’m afraid I don’t have much of a variety.”
“I’m easy.” Dean grinned. “Anything you’ve got will do.”
“Jameson or Sam Addams?”
“Jameson, neat.”
“One Jameson coming up.”
Janet returned to the kitchen and poured a liberal portion of whiskey into Dean’s glass and added a splash into her own glass.
“Here you are.” Janet placed Dean’s glass in front of him.
“Cheers.” Dean raised his glass to his lips.
“Cheers.” Janet took a small sip, resisting the urge to grimace at the whiskey scent tickling her nose. She glanced at Dean. His drink was half-empty: most likely he would not stay for another one. She had to ask him now. “Dean?”
“Hmm?”
“Last time, when we were walking Baxter, you asked me if I noticed anything suspicious at Bostoff…”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“I noticed a few things that are funky to say the least.”
Dean looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.
“Well, for one thing, their client base is anything but stellar. Emperial, Creaton, Rigel, Gemini, and Sphinx are Bostoff’s biggest clients.”
“I remember reading about them in the papers. They were accused of being, what’s the term, market raiders. But then nothing has been proven against them.”
“That’s true. Still, many firms would not sign up such clients, but Bostoff has been most lenient: they have incomplete files for all of them.”
“That could be a coincidence.”
“A very convenient one at that. I’ve seen the trading these guys do—they can tank a company in a matter of days. Don’t tell me that that’s a coincidence too.”
“Were all these trades from the hedge funds you mentioned?” Dean asked.
“Up until recently, yes. But now, there’s this new company—Impala Group, and it’s sending the same volume of trades that Emperial used to send, but Emperial is hardly trading at all now.” Janet paused. “Something tells me that Emperial is connected to Impala group.”
“Janet,” Dean halted, reaching out to touch Janet’s arm.
“Yes?”
Dean took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something. You might not like it. In fact, you might throw me out of your apartment for telling it to you, but I need to tell you anyway.”
Janet’s eyes widened. “What is it?”
“I am n
ot really an IT specialist,” Dean said.
“You’re not?”
“No.” He shook his head. “That is, I’m pretty good with computers, but it’s not what I do professionally.”
“What do you do?”
“I work for the Treasury Investigations department.”
“What?” Janet had to make a physical effort to keep her jaw from dropping. “And you’re telling me this now?”
“Our department has been investigating Bostoff Securities for several months. Once we secured a court order to go undercover, I was put on the job.” Dean spoke matter-of-factly, impartially, as though he were a different person from the man Janet had just had dinner with. “The reason I’m telling you this is that Treasury would like your assistance with the case. I have cleared it with my supervisor. If you decide to aid us in the investigation, no charges will be brought against you personally for the duration of your employment with Bostoff. It sounds to me like you have already got quite a bit of information that we could use. If you agreed to cooperate with us, you would be a great asset to the investigation. You don’t have to answer me right now, but I would appreciate an answer by Monday morning.”
“By Monday morning?” Janet sank back into the couch, pressing her hands against her face. Instantly, her own doubts about Bostoff Securities became irrelevant. Those were based on the information obtained by means she was entitled to have access to. Well, maybe not entirely entitled to have access to, but still, her actions paled in comparison to Dean’s. The seemingly charming, witty Dean she had fantasized about kissing was an undercover rat, propositioning her to become a snitch. He was a cold-hearted snoop, on the hunt to shut down the firm and ruin the lives of the people who worked for it. But worst of all was his leading Janet to believe that he was actually interested in her, while all he wanted was her help in getting dirt on Bostoff.
“Well, I’ll be going now.” Dean rose from his seat. There was no hesitation in his movements or his voice. Each had been deliberately calculated, just as his previous interactions with Janet had been.
Baxter tiptoed after Dean and barked in a farewell salute, ignoring Janet’s command to stay by her side.
As if in a dream, Janet heard Dean’s footsteps and the sound of the front door shutting behind him.
Baxter returned and lay coiled by Janet’s feet.
“Now you come back?” Janet looked at Baxter who barked and looked back at her unflinchingly. But then she herself had been a victim of Dean’s charms, so how could Baxter be expected to fare any better? “Well, Baxter, it turns out your judgment of character is as bad as mine,” said Janet, as she stared into the ceiling, wondering what to do next.