by Marie Astor
***
“I’ll be right there. Show them into the conference room,” Jon Bostoff instructed his secretary over the intercom. He consulted his watch. David Muller, the Emperial honcho, was right on time for their meeting, but where was Tom Wyman? Irritated, Jon rose from his chair. He had rather expected Wyman to arrive ahead of time for the meeting, what with all the hefty fees Jon had been paying him. But now it looked like he would have to make small talk with Muller while waiting for Wyman to join them, and Jon Bostoff detested small talk.
“Sorry I’m late, Jon.” Tom Wyman walked brusquely through the door of Jon’s office.
“It’s about time; Muller is here already.”
Wyman nodded. “Where are we meeting him?”
“In the conference room downstairs. I didn’t want him wandering around the trading floor.”
“So, you’re sure that we’re bulletproof to go ahead with the arrangement?” Jon asked Wyman as they walked to the elevators.
“To the extent that the legal system allows, yes.”
Blasted lawyers – always with the caveats. Jon resisted the urge to snap at Wyman; after all, it was not as though he were in a position to back out of the deal now.
“David, great to see you again.” Jon shook Muller’s hand heartily, feigning affability as best as he could. He detested the pompous prick, but now was not the time to show it, for Muller’s scheme was bound to generate some serious cash.
Muller answered Jon’s handshake with his lizard-like grip. “You’re looking well, Jon. Have you been working out?”
Jon shook his head. “Nothing more than usual: just good, clean living.”
Muller chuckled, shaking his longish blond locks. “Whatever it is, it’s working. I’ve just started a new diet myself: no glutens, no carbs, and no dairy, and I’ve upped my gym time. I’m feeling super.”
“You look great.” Jon smiled obligingly. Muller was obsessed with healthy living. At six two, he did not have an extra ounce of fat on his bony frame. Did the guy want to become a skeleton?
“But as much fun as it is talking about fitness, that’s not what we’re here for,” Muller cut to the chase, pulling out a chair at the head of the rectangular table and motioning for everyone else to sit down.
The pompous prick. Jon took his seat next to Muller, making a mental note to replace the rectangular table with a round one.
“So, what are your thoughts on my proposal, Jon?” Muller steepled his long fingers.
Jon exchanged a quick glance with Wyman, and after receiving a discreet nod, went ahead. “Bostoff Securities can commit to the volumes we discussed.”
“Quit the cryptic speak, Jon. Are you in or what?”
“Yes, David, I’m in.”
“Good. So here’s what’s going to happen. I’ve handpicked a number of stocks that are ripe for the picking. They are overvalued and overpriced, and we’re going to bring them to the levels where they belong and make a ton of money in the process.”
Jon adjusted his cufflinks nervously. “You’re not going to do anything too obvious, are you? We would not want to get spotted by Market Watch, would we?”
“Not to worry, Jonnie – we’ve got everything covered. You don’t think I’d be going into this sort of thing alone, do you? There are some very big names involved besides me, and the targets we picked do not have the clout to retaliate. Take this one for instance: Date Magic dot com - an online dating site going public! Their offering price is thirty-five dollars, and analysts are predicting first-day trading price of forty. That’s an overly optimistic prognosis for a site that caters to fat, single people, don’t you think?”
“There’s a dating site dedicated to fat, single people?”
“I was speaking metaphorically, Jon. I don’t know whether they are fat or thin, but they are bound to be losers to have to use the Internet to get dates. Anyway, 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. And trust me, even if any of the investors or so called ‘company management’ were to raise a peep, the stock price decline would be attributed to another capricious market turn.”
“It certainly sounds like you thought everything through,” Jon conceded, assuring himself that the business structure that Tom Wyman had set up for him would provide iron-clad cover.
“Gentlemen, I look forward to doing even more business with you.” David Muller rose from his chair. “You’ll be hearing from me soon, Jon.”
“That guy doesn’t beat around the bush,” said Wyman once Muller had left the room.
“Are you sure we’re covered on all fronts, Tom?” Jon locked Wyman’s glance, determined to get a concrete answer this time. This would not be the first time for Bostoff Securities to be accepting questionable orders from Muller and his posse of shark hedge fund managers, but it would be the first time for doing it on such a massive scale.
“You can sleep soundly at night, Jon; you’re covered. Unless someone gets their hands on the formation documents, there’s no way to tie Bostoff Securities to Impala Group. And to get those, they’d have to break into my office: an undertaking that has about the same probability of success as hacking into Fort Knox.”
“Thank you, Tom. I knew there was a reason for footing those hefty bills of yours – it’s called peace of mind. By the way, how’s that new girl in Legal doing?”
“I haven’t seen much of her lately, but I can’t imagine anything to worry about.”
“Do me a favor, Tom. Stick close to her at the party this Thursday. I want you to make sure she’s not suspecting anything.”
“There’s a party this Thursday?”
“Didn’t you get the invite? It’s my brother’s engagement party.”
“I’ll be there, Jon.”
“And do me a favor. From now on, don’t say a word about company business to my brother unless you discuss it with me first.”
“Sure thing, Jon. We’ve already been over this. I thought that you wanted Janet Maple to lighten the bill load, so I’ve given her a very basic overview of the structure; she couldn’t have possibly made much sense out of it, but I’ll be sure to keep an eye on her.”
Chapter 16