by Marie Astor
Janet had been waiting for Dean to knock on her door since the morning. It was four o’clock now, but there was still no sign of him. She had not seen him in any of the usual places where their paths had crossed so effortlessly just a week ago. He was not in the cafeteria or the kitchen, and even when Janet ventured to the trading floor, she did not see Dean at his desk. Could it be that the deal he had offered her was off? Perhaps he had already found all the evidence he needed and was sharing his findings with his boss at the Treasury this very moment. Who knew? The Treasury might then choose to involve the SEC, and the SEC could pull in the FBI. It all depended on how much information Dean had dug up and how career hungry the people involved were.
Unexpectedly, Janet found herself defending Bostoff Securities. She did not condone Bostoff’s machinations, but she thought that Dean’s technique was equally detestable. In fact, she thought it was much worse. Crooks were expected to act like crooks, but those serving the law were supposed to act with dignity and honor. It did not matter that the Treasury had obtained a court order for undercover surveillance of Bostoff Securities and assigned Dean to the case. What mattered was that he chose to lie to her and manipulate her emotions to get close to her. And what made it worse was that he had succeeded. Even now that Janet knew what a treacherous worm the man was, she could not help feeling palpitations at the thought of seeing Dean again. At first glance, hers was a legitimate enough emotion since Janet’s own future and that of her friend’s now rested in Dean’s hands, but as annoyed as she was at herself, Janet had to admit that hers were not tremors of dread, but of excitement. Despite everything she had learned about the man, she could not squash her attraction to Dean Snider.
At four o’clock the suspense became unbearable, and Janet headed for Dean’s desk. She needed to know where she stood. Her pulse quickened as she spotted him behind his desk, typing away busily on his keyboard. He was all concentration and diligence. One would never suspect that Dean Snider was, in fact, a mole.
“Good afternoon.” Janet flashed him a brusque smile.
“Ah, hello there,” Dean answered with a distracted air of someone engrossed in his work.
“I am having problems with my computer; I was wondering if you could help me with that.”
“I’ll be right there,” Dean replied, still typing. “Just give me about twenty minutes.”
“Thank you.”
Perplexed, Janet walked back to her office. For someone who had been so eager to get her help, Dean showed a startling lack of enthusiasm.
Janet closed the door of her office and sat down behind her desk. She looked at the reports she had been poring over all day. The orders from Impala Group continued to flood in, and the prices of the targeted stocks were plummeting. The most prominent price decline was in Date Magic dot com: a recent IPO that had started trading at thirty five dollars, but was now as low as twelve dollars.
Date Magic. Janet raked her memory. The name sounded familiar. She searched the company name on the Internet and was instantly reminded why. Andrew Foley’s face beamed at her from the company’s website. He was the company CEO. Normally, Janet would have said that the sleazeball got what he deserved, but in this case Andrew Foley was not the only victim. There were the company employees and the shareholders to consider. The memory of Janet’s recent disturbing encounter with Andrew Foley aside, this was a strange development. Why would Jon Bostoff want to drive down the price of the company stock owned by Lisa Foley’s cousin? After all, they were practically family.
Janet checked her watch. It was twenty after four. Dean was certainly taking his time. Just then there was a knock on her door and she nearly jumped from the tension that was wound up inside her.
“Come in,” Janet called out in what she hoped was a calm voice.
“Hello, Janet.” Dean walked inside her office. She expected him to close the door behind him, but he left it open. “What seems to be the problem?”
For a moment, she stared at him wide-eyed, wondering whether Dean had been stricken by a severe case of amnesia. Then she understood: he was maintaining his cover.
“Like I said, my computer is malfunctioning.”
“Let’s have a look.” Dean walked over to her desk and stood close to her chair – way too close for her taste.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Janet whispered, bewildered by the idiocy of the situation. Why was she whispering in her own office?
“Not here,” Dean replied, his tone even. “I’ll meet you at your place at eight o’clock tonight.”
Janet’s eyebrows shot up from this brashness. The nerve of the guy. Did he think that along with her cooperation in the Bostoff investigation he was also going to receive the added bonus of getting into her bed?
“We need a quiet place to talk,” Dean whispered, as if reading her thoughts. “You could come over to my place instead. Or have you got any other suggestions?”
“My place is fine. Eight o’clock. You already know the directions,” Janet conceded. At least she would be dealing with the snake on her own turf.
“See you then,” Dean mouthed, and then added in a loud voice. “It’s all fixed now, Ms. Maple. Once your machine reboots, it will be good to go.”