Janet exited the cab on York Avenue and Ninetieth Street. A sign on the corner building with ground floor offices read, Fred Rossingram: Suite 1A. She looked around, searching for Dean. They had an appointment with Rossingram at six o’clock; it was six o’clock on the dot. The sound of hurried footsteps made her turn around. Dean was walking toward her. He had his work clothes on: another variation of a suit that was two sizes too big for him.
“Sorry, I got held up at work.”
“Let me guess, another nincompoop who could not turn on his computer?” Janet felt a pang of sadness, remembering how Dean’s jokes about his job used to make her smile when she had actually thought that IT Specialist was his real job and that his interest in her was genuine.
“You hit the nail right on the head. Shall we?” Dean offered his arm to her.
“You know, it’s not too late to call the whole thing off. It has disaster written all over it. If Rossingram’s got at least half a brain, he’s bound to see right through us.”
“And what makes you say that?” Dean put his hands on either side of Janet’s shoulders, steering her toward the glass door of the building, in which she could see their reflection. He leaned in closer to her. “I think that we look compelling as a couple.”
Janet felt her face flush. Dean was kidding, of course, but for a moment, the possibility had crept into her thoughts.
“Fine. Let’s get it over with.”
“That’s my girl.” Dean pressed the intercom button. The door buzzed open, and together, they walked into the building lobby.
Rossingram’s office was on the ground floor to the right. Janet felt nervous jolts run through her body as Dean rang the doorbell. She made a mental tally of their story to Rossingram. They were an engaged couple on the brink of tying the knot, and they needed a prenuptial agreement. Nothing fancy, just the bare bones to protect Dean’s inheritance. At least she was glad that Dean had spared her the role of the rich heiress. There was no way she could have carried off that charade. It was Dean’s idea, so let him do the crazy bit. Yet, mixed in with her nervousness, there was excitement too. She had never done anything like this, and if it had not been for Dean, she probably never would.
“Good afternoon.” A man in a tweed jacket and wool slacks opened the door. He was in his mid to late sixties, with gray, slightly balding hair. He had pudgy cheeks, a gray mustache and horn-rimmed glasses. “Jeff Amble and Jacky Stein?”
Janet blinked, remembering the pseudonyms Dean had come up with for their visit to Rossingram.
Holding her arm at the elbow, Dean nodded. “That’s us.”
“Come on in.” Rossingram stood by the door. “This way, please.”
The office consisted of two rooms: a foyer with a receptionist desk and a room in the back that contained Rossingram’s desk and law reference books.
“Please have a seat.” Rossingram motioned to two chairs that stood opposite his desk, as he took a seat in the worn swiveling chair behind his desk. “So, I understand that you are looking to draft a prenuptial agreement?”
“Correct.” Dean patted Janet’s hand, sending shivers up her spine. “It’s my family. They are very conservative. I told Jacky that I trusted her completely, but you see, my mother will not have it any other way. You do understand, honey?” Dean cooed at Janet, and it took all of her self-control not to burst into laughter. What was this guy doing working for the Treasury? His calling was on Broadway.
“Yes, dear.” Janet looked at Dean with what she hoped was convincing affection. “You know that I do.”
“Good.” Dean exhaled as though an incredible weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
“Very well.” Rossingram eyed them curiously. “I am going to need some information about your employment and assets. Have you brought the paperwork I’ve asked you to complete?”
“Yes.” Dean put a manila folder on Rossingram’s desk. “Everything is in there.”
“Let’s have a look.” His expression perfunctory, Rossingram began reviewing the files. When he reached the part about Janet, or Jacky Stein, as Dean had decided to name her, Rossingram’s expression clouded. “You work for Bostoff Securities?” He peered at Janet over the rim of his glasses.
“Yes.” Janet swallowed. Her throat had suddenly gone dry under Rossingram’s piercing gaze.
“Jacky recently joined their legal department,” said Dean. “Of course, I keep telling her that there’s no need for her to work, but she is so independent,” Dean exclaimed with the authentic disdain of someone who never had the need to work. “But all of this is going to change once we get married, right, honey?”
“We’ve talked about this,” Janet retorted, aware that her acting was nowhere near on par with Dean’s. “Now is not the time to discuss it.” She blushed. This was a natural reaction, but she hoped that it would add credibility to her words.
“There, there.” Dean took her hand and pressed it to his lips – an unnecessary action in Janet’s opinion, but apparently, the gesture produced the desired effect on Rossingram, as the lawyer looked at Janet with a mixture of sympathy and concern.
“Young lady, and may I add that I use the term in the most endearing sense of the word – I’ve got a daughter of about your age, Ms. Stein.” Rossingram cleared his throat. “I suggest that you listen to your fiancé and quit your employment at Bostoff Securities immediately.”
“Why would you say that?” Janet asked, prompted by the pressure of Dean’s fingers on her hand.
“That place is a boiler room,” Rossingram snapped, halting immediately, as though frightened by his own blunt admission. “I have not spoken about this matter to anyone for years, but I suppose there is no harm in me telling you. The two of you seem like such a nice couple… I was the general counsel of Bostoff Securities for almost twenty years. Hank Bostoff and I were good friends, but when his son, Jon, took over, everything changed. Bostoff had been one of the most respected shops on the street for years, but the markets began to change, and the profits started to dip. The fact that Hank’s wife passed away didn’t help the matter either. Slowly, Hank began to give more and more authority to Jon, and the business of Bostoff Securities began to change. Jon started signing on shady hedge funds that Hank would have never let within two feet of the front door. I tried to reason with Jon, but he would not listen to me. Instead, he cut me out of the loop completely, contracting all the legal matters out to Ridley Simpson law firm. I believe the fella’s name was Tom Wyman …”
At Rossingram’s mention of Wyman, Janet nearly jumped out of her seat, but was steadied by the touch of Dean’s hand. Thankfully, Rossingram was too engrossed in his own memories to notice her reaction.
“I tried talking to Hank, but he waved me off, saying that we were too old to understand the new markets, and that it was time for him to pass the business over to his sons, Jon and Paul. But Jon was the one running everything. Paul’s involvement was limited to marketing and PR. He did not really have a head for business.” Rossingram took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “It was a difficult decision to make. Over the years, I had come to think of Hank Bostoff as a friend, but there was nothing I could’ve done to help him. Jon had taken over completely, so I resigned. Now, I do estate planning and prenuptial agreements to keep myself busy.”
“This sounds like a detective novel!” Dean exclaimed. “What exactly was going on at this firm while you were there?”
“I couldn’t tell you the specifics, as Jon had cut me out of the loop. I bet the lawyers at Ridley Simpson have the whole picture, though. Jon started using them once I told him that I didn’t agree with his ‘business model.’ He knew that I would tell Hank about the kind of business he was bringing into the firm, which I did, only Hank didn’t listen to me…”
“So, Jon Bostoff outsourced everything to Ridley Simpson law firm?” Dean prodded.
“Yes. I’m sure there’s another reason why he did it. If Bostoff Securities were ever to come under an investigation, attorney/client pr
ivilege would be impenetrable, unless waived by Bostoff. It’s much easier to pressure a firm into disclosing its communications with the internal counsel, versus outside law firm.” Rossingram shook his head. “I sure hope it will not get to that. I would hate for Hank to see his life’s work covered in shame… I wish I could have helped, but Hank would not listen to me, and with the kinds of clients Jon was signing on, I knew that nothing good would come out of it, so I resigned, and I advise the same to your fiancée.”
Janet looked at the sadness in Rossingram’s face. The old man had been completely honest with them, and they had repaid him with ridiculous lies.
“Thank you, Mr. Rossingram. I’m going to follow your advice.”
Rossingram nodded. “Wise decision; the place is a volcano waiting to explode. Feel free to mention me as a reference if you’d like.”
“Thank you for that, but I would not want to trouble you.”
Rossingram sighed. “It’s no trouble. I would hate to see a young girl like you get caught up in their schemes. Sooner or later, those hot-shot hedge funds Jon Bostoff had signed on are going to get busted, and Bostoff Securities will go down with them. I just hope that Hank Bostoff will not be there to witness it.”
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Rossingram. I think we’ll be going now.” Dean stood up from his seat.
“But what about the prenup?” Rossingram asked, surprised.
“Oh, I’ve changed my mind about that,” Dean was quick to respond. “I don’t want to put Jacky through this nonsense. She’s got enough to worry about already. Mother will just have to accept my decision.”
“How much do we owe you?” Janet asked. The least they could do was compensate Rossingram for the time he had spent with them.
Rossingram waved his hand. “It’s free of charge. I didn’t give you legal advice.”
Once they were several blocks away from Rossingram’s office, Janet glared at Dean.
“I’m never doing anything like that again.”
“What’s the matter with you? We’ve got a ton of valuable information from the man.”
“I felt horrible sitting there and lying to his face, while he was being honest and genuinely concerned.”
“Well, wouldn’t you agree that there are genuine reasons for his concern? Last time I checked, you were still an employee of Bostoff Securities.”
Janet balked; she had forgotten about that part. Dean might be spending ten-hour days on the trading floor of Bostoff Securities, but in the end, he was only pretending to be an IT Specialist at Bostoff Securities, while she was the one who was employed by the dubious firm, and she was the one putting everything on the line – her employment record, her reputation, and her future.
“Perhaps I should take Rossingram’s advice and quit.”
“Don’t do this to me, Janet. We’re so close to solving the case – we’re almost home.”
“It’s easy for you to say: you’re not the one sticking your neck out.”
“If you resign, you can still be subpoenaed to testify about the events that transpired during your employment at Bostoff. The protection offered to you by the Treasury for your cooperation with the case would be voided the moment you resign from Bostoff.”
“You knew about this, didn’t you?” Janet stared at him in disbelief. Was there anything that was more important to this man than his career?
“These are standard terms; I thought I had made that clear. If not, I apologize.”
“Thanks.”
“Look, Janet, we’ve almost got them. Already, we have enough evidence to demonstrate that there is manipulative trading being conducted by the Impala Group. Bostoff Securities has failed in its due diligence and oversight obligations by taking the orders from Impala. These are strong charges, but to really corner the case we need proof of organized market manipulation.”
“I think you forgot to say that we’ve gotten this far thanks to me,” Janet sniffed. She was the one who had done the painstaking task of piecing all the trades together, deducing a pattern, and identifying the stocks that were being targeted. For the past few nights, Dean had been a constant guest in her apartment while she explained her findings to him.
“Yes, you’ve done an amazing job, and I’ve informed my boss of your valuable input to the investigation. Rest assured, when the time comes, your contribution will be recognized. This is why we cannot quit now; we are too close. The only missing piece is Impala Group and its connection to Bostoff. Once we get that, we’ll hit a home run.”
“And how do we get that?” Instantly, Janet wished she had not asked, for she already knew the answer: Tom Wyman.
Chapter 25