To Catch a Bad Guy (17 page)

Dennis wanted to
protect her, but the only way for him to do that was for Janet to become his
ally. By now, Janet Maple had to be on to Bostoff; Dennis was sure of it. He
had sensed that she had wanted to share her suspicions with him tonight, but
had changed her mind at the last minute. She did not trust him enough yet. He
needed to build his trust with Janet slowly, something that was easier said
than done because of the deadline that his boss had given him – three weeks
before the Feds would take over the case. Take it easy, Dennis thought. How
difficult could it be to become Janet Maple’s confidant? It was obvious that
she liked him. The only problem was that he liked her too.

Paul Bostoff rose from
his chair and adjusted his tie. The prospect of a lunch meeting with his
brother made him nervous. Jon and Paul were not the kind of siblings who shared
boyhood memories: the nine-year age difference between them was partly to blame
for that, but mainly it was the difference in their characters and
temperaments. His whole life, Paul remembered Jon treating him with veiled
disregard: Paul was always too slow, too weak, too young to warrant Jon’s
interest. And even now, as adults, they were anything but close: a situation
that proved to be all the more problematic since they were working for a family
business. Paul could understand Jon’s reasons for not taking him seriously.
After all, Paul had not exactly been a paragon of business astuteness; he had
majored in acting at Vassar, selecting marketing as a second major to appease
his father. After graduating, Paul ran with the actor crowd for a while,
landing small parts in off Broadway theaters – the kind of theaters that had
folding chairs for the audience to sit on and nothing but the bare floor as
stage decorations. But Paul did not mind; in fact, he thought of those years as
the happiest in his life. Unlike Jon, he had never hungered for money or
prestige. Granted, both brothers had grown up in a well-to-do household, but
Jon seemed to have been born with insatiable ambition. Even in his boyhood
years, Paul had noticed a look of vague dissatisfaction on his elder brother’s
face. No amount of money would ever be enough for him and no social position
sufficiently high enough. Paul, however, was the complete opposite of his
brother. As much as he would have liked to please his father by showing some of
Jon’s business rigor, he came up flat. Business did not interest him, which was
a difficulty that could be easily overcome by perseverance, but Paul’s
predicament ran much deeper than lack of effort. He had no acumen for the world
of finance. Numbers held no allure for him, leaving his head heavy with
headache and confusion. He was an artist, not a number cruncher like his father
or brother.

But while Paul longed
to see his name heralded in film and stage credits, he learned that the
entertainment business was anything but easy to break into. There, again,
ambition prevailed, and he lacked the killer instinct that had propelled his
more tenacious friends into stardom. When Paul’s acting aspirations failed to
blossom, he had been content to channel himself into marketing. At least, there
was some aspect of creativity to it. He had wanted to strike out on his own. He
had an offer to join the marketing department of a reputable magazine, but his
father had insisted that Paul join Bostoff Securities as Chief Marketing Officer.
Embarrassed by the pompous, nepotism-procured title, Paul worked hard. He
wanted to prove to everyone, and most of all to himself, that he was more than
just his father’s son. He had succeeded: his advertising campaigns for Bostoff
Securities were original and innovative. His father was pleased, and so were
his colleagues, with the exception of his brother who considered marketing to
be a sham of a profession. No matter; Paul was too old to need his brother’s
approval. He had been perfectly happy with his newly-found niche in marketing
when his father insisted on transferring him into the business side of things
and making him chief operating officer or COO at Bostoff Securities.

What did a COO do,
anyway? Paul had no idea, and his father was not that keen on educating him,
leaving the task to Jon, who was anything but helpful. So Paul fumbled along,
doing his best to appear competent and constantly terrified of his pretense
being exposed. Not that his father would notice. Ever since Paul’s mother had passed
away, Hank just was not himself: he was distracted and aloof, his presence in
the office being a mere formality while Jon took over the reins. And Jon
certainly did not have any interest in Paul becoming a competent COO, as he had
no regard for his younger brother’s input when it came to business or any other
subject, for that matter. Things might have continued this way had it not been
for Lisa. At the thought of his tantalizing fiancée, Paul felt his spirits
lift. Lisa was one of the most exciting women he had ever met. She was so
driven, so determined: a refreshing change from his own attitude; a spirit he
could look up to. For as ashamed as he was to admit it, Paul knew that while he
worked hard, his work was generated by the sense of duty and expectation of the
others rather than his own ambition. Lisa, on the other hand, was different:
she had real hunger for things, an urge for success that Paul had never managed
to arouse in himself. From the very start, Lisa had become interested in Paul’s
position in the company and advised him to persevere in growing into a
fully-fledged partner in the business: to become Jon’s equal.

Paul sighed. He had
worked hard to live up to Lisa’s expectations. Staying up late at night, he
pored over Bostoff’s revenues and expenses, trying to come up with ways to cut
costs and increase profits, but when he tried to contribute by expanding the
internal Legal department instead of outsourcing all the legal work to that Tom
Wyman slickster who charged the company an arm and a leg, Jon blew a lid. Just
what was it that upset his brother so, Paul could not understand.

Well, this meeting was
bound to clear things up. There were several questions that Paul had for Jon as
well. Over the past months, he had noticed increased revenues coming in from
several hedge funds, Emperial being the highest. Interested in the identity of
the high revenue-generating client, Paul did some digging and found that
Emperial’s reputation was notorious to say the least. Paul remembered Hank
Bostoff’s long-standing reluctance to go after hedge fund business, but Jon, on
the other hand, was eager to open the doors to just about any client that paid
good commissions: a notion that did not sit well with Paul at all.

Paul checked his watch;
he would have to hurry. With all his brooding, he had lost track of time, and
he knew only too well how much Jon despised tardiness.

***

At the sight of his
brother entering the restaurant, Jon Bostoff finished the rest of his scotch.
Normally, he never drank during the work day, but today he had a good excuse.
The first tranche of orders for the Impala Group had come in this week,
generating a nearly seven-figure commission in just one day. The prospect of
the money that was to come made Jon giddy with anticipation. Finally, he was
getting to the station in life he had been destined to occupy. Now, all he had
to do was make sure that his buffoon of a brother did not mess things up by
poking his nose where it did not belong, and to do that, Jon would have to make
Paul feel like he was part of the game. He needed to come up with a project to
keep his brother busy and make him feel useful.

“Paul.” Jon willed his
lips into a smile. Deciding that a handshake would be too formal and an embrace
too filial, he patted his brother heartily on the shoulder.

“Sorry I’m late.” Paul
stiffened. “I was just finishing up some reports and lost track of time.”

“No worries.” Jon
smiled. “I think our table is ready.”

As the pretty hostess
led them to Jon’s usual booth, Jon eyed her perky behind undulating pleasantly
on her long, slim legs. Jon Bostoff liked pretty women just as much as he liked
money, and he strove to possess top tier in both categories. He had managed to
do so in the first category: to his mind, all women paled in comparison next to
his wife, and he was finally well on his way to realizing his ambition on the
business front of things.

Jon took a seat. “Would
you like a drink?” he offered Paul.

Paul lifted his eyes
from the menu. “I don’t usually drink at work.”

“Neither do I,” Jon
retorted, “but this week calls for a celebration.” Without waiting for Paul’s
response, Jon ordered two gin martinis.

Paul took a sip of his
water. “Speaking of which, I noticed an increase in the commission numbers this
week.”

The sneaky bugger is
not as dumb as he looks, Jon thought, conscious of keeping a hearty grin all
the while. “That’s exactly it, brother, we’re finally breaking into the big
leagues.”

“By taking orders from
hedge funds with questionable reputations?”

Somebody is getting
feisty, Jon thought, barely resisting the urge to reach across the table and
smack his brother for old times’ sake. Unfortunately, they were no longer kids.
The smacking around would have to be confined to verbal parries. “What do you
mean by questionable reputations?”

“Do you want me to make
a list? Emperial for one, and just this week, some entity called Impala Group
of which I’ve never heard before.”

Jon gulped. He had not
expected such business dexterity from his younger brother. Clearly, the louse
could be quite tenacious when he wanted to. “Would you call a hedge fund paying
its investors eight percent per year questionable?”

“If the return is
generated illegally, yes.” Paul fixed his eyes on Jon. “Dad always stood away
from the hedge fund business. You are completely ignoring his wishes.”

“Dad has been out of touch
with the business reality for some time,” Jon snapped. “Have you looked at the
company finances recently? The only way to make any money these days is through
volume. Going after hedge funds is the way to do that. And as far as Emperial
goes, nothing has been hung on them yet, and as long as that’s the case, they
are a good client to me.”

“Well, I suppose you
have a point. Nothing has been proven against them,” Paul trailed off.

Mercifully, the
waitress arrived with their drinks.

Jon took a long swig of
his martini and placed his order: cheeseburger with American cheese and French
fries. He had to take another swallow of his drink when he heard Paul’s order:
a salad for Christ’s sake! What a pansy his brother was.

“Lisa and I are trying
a new diet,” Paul added almost apologetically. “It’s based on the fact that
meats and poultry are highly acidic foods and vegetables are alkaline.
Consuming alkaline foods boosts your metabolism and flushes out the toxins.”

Jon nodded. “I applaud
your self-control, brother, but I’m too much of a carnivore to give up meat. I
figure hitting the gym every morning ought to do it.”

“It’s more of a solidarity
gesture for Lisa on my part, really.”

How lame, Jon thought,
but nodded approvingly. “I like that; that’s the key to a strong marriage.
Getting back to our conversation... I understand your concerns, Paul, but even
the U.S. justice system says that one is innocent until proven guilty. And I
might add that these days you’d be hard-pressed to find a financial institution
that did not have a run-in with a regulator at some point of its existence.”

“I suppose so.” Paul
lowered his eyes, taking a drink. “I don’t want to fight with you, Jon. I just
don’t want Dad’s legacy to be tarnished, that’s all. Heck, truth be told, I
went into the business because Dad wanted me to: he’s got this idea that we
should be working together, and I can clearly see that you don’t want that.”

Damn straight, I don’t,
Jon thought, but out loud he purred, “That’s not true, brother. I want us to be
a team, but you have to trust me. I know you’re anxious to contribute to the
business, and you have already done a great deal, but you have to give it time
to acquire an understanding of the company before jumping to conclusions. Let
me be your mentor. I promise I will guide you through this maze called finance,
and then, we can really be a team.”

Paul nodded. “I’d like
that. To be honest, I was quite happy to be on the marketing side of things,
but Dad wanted me to be involved in the business more.”

“And who said that
marketing is not important?”

“Do you really mean
that?”

“Of course, I do!” Jon
almost burst from the effort of containing his smirk. “It’s one of the most
important functions in the company. It presents our face to the outside world.”

“I had no idea you
thought so.”

“I’m sorry if I was
unclear about it. In fact, that’s one of the topics I wanted to talk to you
about today. Now that Bostoff Securities is going to become a more prominent
financial player, we need to up our publicity profile. I was thinking something
along the lines of a charity event. What are your thoughts?”

“We could organize a
charity sports tournament.”

“A splendid idea!
That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Paul. We are a team. What kind of
tournament?”

“It could be golf or
tennis.”

“Tennis – I like that –
more original than golf. How long do you think it would take to put one
together? How does two weeks’ time sound?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Jon.
That’s pushing it real tight. We might not get anyone from outside to
participate on two weeks’ notice.”

“Who says we need to
get anyone from the outside? We can make it an employee only function. We’ll
have several rounds, with the firm making a donation to the charity choice of
the final winning employee. Can you get it started?”

“Well, sure, Jon. I’ll
get right on it.”

“Great, I’m looking
forward to it, Paul. And don’t forget about your engagement party tonight.” Jon
wiped the grease off his mouth. The burger had been superb.