Early October 1991.
Washington, Georgetown.
A little past 9:00 PM, most of the row houses on 31st Street had already turned off their lights.
The study on the second floor of 1642 also had no lights on, and the only thing lit in the entire room was the TV next to the bookshelf.
CNN's evening financial program on TV had been broadcasting for over twenty minutes, its volume turned very low, and the anchor's voice reading the script was muffled.
The light from the screen flashed blue and white, flickering against the leather armchair opposite.
Arthur Vance was sitting in that chair.
He hadn't changed clothes since coming back from the White House.
His suit jacket was still on, and his tie was loosened, hanging below his open collar.
The housekeeper downstairs had come up and knocked twice to ask if he wanted dinner, but he didn't respond either time.
The glass of bourbon on the small coffee table beside him was the one poured when he got home.
The ice cubes had long since melted, and the droplets of water on the side of the glass trickled down, staining a dark ring on the coaster.
He hadn't taken a single sip.
Both of his hands had been pressing down on the dark brown folder resting on his knees.
The string of the folder had been untied, and inside were eleven pages of paper.
Typed in the upper right corner of the first page was the date—the exact day Tokyo confirmed that Saionji Satsuki accepted John Gutfreund's invitation and prepared to fly to New York.
Less than three hours after the news reached his desk, the first draft of this document had been written.
Over the following week, it was revised four times.
Each revision added another layer of pencil notes in the margins.
By the final version, the words in some places were so cramped that even he had to lean in close to read them clearly.
This was the second plan targeting Saionji that he had spearheaded.
The plan itself wasn't actually complicated.
Salomon Brothers was a primary dealer in U.S. Treasury securities.
For a Japanese financial conglomerate to pump billions of dollars in long-term capital into such an institution, the Department of the Treasury and the Federal Reserve Bank of New York naturally had reason to inquire.
As long as they could get the Department of the Treasury to formally raise the issue of "foreign capital and primary dealer qualifications" before Saionji's money landed, the Committee on Foreign Investment could logically require prior notification for this transaction.
Once the review started, time would stand on his side.
In the House of Representatives Banking Committee, two congressmen had already been arranged to have the questions prepared.
With Mitsubishi buying Rockefeller Center and Sony buying Columbia Pictures, there were already plenty of ready-made narratives in the newspapers over the past two years.
As long as someone started it, headlines like "The Japanese Are Going to Buy Wall Street" could make the front page the next day.
And Salomon couldn't hold out for long.
Drag it out for a month, and Wall Street itself would come up with an American rescue plan.
By then, Saionji Satsuki would have spent several weeks sitting in 7 World Trade Center with her entire due diligence team, only to return to Tokyo empty-handed in the end.
That would be the first time Saionji was blocked at the door overseas.
And what blocked her were America's own rules.
On the night the final draft was completed, Arthur read through these eleven pages from start to finish again, and then, for a rare moment, poured himself a glass of wine.
This plan was very thorough, or at least that's what he thought at the time.
Even if something went wrong at a certain step, he had prepared multiple backup plans.
Yet the result was that it didn't even make it past the first step.
The first batch of phone calls came on the second day after Saionji Satsuki walked into 7 World Trade Center.
That morning, he had just returned from the Department of the Treasury.
He had simply found two acquaintances and asked them privately how the Department of the Treasury had handled things in the past when primary dealers introduced foreign capital.
By the afternoon, his assistant walked into his office carrying a stack of phone messages.
"Sir, these are the ones from after noon."
Arthur took them and flipped through them one by one.
The New York State Common Retirement Fund had called twice, along with the investment director of a life insurance company in New Jersey, and the head of a university endowment fund.
The one at the very bottom was from an outside director on Salomon's board, asking him to return the call when convenient.
Arthur raised his head.
"How did these people find out?"
The assistant hesitated for a moment.
"I heard someone at the Department of the Treasury was asking why the White House suddenly cares about Salomon's shareholder structure. It probably leaked from there."
Arthur didn't ask any further.
He put the stack of papers on the desk, pulled out the top one, and dialed back.
The other party was clearly waiting, and the call was answered after just a single ring.
"Mr. Vance? Thanks for returning the call."
The person skipped even the pleasantries.
"I'll cut straight to the point. We hold over four million shares of Salomon, and the money lost in the past two months is enough to issue checks to thousands of retired teachers for a year."
"Now that someone is finally willing to invest in that company, I heard today that someone in Washington is asking around about how to block this money?"
Arthur switched the receiver to his other hand.
"I am merely understanding some regulatory procedures."
"Procedures."
The other person repeated the word and let out a laugh.
"Pardon my frankness, sir, in today's market, as long as the phrase 'the White House is understanding procedures' hits the newspapers, the market can drop another ten percent at tomorrow's opening."
"If you have another way to save Salomon, I'm all ears. If you don't—"
"Please, just let that Japanese girl put the money in."
After hanging up that call, Arthur returned two more.
The wording varied, but the meanings were all pretty much the same.
He didn't take it too much to heart.
Pension funds could call, they could write letters to their state's congressmen, and insurance companies could also find people to lobby Capitol Hill.
But these people each managed their own accounts, and none of them could produce anything that could truly stop him.
Just like that man said, even in internal strife, Americans rarely united.
When all was said and done, they were just a bunch of people worried about their own stocks.
He put those few message slips away in the drawer and, according to the original arrangement, sent the contingency plan to the Department of the Treasury.
Three days later, a deputy secretary of the Department of the Treasury invited him over.
The Department of the Treasury building was just east of the White House, separated by a street; it took Arthur only five minutes to walk over.
The deputy secretary motioned for him to sit down and sat opposite him, holding the very contingency plan he had sent over.
"Then I'll cut a long story short, Arthur."
He spread out the contingency plan on his knees.
"Warren Buffett called the Secretary this morning, and the two talked for nearly an hour."
Arthur looked at him.
"Buffett is a shareholder of Salomon, and he desperately wants someone to come and put a floor under his stock."
"And he is not only the largest shareholder, but also a director."
The deputy secretary put the contingency plan on the coffee table.
"He made it very clear to the Secretary that Saionji's capital entering the market is the prerequisite for Salomon to make it through the end of the year. Without this money, those counterparties still sitting on the fence next month will walk away in a short time."
Arthur looked expressionlessly at the contingency plan on the coffee table.
"So the Department of the Treasury's stance is that this matter won't be investigated?"
"Investigated? Of course it will be investigated. We won't let a single thing slide regarding Salomon's bidding violations."
The deputy secretary leaned back against his chair.
"But what you want us to do now is a different matter. You want the Department of the Treasury to step forward at this time and question foreign capital entering a primary dealer."
Arthur placed his hands on his knees, his tone hardening slightly.
"A Japanese financial conglomerate pumping billions of dollars into a primary dealer—the Department of the Treasury should naturally inquire, shouldn't it?"
"Hmm... What you say makes a lot of sense, it indeed should."
"If this were last year, I'd be the first to sign."
The deputy secretary reached out and tapped twice on the cover of the contingency plan.
"But have you calculated? How many Treasury positions does Salomon hold? Next month is the quarterly refinancing; if it collapses before the auction, the entire primary market will run into trouble as well."
"By then, who will buy the U.S. government's debt?"
He didn't wait for Arthur to answer.
"If Treasury bonds can't be sold, that's the real national security issue, Arthur."
Arthur didn't speak.
The deputy secretary stared at him for a moment, his tone softening slightly, but his words becoming more blunt.
"To put it bluntly, looking from my desk, the one damaging national security interests right now is precisely you."
The fingers Arthur had resting on his knees suddenly tightened.
Who on earth was damaging national security?
He almost wanted to stand up, grab the contingency plan on the coffee table, and smash it right into the other person's face.
He knew that before entering the Department of the Treasury, the person in front of him had worked in Wall Street investment banks for over a decade.
He also knew how many of this person's old colleagues over there were currently counting on Salomon's stock price to rise another two points tomorrow.
Just such a person was sitting here talking to him about national security.
What Saionji had done in the U.S. over the past few years—he remembered every single thing.
A billion-dollar offshore settlement, tech stocks scattered across dozens of accounts, oil fields in Texas, office buildings in Manhattan... And now she was reaching her hands into the primary dealers of U.S. Treasury securities.
If she were allowed to go all the way like this, the price the U.S. would have to pay in the future would definitely be much, much greater than just one Salomon.
Yet for an auction next month and for those few shares in their hands, these people personally invited someone in, only to turn around and accuse him of damaging national interests?
Inside, Arthur's heart was churning violently, but outwardly he slowly loosened his hands.
He took the contingency plan back from the coffee table, put it back together, and stood up.
"I understand the Department of the Treasury's position."
The deputy secretary glanced at him.
"Is that so? Good that you understand."
He also stood up and walked him all the way to the door.
"One more thing."
His hand resting on the doorknob, his voice lowered a bit.
"People on Capitol Hill are already asking who in the White House is undermining the Department of the Treasury. You'd better not let them find out a name."
Arthur was silent for a long time and said only one sentence.
"I will."
"I will fight to the end."